Romance in Bloom--The Art of Perfuming By Connie Vines #The Art Of Perfuming, #BWL Insider Blog, #Gumbo Ya, Ya, #Cajun Romance

 Romance in Bloom

Fragrance can transform your entire mood. 

And when the mood you want to conjure up is romance, a whiff of the right scent gets you there faster than a binge session with your favorite romance movies. 🎥

From spicy, sensual accords to rose-based floral diaries, I’ve updated rounded 5 of the best fragrances to wear to Announce Spring—or whenever you won't feel like you're living in a fairy-tale! 🏰

Perfumes, like wines, are categorized by notes. As many of my readers know, I was a fragrance consultant at a Perfumery. I love to share my acquired ‘secrets’ in blog posts and novels.

 *Remember, perfumes are a personal preference, and all fragrances lingering scent (bottom note) vary by a person’s PH Level.

Now let the fun begin!

1. Ralph Lauren's ROMANCE

Designed to hit all the feelings associated with falling in deep L-O-V-E, a spritz of this classic and light romantic fragrance treats you to notes like white violet, patchouli, musk, rose, and marigold.

2. Tom Ford’s infamous BLACK ORCHID Fragrance has become a cult icon in the beauty industry.

It is recognizable from just one spritz, but it's also one of the most compliment-inducing smells I've ever come across. Smells like: Warm incense spices, creamy vanilla, and heady patchouli.

3. Lancôme's TRESOR

The diamond-shaped bottle is one of the most popular fragrances out there. The brand evoked the radiance and warmth of love using floral and fruity notes like rose, lilac, peach, and apricot.

4. YSL’s BLACK OPIUM (one of my personal favorites) The fragrance is: Initially sweet with punchy notes of vanilla and coffee but dries down to a musky white floral base.

The creamy notes of coffee and vanilla give a non-sickly sweetness that develops into a dry white floral scent, after which you get the base notes of musk and patchouli. It's unique and oh-so moreish; this one will 100% become the most reached-for in your perfume collection.

5. Jo Malone London's LIME BASIL & MANDARIN COLOGNE. Smells like: Long summer days.

This fresh and zesty scent will have you dreaming of warm summer days with every spritz. Juicy notes of lime and mandarin are balanced with earthy basil and white thyme.

Like so many BWL authors and our readers, I love their gardens!

While my garden is no longer producing the lush harvest of fruits and vegetables of my two son’s elementary school years. I still maintain a PERFUMED GARDEN.

My Perfumed Garden is small because the scent can be overwhelming—robust scents. I try to intersperse my fragrant garden plants with scentless plants that complement their appearance over time.  

Lilacs have a strong scent, but only in late Spring. Therefore, Jasmine is a vine and a plant I utilize where ever possible. And, of course, roses🌹 and herbs.

The garden brings peace to my life, nourishes my soul, and inspires my creative spirit.

This clip has New Orleans Music: 🎤🎹🎵

How do I keep the Romance in Bloom in my stories?

Gumbo Ya Ya—an Anthology for Women who like Cajun Romance, features Persia, a New Orleans perfumer, and Cooper T., a breeder of the Catahoula Leopard Dog and Westminster Dog Show favorite handler in “The Love Potion.”

You will discover that the art of perfuming creates complications for this no-longer-together-couple. But love is, and a happily-ever-after is definitely in the air!

Enjoy the fragrances of Spring and Summer....and the latest releases from BWL Publishing, too!

Happy Reading, everyone,

Connie

XOXO

https://bookswelove.net/vines-connie/

https://books2read.com/Gumbo-Ya-Ya  (all vendors)

*copyrights of photos and videos have been granted to the author by Canva.

Voodoo Dolls in Small Town Ontario by Diane Bator

Who would have thought you would see Voodoo Dolls in the window of a shop in small town Ontario, Canada? Audra Clemmings certainly didn't! Part of my inspiration for the voodoo dolls in Miss Lavinia's shop window was helping out with a Haunted Dojo every year while I worked at a karate school (something that still might appear in my Gilda Wright Mystery series!) A bigger part of my inspiration was a trip to New Orleans this past Christmas.
Part of me wished I'd bought one to bring home.
The rest of me was scared to!

