Big Apple… Big Easy… Big News

I think I may have met my soulmate in Central Park last week: a little French bulldog. I never even caught his name because I was on a sensitive and formal phone call when we met. Let’s call him Pete. 

I was sitting on a bench, taking my phone call, when Pete walked by. He made a beeline for me, dug his paws in, and wanted to get to know me better. To be clear, I was not eating anything. 

His owner kept trying to drag him away, but Pete wasn’t having it. He would sit down, dig in, do a tuck and turn kind of move, and would not budge. People around us started laughing. His owner was so embarrassed. He kept saying, “I’m so sorry,” which gave me the impression that Pete doesn’t typically behave this way. 

And I don’t typically pet strange dogs because as much as I love dogs, I’m kind of scared of them. But I had no choice. I put my phone down and bent low so we could stare into each others’ brown eyes. Our feelings were mutual. But Brief. 

His owner finally managed to peel him away. Which I thought was kind of selfish. Oh well, it probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Pete’s a New Yorker, and I’m… moving to New Orleans! 

Yes, I am! Sort of. Maybe part-time. 

If you read my blog, you may remember a blog dedicated to apartment hunting in NOLA. I found one, dear reader, a little pied-a-terre in the French Quarter. I’m buying a spacious studio in the attic of a 150-year-old mansion. I didn’t think I wanted to live in an attic. I said, “no attics, no basements.” But I fell in love with a third floor walk-up. Obviously, I’m not going to love lugging my suitcases up and down that winding, elegant stairwell. But everyone knows (including Pete) that you can’t help who or what you love. The heart has a mind of its own, and my mind has a heart of its own. 

I can’t wait to show you around New Orleans. We have so much to explore, discover, and EAT!  …because I’m pretty sure my stomach has a heart too.