I watched "Live With Regis and Kelly" (broadcast from New Orleans) this morning before an early summer rain dumped inches upon inches on us in a matter of hours. The show was taped before the rain, on a steamy morning. I could see poor "Reg" wilting a bit in the heat and I was reminded of how it takes a different breed to live here.
I'd planned to leave this morning, and I was packed and ready to leave for a week in fully-functioning Atlanta, but the weather foiled me. So instead I travelled to the West Bank to eat Vietnamese food with a girlfriend of mine. After dinner we watched the "American Idol" finale (my friend exclaimed "Justice!" when Jordin won, but I have a soft spot for beat-boxing Blake... it must come from my years of growing a room away from all of my brother's DJ-ing), and then I came home and watched the news, where I learned of a literal "SIGN of progress" (this play on words was not lost on corny news writers, of course). Evidently a state senator raised a stink about the sign welcoming you to "New Orleag" from I-10 East. And finally, it's being fixed.
So when I return from my Atlanta trip, I'll return to New Orleans, not New Orleag.
Now, what does it say about me that I have a soft spot for that "New Orleag" sign, too?
I think it means New Orleans is my home.
Oh, and: Oooh, ooh, OOH!!!!!!...
I got an email yesterday from a producer for This Old House. Never in my wildest PBS-kid dreams would I have imagined that I would be on that show. In fact, I can clearly recall feeling tortured when my dad would watch that show (I felt like my parents were The Worst for not allowing me to watch commercial telvision back then). Now, I feel a certain amount of pride that Our House is no commercial Regis and Kelly house. Nuh-UH! Our house is Bob Villa fodder!