Diary 9|9, 10|2017. Irma And M.A. Go Elsewhere.

Written by Tom Fitzmorris September 14, 2017 12:01 in

DiningDiarySquare-150x150 Saturday, September 9, 2017. My sparse head of hair looks about the same, even as the length of time since my last haircut grows. Then, suddenly, I look absolutely awful, and the haircut becomes an emergency. The shop that takes care of this has erratic hours on Saturdays, the only day I can get a trim. I have a backup shop that has done such a good job that I think I'll just stick with them. The lady who does the cutting--in what looks like a former bathroom--is a listener to the radio show, and so gives me better than usual service. Even Mary Ann noticed how nicely cut my hair was. But anything would be better than the homeless look I entered the salon with. My radio show is truncated by football. I have only one hour on the air. Tomorrow, I have no show at all. I am ready for this time off. I've gone seven days a week for seven months. It's not punishing, but it's nice not to have to think about it. A wedding MA's family is coming. It involves a cousin of Jude and Mary Leigh. This is the Washington, D.C. branch of MA's family, who took us into their Maryland home after Hurricane Katrina. Those months marked a complete turnaround for our family. We haven't been the same since. The wedding is up there. A party for the New Orleans part of the clan takes place tonight in MA's sister's Metairie home. How ironic that the Marylanders should be here while another hurricane, one just as bad, is messing up our world again. Sunday, September 10, 2017. A Rare Day Off Air. So, Brunch. Without a radio show today, and with Mary Ann set to leave for Los Angeles this afternoon, MA demands a nincer-than normal breakfast. She means by that Ox Lot 9, the handsome restaurant in the Southern Hotel in Covington. She says that it's the best-designed restaurant she knows. Since atmosphere is what she cares for above all other indices, that is saying something. [caption id="attachment_46399" align="alignright" width="480"]Ox Lot 9 at the Southern Hotel. Ox Lot 9 at the Southern Hotel.[/caption] Ox Lot 9 is indeed a great-looking place, and its service staff has become deft. I find the food a bit on the contrived side. My entree is a great example of this. The menu calls it a nest, and indeed that's what it looks like, with fried strips of leeks and grilled brussels sprouts dominating the look. I find it hard to eat, or even to lift with a fork. On the other hand, the dish is interesting, what with a pair of poached eggs in the "nest." I ask for some fried oysters from another dish, to give the dish more substance. That does the job for me. The only part left to be assembled is a trio of beignets with an unusually fine texture. And then we leave happy. Ox Lot 9. Covington: 428 E Boston St. 985-400-5663. Mary Ann leaves this afternoon on Spirit Airlines, ready to be the full-time nanny of our two-year-old grandson for a week or so. Nothing could make her happier than to play with Jackson all day long. It's a beautiful day. I need no longer worry about the possibility of the powerful Hurricane Irma's showing up in New Orleans. It's bad enough as it tracks though most of Florida and causes appalling destruction. Meanwhile, I'm waiting for the temperature to go down so I can cut the grass--something that hasn't been done in months. It's so tall that I can't see the many holes dug by the dogs a couple of years ago. The mower also gets choked by all the previously-cut cut grass on the ground. At one point, the little tractor enters a hole too big to escape. But now I know how to solve that, and an hour later I'm back at the mowing job. The piles of grass look weird, but what else can I do? I am rather proud, frankly. I go from that to working on my tax return. It's really been a day of greater-than-normal accomplishment, if I may brag.