Farewell Breakfast

Camellia Grill opened the year after I was born, and by the time I was a young wild thing in my twenties, it had become an institution. Open all night, it was the place we'd go for breakfast at 2 or 3 a.m. after a night of whooping it up.

Leif and I went there this morning for her to have an omelet and me to have a pecan waffle in honor of the good old days. Big Mike was our server, and I got more pictures of him when he happened to take a cell phone break just as Leif and I were leaving. She returned to Mississippi today after many farewell hugs and good wishes that we will meet again before another four years pass.

Before she left, we went to the cemetery where some of her ancestors are buried, and there, as I expected, we saw many New Orleanians tending their graves on All Saints Day.

Now I have a couple of days to rattle around on my own and drift wherever the spirit leads me. First I have to go back to Camellia Grill because I promised Mike copies of the pictures, and the email address he gave me doesn't work.

Many many thanks for the hearts, stars, and comments I am not able to respond to. You people knock me out. Big bows and smiles of gratitude.