Displaced

Friday evening was our "date" night... something that we rarely do. Too often I think we get caught up in just existing, and forget that we are still lovers, still dating in a sense, even if we are married.

We went to a hole in the wall pub, ate fantastico chicken wings and the best BLT that ever existed, and then decided to go to the art fair. It's the 75th anniversary or something of the art fair, and we needed a rather strong piece for the transitional area between our living and dining rooms. We had a good time walking through, and I will say that the art fairs here put the Las Olas art fair to shame.

As we were walking back to the car, there was a group of men with placards standing on the streetcorner yelling at everyone that passed (via bullhorn) that they were damned to hell, and that they needed to accept Christ as their savior or they were going to burn in the fiery pits...

yada yada yada

Michael leaned over and said, "Well, I guess they got displaced from New Orleans as well."

I laughed so hard I nearly fell over.

And then my heart ached for our beautiful city of Orleans. And I worried about those that I know and love impacted by Rita.