It's Day Three and nary a word from Michele! She and her sisters must be having a grand ole' time.
I wonder what the handsome Kevin is thinking about now?
Yeah, I have to agree, let's not go there. They are still in their honeymoon period, aren't they?
During my first conversation with Michele on the phone a number of months back, we hashed out who knew who from where in Louisiana and reminisced a bit about our respective childhoods, as well as what we missed most about being gone.
I told her that I had just been to a ladies' Bunco night. It was the first time I had ever played Bunco and while I knew several of the ladies in attendance, there were many more that I did not know.
One of my new acquintainces had a distinctly South Louisiana accent. About thirty seconds into the conversation I asked her where in Louisiana she was from.
She responded: "Why you tink I from Looziana?"
Me: "You sound like some friends I know from Ville Platte."
Her: "Pou-yai! You from Looziana, too?! I grew up fifteen miles from Ville Platte."
Me: "I grew up around DeRidder."
Her: "You don't sound like you from Looziana. You open your mouth, de words, dey come out, but I don't hear nothin'." (Translation: "You don't have an accent.")
Once my new friend was convinced I was, indeed, from Louisiana the very next question "out her mouth" was: "What you cook good?"
This lady came to the same conclusion both Michele and I also reached. The one thing we miss most about our home state: The damn good food!
I'm sitting at my desk and in honor of my friend Michele, I just had an order of Popeye's onion rings and red beans and rice. It's not homecooking, but it's the best I can do at the moment.
As I hoist my Diet Coke: "Cheers, Michele!"