When Audra discovers voodoo dolls in the window of Miss Lavinia's shop near Halloween, she isn't too concerned. Until she finds one in a box of Halloween decorations that looks just like her father. A quick trip to Miss Lavinia's shop, reveals a perfectly innocent explanation. Miss Lavinia is a natural healer and uses them to continue healing her patients long after they have left her shop.
Audra is satisfied with that explanation until one of those patients is found dead...

My attempt at making string voodoo dolls with keychains attached! 

Not all voodoo dolls are used for evil or black magic. Most rituals are intended for the well-being of the intended person. Miss Lavinia uses voodoo dolls as a medium for prayers and healing. She added items of her patients clothing and hair when she could obtain them and used anointing oils such as lavender and eucalyptus among others to enhance the power of her healing and send a clear message. 

Although voodoo dolls can be energized to create malice and ill-will, doing bad only gives bad results. It can also lead to depression, conflicts, and bad luck for the user. So far, that hasn't happened in my Sugarwood Mystery series, but who knows?

Outline for a fabric voodoo doll...or chalk outline depending on how you look at things!

Just as in all forms of ritual, some healers use different colors of dolls to obtain different results:

     White – positive, purification, or healing.

     Black – can be used to dispel negative energy or summon it.

     Yellow – for success and confidence.

     Purple – for the spirit realm, balance, or mental exploration

     Red – for love, attraction, or power.

     Green – for growth, wealth, money, and fertility.

     Blue – for love and peace.

I guess my little red and blue voodoo doll is all about the love and peace. Maybe I'll hang him up near my computer as a good omen. Since the other one is currently unadorned, I'll have to find some string for him soon.
Or keep him as a Mummy. LOL!

Have a safe and happy October!

Diane Bator

Drop Dead Cowboy and other Diane Bator mysteries!

My First Novel was Too Long by Diane Scott Lewis

When I decided to write a novel as an adult (I'd written many stories as a child) there was no internet, no easy access to information. I plunged ahead, (secretly, at work) writing on and on, with little thought to plot, structure, and novel length. I had no idea publishers and agents were so picky about the length of a novel. I'd seen and read huge tomes in the library, Gone with he Wind, for one. Why couldn't I write a 200,000 word epic?

Escape the Revolution

Add in all that stellar research to make my historical saga real, the word count increased. When I read a few How-To books on novel writing, imagine my shock. I had to cut it down, or cut it in two.

I even entered a contest and the judges were impressed but told me a twenty page synopsis was far too long. My story was too 'busy'. I had a lot of editing to do.

I read books on style and structure, took workshops, and attended Writers Conferences. I rode the subway in Washington, D.C. to research my time period (eighteenth century, French Revolution in England) at the Library of Congress. A writer's paradise, all those books!

Jefferson Reading Room, Library of Congress

I submitted to agents, editors, and small presses: no one wanted this huge epic. One offered to read it over if I could cut it down to 70,000 words.

I learned to tighten my writing, delete characters (painful), move the action along, cut out unnecessary words, structure scenes: they all need a beginning and end, no rambling. And I made my story into two books. There was the perfect break. My heroine leaves England to find her mother in America, but her past will follow.

Hostage to the Revolution

Thus, my two novels on the adventures of a displaced countess, running from revolutionaries in 1790, into the arms of a man who may have murdered his wife. Cornish taverns, evil rogues, a neglected child, a man of mystery, and a determined young woman who strives to remake her life.

To purchase my novels, and my other BWL books: BWL

Find out more about me and my novels on my website: Dianescottlewis

Diane Scott Lewis lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty puppy.

An Introvert-Writer’s Guide to Celebrating Mardi Gras by Connie Vines

#1 Celebrate from the comfort of your home.  

Am I kidding?  No.  My husband is from Louisiana.  We have vacationed in New Orleans, many times. I absolutely love New Orleans’ French Quarter. However, my husband has always declined to vacation during Mardi Gras season.

“Why?”

“Because there are people.  Huge crowds of people.  Loud people who toss/throw things at you.  They also get drunk and. . .” he explained.

