A Different Branding

Branding is a big part of life in this cattle country that we live in. New Mexico takes brands very seriously, and everyone who has livestock needs a brand. We even had to register for a brand with our tiny sheep flock.

Because of the number of cattle ranches here, and the number of calves born on those ranches every year, every year sees a lot of branding. It's most commonly done in late spring, mostly May, and those weekends get very busy as every ranch brands all their calves.

Sometimes, however, there are summer calves that need to be branded in the fall. That's what happened for a small part of our friends' herd this year. I got a call on Thursday that they had about a hundred small calves that needed to be branded and they were hoping we could bring the boys to help flank on Sunday.

Flanking refers to grabbing the calf and flipping it onto its back, and then holding it, so the branding, vaccinating, ear tagging, and castrating (if necessary) can all get done. Flanking is a two-person job. The person in the back grabs one of the back hooves and holds on so the person at the head can flip the calf onto its back by grabbing the opposite front hoof. Then the front flanker pins the calf by its neck while the person holding the back hoof hangs on and leans back. In this way the calf is (mostly) immobile for the people with the branding iron, needles, and knife or bander (depending on if the castrating is going to be an immediate cut-'em'-out or a banding job) move in to do what needs to be done.

Flanking is very hard work. It's dirty, physical, and somewhat dangerous, especially with bigger calves. Mostly when the calves are bigger, the preference is to have draggers on horseback. They rope the calf around a hind leg and drag it to flankers to hold and flip.

These calves were very small, and this ranch doesn't use horses, so these calves were just grabbed and dragged by the flankers. This process is known, amusingly, as "mugging."

This ranch is owned by a family we know fairly well. Their son is just a little younger than our youngest son, and he wanted to try flanking for the first time. He wanted our youngest son, who is now almost 12, to try for the first time too. Our older two boys have flanked already, although always with horseback draggers. So we brought everyone down to the ranch right after church on Sunday to help.

This ranch is waaaay out on a dirt road. We drove 40 minutes from the village on a dirt road before getting near the branding pens.

Adventure Van has a very dirty windshield.

Our son's friend came to meet us on his four-wheeler when we were close to the turn-off to the pens, so he could lead us there.

Follow the four-wheeling leader.

The pens were just in the middle of the range off a dirt track.

Good old Adventure Van, still adventuring.

The calves were split into two groups of about fifty each, in separate pens.

The second group waiting their turn.

There were a lot of people in the work pen. Besides three teams of flankers, there were two older men who helped with the more frisky calves, and about six women and girls who did various jobs like vaccinating, a nasal spray of some kind of medication, castrating, ear notching (to identify steers and heifers at a glance), and ear tagging.

Crowded in there.

Because there was no electricity there, the branding iron was heated by a generator. What with the bawling calves in the pens, their mooing mothers outside the pens, and the generator, it was very, very loud. Also very dirty and smoky, as the crew working in the dirt pen kicked up dust and applied the smoking brand.

Our older two boys worked as a team, younger at the heel, older at the head.

Workin' hard for the money.

The youngest boy and his friend worked as a team, too, with the smaller calves. They learned how to grab and flip the calves pretty quickly, but they were too light to hold the calves themselves. The older men stepped in to help with that. Weight is important when one is wrestling and holding an animal.

Poppy got conscripted into notching ears. She could only do this with the heifers, who apparently had thinner skin. The bull calves were harder. A slightly older girl did those, along with the ear tags.

A. and I were pleased to stand outside the pen to watch the action and hand over water to the children at intervals. Until just after the second fifty calves were in the pen and the eldest son got kicked in the hand by a calf. The hoof hit right at the base of his thumb, and then he couldn't move his thumb at all.

Dang it.

Injuries are not uncommon at brandings. Almost everyone winds up with a bruise from getting kicked. Some people get broken bones. We were really hoping this wasn't a break, given the small size of the calf that kicked him, but of course, the only way to be sure was an x-ray.

