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Babies and Bourbon Street

New orleans prince conti

No, this is not a post on the top places where breast-feeding your baby in public would be acceptable. It is also not about drunk babies, sorry.

I am one of those people who tries to multitask everything. I’d rather be multitasking than single-tasking any day. It’s practically a condition. For example, I’ll start off answering a phone call while sitting on my couch, and within a few minutes my neck hurts and I’ve muted myself, because I am holding the phone with my shoulder while eating a sandwich and mopping my floors. This condition can get extremely stressful. The worst is if I do not complete all of the tasks I am juggling, I feel even more stressed. This results in me being even less productive, and eventually I just end up lying on the floor somewhere staring at a ceiling fan. Wait, wasn’t this post supposed to have something to do with New Orleans?

I am blaming my lack of writing lately on my sideshow-gone-bad. Between getting back in to the swing of work, planning a trip to New Orleans (there it is), and arranging a baby shower, writing has fallen off the task wagon. I knew I should have put a seat belt on that one, or at very least, a helmet.

Helping to plan a baby shower while simultaneously planning a four night stay on Bourbon St. has been… interesting. It was quite like juggling two pink scarfs and a handle of Jim Beam. Trying to establish a rhythm using objects of such completely different dimensions is tricky. I felt doomed to drop the ball  scarf somewhere along the line (do you really think I would let whiskey take the fall?). Ultimately, I managed to keep my act together long enough to avoid any flying tomatoes. Read the rest of this entry

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