I got the idea.  He was probably correct.  Reality-Mardi Gras might be too intense (recalling my experience with the man and the tickle-feather at the Renaissance Faire which did not end well).

Still, the origins of Mardi Gras can be traced to medieval Europe, passing through Rome and Venice in the 17th and 18th centuries to the French House of the Bourbons. From here, the traditional revelry of "Boeuf Gras," or fatted calf, followed France to her colonies.

On March 2, 1699, French-Canadian explorer Jean Baptiste Le Moyne Sieur de Bienville arrived at a plot of ground 60 miles directly south of New Orleans, and named it "Pointe du Mardi Gras" when his men realized it was the eve of the festive holiday. Bienville also established "Fort Louis de la Louisiane" (which is now Mobile) in 1702. In 1703, the tiny settlement of Fort Louis de la Mobile celebrated America's very first Mardi Gras.

My day job requires interaction with staff, students, and social events.  I enjoy preparing regional meals.  I also like to throw family parties and get-together s with a small group of close friends.

Each year I host a “Mardi Gras” dinner party (I am an Introvert, remember.  No wild dancing or bead-throwing on the agenda). 

If you’ve ever traveled to New Orleans or are familiar with bayou cuisine, you may have tried a muffuletta. It’s one of my all-time favorite sandwiches.

 Muffuletta is both the name of a Sicilian sesame bread - and the name of a sandwich created by Italian immigrants (one branch of my family-tree originated in Sicily) in NOLA using the same bread. The sandwich combines Italian deli meats and cheeses with olive tapenade to create a layered sandwich unlike any other.

It’s Carnival season and there’s no shortage of delicious food to enjoy before, during, and after Fat Tuesday. If you’re having a Mardi Gras party, this slow cooker muffuletta dip is the perfect appetizer to serve to your krewe.

You can transform this quintessential New Orleans sammie into a dip for easy enjoyment at any party.  Plus, it’s research for my WIP set in New Orleans.

Hamilton Beach Slow Cooker

In a small slow cooker crock, combine giardiniera, cream cheese, chopped provolone cheese, cubed salami, and olives. Giardiniera is an Italian relish made of pickled vegetables. You can find it at the grocery store near the pickles.

Slow Cooker Mardi Gras Muffuletta Dip

Ingredients

1 jar (16 ounces) giardiniera, drained and coarsely chopped (Walmart—which I discovered by accident— Muffuletta mix in a glass jar).
2 packages (8 ounces each) cream cheese
1 package (8 ounces) sliced provolone cheese, coarsely chopped
4 ounces hard salami, cut in small cubes
1 cup sliced pimento stuffed olives
½ cup sliced olives
Pita chips/muffuletta bread

Instructions

In a small slow cooker crock, combine all ingredients except pita chips.
Cover slow cooker and cook on HIGH for 2 to 2 1/2 hours or LOW for 4 to 4 ½ hours. Stir occasionally.
Serve with chunks of muffuletta bread/pita chips.

After your party, indulge in a steaming cup of coffee with chicory and hot milk while reading an exciting novel available at BWL Publishing.

Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler!

My BWL Author Page!

https://books2read.com/Lynx  and my other novels, too!

Meeting a Voodoo priestess in New Orleans

It took some effort to connect with Priestess Miriam. When we arrived in the morning at the Voudon temple near the center of New Orleans, she was busy, even though we had an appointment.

“Come later,” she said. “I’m busy now.”

My son and I had planned this trip for months. We had flown to Houston and rented a car there; our plan being to travel across the South for two weeks.

We returned at noon, but the priestess couldn’t meet us. “Later” she shouted from the back. What did “later” mean? Time seemed to be a fluid concept for the priestess.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” commented my son.

I shrugged my shoulders. We spent the day sightseeing and, finally, at four-thirty in the afternoon, gave it one more shot.

