So while this is not what I usually do, I’m determined to get the right mayor for our city this time around. I’ve done my research, and as you’ll probably see all over TV tomorrow, I’ve decided who is the best candidate for the job.

I fully understand that my “endorsement” means almost nothing, but I am fully in support of Leslie Jacobs for mayor of New Orleans. She is the only candidate with both the business and government experience required for this job. She is the only candidate with a proven record in education (created our current charter school climate). She is the only one who has worked extensively to retain the bright young people who have flocked to the city (with 504ward). She is the only candidate that has the ability to demand results and make our city truly great. I’m going to make sure the city wakes up enough to realize that we deserve to be great.

I guess I finally feel like I have more to contribute and so I have spent this time getting my blog back up. I know there will be more soon…

I happen to be fairly late at writing thank you letters this year.  It is especially sad for me right now that I am suddenly writing half as many letters as I have always written.  Who knew that this practice that I always dreaded would make me sad because I have two less of them to write.  I’ve been so lucky for so long.  I know what the future brings, but it won’t make it any easier to accept.

To be honest, I’m kind of happy that it happened.  She was miserable.  She used all of her energy to let you know that she hated living in her nursing home.  It’s not that the nursing home didn’t treat her well, but she just wasn’t the kind of person who was content in such a situation.

As I travel up to Rochester, I know I will remember her not from the conversation I had this week on the phone or from the visit during the summer.  I will always remember her from a year ago and six years ago and fifteen years ago — the woman that I had conversations with and who could walk and was so smart.

The thing is, I know that I already said goodbye.  I’m not a super sentimental person who is caught up in such things, but I’m glad that I had that opportunity.

It was truly a marriage of snow and New Orleans precipitation.  I think it was as much snow as I’d ever seen falling in Vermont or Wisconsin.  The difference is it only lasted about an hour and a half and then switched to hail and rain.  It also feels weird that there is no sign of any of it now.  Perhaps it’s because our city was designed (well… maybe retrofitted… hopefully) to pump out water as efficiently as possible.  I don’t think we would ever have a mud season.  And thank goodness the streets don’t have a salt residue; they’re bad enough already.

I made a pie yesterday. I’ve always been a baker… I’d even say that I’m a pretty good baker.  Although, never before this weekend had I baked a pie.  I guess I never wanted to.  I grew up in a family that didn’t eat pies.  We made cakes and cookies.  Occasionally something like lemon squares.

After seeing enough Thanksgiving images, I decided that I wanted a pumpkin pie.  I guess I was most amazed by how easy the process was.  I followed Meg’s recipe and made an excellent pie with no problem.  There are some things that I would do to improve it on a second try, but I’m quite happy. The only problem is that I’m the only one who wants to eat it.  I told my mom that I made it and asked if she wanted to try a piece.  Her response was, “Nope… Oh good! Now I won’t have to buy you a pumkin pie for Thanksgiving dinner.”

My friends and I had our own conversation for a while and didn’t really notice them.  Then they got up and started moving away from the bar.  She stuck around for a little bit and we said goodbye, nice to meet you, etc.  I guess they only moved away from the bar because he was threatened by other guys.  He then came back and singled me out saying, “Let me give you some advice as a guy.  Don’t try to pick up a girl who’s making out with another guy.”  I started laughing.  Everyone around me was trying to contain themselves, including the waitress who stopped serving drinks.  Then Pete, who I had just met that night, started quizzing the guy about his ‘relationship’.  He asked if he was dating her – no.  If he came here with her – no. If he knew her – yes, he was protecting her for her boyfriend.  Rockstar! The girl behind the bar lost it. Apparently the guy on the other side of them from before had overheard some of his conversation which consisted of him telling her that she had small tits so she should flaunt them more.  He was a winner.

I’ve had a lot of memorable nights at columns.  In fact, too many.  I love New Orleans, but who invited {insert suburb name} to the columns?

http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,1860403,00.html