celebrate and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again

I’m here. Here being home, which is now southwest Louisiana. I knew I was home when I saw a billboard for boudin and cracklins. We had to skip visiting my sister and brother-in-law and my aunt and her boyfriend in Southern California, because basically my parents turn into cranky, nap-deprived children when they get further from home than Dauphin Island, AL. They just wanted to get home ASAP. We hauled ass and did it in 4 days. And can I just say, driving across Texas is like one of those Greek myths about hell, where you’re condemned to repeat an arduous and pointless task FOR ALL ETERNITY. It goes on forever!

We got back late last night, and I spent the day putting stuff in storage over at the old house and unpacking at this house. It’s mostly just my clothes and basics, plus a few books and odds & ends I couldn’t bear to be parted from. And my cameras, of course.

The big thing here right now is this local politician — the first house the ‘rents lived in here was actually his and he sold it directly to them, that’s how small a town Abbeville is — who is a convicted felon (money laundering), and who is trying to run for Police Juror. That’s bizarro Louisiana-speak for County Supervisor, basically. And the State Supreme Court is about to decide if he can. His attorneys are phrasing it as a 10th Ammendment thing, which is usually how something around here gets framed whenever someone is trying to get away with something blatantly against the law. States rights, y’all.

*deep breath* THIS IS MY HOME NOW.


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