Brickyard Blues

We are headed to New Orleans. What? Already?

No. It’s nothing good. A friend of ours just enter home hospice care. She’s been fighting cancer for four years. She’s so sick that she sleeps about 18 hours a day. When the home health care nurse arrived she couldn’t sit up to be examined. She doesn’t have much longer to fly through the stars home. By the time you read this I’m pretty sure the battle will be over.

There are no words.

She is not yet forty years old. So far, she hasn’t lost her black humor. Her text to us concluded with, “This dying shit is killing me.”

We are also going to pick up another dog. Another spaniel. Not a Cocker, but a Boykin Spaniel. Boykins are especially bred to hunt in North Carolina. They are slightly bigger and stronger. They are full of energy. Currently she lives with her foster mom in an apartment with another dog. It’s too small and no real room to run around. So, she’s looking for a new home.

That’s where we come in.

She’s two years old. Our dogs will finish training her just like they do whenever a new dog arrives. And, she’ll be able to run free. Eighty two acres should suit her just fine.

So. Going back is not all bad.

The picture is of a place I used to call the Brickyard. It was an old factory area located in the very furthest out area of The Lower Garden District. It was interesting. You can see that by looking at the photograph. Today, only the closest building is still standing. Everything else has been torn down for new gentrification. Except, nothing has been done yet. In over five years.

Seems about right.