A. stepped in to take his place as flanker while a lady who does wilderness search and rescue splinted son's thumb with a cleverly cut piece of a water jug top and some bandages. By the time we got him splinted, the branding was almost done, so we waited until the last few calves were done before driving to the hospital to get his hand x-rayed.

Of course, driving to the hospital was not as quick as it could have been, given our location. We had to follow that same dirt road another forty-five minutes in the opposite direction before getting to a paved road, which we drove on for another forty-five minutes before getting to the small city that has an ER.

A. dropped the patient and me off at the ER and took the other kids to the Sonic right next door for lunch.

The hand was duly x-rayed.

On a nifty mobile x-ray machine.

It wasn't broken, just sprained. Thank goodness. He got a brace and a pain pill and we were out of there within an hour. 

Despite the unfortunate injury, everyone had a good time. Brandings are actually pretty fun. Kind of like a work party. The kids love them, and I'm sure we'll be going back there again in the spring for their bigger branding.

We'll just hope there aren't any high-kicking calves with good aim next time.

Magic in the Air*

Another county fair has come and gone, and we have covered ourselves in glory once again.

Or at least got some ribbons.

Lemme show you!

The first day of the fair is just a day for entering the projects in the community building and dropping off animals for showing. We don't show animals, so for us, it's just bringing in our projects.

This year, that was gingerbread, a purse, and a watercolor painting from Poppy. 

Please enjoy these awkwardly-cropped photos that got rid of the names of our county and the children.

She actually sewed this just randomly for her best friend (by hand, with no pattern or anything), and then when she needed a fair project, I suggested she enter it before giving it to her friend.

And her watercolor.

As you can see, her gingerbread won grand champion in the child's baking category. She was very proud of this, particularly because my buckeye brownies only got first place, not grand champion.

Not-champion brownies.

It was kind of funny that the judges' notes on Poppy's gingerbread included the comment that it had a strong molasses flavor and she might consider substituting some honey for the molasses. We do not agree with this. It's supposed to have a strong molasses flavor. But to be fair, it's also supposed to be eaten with whipped cream, which we could not give the judges, so that affects the flavor, too.

Anyway.

I also always enter whatever I can get from the garden. This year, that was leeks, carrots, and garlic.

All prettied up for judging.

The leeks won grand champion in the agricultural products category.

I also always enter something canned. This year, the only thing I had was some rhubarb jam. I brought it, but it was literally the only thing entered in the canned goods category, so they didn't bother judging it.

(I should probably note here that our county is very small, which means our county fair is very small. Like, VERY small. I think there were only a dozen entries total this year in baked goods, and only a few people entered vegetables.)

One boy chiseled a cross into stone.

This didn't really place, but I feel like that's because the judges have no idea how difficult this is to do.

And another boy did a collage from "Fur, Fish, Game" magazine.

Featuring many dead animals, because that's what the magazine is about.

A. entered a watercolor flower, too, which got first place.

So! Very successful, yay us, etc.

The second day of the fair is most of the animal showing. We don't show animals, but many of the children's friends do, so we always go to watch them manhandle goats and steers in the ring. I didn't take any photos of that this year, though.

The third and final day of the fair is my kids' favorite. It starts with the parade. This year, the older two kids were on the FFA float, so it was only the younger two picking up candy. There was a lot of candy this year, thanks to the many political candidates who were campaigning.

Never any chocolate, though, because it's way too hot at the parade and chocolate would just melt.

The next exciting thing is the rodeo. Before the riding events, which my children do not participate in, they have a couple of fun activities for any kid. This includes goat dressing, which is catching a goat and getting a t-shirt over its head. Also the calf scramble. This is in a large pen where all the kids go and they release several calves in with them. The calves have money rubber-banded to their tails. The kids chase the calves and pull the money off their tails. This is actually really hard, and somewhat perilous, as the calves have been known to kick, or to turn and run down their pursuers. I've never seen anyone get really hurt doing it, though, even the littlest kids.