“Alright, come in,” she said. She didn’t seem particularly welcoming. The priestess was past middle-age, with dark walnut cheeks, grey hair tied with a red bandana, and wore a white gown. The front of the temple contained a store, stuffed with various charms, liquids and herbs—traditionally called gris-gris, all necessary for the practice of Voudon. In the back was a large room, filled with an incredible number of knick-knacks—African masks, statues of the Virgin Mary, tie-died Hindu Deities and Tibetan Thankas. It was certainly an eclectic collection. She sat on a large seat while we occupied a small sofa in front.

“What do you want?” she questioned, getting to the point quickly.

“What is Voudon about?” I asked.

"It’s about healing. About allowing one to heal one-self.” She explained its history. “The English were not the only ones involved in the slave trade. The French also imported slaves to the Americas. But the difference was this: according to French laws, children were not separated from parents at an early age. Therefore, many African customs were transmitted to slave children, unlike in the rest of America. So Voudon became prevalent in Haiti and New Orleans.”

The old lady became more open as the evening progressed, as did we. The conversation took many turns: historical, social and even personal. I expressed my satisfaction of my travels with my son. She talked about the history of Louisiana, of New Orleans and the temple.

“The negative image of Voudon comes from Hollywood and sensational novels. They make it out to be something dark. But it is nothing more than the spiritual practices of West Africa, still practiced by over thirty million people—the Fon, Mandika and Bambra. However, over time, North American Voudon has become somewhat different.”

As she talked, she relaxed as did my son and I. Most of her visitors came for personal help: dealing with broken relationships and hurt. She healed and, in that, lay her power.

Finally, it was time to head out. I looked at my watch. It was eight-thirty.

As we said our goodbyes, she reached over to one of the shelves in the store. “This gris-gris contains some herbs. They purify the spirit. Please take it.”

We accepted the gift with gratitude. Maybe one day, we will be able to visit Priestess Miriam again.

Please read about this episode and others in Mohan Ashtakala’s new release, “Karma Nation.” www.mohanashtakala.com . 

Published by Books We Love: http://bookswelove.com/authors/ashtakala-mohan-fantasy/

Mardi Gras! Ooooh La La! By Connie Vines

Mardi Gras 2017 falls on Tuesday, February 28.  Today.😘 🎉

This is why today is the most perfect day for me to post on BWL Authors’ Blog.

My upcoming release “Gumbo Ya Ya” an anthology for women who like romance Cajun, takes place in New Orleans, Louisiana and features Mardi Gras and Cajun/Creole culture.

For those of you not familiar with Mardi Gras, I’ll give you a bit of a summary, via pictures and links, so that you can experience the excitement of The Big Easy (as New Orleans in called).

The most popular time to visit New Orleans is the extended weekend before Mardi Gras (February 24- 28). Come then and you'll be sure to catch the most popular parades, like Endymion, Bacchus, Zulu, Rex and all of the festive celebrations throughout the whole city.

Mardi Gras, or "Fat Tuesday," is the last day of the Carnival season as it always falls the day before Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. Most visitors will plan to arrive no later than Saturday, February 25, 2017 in order to enjoy an extended weekend of festivities.

Watch the Floats and Catch Mardi Gras throws.

Enjoy jumping up to catch beads, doubloons, cups, stuffed animals, etc.! Yell, "Throw me something, Mister!" at the float riders. Bring a large, sturdy plastic or cloth bag to hold all the treasure you'll be catching. If you try to put all of your beads around your neck, you'll have a hard time standing up straight. Be prepared: some people get so overcome with excitement they will occasionally jump in front of you to grab what a rider has thrown to you. Don't get into a tug-o-war; there are many more floats on the way. Some visitors from far away hold up a sign saying where they are from: our local riders love to see that people from out of town having a good time, and will throw to them to make sure they do.

If you can’t visit New Orleans during Mardi Gras, try ‘tasting’ a few of the famous ‘foods’ of The Big Easy!

For easy to prepare New Orleans Fare visit All Recipes http://allrecipes.com/recipes/192/holidays-and-events/mardi-gras/


Listen to Mardi Gras Music. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJARs46wMZ8


A video look at New Orleans during Mardi Gras.  http://www.mardigrasneworleans.com/videos.html

Let the Good Times Roll!

