I'm still a little at odds. Not shaken or shocked. More of kind of detached resignation.
This building is a post office. The sign outside the door alerts patrons to honk their horns in order to notify the clerk that they need assistance. I am so not in NOLA anymore.
Waiting to hear if your city/school/home/belongings are still in full operating order is kind of like being in the ER.
It's all you can do to wait.
The Orange was not too upset at the prospect of the 9 hour drive.
He did spend some time with his head in a cup holder though.
I've holed up at Leah's (fellow classmate & set designer) house in Temple, Texas with several other hurricane flee-ers.
Last night we had a fantastic dinner of Chicken a la Grande and Gumbo. A bit of New Orleans comfort in a spoon.
The four present musicians played some jazz and I pitched a tent in the back yard at 1 am and climbed in.