Yesterday evening I met the Dreamy DJ at the ferry and we stood with our bikes at the railing and watched the sky darken from blue to black. Perfect.

Then we biked out for Vietnamese food, which doesn't sound like a big deal except I could count on one hand the times I've eaten Asian food since I moved here. You'd have to live here to understand that any kind of quality affordable "ethnic" food is a rarity in New Orleans. There just aren't little hole-in-the-wall places with steaming bowls of stuff for $3.99. Food tends to be Americanized and expensive. Bah. Put it this way: once I went for Chinese food with friends, and they didn't have any chopsticks. Only forks.

On our way to the Vietnamese restaurants, we biked through neighborhoods that aren't exactly dangerous, but if we'd gotten mugged I wouldn't have been surprised either. I'm never sure where to draw the line in New Orleans. I think I just don't want to draw that line. I don't want to be that person. Is that naive?

I'm not exactly walking into walls today, but I admit to feeling just a bit swoony. I hate that this has to end, and it will. very soon. I'm trying not to think of it.

11:22 a.m. - 2008-03-13