The dance at night is the last fair event. I always take any kids that want to go. We only stay a couple of hours, because we have church early the next morning. They always get a live band, which I particularly appreciate. Everyone knows how to two-step, so everyone, from little kids to elderly people, dances. Parents dance with their children, brothers dance with their sisters. It's fun.

It takes place in the same pavilion the livestock are shown in. Properly cleaned up, of course.

And that was it for this year's fair! It's always a very tiring three days, but they are some of my kids' favorite days of the year and they're already looking forward to next year's fair.

* Lyrics from this Chris LeDoux song, which we always have to listen to as we drive to the county fair.

And Here We Are

It's sometimes handy that I've been writing here for 18 (!) years. It allows me to read older posts and shake my head with amusement.

Like this one from 13 (!) years ago, in which I discussed how much food I was going to need to make when the boys were older.

At that time, the boys in question were only the older two children. I didn't yet know I would have two more. And I really didn't have any concept of how much food would be consumed in our house 13 years from that time. I mean, kind of, in the abstract, but in reality? It was literally unimaginable then.

I am currently in the phase with one boy where I ask him every morning how many eggs he wants for breakfast and he asks me in return, "Is there going to be anything besides eggs?"

This was a morning that also included peanut butter toast, hence only five eggs. 

If he was given all the food he could eat, he would literally eat two full breakfasts, two full lunches, and dinner. Plus dessert. Since I am not nice enough to be cooking all day long, however, he has to content himself with snacks in lieu of the extra breakfast and lunch. And with staging elaborate death by starvation scenes every day at 4 p.m. when he's trying to convince me he's not going to make it another hour to dinner.

And this is just the one child. His younger brother will be right there with him soon, I'm sure.

We're just gonna keep ramping this up until they start leaving, I guess. And then A. and I are going to eat nothing but beans and tortillas forever more.*

* That is obviously a joke, but I certainly will not be making so much bread, granola, yogurt, etc., to say nothing of the full meals.

The Christmas Pilgrimage

Last December, on a very bright, moonlit night, we took a walk to the unused church I can see from my kitchen window that our neighbor spotlights every Christmas season.

Poppy remembered this and wanted to do that again. Right before Christmas, however, I was disabled with a pinched nerve and wasn't walking anywhere. Right after Christmas, A. was hunting with the younger two boys. Then it was really windy.

But finally, Saturday night it wasn't windy, it wasn't cold, and everyone was here. So we walked to the church in the dark.

Well, there was still a little bit of light in the western sky, but it was mostly dark.

We started out using flashlights because of the clouds, but about halfway to the church, the moon rose above the clouds. Just like last year, it was bright enough to turn the flashlights off.

Nature's flashlight.

Getting closer. (The brightest light is the church. The smaller light to the left is our neighbor's house.)

We stayed at the church awhile, playing shadow puppets on the wall.

Yet another Christmas tradition observed, and just in time. Today is Epiphany, the feast commemorating the visit of the Magi to the newborn Jesus. This is the last day of the Christmas season for us. The kids all get one more present under the tree, as well as a few more Lindt truffles. I'm making a lasagna and Poppy is making brownies, and that's a wrap on Christmas 2025. The decorations will be put away tomorrow.

How about you? How long do you leave your Christmas decorations up?

All Is Hushed

The world is sleeping . . .*

Merry Christmas, one and all.

* From "Still, Still, Still," which we listen to every Christmas Eve right before bed.

On Traditions

It's funny how traditions form. Sometimes they're intentional, but often, they just come from a single event that everyone decides is the way it will be forevermore.

Christmas is prime time for traditions. We have many Christmas traditions--cutting the tree, Grandma Bishop's molasses cookies, Lindt truffles in the stockings--but one of my favorites is Sunday nights in Advent.

