Monday, August 28, 2017. I awaken just a little earlier than usual, although I didn't sleep much during the hour before I officially arose. Official wake-up time is when the cat Satsuma begins whimpering outside my bedroom door. That greeting is followed immediately by the stampede of the big dogs Suzie and Barry, who figure that if any member of the family is getting something to eat, then why shouldn't they also?
I get right to work, because I know that act will focus my mind away from the obvious obsession du jour. If nothing else, this sends a lot of finished work through my hands. My CityBusiness column, for example. It takes a long time to write one of those.
My food supply will take me through the next ten days, at least. My lunch is a sandwich of Cajun-style ham from Chisesi, whose ham is the standard of the New Orleans sandwich industry. This new Cajun version looks the same as what goes onto a muffuletta, but a residue of the brown-red seasoning announces a spicy background flavor and a bit more smoke than usual. Good stuff. But where is my Creole mustard? I put the sandwich together with the Mrs. Drake's picture of mayonnaise and yellow mustard, which fills the bill.
I handle the radio show clumsily. I can't ignore the situation on the ground, but I don't really want my show to get serious. It has always been a respite from the vast stores of bad news and paranoia producers already on the air. You can't listen to that kind of stuff all the time or you'd go nuts. Which never does feel good.
I am not surprised that we don't get many calls today. It's a Monday, and there are distractions. But I get through it okay, with the help of a few regular callers.
Afterwards, I go to supper at New Orleans Food and Spirits. I thought that I'd better have red beans and rice, accompanied by the excellent grilled catfish with pecans. This is such a good dish that it surpasses my usual disdain for catfish cooked any way but fried. It hits the spot, and is not so heavy that it interferes with my singing.
And NPAS does indeed hold its regular rehearsal. We are working on a collection of gospel songs and spirituals. Ours is an entirely secular chorus, but we don't think there's any reason to omit this important American music, despite its religious aspects. In the first two or three songs, I perform terribly. I lose my place in the music and am far off the tones, let alone the rhythms. It's only on the third song that I return to the beam. And then the rehearsal breaks up. I'm cheered to see as we leave that it's not raining. In fact, the half-moon is clearly visible. To quote the last song on our sheet, "Ain't-a that good news?"
