An Anomaly in New Orleans: Shoe Pantry in the Kitchen

Here is a photo of the pantry of the sweet woman who visits us on Chartres Street.  Look closely, you will see no pots, pans, nor bags of Camellia Red Beans in her pantry, just shoes.

One rather slow afternoon, I asked Miss L if she cooked.
 "No. My oven is filled with shoes," she said with a perfectly straight face.

I waited, thinking perhaps she was joking.  After recovering, I asked her to supply me with a photo.  She brought me this one this morning.

So I have a direct connection to someone who has exchanged cooking for shoe collecting. Imelda Marcos  would be proud!  Perhaps Imelda's collection rivals Miss L's, but Imelda had the budget of the Philippines at her fingertips.  I have read that Imelda's 3,000 pairs of shoes have been eaten by termites.  I shall warn my new friend about the possibility. God knows the termites love our city.  At night during mating season they swarm around lamp post, like our local characters who drink too much.

I wonder if the termites have concocted a recipe for filet of sole? Or perhaps in-step á la King? Marinated tongues?  Stringy almondine?  This might be the title of a non-cook book.  How to feast on the soles of our past purchases?  There are some Wall Street sharks who do just that!
  
Is there no surprise that our Imelda of Chartres Street, works in a shoe store? 

I once had some dear friends help me move, I was accused of being an Imelda on a teacher's salary.  My poor shoe collection did not have designer labels like the "Sex and the City" characters.  Just a modest collection from various shoe sales.

"The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize." Olympia Dukakis', who plays Clairee Belcher, in Steel Magnolias announced to her hair salon companions.  Maybe, we are just trying to step away from the crowd.

There certainly could be worst things in our closets!

Mating Season at the New Orleans Pond

Pardon my intrusion Miss Toad, but I may have assisted in the selection of a poor mate for you.

I am now wondering if my relocation of the loud croakers (see the last Blog post) upset the laws of natural selection. This is what happens when you forget your basic biology. Sister Keritas taught us about frogs at Dominican High School back in 19__.  I did well in her class, even though they hid all of the good stuff from us. We stopped short of human reproduction.  We had the famous "sex" talk in our senior year in the upstairs library.  A priest and a doctor were called upon to answer our questions.  We still did not get the real sex lessons like the ones I taught at Brother Martin High School.  So we did not have too many questions. I sure that was a relief for Father.

I invited a PHD in nursing to discuss child birth and delivery. When Dr. Bethencourt described the pleasure cycle of a woman, pens were flying across note pads.  I have taught for many years and never witnessed this much enthusiasm for note taking before! The final exams noted in colorful detail what Dr. Bethancourt said: "I hope that you have to shit a watermelon."  One woman yelled at her husband when one of the pains hit her. One young man passed out when he saw a simple drawn slide of an episiotomy. Another student remarked, "that he was going home to thank his mother."

At least, these students had more information than our Dominican Class had.  I did my best. 

All species hunger for the ability to leave behind their own kind.  But, alas, Miss. Toad, I may have taken all of the best and loudest croakers for rides to various locations because they were not impressing me!  They were probably singing their hearts out to attract you!

Oops, another lesson not learned. I guess I need to look up Sr. Karitas and get a remedial biology lesson.  We might also discuss the lack of human reproduction information in our basic biology class.

Toad hunting in the back yard pond

Toad hunting in my backyard proved to be easier than I imagined.

Our pond has become the nightly gathering place for a quartet of toads. We just purchased a beautiful water lily from Aquatic Gardens on Elysian Fields Avenue.  Little did we know that it would provide a perfect perch for a concert. Rather than a soothing nature concert, we have been awakened by loud bursts of  boasting and bravado.

Keali'i Reichel's lovely " Toad Song," was not what we were entertained with. The four toads seemed to be engaged in a competition of sorts.  The rules of engagement must have been established by the same fools who jack-up their car speaker systems! Who could croak the loudest, and at the same time were the rules that we gleaned. It was like listening to some of these talk shows where no one is listening, and everyone is croaking louder and louder to be heard.

O.K.. I hatched a plan and used  all of the lesson that I learned from the hunters in Houma, LA, where I lived for 20 years. They go frog gigging at night with a flashlight attached to a helmet. I did not have the proper gear, but I do own a flash light.  

It almost seemed too easy. The light paralyzed the frog, and I just scooped them up. The first night, I simply walked to the front yard and relocated them. It took four trips from the backyard through the side gate and out of the front gate. This exercise took about 20 minutes.

The second night, I gathered each individual up, went through the side gate, and out of the front gate, and I deposited the group down the street.

The third night, I took two of them for a ride-near midnight- to Audubon Park, 2.5 miles from our yard!  When I returned home, the other two had commenced the competition.  I captured these additional stragglers and released them the next morning two blocks away.

Last night... one lone toad was croaking... He is in a plastic Chinese take-out container in the front yard ready to be released in City Park when I go to my docent meeting.  Bon voyage Mr. Toad

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSbPC3Ngh5A

News from Chartres Street: Unidentified man sheds his Hanes

Stranger things have been know to happen... but, I am not sure what.  I found a strange deposit in the beautiful potted plant on Chartres and Conti.

Someone, I presume, a man left his grey Haynes underwear in the planter!  Dear reader, don't ask me to describe the contents!

What was he thinking?

• "This would be  perfect time to go naked."
• "I remember what it was like to be a baby in diapers."
• "How many pairs of underwear can I go through in a day?"
• "Who needs drawers?"
• " I want my Haynes stock to go up."
• "My mother would be really mad at me... here's to you mom.."

The strangeness of this event was quickly over shadowed by the sparrow with the hot pink boa feather in its beak. Now that's something to write mother about.  I am sure that Lady Sparrow is not the only nester with pink feathers surrounding her young ones.

I am much more impressed with the sparrow than the Hanesless man.

When you think you have seen it all, a bicycle parade of naked riders cross Chartres Street headed for Bourbon Street. These riders were demonstrating the need for safety for bikers. Their purpose was perhaps nobler than the underwear shedder!

The things that one sees on Conti....

San Francisco to New Orleans

San Francisco to New Orleans

Cable cars on flatter services

Smiling people who sway like they are walking up hill

While starring down a riverboat.

Waters, where the people, and not the sea lions sing praises.

Delicacies from the ocean

Leonardo inspired cuisine.

Water breezes that refresh

Not the computer reset button:

Sea air echoing your DNA

Dance with your H2O components.



One has Lombardi; the other a crescent river

Both presenting challenges and obstacles

Both require the slowing down

To observe, to restrain; to ponder.

Rosalynn Moore
Post San Francisco trip