A Big Easy Anniversary

To commemorate our 25th wedding anniversary, we spent the weekend eating our way across South Louisiana. We're talking cracklin's and boudin balls from Billy's Mini-Mart in Krotz Springs all the way to Commander's Palace in the New Orleans Garden District and just about anything in between. There was no holding back, either. Of course we started one day with Breakfast at Brennan's, complete with crepes and Bananas Foster. Go big or go home, and we weren't going home.

Our daughter went along on the trip and split time between us and a group of some young women she has been known to call her "home besties," meaning some of the best friends from home. Seeing them was her primary goal, but the opportunity to have a high-end breakfast in the French Quarter was just too enticing to pass up.

The staff at Brennan's is quite adept at putting on a show for guests, and this time they didn't disappoint.

They're also accustomed to dealing with first-time visitors, and so our waiter started to explain to us the basics of Bananas Foster. We assured him that we are quite familiar with the concept.

We engaged in a spirited discussion about whether we were enjoying breakfast or brunch. Since our reservation was at 9:00 a.m., breakfast got the nod; but we were so overstuffed and satisfied by the time we left that we didn't eat again until after 7:00. So, I think I can make a case for brunch.

We stayed at Le Pavillon, a spectacular historic hotel on Poydras Street that seems to define elegance and service. Any hotel staff could spend time training with the people at Le Pavillon and come away better for it. I overheard another hotel guest say to his companion, "This isn't just any hotel," and he got that right. It's not a resort, and I don't see any reason to take kids there; but if you're looking for a place to celebrate something like your silver anniversary, it's hard to imagine a better place. There's even a pool on the roof.

Sun worshiping wasn't on our itinerary, but we did enjoy the poolside surroundings several times at night, where the view of the crescent city was something to remember.

If you've paid attention, you know how much I love my daughter's friends and how much separation anxiety/ empty nest woe I experienced when they left for school. Of her "core four" middle school/ high school friends, three of them live in either Baton Rouge or New Orleans. They reunited to celebrate the 20th birthday of the youngest among them. It's the first time they've been together in months. They're already making plans for Memorial Day weekend 2013, when they will all be 21. I heard one them say "364 days 'til Vegas!" The opportunity to spend time with them as a group made the weekend even more special.

Our four-day weekend wasn't carefully lined out. We had a couple of restaurant reservations, but that was about it. Our plan was to take it as it came. It turned out to be just what we needed: No pressure and lots of food. There was a little too much shopping for my taste, but I was happy to stumble into a shoe store on Magazine Street that would let me sit still while the women gasped and giggled over footwear.

We did a lot of the things you're supposed to do when you're in New Orleans, including beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe Du Monde. We also strolled up and down Bourbon Street at night, a pursuit that becomes less appealing every time I do it. Someone we talked with while we are there summed it up well: Bourbon Street is "frat boy New Orleans." After 25 years of marriage, we're better suited to "grown up New Orleans," which means going to jacket-preferred restaurants. Except, of course, when you know there's no way to avoid dusting yourself with powdered sugar.

Our actual anniversary is May 30th, which in 1987 was the Saturday of Memorial day weekend. So, we took the slightest poetic license by celebrating over the weekend. Besides, having the Big Day itself come mid-week means another excuse to go out to dinner!

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Western Facing Offspring

Somebody asked me the other day if we have any big plans for summer. I bothers me a little that I hadn't considered it at all until I was asked. So, the answer is "no." But that's okay, our children are taking up the slack. We heard from our son, who left town and flew to the west coast, arriving in time to watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.

That was far from the end of his day, though. He and one of his friends apparently stayed on the beach all night, and by his account "ended up having to walk to a hotel, but we got lucky and got a super nice room for $70." You know what? From a parent's perspective, I'm not pressing for any more details.

The academic year is over and our daughter is temporarily homeless. She had to vacate the dorm and she can't move into her new apartment for two more weeks. So, she came home to visit her parents, right? No. She's in Colorado.

She actually has carved out a sweet deal for herself. Several years in a row, she and a group of friends have gone to one camp or another to prepare the facility for the summer onslaught. She doesn't have to pay for food, transportation or lodging and she gets to hang out in the mountains for a week. Pretty good work if you can get it.

