So, as it turns out,

I don't hate Louisiana.

It took moving away and being gone for 3 months to understand that it's not the state or even the location within the state that made me so unhappy for the last 3 years.

I arrived back at my old house in Friday night after a 16 hour journey which was tedious but went quickly thanks to the book I was listening to: 9 Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarty. It was the perfectly light and indulgent story to distract me during the drive.

Let's be clear about a few important points:

• I still dislike this house. I dislike even more that it is on the market but is soooooo far from my standards of being market ready. I'm trying my best to let go and let my husband handle selling it because it is "his" house but OMG I may actually go crazy before the week is over. I did not drive all this way to spend my precious time off to clean up and pack up a house when I have my own house in NC that needs so much attention, but... here I am. Sigh.
• It still feels isolated. Shreveport/Bossier is a decent metro area, but beyond this you have to drive 3 hours toward Dallas to find anything new/different. The other towns within that radius are the same size or smaller and offer little in the way of entertainment options.

With those disclaimers out of the way, here are a few things that I actually miss about this place:

• Birds. I forgot how many types of birds visit my yard here (even though the bird feeder is MIA). It has been a delight to watch and listen to them as I enjoy my morning coffee.
• Wind. I have no idea what meteorological phenomenon is at work, but this corner of the world always has the nicest breezes, which sometimes turn into downright blustery days. I adore wind, perhaps because I grew up in the breezy bay area of California. Breezes like this are not common in the piedmont of North Carolina. In fact, compared to the atmosphere here, the air there is downright stagnant.
• My people. I did a pretty good job of keeping myself walled off for the first half of the year when I moved here. I didn't want to form a lot of relationships because I knew this was not my home and I would not be staying. But dammit if I didn't meet some of the best friends I've ever had. I frontloaded my visit by seeing a lot of them on Saturday and I must admit that I found myself wondering if I wouldn't have been better off staying here, among them.

No time for second-guessing- I made my choice and did what I thought was best by moving back to work on my house. 

Still, I am secretly glad to be leaving 2 college students behind in this area so I'll have a reason to keep coming back for a few years.

homeless

I'm rolling into the two year anniversary of moving to Louisiana, and for the most part I have resigned myself to the fact that I live there now. My husband is not looking for other employment opportunities, and 2/3 of my children prefer to continue their educations there. I have friends, and I have a job (if I wish to continue it).

I live there, but it's not my home.

I've probably traveled back to North Carolina about a dozen times since I moved away, and upon my 2nd or 3rd trip back, I realized something that is solidifying with each additional visit:

This is not my home, either.

I don't feel like I belong in either place.

That's a disconcerting feeling- discovering that you don't feel at home in either of the places where you've lived for the past 30+ years.

So if I don't belong here or there, where do I belong?

I am not without a home, but I feel homeless.

fraternities I have joined (the past 2 weekends)

Two weekends ago, I walked into the first 3 days of a 6-day leadership training seminar. I knew absolutely no one, and within the first 2 hours I was feeling overwhelmed and like I had joined a cult.

• there was a strict dress code, which varied based on where you were and what the leader was wearing
• there was frequent singing
• there were lots of little rules- where you could sit, when you could sit down, in what order you lined up
• there was little free time

Sounds like a nightmare, right?

I'll admit, by lunchtime on the first day I was seriously wondering what I had gotten myself into.

But, as is the case with fraternities, strangers quickly became friends and by the end of the weekend it felt like the real world no longer existed. It was exhausting, but I felt supported and the expectations were clearly laid out.

This was Wood Badge, the premier adult leader training session for the Boy Scouts of America, and I can't wait for next month when we complete the second half of the course.

3 days later, a 5 hour trip with my husband turned into 7 because of traffic, and when we arrived at the hotel there was a problem with our reservation and we had no room for the night on a weekend that every hotel in and around the city was booked.

We went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, y'all.

When you live in Louisiana (even if it is the exact opposite corner of the state), you might as well do it right! I'm into taking advantage of every opportunity while we are stationed here, and through his work, hubs managed to get invited to one of the major Mardi Gras balls in New Orleans.

I found myself a formal-length gown for Sunday night, but for the rest of the weekend I had no idea what to expect. The word most frequently used by friends to describe New Orleans is "dirty" and I was expecting to be immersed in a lecherous, filthy and not-entirely-safe pit of debauchery, I had no plans to like New Orleans. I just wanted to make it through the weekend.

We managed to get a room at a different hotel on Friday night and were blessed to be traveling with one of Matt's co-workers who used to work in the city, so we at least had half a clue about things like where to park.