Connie 

My favorite New Orleans Cafe, Cafe DuMonde

Coming Soon

Available now: at Amazon.com

Barnes and Noble

SmashWords

Amazon. UK

What Eccentric Writing Habits Have I Never Mentioned? By Connie Vines

Most authors, of course, have personal eccentric writing practices. Fueled, no doubt by his or her personal muse.  Agatha Christie munched on apples in the bathtub while pondering murder plots, Flannery O’Connor crunched vanilla wafers, and Vladimir Nabokov fueled his “prefatory glow” with molasses.

Then there was the color-coding of the muses:  Alexandre Dumas, for decades he penned all of his fiction on a particular shade of blue paper, his poetry on yellow, and his articles on pink; on one occasion, while traveling in Europe, he ran out of his precious blue paper and was forced to write on a cream-colored pad, which he was convinced made his fiction suffer. Charles Dickens was partial to blue ink, but not for superstitious reasons — because it dried faster than other colors, it allowed him to pen his fiction and letters without the drudgery of blotting. Virginia Woolf used different-colored inks in her pens — greens, blues, and purples. Purple was her favorite, reserved for letters (including her love letters to Vita Sackville-West, diary entries, and manuscript drafts). Lewis Carroll also preferred purple ink, but for much more pragmatic reasons: During his years teaching mathematics at Oxford, teachers were expected to use purple ink to correct students’ work — a habit that carried over to Carroll’s fiction.

So how do my little eccentric (or never before mentioned) writing practices measure up?  Is my personal muse quirky, dull, or out of control?

Since my quirks are normal for me, I had to think about this for a bit.

• I always drink coffee that is part of my current ‘setting’.  When my setting is New Orleans I mail order my coffee from my favorite spot.  Café du Monde.  I have my cup and saucer, and a portable mug when I writing outdoors.

 I have a blue coffee pot and matching tin cup when I am writing westerns (yes, the coffee is VERY strong and black).  And of course, a Starbucks cup or a Disneyland mug when my novels take place in So.Cal.


• My music and my menu planning are also linked to my settings.  All within the range of normal.  Though I have more than my fair share of coffee mugs and cups.

• I listen to diction videos on YouTube so that I am not relying on my memory for the sound of a Cajun accent, Texan’s drawl, etc.


• I visit areas on Google Earth and Zillow.  Even if I have lived or vacationed there, I may have forgotten an interesting ‘something’ I can insert into dialogue, or find a way to describe a scene.

• I talk to myself.  Oh not simple little sentences.  I’m talking about a two-way conversation: “Do you think that might work?”  “No.  No one is that stupid!”  “How about. . .”  This is the time my husband walks by to find out who’s on the phone, or if I’m asking him a question.  The dog even pokes her head in to see what’s going on.  I’m thinking this is a bit outside of the ‘normal’ range.

• When I write I have to make certain my work space is in perfect order.  I have colored folders/pens/notebooks that match and are exclusive to the story I’m working on at the moment.

• I never enroll in an online class when I’m writing—it’s guaranteed writers’ block.  I never talk about my WIP because I mentally clock that as writing time and lose interest in the story before it’s completed.

• Whatever story I am working on is my favorite.

• I survive on 3 hours sleep when I am deep in a story.  I know I drink coffee, but seem to run the story in my mind when I sleep too.

• I also pick up the quirks of my heroines.  I have several friends who are in theater and they've said it’s a bit like ‘method acting’. Fortunately, I’m back to my state of normal a couple of weeks after typing THE END.

I think all of this is part of a writer’s voice.  It is what we, as readers, look for in a story.  Hopefully, it is what my readers, enjoy about the novels, short-stories and novellas that I write too.

Happy Reading!

Connie

Purchase Links to my novels on Amazon

My website:  Book Trailers, Blog, and Twitter feeds too!

