|Mansion in the Garden District|
We saw so many neat things. At night in Jackson Square, fortune tellers read tarot cards by candlelight. There was a girl dressed up in faded 19th-century clothes, including high-button shoes and a hoop skirt. Holding a tattered parasol, she posed by the iron gates of Jackson Square Park, her face painted like a skull. A white horse pulled a carriage past her, but when we looked closer we saw that it was no ordinary horse; it had glittering hoofs, a single white horn, and white feathered wings.
|Urn in Jackson Square Park|
|Cocoally is a really cute shop in the French Quarter.|
On Thanksgiving Day we ate at Chartres House. It took a while to get seated. As we waited around on the sunny, warm sidewalk, Jake kept dancing next to Sophie and playing an invisible saxophone. He seemed to be playing some smooth jazz. Sophie was so embarrassed. She kept coming up to Kris and saying (she was just teasing), “Mommy, if you don’t take control of your child, I’m going to throw him in the street!”
|Sophie, Kris, and Jake at Cafe Du Monde|
“I like the little guy eating a piece of toast,” I said, pointing.
“It’s a beignet,” Sophie said, teasing again, rolling her eyes at me. “You’re uncultured, Leslie."