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Tin and I went as Re-Bridge volunteers to help with the wetland restoration planting on Bayou St. John. Then a little grubby we headed over to the Pitot House for the Holiday Craft Fair.

We had a tray to return that we had used for the flowers we threw at the Pitot Performance a few weeks ago:

It was a lovely day, a nice humid breeze blowing the citrus trees in the garden, and lots of interesting things to choose from – we got a Peggy Bishop spoon rest, a blue woman painting for our Euro kitchen, two loaves of raisin bread from the Covington Monks, a large bag of satsumas and two soaps made by the same Monks for T to bring to friends in Croatia. We ate delicious Turkish food and sat in the grass and watched the young band from NOCCA that Tin eventually joined.

We are going to meet on the south side of Harrison and Wisner at 9 am on Saturday morning. I will have some boots and waders from the park but if people have knee boots, hip boots or waders they should bring them. Folks are going to be getting in to the water, bending down and sticking their hands and arms into the water to plant in the muddy bottom of the Bayou. It’s not very deep but it is getting chilly so I suggest dressing in layers that folks don’t mind getting wet and muddy. Also bringing a change of clothes and a towel isn’t a bad idea just in case you have a little too much fun.

I came across this video again that Chuck Perkins did – note me in the long red wig – and thought, my my, how far we’ve come.

Yesterday I took Tin to Pizzicare for a slice of pizza after he was running around in the playground for an hour with his best friend Kenjy. We were having a discussion about his hair because he hates for me to comb it and I was showing him two men – one behind the counter with locks and one who was eating at the front table with a shaved head. Both extremely handsome btw. I said do you want to shave your hair off so we don’t have to comb it or do you want to let me keep it nice. He said keep it.

Right then this strikingly gorgeous woman walked in with natural hair that was big and bold and beautiful and she came over and talked to him because he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She said, “You’re intelligent. You’re going to make your mark on this world.” Then when she left she said, “Come hear me sing one day” and gave Tin her card.

Pervella

Last night I headed to Swirl to check out James Moises new Pinot Noir. It was wall to wall people inside spilling out into the chilly night and one would have thought they were giving away something for free.

And they were. Overflowing glasses of $40 Pinot Noir that is – for free. It was the debut of Moises first estate grown pinot – fabulous. Fabulous. Did I say that? What a delicious wine.

Ten years ago, James broke into the wine business the hard way – he got a bunch of vines, bought a bunch of land in Oregon, and rounded up his friends and flew out to Oregon and planted a vineyard. Crazy stuff. But last night is proof in the pudding that there is purpose to his madness. How many people have an idea and watch it come to fruition – the magic in opening a bottle of Mes Amis – appropriately named – and tasting what the fruit of your labor is has got to be the proudest moment in a winemaker’s life.

Bravo James! Drink Mo Pinot!

We packed a picnic of egg salad and the nun’s Irish soda bread with some cookies from Sucre and headed over to Mom’s grave to refresh her flowers, have lunch with her, and commemorate the anniversary of her death two years ago. It was a beautiful day, the camellia bushes in the cemetery had all spent their blossoms that now skirted the tree like a snowy apron, the sun was bright, and the undergrowth around the pine trees was a riot of winter hues composed of umber, scarlet and browns.

Tatjana bought some elegant cookies especially for mom because she was so elegant herself. Tin offered part of his cookie to Mimi:

Afterwards, we drove over to my aunt’s house who was babysitting her grandchildren. We entered to a house with freshly baked snickerdoodles and two lively little girls. Tin got some good play time in on her sunny and lovely screen porch and talked about his cousins the whole way home:

We always say on Fat Tuesday that everywhere else it’s just Tuesday, but really last night a friend and I went to Meaux Bar and it was lively and gay. I had a delicious lardon salad and a winter vegetable soup that was divine; my friend had boudin noir – delicious. Then we headed to the Spotted Cat to hear Meschiya Lake and the Little Big Horns who were starting at 10PM. We walked into Smokin’ Time Jazz Club in full swing and a crowd that made you think it was a holiday.

Is it Tuesday night? I wondered.

Tin went to his nap knowing that when he got up he had a playdate with Lina so he woke up so excited and said, “I have a playdate and I’m going to eat pizza and cookies and have juice,” – hmmm – I said I think it is broccoli and kale they are serving. “NO BROCCOLI AND KALE!”

Fine, I have a playdate tonight too – I’m going out with my Puerto Rican friend to hear music and see the town a little bit. I started getting a little excited myself about having a playdate and having a cocktail and adult time. “NO JUICE!” I thought to myself as I put my lipstick on.

To celebrate the release of a new Clarinet Road CD, Clever Wines will host my next jazz brunch this Sunday. They’re handling the food this time, and if it’s half as good as the band, it will be great.  I have Mike Pellera, Peter Harris, and Ocie Davis. Background jazz? No way! Hope to see you Sunday.

I went from a StarTac to a Blackberry to an iPhone and along the way my contacts have gotten more and more screwed up. I’ve just figured out that I’m not going to have the email or phone number I am looking for at any given time. But when I asked a friend who dat? she responded and I apologized for my contacts being all screwed up and she said, everyone knows my contacts are all screwed up – and so it is.

Similarly, our guest sent a pic of Tin taken at Thanksgiving and I was just thinking about them, that like attracts like in the sense that either you are in or you’re not as far as this crazy mixed up world. As for me, I keep writing, and those that are in get woven into the fabric and those that opt out, are out by their own choice, not mine. I practice inclusivity, not exclusivity.