This week Cheryl and I actually agreed on a tentative date to go to New Orleans to visit my sister. We’ve been meaning to go for as long as Christy has been there, but you know what good intentions will get you; that and 32 cents won’t send a letter to tell someone you aren’t coming. I can already taste the greasy donuts, feel street refuse under my feet, and sense the mighty waters of the sea somewhere above me.