Memo from Evacuation Central

The sun is shining in Bunkie, a town that is filled with murals on the sides of its buildings and fences. A trip down the street put me face to face with the kind of south-to-central Louisiana food stands that serve outrageously delicious food that is very bad for you. In my case, most of it is also not part of my no-meat diet: boudin, meat pies, crawfish pie, even baked potatoes stuffed with roast beef.

While I was out, I met a UNO student who knows his apartment won't be there when he returns to Metairie. He advised me that my hotel's cocktail lounge was the town's hot spot and said he'd keep an eye out for me over the weekend, if we're still here. I should be upset about the noise the bands are going to make, but the guests are so loud, the bands will have to work hard to compete with them. Our room is next to the lounge, so we have no choice but to deal with it, anyway.

Roxie and Velma, our cats, have settled in. They still are eating very little, but they've stopped hissing and fighting, and every time one of us leaves, a cat tries to follow us out of the room. There are several dogs--a Pekingese, a Chihauhau, and a very large pug--in the hotel with us. I'm blogging and watching the U.S. Open almost non-stop (I remembered to bring my drawsheets), though we do take breaks to check on hurricane news, which doesn't seem to be totally connected to reality.

So far, the only things we have had to buy are a small brush-type broom and dustbin, a box of Kleenex, some wine and beer, a bottle opener, and a corkscrew. How a Louisianian can evacuate without taking her bottle opener and corkscrew, I don't know, but I left them behind. I did remember my camera, however, and am getting some good photographs.