Mid Day Muse

As I sit on my little patio, trying to ignore the ear-spliting squeals of the neighbor's child  and the perspiration dripping down the small of my back, I close my eyes and rest my head imagining my life in another moment.

Suddenly I am emmersed in a totally different frame of mind ... The Big Easy. I am lounging on a wicker chair on a filigreed architectural balcony in the French Quarter, a gentle breeze sifts through the ferns keeping my body temperature cool and comfortable. I am sipping on a Mojito and listening to the excitable chatter of people on the street below me and the horns of street cars. The sound of live New Orleans jazz grooves in my cochlears, reminiscent of Louis Armstrong during the StoryVille era when the moonshiners and madams of the underworld plied their trade amongst the gambling saloons and bordellos in the red light district. Voodoo queens offered solace to the desperate by casting spells or giving potions.  Gentleman wore shirt-tails, Ascots, and Homburg hats and while ladies donned stiff, high collared  dresses with a tightly bound corset underneath, emebellished hats and gloves. There was a definitive pride in appearance.

My only concern today is pondering which of my party dresses I shall adorn at dinner: vintage or contemporary? How shall I style my locks: pinnafours or a classic crop? Which delicious meal should I partake in: Crawfish Etouffee or a simple Muffuletta?  Will we continue after dinner for frozen daquiries or call it an early night? So many questions without answers, I find myself needing an afternoon catnap to clear my cranium.