Sunday, October 26, 2008

I am not a morning défilé de mystère kind of Cornichon

*Sigh* I think we all could use a mental enema right now.
After weeks of being in DC with nothing but politics and financial doom-saying, (and the growing fixation that there was candy corn filling Abe's head in the seated statue at the Lincoln Memorial), I thought there was a chance your beloved Cornichon was becoming a bit of a mental tight-ass, so I have returned to La Nouvelle-Orléans for a bit of fun and frolic. I do wish you were all here now, as the world outside these flimsy levees could use a little of New Orleans particular laissez faire, but for now, here is a glimpse into the oddly beautiful rhythm that is life in the French Quarter.

I woke up this morning to a beautiful sunny day, the temperature a perfect 70 degrees. After rolling around quite kitten-like in the warm morning rays that were stretching their way across the white 10,000 count sheets, we were terror stricken upon realizing that there was no crème pour mon café, so Monsieur Moose and I decided to take a quick dash to the local corner market for a bit of creme and perhaps a beignet.

Sleepily wandering between the aisles we ran into a quite famous action/adventure movie actor that has a home in the neighbourhood and proceeded to start chatting about whether he and his BF were staying in town for the coming holiday-Halloween- or if they were jetting to the coast. The conversation led us through the check out line and on to the street walking up a few blocks toward their View Carre manse which just happens to be on the same Rue as our lovely "Maison des Orignaux" or as the kids call it, Chez Moose.

As we unhurriedly and gracefully walked along, we naturally encountered the cast of characters that make up the tasty local flavor of the FQ - quite the usual suspects I am afraid, but It wasn't until our matinee idol companion pointed it out, I realized how rarely I ever remark on the rather remarkable sights and sounds one sees on a daily basis living in the French Quarter.

So from mid- saunter I started making mental notes of the people we passed, first, there were three little darling mocha colored girls around 7 years of age simply racing up and down the sidewalk in Halloween costumes dressed in turn as a French Queen, (Anne of Kiev, I believe, in the years 1060-66, during the minority of her son, Philip I) a Saints Cheerleader with third costumed as a Ballerina- ("Avdotia Istomina to be exact, one of the most famous ballerinas of the Russian ballet in the 19th century....." she told me frostily post battement tendu)
Next, We bid a fine bon jour to the "Pie Lady" with her divine tignion and ya-ya cart full of yummy pies for sale, and upon reaching the next intersection, we encountered a quite handsome teenage Cajun boy who had removed the police line tape from a building and was curiously fashioning it into two flowing handheld groupings.
Nodding our heads approvingly when asked if we wanted to see him dance, he flipped a switch on a mini boom box attached to his bike and performed a shirtless “bandadansur” to the straining beat of "New Toy" by Lene Lovitch.
Upon its conclusion I remarked on his choice of music and that his ribbon dance was the best I had seen this side of the Faroe Islands.
At that time our Movie Star friend bade us farewell with a wink and a smile and Monsieur Moose and I continued our stroll with our new friend -quite speciously Day-O was his name-(as in "Daylight come and me want go home") discussing the brilliant music of the "olden days " as Day-O put it, that was 1980's New Wave.
Our conversation was cut short when we turned the block and fell right into a "Second Line" parade in process. Joining in the swelling group of people dancing and madly waving their hands to the jazz musicians we lost Day-O (as in the bread) somewhere in the mix only to by chance meet up with a certain Monsieur Possumwobbler who's acquaintance we had made during a recent trip to Argentina. After much "Girl!"'s and giggles and trying to figure out what the parade we were marching in was all about, our newest friend told us that they were on their way to a party a few streets up. (far be it from me to turn down an invitation given on the street...)
On route we discussed our morning thus far and in a mind numbing coincidence, it seems that Monsieur Possumwobbler had also met Day-O the day before-and come to find out, his name was actually Dale- "Ahhh, Dale/Day-O... with the thick Cajun accent who knew?" I exclaimed, "But that's OK, he referred to me as Mistah Cornish Hen so... tis moot...!"

The "défilé de mystère" deposited us on the doorstep of a party that was already in glorious frenzy mode, so scooping up the tray of Champagne glasses from a deeply stoned liveried servant, we glided into the parlor where a group of fetching Balinese drag queens were singing French art songs a cappella on the right side of the room and a certain famous celeb couple were holding court discussing embarrassing sexual encounters on the left. Always a gal that tends to dress to the left as well as lean to the left politically, we joined the couple and their rather decorative circle.
It was not long after a few rounds of Champagne (Krug, Clos du Mesnil 1995) and a crisp peppering of the conversation with a few delicious bon mots of our own that, much to the dismay of our fellow revelers, I announced that Monsieur Moose and I urgently needed to depart and return home as I had just remembered that the coffee pot was still on and I was still in my robe and bunny slippers, besides it wasn't even noon yet.

Well it's five o'clock somewhere!
Candy Corn!
1 oz 1800 Reposado Tequila
1 oz amaretto almond liqueur
4 oz orange liqueur
Combine 1800 Reposado Tequila and all ingredients over ice and blend. Serve in a margarita glass. Garnish with candy corn.
Now from Studio 54 (with Thomas Dolby on Synth!) Here's Lene!


lightbringer said...

It is always good to be home.

Especially when a celebration is near. Samhein, and the fall of leaves; wind blowing then down-- down among the ever barren trees.

A drink of champaign, oh that sounds nice...that child wearing that dress again this year--hey her big sister played in it thrice!

What I would do with a some real "star" treatment right now: horny as mind fuck; body in need of much touch.

the soul of man finds regeneration only amongst the dead who are buried along the rue of our choice. Take and live, now voyger...too not do so is YOUR vice!

Peace and luv, and bring me back a creme filled beignet: cuz I am HUNGRY!!

Blair said...

"Creme filled beignet" - I'm fairly certain that's a euphemism ;-)

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