Once again, there was a dress code for the weekend that varied based on where you were. In the streets, everyone was wearing purple, green and gold as much as possible. Funny hats, beads, masks, tutus, and full-on costumes were the norm. 

We did a LOT of walking, collected a lot of beads, and ate some really amazing food. The city is beautiful; there is a lot of great architecture and no shortage of unique shops to pop into. Yes, Bourbon Street was pretty gross, even before 10 am, but there was nothing obscene and I did not feel unsafe at all while I was in the city.

Mardi Gras really is a thing unto itself, aside from anything else going on in the city. There is a parade route where people literally camp out all day to watch the various Krewes roll by. We accidentally strolled onto a corner of the route and found an immediate sense of community. There were people of all ages, locals & out-of-towners. Everyone was very generous, sharing chairs, offering beers, and distributing the immense quantity of beads that were thrown.

I didn't love New Orleans the ways some people seem to. I'm glad I went, but I don't feel compelled to go back. But Mardi Gras... THAT was fun! I can see why people come back every year to celebrate. While it is a hassle to navigate the city with so many roads blocked off for parades, and parking was ridiculously expensive, I wouldn't hesitate to go back for Mardi Gras weekend, especially now that I know to bring a cooler, chair, sunscreen, and bags to collect beads.

As for the ball itself, let's just say it's not anything that Cinderella would recognize as a ball. This is how I summarized it:

Imagine you're at a rave, but everyone is wearing tuxedos and ball gowns and pulling coolers full of alcohol. And the Main Street Electrical Parade rolls through an indoor venue, with each float throwing the entire contents of Oriental Trading Company at you. And most everyone is drunk.

That's a Mardi Gras ball.  

Flicker

The flicker of a campfire, the wind in the pines 

The moon in the heavens, the stars that shine 

A place where people gather to make friends of all kinds 

A place where all our troubles are always left behind 

So give me the light of a campfire, warm and bright 

And give me some friends to sing with; I'll be here all night 

Love is for those who find it; I found mine right here 

Just you and me and the campfire and songs we love to hear

I just returned from another weekend in the woods with my Boy Scout troop. I was literally among the pines, under the stars, with friends, around the campfire. The daytime temperatures were in the low 70's and it didn't dip below the mid-50's at night. I can't imagine a more ideal way to spend a long January weekend.

This was my first "real" camping trip with the troop my boys and I joined when we moved to Louisiana, and I am so grateful for the instant camaraderie we find in Scouting. I know I will always find a group of trustworthy individuals who share my love of the outdoors and commitment to teaching young people. Scouts are my go-to people any time I have questions about anything (and I have a lot of questions about life in Louisiana; God bless my fellow leaders' patience with me!) Often our political, religious, and cultural viewpoints differ, but I have never been involved in a discussion with a fellow Scouter where tempers flared over ideology.

When I am camping, I do my best to use my phone as a camera & clock only, and stay off of social media. I returned to wi-fi in the real world this morning and was instantly bombarded with rants from Facebook friends (and truly, they are friends, just hurt & angry & divided) about whatever hit the news cycle over the weekend. We are less than 4 days from the inauguration of a very controversial, unorthodox, and divisive president. The ugliness is not going to end anytime soon.

Which brings me back to the woods: when you are camping, the real world doesn't exist. I didn't hear a single thing about anything in the real world (aside from the broadcast of an NFL post-season game for a devoted fan; it was actually a pleasant accompaniment to our dinner preparations). And it didn't matter. We were happy. We got along, We spent the entire weekend outside. We cooked all of our meals over a fire. If I felt it was refreshing and therapeutic for me, I am even happier about the effects of the weekend on the 9 young men we took with us.

This group of eleven to seventeen year-olds has 3 members who moved to the area from different states in the past 5 months. They go to 6 different schools. Some of them have medical and behavioral and familial challenges. I doubt that ANY of them would voluntarily have spent more than 15 minutes out of doors this weekend, had we not been camping. Most of them would have been glued to a screen of some sort. 

But this rag-tag group of young men had the time of their lives this weekend. A game that seemed to be a zombie mash-up of capture the flag and flashlight tag had them running around in an open field for hours in the dark. The older Scouts taught camping skills to the younger ones. They played card games and identified constellations and divided up campsite chores. They hiked to a vacant treehouse village campsite and created a war game involving pinecone grenades that kept them entertained and exercising. 

And while all of this occurred, the other leaders and I stood aside and supervised. We let boys be boys, outside, where they belong. We guided and corrected when necessary, but very little was necessary. 

This, friends. THIS should be our real world.