Oysters for breakfast

Oysters for breakfast, oh yes we did.

I am having a delightful time doing the memory parade here in New Orleans. I am here with my also photo averse friend Jennifer Bouman. We hang out here a few decades back and are having many giggle filled moments. Walking through Frenchman St remembering the characters and citizens like Kenny Claighbourn. We were chatting about the likelihood of him still being here when we look up to see him idlyling towards us.

That is kind of how the city works in its own mysterious way. It gives you what you may or may now want in a delightful and random way.

We had a grand catch up and continued on. Before he arrived we were actually looking for the R Bar when we found him. We found ourselves there many hours later. It was a great dive bar in our day and that has not changed. Also, there was always a barber chair to trip over in the doorway. Still there. Only difference, last night someone got a nice haircut. It was Haircut Monday, apparently. We had a nice easy day listening to jazz we stumbled on, after oysters we craved, and sidewalks we stomped on. It ended with a drive through the French Quarter home.

Over and out.

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