I have to say that one of the things that's awesome about living in new orleans are these fantastic rainstorms we get. buckets and sheets of rain, pouring over the roofs, slapping against the windowpaines with newfound easy familiarity. granted, we've witnessed our fair share of devastation in these parts due to atomic caliber hurricaines, but nothing beats the sound of murderous thunder in the sky as i sit, tucked away in my cozy southern digs, buried beneath a mountain of pillows and a stack of books perched precariously on my side. Perfection.

the place has charm, i'll have to post some pix. hardwood floors, french doors, tall ceilings. an adorable screened little balcony. the house is a delicious flamingo pink with major new orleans classic throwback appeal. the bathroom features a claw tub and a black and white checkered floor. my room is floor to ceiling windows, letting in so much natural light i could just pinch myself.

ive decided to sort of abandon the editing process in my writing and just write what comes to mind. it's interesting; i viewed another friend's blog and decided i liked her ramble musings so much i thought that some soul out there might feel the same way. people's lives are interesting, even in their placid ordineriness. for instance, in my younger days, i used to get oodles and noodles of delight in falling into the lives of the characters of Laura Ingall's Wilder's Little House on the Prairie series. God knows those days are a far cry from the technological-gadget filled, modernized world we currently occupy, but there was so much imagination! A peppermint stick would elicit cries of delight and something as seeminly benign as a gentle kiss on a woman's cheek would have all the girls' hearts cooing and fluttering with exultation. i lost myself in that era, feeling just as dainty and fine as the young ladies skipping about in their muslin and calico petticoats and fur trimmed collars. And school! Oh, how school seemed so interesting and fun. I may even dare say I attribute my teacherly aspirations to Wilder's descriptive pages by I so routinely got lost in.

The nostalgia of those times fills me with a sweet reverie. While I didn't choose to be born in this century, something about life on the homefront transports me to a time and place where things didn't matter as much as people mattered. where importance was placed on virtues or character traits. where blizzards brought people together around a warm family hearth, stories spun with animation and plumes of delicious color. Fast forward to the present: I guess storms have a way of harkening back to simpler times, when a cozy kettle and a warm quilt (let's not forget a good book) were some of life's sweetest indulgences. For now though, I have imagination...and imagination I shall readily use...