Warning: King Cake comes with BABY
Today is the day before we hide away our most favorite sins for the next forty days. Acting like the children of God we were baptized to be. That is, until Easter Sunday and it’s the day of indulging in everything we once gave up. It’s a good day to reflect on the person we are and the person we truly want to be, just as any other day. So let me sit here and reflect about a time in New Orleans and how baby D became to be.
February of last year my roadie and I decided that we needed a trip to New Orleans. Andrew and I had been on a break but once he heard about this rendezvous he bought himself a ticket to “win me over”. It was a nail on the coffin of this girls trip, but nothing Cherry and I couldn’t manage. Ironically enough Cherry rode on the plane with Andrew as I flew to NOLA on my own on my actual birthday which let me tell you sucked. Especially when your best friend and ex boyfriend arrive completely trashed like they just rode on the Studio 54 sponsored plane. What a total buzz to begin the weekend when your ex is having more fun than you are. Don’t you worry though the next day I redeemed myself with plenty of shots and exorcist vomit on my ex’s clothes. It was EPIC! I mean the bathroom in our Air BNB was like three miles from where we slept so I basically puked from the bedroom down two flights of stairs through the hoodoo voodoo decorated den past the kitchen into the bathroom which was behind the laundry room. The gross part about it was that I didn’t notice until the next day when I stepped in some of it. TMI ain’t it! It was my birthday so “les be honest” It was to be expected! Our weekend was spent touring the city, dancing to jazz, practically kidnapping an alligator and just enjoying each other’s company. We were three’s a company out on the streets of Bourbon with plenty of bourbon to go along with it. New Orleans is a great place to really release your inhibitions probably more so than Vegas. If you get there on Friday; Sunday you’re basically ready to go home feeling like a zombie in World War Z.
Unfortunately for us we were there until Wednesday, with Andrew leaving a day before us which meant two girls out on their own for one day. Anything is possible with us two left alone, like waking up to a tornado warning. Cherry immediately ran to the bathroom tub as I went outside to greet our tasmanian friend. After I realized it was just wind and rain, I dragged Cherry out of the tub to get dressed so that we could eat at Commanders Palace, which is an absolute must! The place is beautiful and they’re serving $.25 Martinis with every entree, its freaking genius. It wasn’t until lunch was served that we heard the tornado actually touched down miles west of us, and here we were gallivanting the streets that we started to noticed were completely empty. Which led us on a ferry to Algiers with not a soul in sight except a Navy man who my friend wanted to get to know more. Off we go not even twenty four hours after dropping off Andrew and I’m already partying it up with some Navy Boys in Louisiana. We danced, we drank, we smoked some pot then we walked along the Mississippi straight out of the 50 First Dates movie. That is pretty much how our weekend ended, but my experience with New Orleans was yet to be over.
My encounter with the Navy guys actually came with a magical gift; A king cake with a baby. [Insider one of the guys owned a company so he sent me samples to promote and since it was Mardi Gras he added a little treat.] Little known fact about the treat, tradition has it that if you find the piece with the baby, that same year you will find yourself pregnant. You know damn well I stayed far away from that cake. Passing out slices like I was the Baker Man. Until there was one little lonely piece of cake left. At this point I thought they forget to put the baby in. Nope, they didn’t forget, the baby was found within the first bite that Andrew and I had shared. As if the baby had been patiently waiting for us. It honestly felt like fate. As months passed by and my period dripped down my legs I started to think of this plastic baby as more of a metaphor for maybe a new business I was venturing into, or this new house we found. Boom, plastic baby was not a metaphor it was an actual baby we were going to have. Obviously not out of nowhere since we weren’t being safe but definitely felt like the universe planted you back in February. Like our happily ever after was a story actually being written right in front of our eyes. But before the story can continue Andrew and I are being faced with a villain. In the next few weeks baby D may or may not be with us. Which I cannot, I refuse to, believe to be true. Magic has a price but it can’t possibly play tricks. I want to believe Baby D that you’re just like your father who fought for me, for us, who bought those plane tickets knowing he wasn’t welcomed. And I want to believe you’re like me who believes in the power of fate. Maybe I wasn’t ready to welcome you with open arms but I sure know I am not ready to let you flutter away. I promise these next forty days, I will be praying for you, sacrificing all the necessary sins to get you back with us. To rewrite our happily ever after!
Love More, Peace More and Roar More.
Your wild spirit guide,