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Laissez les Bons Temps Rouler

This is my first blog post ever. A blank page. Where do I begin? I think I will tell you the story of where I'm living now and what I left behind.  

Tonight, I’m far from home. Far from New Orleans, the city of my heart. The place where joie de vivre and sultry jazz soaked into my skin and down to my bones. Bob Dylan once famously said, “There are a lot of places I like, but I like New Orleans better.” I feel that.


It’s raining here in the Netherlands. There’s a swirling, dark, winter chill in the air. My writing room is aglow with Turkish lanterns and beeswax candles. I’m awake in the middle of the night, as always. Thinking and writing. Dreaming and wondering.


Living in Europe is jarring. So different from the Big Easy where we attached bubble machines and radios to our bicycles; threw a parade for everything, even funerals, sipped wine on our front porches; ate jambalaya; and couldn’t go far without running into somebody who was playing the trumpet. I miss you, New Orleans.


I don’t fit in here. That’s a fact. I don’t speak Dutch. I’d rather not eat tuna fish pizza, or guacamole with mayonnaise as its first ingredient. I miss seeing strings of colored beads hanging from lampposts and tree branches.


But I want to stay for a while. I like the chocolate. I like the adventure of it all. And I’m curious.


Lately, I’ve been spending my days traveling, looking for hidden treasures, spinning stories, collecting flecks of magic, and filling my notebook with all the good things I want to share with you, Dear Reader. I hope you’ll think of this blogspace as a field guide to everyday wonder. I hope you find it uplifting and fun.


More soon.










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