Advent is the season of the four Sundays leading up to Christmas in the church calendar. An Advent wreath is used in Catholic churches and many homes to mark the Sundays. It's a circle of four candles--three purple, one pink--one of which is lit for each Sunday. When I was a kid, my mom taught us a song that we sang whenever we lit one of the candles. Now I sing it with my children for our own Advent wreath lighting.

Sundays are also the day I bribe my children to do their bathroom chores with a special dessert, so during Advent, we have dinner, they go do their chores while I get dessert ready to serve, and then we light the candles, sing the song, and eat our dessert by the light of our Advent wreath.

Baked fruit ready to eat and the candles ready to light.

I don't know how many of these traditions will go along with my children to their own homes and families when they're older, but I'm enjoying them now, anyway.

Do you have any favorite family traditions, Christmas or otherwise?

Christmas Tree Hunting

Per tradition, we have cut our Christmas tree for the year. It's also a tradition for me to take photos and post them here so you can come along on the adventure with us. Let's go!

We always go to a friend's ranch to cut our tree, as the good trees don't grow near our house. I have now discovered the best area for the trees, so we walked right to that area and found a tree within about two minutes.

Camouflaged by nearby trees, but I still saw it.

We left the saw there so we could cut it on our way back to the van and went down the hill to the dirt tank to play.

Also a tradition.

This year, the younger children also climbed this tree.

Poppy is in there somewhere.

We brought the dogs with us.

After suitable play time, back to the tree we went.

Sawing away.

At home, the tree was, as always, deposited in a galvanized metal bucket and anchored with rocks before I started putting the lights on.

I discovered to my dismay that of the four strands of lights I had, one of warm white lights only half worked, one of multi-colored lights didn't work at all, one of bright white lights worked all the way, and I had one strand of multi-colored lights that were fully functional.

Sigh.

Luckily, we get small trees and we put them up against a wall, so I didn't really need to wrap the lights all the way around the whole tree. I wound the bright white lights around the trunk, so the branches would soften their glare a bit, and then used the multi-colored strand and the half-working warmer white lights to kind of zig-zag across the front of the tree.

The children added the ornaments, and . . .

Tree!

Now all it needs are presents under it. Only nine days and counting . . .

New Orleans Day 4

Did I begin the day with coffee before dawn and a walk when the sun came up? But of course.

A house spotted on the walk.

We didn't have any scheduled activities this day, so I let everyone sleep in a little bit and we left the house around 10 a.m. We had arranged to go visit my aunt and uncle, who live in Covington. This is a suburban town across the Causeway.

The Causeway is a giant bridge that spans the entirety of Lake Pontchartrain. It's about 24 miles long, which means you drive on it for a very long time and it really feels like you're just out there in the middle of the water. It's pretty fun, although I wouldn't want to break down on it.

We did not break down and made it to my aunt and uncle's house. We visited with them for a little bit before going to my cousin's house nearby. She has a granddaughter Poppy's age and my aunt wanted the two girls to meet.

After that, my aunt and uncle wanted to take us out to lunch, so they started driving to the restaurant and we followed in our car. 

This is when I got a message from our Airbnb host that the cleaners were at the house getting it ready for the next guests and that some of our personal effects were still there.

Well, yes. ALL our personal effects were still there, because we weren't leaving until the next day. But apparently I had made a mistake in my booking and this day was the last day I had reserved.

*&$*#@!!!

That was what was in my head as I frantically messaged our host, trying to figure out what I needed to do. I was expecting a big fee, all our stuff thrown out, etc. Instead, when I apologized and told her how sorry I was to have caused so much trouble, she was very understanding and told me the cleaning crew would collect all our things and store them in a locked room until we could get there to pick them up.

I felt very bad about this, because of course our belongings were scattered around, since we hadn't planned on having to pack up until that night. I had, thankfully, asked the kids that morning to pick out their clothing for the next day and put everything else in their bags, so their rooms weren't too bad. It was still a lot of random stuff for the cleaners to gather up, though.