Meanwhile, her brother found himself in San Diego with no specific plans. I asked, "Are you going to the World Famous San Diego Zoo?" Well, he didn't know about the zoo; but he immediately looked it up online and balked at the admission price. He asked "Do you think it's worth 42 bucks?" I said "I don't know, but it's supposedly the best zoo in the country. If you're in San Diego, visiting the zoo is basically a requirement." Having said that, I had to back up my words with action; so I jumped onto the internet and bought tickets for them. It just amazes me that in a matter of minutes from half a continent away, I can have tickets electronically delivered. Just about an hour later, they were staring at a panda.

The first comment I got from him was "this place is incredible. they seriously have like every animal ever."

Okay, so he and his buddy are 22 years old, but it does an old man's heart good to perceive child-like enthusiasm. They even got on the "skyfari," where they were all smiles.

He said "this place in insane. Definitely worth the price." Yeah, I'll bet...especially since he didn't pay it.

The guy in the beard is a long-time neighborhood friend who is currently living in southern California, somewhere inland, where this is his back yard view.

You know, it's not exactly Lake Bistineau. The change of scenery will do him some good. Looking ahead on the calendar, it looks like there will be two days when we will all be in the same city at the same time. Maybe we can all go out to dinner or something.

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Moving Through The Rain

(Ft. Worth) - The semester has come to a close at TCU, which led to a hastily thrown together mid-week trip to help our daughter move out of her university housing. Apparently, the idea that she had to vacate kind of dawned on her Monday. So, she called and asked us to help her pack up her things and haul them away. It's a good thing we did, too, because with her finals and work schedule, she wouldn't have been able to accomplish it. The project was made all the more challenging by a pretty persistent rainfall. Slippery business, moving in the rain. The good news: I got pinned down by a storm and waited it out under an overhang near the football stadium, which is undergoing a complete reconstruction. So, I got a little football fix.

The conditions also had a significant impact on the one piece of fun we were able to plan. We scrounged up some tickets to what was described as "the most anticipated regular season game in Ballpark history." That's a reference to the Texas Rangers,who were hosting the Los Angeles Angels in a weekend series. All games were sold out, but thanks to the internet, we found three seats in the upper deck.

The big draw was the return of long-time Rangers pitcher C.J. Wilson, who was not re-signed by the team when his contract expired after the 2011 season. He signed with the Angels, and the series opener marked his return to Arlington.

As it worked out, he was matched up against his perceived replacement, Japanese import Yu Darvish.

Wilson lasted less than an inning. He loaded the bases, then the rain came. Then the wind came. Then the lightning came. The sell-out crowd sought shelter.

The ladies gamely hung out, conveniently near an ice cream stand, as we and tens of thousands of our companions kept an eye on the sky hoping for a break in the weather.

We got it after about two hours, during which we ate more than a healthy quantity of Blue Bell and wandered around the stadium.

When play resumed, Wilson was nowhere to be found; but Darvish, to the delight of the shocking number of people who stuck around, returned to the mound. It was worth the wait. Darvish was impressive as he continued to ingratiate himself to his new teammates and fans. Even more exciting: Rangers slugging outfielder Josh Hamilton, who earlier in the week accomplished the rare feat of hitting four home runs in one game, clubbed two homers in support of Darvish.

We left about midnight, exhausted and a little damp; but what a memorable evening it was: We were part of a stadium atmosphere that was electric in more ways than one, and of course we have stories to tell about enduring a Texas thunderstorm from the upper deck.

Now, immersed in the ongoing storylines entwined with the two-time defending American League Champion Rangers, we're actually paying attention to Texas baseball. And, by the way: while she had to be out of her dorm, our daughter can't move into her apartment for three more weeks. So, her stuff is just stashed at a friend's place. We get to do it all over again. I hope the Rangers are playing at home that weekend.

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Sadness

She was the best dog I've ever had. Claire said "Belle was perfect." I want to concentrate on the nine years of love, happiness, amusement and companionship she gave our family, and maybe soon I will; but now there's a cavern carved down the middle of my chest. We had to make the awful decision that confronts so many pet owners, and while we know we did the right thing, it just hurts.

