Allons Danser

Still a little displaced because of a certain lending institution dragging it's feet in processing a loan for our home buyers, I took a little break this morning and spent a little time at the downtown Baton Rouge Redstick Market.

It's somewhat of a farmers' market where local growers sell fresh garden items as well as a few artisans presenting their work.

Aside from the jellies, cucumbers and tomatoes, there were other good eats as well.  Music filled the air with the regular zydeco musician playing for tips near the entrance.













Some of the natives seemed to be peaceful enough, even dancing at times.

 

This afternoon, we mowed and trimmed the lawn of the new one.  I would take a picture but I just don't want to jinx the progress. Complete carpet cleaning tomorrow.

Hopefully, we will be able to close on both the selling of our old house as well as the one we are buying within the next week.

Shirtless

The TSA agent, in  a boring monotone voice, announced loudly, "Removeallcomptuters,liquids,gels,fromyourbags ....everythingfromyourpockets  ....removeshoesbelt .....anythingfromyourpockets...."

I was in line awaiting my turn in the Baton Rouge airport for my usual partial pat-down.   I stood patiently behind a group of New Orleans Jazzfest band members who had, for some reason, chosen Baton Rouge as their airport.  After removing everything from my pockets, the computer from my bag and my boots placed in the bin, I noticed one of the band members had started removing clothing.  There was a miniature huddle with a couple of his buddies, so he stopped with removing only  the shirt.

Standing at the entrance of the complicated scanning booth, he waited until a supervisor, the agent had called, arrived and told him gruffly, "You can't go through here without a shirt!"  With a little hesitation and having his point foiled, the guy slowly put his shirt back on while I and a dozen others in line waited.  The agent motioned him through the scanning device.  He managed to not do it right a couple of time before getting the OK from the scanner.

Once the line was moving again, I proceeded to have my junk scanned and got a partial pat-down probably because I was laughing so hard at how one guy pawned the TSA.

Boudreau and The Myrtles

(Click pictures for larger view)

<------Louis & Jan

Having finished up a pretty intense week in Arlington, TX, the kind folks at American Airlines capped it off Friday with baggage mishandling and a couple of hours delay for my arrival home. Already dealing with some kind of stomach bug, it all made for a particularly long day.

With no particular plans, Darlene and I visited our friends up north of St Francisville. We, along with Louis, Jan and her sister Denise enjoyed the buffet lunch at the Myrtles there in St Francisville. It was a nice leisure lunch with tables resting on the bricked patio where a couple of black house cats twined through our legs as the girls swapped folklore tales of haunted experiences here. A Red Tail Hawk watched us from the top of a Cypress tree and eventually flew off in search of it's own lunch buffet.

After spending a little time, we checked out some kind of "festival" of sorts, looked a few restored cars and enjoyed a retro band playing their interpretation of Pure Prairie League, Van Morrison and a few others. After driving up to Louis & Jan's place, we let our hearts and minds wander by looking at a few lakeside homes for sale before turning south back to Baton Rouge.

All day long, Darlene had told me I should buy that motorcycle I've been wanting ever since my brother-in-law came and took the Sportster away 7 years ago. I had pretty much made up my mind that if I were to buy, it would be a Japanese bike because they used ones were so much cheaper. With absolutely no intention of going for a Harley, Darlene and I dropped off for a look at the local HOG pen on Siegen lane. Before I realized it, a dead serious, heart throbbing lust for a red on black FLSTC Softail Classic had settled on me and wouldn't get off. Vowing I wasn't going to "write a check today" to Bob the salesman, I left there at closing time with VIN numbers and name and phone of the previous owner of the contraption folded into my sweating palm.

I muddled all day Sunday and that night about whether I should buy it or and wasn't really sure one way or the other when I went back Monday morning for further looking and drooling. Long story short,I now own "Boudreau" (named after the original owner). The irony of all this is, the moment I signed the papers to take possession, my cell phone shattered my living dream and now found myself booking flights and hotels to Grand Rapids, Michigan. If that call had come in 30 minutes earlier, I probably would have delayed and backed off the deal but now, I'll have only this photo of "Boudreau" and the memory of the roar of those Screaming Eagle pipes to entertain me until I get home in a couple of weeks.

Oh, by the way, the critics hated it but the movie, Wild Hogs was a hoot. I loved it and recommend it for a rental.