By the time I had had this exchange with our host and checked to make sure that yes, our flight and rental car return were indeed for the next day, we were at the restaurant. Our Airbnb host had told me there was no rush to get back to the house, but I felt like we should get there as soon as possible. I made my apologies to my aunt and uncle and we went right back across the Causeway to New Orleans.

On our way back to the house, I made a hasty new reservation on Airbnb. I had originally thought I would just get rooms at a hotel near the airport, as we were flying out the next day. However, A. encouraged me to try to find another house in New Orleans. That way we could actually enjoy our last afternoon and night. Hotels are not enjoyable for our family, so I took his point and got back onto Airbnb.

Within the parameters I had set for number of beds and cost, there were only a couple of options. I chose a renovated shotgun house and made the reservation. So at least we had somewhere to sleep that night.

We arrived back at the house when the cleaning lady was still there, so we had a chance to look around the house and get anything she had missed. She actually got almost everything. She had even bagged up the food in the refrigerator so we could take that with us. She was very nice about all of this, assuring us that Venus was in retrograde, and that was probably why this had happened. I gave her a large tip, we stuffed our very disorganized belongings in the car, and we set off for our new house.

It was only about half an hour away, and we couldn't get into it for over an hour. It was now about 2 p.m. None of us had eaten lunch yet. I had been promising my children po'boys for four days and had not yet delivered. A quick search on my phone revealed that one of the most famous po'boy places in the city, Domelise's, was only half a mile from our new house. It closed in an hour, so we went directly there.

Po'boys are like sub sandwiches. They are made on French bread, with various toppings, often seafood, served dressed--with lettuce, tomato, pickles, mayonnaise--or undressed, and hot or cold. They're best, in my opinion, dressed and heated. And the bread is miles better than most subs. I love them.

This place was a real hole in the wall institution, clearly.

Sandwiches being made above a sketch of the building.

I ordered two ham and cheese, two shrimp, and two oyster po'boys, plus five Barq's root beers, which is local to New Orleans. Our sandwiches were ready within about fifteen minutes. We sat outside to eat them, as the restaurant was closing.

After that, we parked in front of our new house. This turned out to be on Tchoupitoulas Street, a main parade route for the Mardi Gras parade. We still had about half an hour before we could get into the house, so we walked around the neighborhood for a bit until we could get in.

Hello, new home.

Shotgun houses are particular to New Orleans. They are so named because they are long and narrow, have no hallways, each room leads directly into the next, and theoretically, you can stand at the front door and shoot a gun from there to the back without the bullet going through any walls.

My children were disappointed that this house didn't have the doors lined up, so the shotgun test wouldn't have worked. It was still a cool old house, though.

This was the first bedroom, which was between the kitchen/living room and the next bedroom.

After getting all our stuff inside and re-organizing it all, and then settling the children in front of a documentary about bayous on one of the three televisions, A. and I realized we could actually leave and go have a drink in a bar. Like a date.

This house was in the Riverside district of New Orleans, which meant were a LOT of bars to choose from. We passed a couple that were just standard bars with middle-aged regulars hanging out drinking. This was not really the scene I was going for. Instead we went to a fancy bar associated with a steakhouse, where it was quiet and we could get nice cocktails and actually talk.

This was vodka, St. Germain (an elderflower liqueur) lime, and cranberry juice. It was very good.

This was only about half a mile from our house, so we were gone about an hour. On our walk back, we happened to go past a warehouse that had an open door and lights on. We paused to look in, because it was pretty clear that they were making Mardi Gras floats in there. We agreed we should bring the children back to see it, so as soon as we got back to the house, we gathered them all up and walked back to the warehouse.

We stopped in the open doors just to look, but a sculptor named Benny saw us there and invited us in. When he learned we don't live there, he took us on a tour and explanation of the various works of art in progress. He would not have done this if we were local, because we were seeing the parade floats for the coming Mardi Gras, which are supposed to be secret.