You can also find me @ Dishin' It Out

Road Tripping USA Part Eight by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

www.joandonaldsonyarmey.com

 

Author’s Note

I belong to Angels Abreast, a breast cancer survivor dragon boat race team in Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada. Every four years the International Breast Cancer Paddlers Commission IBCPC) holds an international festival somewhere in the world. In the spring of 2013, my team received a notice that the IBCPC had chosen Sarasota, Florida, USA, to hold the next festival in October 2014.
     We decided to attend and while the other members were going to fly down, tour around some of the sites and head home I wanted to see more of the country and meet some of the people. My husband, Mike, and I drove from our small acreage at Port Alberni, British Columbia, on the Pacific Ocean, to Sarasota, Florida on the Atlantic Ocean.
     Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the people I would meet nor the beautiful places I would see nor the adventures I would have on our ten week, 18,758km (11656 mile) journey. On the thirteenth day of every month in 2016 I will post a part of my trip that describes some of the excellent scenery, shows the generosity and friendliness of the people, and explains some of the history of the country. The people of the USA have much to be proud of.

 Road Tripping USA Part Eight

In the morning I went into the McDonalds in Panama City, Florida,

 

to check emails. While I was there Mike saw a man sitting on the parking lot curb.

Mike’s Story: So there I was sitting in the motorhome all by myself because my wife had left me. The cats got tired of talking with me. I looked around and saw a guy sitting on a curb. Cats won't talk with me, wife is gone so I hobbled on my cane out to the guy on the curb. He was sitting with his head down and a cardboard sign propped beside him: Need Help, Thank You.

     He looked very depressed. I stood there. He looked up at me.
     “Hello,” he said.
     “Hello,” I said. I was in bad shape so I had a hard time rolling onto my knees, to my bum, to the ground to sit beside him. “So tell me your story.”
     He came from Tennessee to look for a job because he heard there was a lot of work in Florida. He was a painter and worked new construction. In order to get here, though, he had to sell everything. Once he arrived he found there was a lot of work but no one would hire him. First, because he was 60 years of age and they didn't think he could do the work, and secondly because he didn't have a means of transportation. He didn't own a car. There were places that would hire him if he had a car. He didn't know what to do. He doesn't have a pension to fall back on.
     I could tell he had a lot of pride. He missed his dad and phoned him once in a while. His dad is in his 80s and when he hears his son, he cries.
     I asked him why he wouldn't go home because it didn't make sense after that story and he said he didn't want his family to see him like he was, his dad, his brother, his sister. I asked him if he thought his dad would love him any more if he was the president of the US. It sounded that if his dad cried when they talked on the phone it didn't make any difference to him.
     “You should go home,” I said.
     “Maybe you're right,” he agreed. “Thank you for taking the time to sit down on the curb beside me and talk with me.
     “I wish I could help you more but I can't.”
     “That’s okay. The time you spent was lots and the talk was lots.”
     We talked some more and he said it was cold, he hated the nights sleeping out. I told him yes, I had done it myself when a teenager.
     “Sleeping out is a bugger,” I said “Where I come from you could freeze your ass off.”
     “Where are you from?”
     “Canada.”
     “Yeah,” he said. “Canada's cold.”
     “When did you eat last?”
     “Three days.”
     “That's counting today?” I asked.
     “No today is the fourth day.
     “How much would it cost to buy a meal?
     “I don’t know what to ask you for, you can eat cheap at McDonalds for $5.00.”
     “Could you have a good meal if I gave you twenty dollars?”
     “With twenty dollars I could eat for four days and I could start on my way home.”
     So I gave him twenty bucks and he thanked me. When he said he thought he should go home I said it would be a good idea because it doesn't matter how much money you have if you don't have family you don't have anything. He agreed.
     “Don’t give up,” I said.
     “I’m not giving up and I wouldn't give up.” He shook my hand. “God bless you. I'll walk you to your camper so you don’t fall down.”
     It was night when we entered Biloxi, Mississippi. We found a place to camp and the next morning drove to the Boomtown Casino. Part of it is on a barge where Mullet Lake empties into Biloxi Bay so it is considered a floating casino, a throw back to when gambling on land was illegal. To get around that law, paddle wheelers with poker games and machines plied the rivers and lakes. When the law was changed those paddle wheelers disappeared and casinos were built on land.
      We actually came out ahead on this floating casino. Mike spent $72.00 and won $100.00 and I spent $20.00 and made $30.00 so we were $38.00 ahead. We went to the buffet in the casino for lunch. It cost us $54.00 but what a meal: catfish, flounder, all the snow crab we could eat, roast beef, potatoes, shrimp, sushi, pizza, vegetables, salads and much more.
     As we drove through Biloxi, the Gulf of Mexico with soft sandy beaches was to our left. There were stately old houses to our right. We travelled about 30 miles (48km) with beside the beach. Then we crossed a bridge over St. Louis Bay with the gulf to the left and bay to right. At the end of bridge we were in St Louis and away from the water.