I'm 51 years old and Belle is the eighth dog I've lost. She's the first one about which I've had to make that terrible decision. She hadn't been feeling well for weeks. Heavy panting was the first sign, but we had no inkling it was this serious. As recently as Friday, we had hope that we could treat her and she would bounce back. Over the weekend, though, we had to force feed her baby food in a syringe. She would drink water, but wouldn't stand to do it. When I had to pick her up off the floor to get her to walk outside, I feared the worst. When she couldn't walk ten steps without stumbling, my fears were confirmed.

We took her to the doctor first thing and honestly I was still clinging to hope.I kept thinking "it's always darkest before the dawn." I wanted to hear the vet say "yeah, we'll give her some fluids, put an oxygen mask on her and see if we can get her back on her feet." Instead, he said, "I hate to put it this way, but she's in the process of dying. Her liver is shutting down, her breathing is labored. If she could talk to us, she would say she's in agony. I know what I would do if she were my dog." Claire and I just made eye contact and we knew he was right.

How unexpected was this? We had two full boxes of dog biscuits and a case of dog food in the cupboard. Her decline seemed sudden and it's been a little bit stunning.

With the exception of our first year of marriage, I haven't been without a dog a day in my life. If you ask me now, I'm prepared to say I'm out of the dog business for a long time. Belle was just so terrific, I can't imagine dealing with another dog right now. The training, house breaking, all of the aspects of the responsibility: I just can't even think about it.

She was only nine years old. She was never, not once, a source of frustration, She was never destructive or loud. She was perfectly housebroken. She would fetch the paper every morning. She would actively play with the kids and us. She was everything you would want a dog to be, truly. The only criticism I can think of was the shedding. That's what brooms and vacuum cleaners are for.

Let's not forget about the Old formerly Fat Cat, who is fourteen years old and has lost her best friend.

I'm sure she doesn't know it yet. Poor thing, this is the third dog she's lost along the way. The other two died right outside the French doors that lead to our patio. Oddly, the Sheltie passed away on the very day we brought home Puppy Belle.

I know we will look back on Belle's too-short life with great fondness and affection, but right now the house is just too damn quiet.

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One Sick Puppy

We are worried to the point of distraction about the health of our 9-year-old golden retriever, The Best Dog Ever. Our caring veterinarian lists her condition as "guarded," and for the moment things don't seem to be getting better. I fear the worst outcome, and it's just too soon to lose her. She obviously feels terrible, but the most ominous circumstance facing us is she is now refusing to eat. She won't eat anything: her favorite treats, ice cream, eggs, nothing. It's as if she's just given up. For now, we'll fight the fight for her as best we can.

For a couple of weeks, she hasn't been herself: no energy, slow to stand, heavy panting. At first, the working theory was some kind of inflammatory issue, maybe arthritis. Medicine for that seemed to give her a little more zip, but then after a couple of days her lethargy returned and she started coughing. The vet then ordered chest X-Rays, which revealed some scary-looking lesions in her lungs. The worst fear was cancer, but on the films the spots didn't look like tumors. It was a head-scratcher for our dog's two excellent doctors, so they uploaded the images to a veterinary radiologist in Dallas, who diagnosed the problem as lung flukes. The younger of our two local vets said she had seen this in text books but had not encountered them in her practice.

This means there are parasites inside those pulmonary cysts, which animals and people can get by eating crawfish or snails.There's a treatment for it, but unless and until those cysts go away and the parasites die, she remains at risk for death. If one of those things ruptures, a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) will result and that's the end of the road. So, we're keeping her inside and keeping her as still as possible.

The other challenge is the administration of the medicine. It's a powder, which means it has to be taken orally. But she won't eat. It's a problem. The only thing we can really do is parent her and try to find ways to get the powder into her stomach without getting it into her lungs.

Everybody's worried. Even the matriarch of the menagerie, the Old formerly Fat Cat, knows something's wrong and is staying close by. We don't know what her message to her canine friend might be, but hopefully it's "You have to eat."

We're just so sad and we want her to pull through. She and the cat are vestiges of our kids' youth, and of course they're straight-up members of the family. There's been fear, frustration and a significant number of tears shed over the last few days. Plus, and I know it's indelicate to discuss it, you have to consider how much money to spend here. The vet bills are piling up.

My wife will tell you that I've been saying for years "You love that dog too much." I've been kidding, mostly; but now it's ringing true. We want to give her every chance to live a few more years. We love her that much.

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