How It Went–Spoiler: Amazing!

I was telling the Butcher about it–which is doubly nerdy, since he was there–and I was like “and then my favorite part was” about everything. All the parts were my favorite part–from the guy who told me he’s borrowed some from A City of Ghosts for his live-action role playing game (almost typed live action roll playing game, which is a LARP for foodies, I guess) (also, please tell me I’m the first person to make that joke, even if I’m not, because I’m so tickled at my own cleverness) to meeting grandefille, who I could not quite believe was a real person, even after I hugged her. She’s like a mythological creature: the internet’s fairy godmother.

Seriously, folks, in my live-action roll-playing game, you know I’m cinnamon roll. I don’t have the singing chops to pull off jelly roll, who has major skills, but is required by rules to sing a song containing a jelly roll double entendre every time Jelly Roll Morton comes up organically in conversation. (Mixed blessing, that, since Jelly Roll Morton doesn’t come up often, except in conversations about him, when he’s brought up all the time.)

The Barista Parlor is a great space. The coffee I had was delicious. It was their take on a cafe mocha, but it ended up being dark and not overly sweet and just lovely. The space is huge, but it filled up with people, which was awesome.

There were baked goods and books for sale and K. introduced me and then I read until she told me we were out of time. Everyone clapped and had a good time, I think. Another best part is that there were folks who seemed to come in just for coffee who ended up staying.

I tried to thank everyone and I’m sorry if I missed anyone personally. I just especially want to thank K. and B. for finally making me understand what the philosophy of a hurricane party is–yes, there is this awful thing, but not only will we not let it break you, we will thumb our nose at this dark moment by celebrating instead.

I’m still Midwestern, so incorporating that philosophy into my life is going to be hard (the Midwest’s philosophy: Something happened? Eat this casserole.) but I am going to do it.

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