     As we neared New Orleans in Louisiana I asked Lola for a tourist information center. I wanted to go to one on the outskirts of the city so that we could find out where the French Quarter was and go straight there. Lola gave me about ten choices. Not knowing the city I just randomly picked one and hoped for the best. She took us right downtown.

     We didn't know where we were going but followed her directions to the Basin St. Station Tourist Information Center. We found a parking lot facing St Louis Street near the information center that charged $3.00 for a ten-hour stay or $10.00 for twenty-four hours. There were a few other vehicles and a motorhome was set up in the far corner. We paid 3.00 thinking we would only be there long enough to get our information and then be gone.
     In the center we discovered we were just a block from the French Quarter. And that we could also book a dinner cruise on the Mississippi, which we did for 7:00pm that evening. We got a map and headed out on St Louis Street to tour the French Quarter. The French Quarter is the oldest neighbourhood in New Orleans. Also known as Vieux Carre, it has been designated as a National Historic Landmark.
     As we walked down one of the streets a young lady came across the street towards us. She wore skimpy shorts and nothing else. She had painted her boobies all different colours. There was money sticking out of the waistband of her shorts and she had some in her hand. Mike got so excited that he took a picture of her.
     “That's going to cost you,” she yelled at him.
     “What?” he asked
     “It costs you to take my picture.”
     “Okay, my wife will pay.”
     “What?” I tried to hide my smile.
     Mike didn’t even look at me. He was staring at the young girl. “Yup, my wife will pay.”
     I gave her some money then took a picture of the two of them together. She didn't charge me.  As we walked away I thought, what an excellent way of make a living. Just paint your boobs and walk around in skimpy shorts collecting money. I wondered if maybe I could do the same only I would cover the seniors’ age group. I looked around and saw that there were quite a few potential customers.

     On Bourbon Street we went into a bar and ordered drinks. We had a good visit with the bartender who said he was hoping to leave New Orleans soon and pursue a different career. We continued our tour stopping in at a shop to buy bead necklaces. I wanted to take a swamp tour and we went into an agency. The man was willing to book at that time but Mike wanted to wait until the next day to see how he felt. The man said we could come early in the morning and book.