For that reason, I will not show you the couple of photos I took, but it was very cool. He explained the themes and how the floats are constructed from paper mache on a frame of two by fours.

After that we went back to the house and spent some time sitting on the front porch, eating potato chips and watching the traffic go by on Tchoupitoulas Street before going to bed.

The next day wasn't too early of a start. We were in the car by 7:45 a.m. to get to the airport. I wasn't sure how long it would take to return the car* and get through security the day before Thanksgiving, so I made sure we had lots of time. 

Everything was so fast, though, that we ended up sitting at our gate for about two hours. Plenty of time for a few more beignets from the airport Cafe Du Monde.

Not as good as Jackson Square, but happily eaten nonetheless.

Our flights and drive home were uneventful, if long. We had a wonderful time, but everyone was very glad to make it home.

* I had a few minutes of panic when I left my purse in the rental car and had to run back up to the car to search for it. Thankfully, the car hadn't been moved yet. Unthankfully, I first looked in the wrong car because it was exactly the same as our rental car, same color and everything. When I eventually realized my mistake and looked in the right car, I found my purse right away, but it was a bad few minutes.

New Orleans Day 3

Just so you know, there is no expectation that all of you are reading these very long and frankly self-indulgent recaps of our trip. I mostly write them for myself, because this blog is the only way I remember anything anymore. 

With that in mind, onward!

Every day began with me drinking coffee in a dark house before the sun and the family were up. When the sun came up, I would go outside and walk around the quiet neighborhood we were staying in.

I love the giant live oaks hanging over the street.

Even though the roots do this to the sidewalks. And the roads themselves.

I didn't have to wake everyone up super early this morning, but we did need to get going somewhat promptly to drive out to Oak Alley plantation for the tour I had scheduled at the house there for 10:15 a.m.

There are many plantations out on this road west of New Orleans. We didn't have time to tour multiple ones, unfortunately, so I just chose the most well-known one. Oak Alley is one of the bigger and fancier plantations. Sort of like the Gone with the Wind plantation.

Overlooking the alley of oaks from which the plantation got its name.

A. and I had been there maybe 20 years ago, and they've made some changes since then. Notably, they've reconstructed the slave cabins and have much more information there than they did previously. 

One of the informational signs in these cabins explained how the slaves were baptized and mentioned that the church where this happened was only about four miles away. A. really wanted to go there, so after we spent some time walking around the gardens and grounds after the guided house tour, we drove to the church.

The church there now was built in I think the 1920s, after the older church was destroyed when the river came over the levee right there and washed everything away. The newer church was open, so we were able to go in and look around.

Some information in the church itself explained its history, including that the records for this church were at various times kept in French, Spanish, and English, according to who owned this area at different times. This church was actually in the Diocese of Havanna (Cuba) for a time, hence the Spanish. Louisiana and New Orleans are most often associated with the French, but the Spanish history there is just as strong.

Anyway. Across the road from the church was the original cemetery. It also sustained a lot of damage from the same flooding, and many of the mausoleums were damaged. We didn't have a lot of time to look around, as we had to get going to our scheduled swamp tour, so we just quickly drove through the cemetery before getting back on the road.

I had planned to stop at a restaurant near the swamp tour place for po' boy sandwiches, but between our church exploration and taking longer than I expected to get to the swamp tour, we didn't have time. Instead we got Subway sandwiches on the way and ate them in the car. Boo.

However! We did get to the swamp tour location right on time. 

I discovered when I was trying to find a good swamp tour that these companies do not allow children on the private boat tours, which is what I would have preferred. Instead we had to go on a big pontoon boat. And this particular company fed the animals with marshmallows, even the alligators. This did ensure that we saw animals--raccoons, wild boar, and the alligators--but I was not too pleased about that.

Can you spot the alligator?

The kids loved it, though, especially the part where they all got to hold a little alligator.

I really had no interest in holding this myself, but the captain was quite insistent.

