Contrast

It is snowing in Seattle.

Here, I had to turn on the air conditioning earlier because sweat was drenching my shirt, as I sat, (barefoot and pregnant!) in the kitchen.

We're getting ready for Thanksgiving. I'm going to try my hand at cooking some meat... and I'm also trying to get together resources, assessments, and plans for my long-term sub. That proved a bit difficult today. I'm still absorbed in that Oh-my-gosh-I-made-it-to-Thanksgiving rush of a breath that started Friday afternoon. Since then, productivity has not been the priority.

Friday evening, Stefin returned from KIPP-world around 8:30, and we left at ten for a last-minute weekend getaway (realizing it to be one of our last opportunities to do something so last-minute so easily). We went to Breaux Bridge (and in all our last minute-ness, I didn't even grab the camera), where we stayed in a cute little cabin on the bayou. We spent a lot of time resting and reading (Stefin spent some time grading). Had some good food too: the local boudin (the place we were staying was famous for their homemade stuff), turtle soup (surprisingly delicious although severe on the guilt-factor), and crawfish-stuffed mushrooms (Breaux Bridge calls itself the crawfish capital of the world). We tried to further investigate the Atchafalaya basin (the ancestral path of the Mississippi river), but after scoping it from the (beautiful) cypressy-sidelines and learning all the tour-boats for the day were full, wound up with just a wasp sting and a Hunt's Pizza instead.

Saturday night we went out on the town (population 7,000) to check out the moves at the Cajun dancehall. There we were schooled by a few pairs of senior citizens, who busted around the rectangular dance floor with showiness rivaled by the old ladies' sparkly shirts. (One of the guys was like Fonzi.) Our wild twirling bumped us into some of the other groovers once or twice, but we came out all-right.

Tomorrow I will get to work.