     On our way back to our camper we tried to take a tour of Cemetery #1 which was across St Louis Street from the parking lot. The gate was locked. I decided to check the next day.
     In the motorhome Mike laid down and I read. When he got up we decided we might as well stay the night in the parking lot. The cruise ended at 10:00pm and we figured we wouldn’t be getting back until around 11:00pm. Before we left at 5:00pm I went and put in another $3.00 to last us until three in the morning. We had been told that there was a trolley car we could catch to take us down Canal Street to the harbour but we wanted to walk. Mike took his cane for support.
     It was getting dark as we walked down Canal Street. It was brightly lit with lots of people, traffic, and the trolley cars going by. We arrived early at the ticket booth of the cruise. We took pictures of the cruise ship, named the Creole Queen, and then went into an outlet mall to wander around. There was a Lindt Lindor chocolate store. Each piece of chocolate was 26 cents or 150 for $44.00 dollars. Christmas was coming and those are my chocolate of choice during the holiday season. But rather than buy them and have to carry them with me on the cruise, I decided I would walk back in the morning and get some. Plus, I have absolutely no will power and I knew that if I took them with me I wouldn't have room for the meal on the cruise.
     We lined up to board the ship. We were seated and told to help ourselves to the buffet. I decided to take everything and at least taste it. I tried the chicken and sausage jambalaya although I didn't take the sausage. The rice with bean sauce and the Cajun green beans were both very spicy. The corn dish was delicious. I felt safe taking a lot of the garlic potatoes. I was told the gumbo was flavourful but not spicy and that was true. The corn muffins were sweet. For dessert there was bread pudding that tasted like a cinnamon bun with raisins. It was so good I had two helpings. There was also roast beef and Caesar salad but I didn't sample them. I can get them at home. I had water because there was either that, or an alcoholic drink or coffee and I’m not a coffee drinker.
     The meal was served between 7:00pm and 8:00pm and a three-piece band played jazz. At 8:00pm we started our cruise up the river. It was very dark and we could see the lights of New Orleans as we left. The Creole Queen is an authentic paddle wheeler. She is powered by a 24 foot (7.3m) diameter paddle wheel and made her maiden voyage in 1983. Mike and I headed outside but we were going against the wind so it was chilly. We went back inside and listened to the music. When the Creole Queen turned around we were sailing with the wind and it was quite balmy.
     I spent a lot of time out on the deck watching the water churn by and seeing the lights on shore. The river was busy even in the dark as a number of boats and barges went by. I walked to the back end and watched the paddle wheel work for a while then leaned on the railing and just enjoyed the fact that I was on the mighty Mississippi River.
     Mike talked with one of the band members. The man had been to Nanaimo when he was a member of a different band that was touring British Columbia.
     The riverboat docked at 10:00pm and Mike and I started our walk back. We went slowly and Mike had to use his cane. We decided to see the French Quarter at night so we walked to Bourbon Street again. Barricades were at the ends of the street and it was closed to traffic. All the bars and stores were open and people wandered up and down the street talking and laughing. It had the party atmosphere we’d expected to see.
     We turned onto St. Louis Street to continue our way back. It wasn't as well-lit and we were nervous. As we walked we heard steps behind us. We looked back and saw a guy who appeared to be following us. When we got to a corner we walked kitty corner to the other side. Once there we turned and stared back at him. He hesitated on his corner then left.
     As we continued to walk there was another guy behind us. We looked back a couple of times which must have made him nervous or uncomfortable because he changed to the other side of the street to walk. We got back safely just before 11:00. I went across the lot to put in three more dollars which would take us to 9:00am in the morning. There was lots more that we wanted to do like take the swamp tour, go buy my chocolates, and see the river in daylight. The only other vehicle in the lot was the motorhome. At last, a quiet night.

     At about 2:00am a tap, tap, tap woke me up. It wasn’t a knock so I didn't know what it was. Mike came up and I asked him what it was and he said there is a sheriff outside. He got dressed and went out to talk with him. Our girls were on high alert at the tap on the door and when Mike went outside they headed to the windows and tried to look outside. My window was open so I could hear what the sheriff had to say.

     Apparently there had been a break in of a motorhome somewhere in the area and he was wondering if it was us.
     “No, we’re fine,” Mike said.
     “Why are you camping here?”
     “We were told we could by someone at the information center.”
     “This is a bad area and you shouldn’t really be camping here. Criminals will look at your license plate and see that you are from Canada. They know that you won’t be carrying a gun, so you will be an easy target. Last year we had 300 murders in this area and people disappear without a trace.”
      He wondered if we had any protection because we could carry a gun in Louisiana as long as it was not hidden. At one point someone walked by on the street and the sheriff pointed to him and said that was one of the people he was warning us about.
     Once he had delivered his message he and Mike chatted for an hour about fishing, hunting, places for us to eat, and more. He said he wanted to come to Canada someday so Mike opened the outside door and asked me for my business card. Purple and Red both went and sat on the step looking at him. After I'd given him my card I went back to bed.
     As he was leaving the sheriff advised us that maybe we should find a different place to stay. He said that because of all the disasters that have happened in Louisiana over the years there are a lot of homeless people who can't get back on their feet.
     We took his warning to heart. We put Walmart into Lola, picked one and drove to the west end of the city.
     We figured we were pretty lucky. Lola directed us to the visitor centre right beside the French Quarter, the place we wanted to see, the sheriff came along and possibly saved us a lot of hassle or even worse, and then Lola got us to the Walmart to stay for the rest of the night.
     We have a saying that we live by: The Lord looks after kids and idiots and we’re not kids anymore.