By the time we finished with the swamp tour, it was somewhat late in the afternoon. We drove right back to the house for dinner and some downtime before bed. It was not hard to get any of the children to sleep after all of our exciting and tiring days.

Speaking of exciting . . . check back later for the tale of our last full day in New Orleans, in which I discover I have messed up our Airbnb booking and I have to scramble to find another one. Which ends up being literally next door to a college bar.

New Orleans Day 2

Day Two of our New Orleans adventures began, as always, with me getting up way before anyone else was awake and drinking my coffee. This time I was in the living room, though, as the sun hadn't yet come up.

Coffee on the couch.

Incidentally, the lightbulbs in this house were THE WORST. Such a bright, glaring white that I refused to turn any of the lights on in the living room when I was in there. Instead I turned on the lights in the connecting dining room and entryway to light the living room. So bad.

Anyway.

This being Sunday, we were of course going to church. Some of my children had been asking when we could go to a Latin Mass again, which is not something readily available to us at home. In a big, very Catholic city like New Orleans, though? I was sure I would find one somewhere, and sure enough, 9:15 a.m. at old St. Patrick's church downtown was a Latin Mass.

Accordingly, I awakened the family in enough time to get us all downtown, find parking, and go to Mass.

This was a big church, old and beautiful, and full of veiled women, men in three-piece suits, and a LOT of kids. I am always uncomfortable taking photos inside a church, so I didn't get any of the altar. There are plenty online, if you're curious, but I did get this lovely photo of the morning sun coming in to light up Mary.

Our Lady of Light, indeed.

This was a long Latin Mass, and by the time we left church around 10:30 a.m., everyone was very ready for some food. Since we were downtown already, we went to the original Cafe du Monde on Jackson Square for cafe au lait and beignets.

Beignets are sort of like fried dough, Or a doughnut. Better than either of those, however, and always served with piles of powdered sugar on top. This makes them quite messy to eat, and I regretted not covering my black skirt with a napkin.

This looks vaguely galactic.

After that, we went across the square to the cathedral. This had been closed for weddings the afternoon before, so we hadn't had a chance to see it yet. The last Mass was just ending when we got there.

Another beautiful church. There are many in New Orleans.

Next we drove to Metairie, which is the suburb of New Orleans in which my mother grew up. The house she grew up in and that I visited so many times is still there, and is virtually unchanged on the outside, though no longer owned by my family. 

We also went to my grandparents' grave in Metairie.

Cemeteries in New Orleans are very unique, thanks to the above-ground mausoleums necessitated by the high water table. The cemeteries look like little villages of tiny houses. They even have street signs so you can find your way around.

I didn't think to buy flowers for the permanent urn in front of our family mausoleum, but Poppy has had enough experience with found flowers that she immediately set about picking some of the small purple flowers all over the grass to make a bunch for the grave. I added some greenery from a nearby tree, and we had a tiny arrangement for the grave.

Small and unorthodox, but made with love.

The whole month of November in the Catholic church is dedicated to the souls of those who have died, and all are encouraged to visit cemeteries to pray for them. It was very special to bring my children to their great-grandparents' grave and pray for their souls there in this particular month.

Next, A. requested we go to the New Orleans Art Museum. He loves art museums, as does one of the boys, but rarely has the opportunity to visit them. 

This is a relatively small museum, but they have a nice collection.

I was particularly amused by this giant, very realistic Hulk lunchbox in the modern art section.

A. took the one boy who also loves museums around, and I took the other three kids separately around the museum. This way, when those of us who were not as enthralled had finished, we could just go outside to the park by the museum to wait for the art lovers to finish.

Playing under the Spanish moss.

Everyone was thoroughly exhausted by that time, and we went back to the house for dinner. Also for Looney Tunes, as A. figured out how to get Youtube on one of the three smart TVs in the house.

That's a wrap on Day 2. Check back later for Day 3, in which we visit a plantation and the swamp.