Who Dat!

So, my peeps, how was your weekend? Well, Alex and I ventured down to NOLA this past weekend. Lemme tell you all about it. This is the point at which you should stop reading and just skip to the pics (you knew that had to happen) if my ramblings annoy you. For those of you who choose to soldier on, off we go!

A little background as to how this trip came about- during the week of Thanksgiving, Alex's brother Pete told us he could hook us up with some Saints tickets for any of the remaining home games. But not just any tickets- SUITE tickets! Ho, ho, ho and how now, brown cow! I was all over that like white on rice! A chance to see how "the other half" lives? I'm on it! So, me being me, I called him during the week, and he endowed us with two free (hollah!) suite tickets to the Saints vs. Cardinals game. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Pete (and your bajillionaire friend).

The plan was to head out at noon on Saturday, drop by Slidell to visit Alex’s parents, pick up the tickets from them, go to the city to visit with my brother Burt and his wife Melissa, check out their new digs in NOLA, spend the night at their place, and go to the game on Sunday. Hot diggity doggedy, was I excited! But we're the Mottrams, so you know there was no escaping a few Son of a B***H!!! inducing moments along the way. Not wanting to disappoint us, the universe threw us a few curveballs right off the bat. First, I was running late. Okay, male readers, stop rolling your eyes and muttering Shocker! under your breath. In my defense, I am usually on time and ready to go at the appointed hour. Yes, really. So, at 12:30 PM (not so bad, see?), the Vue was all packed up, and Alex jumped in to start it up and get the party started...and it didn't. Start, that is. The car or the party. Son of a B***H!!! moment #1. Dead battery. We frantically threw everything from the Vue into the truck. Why frantically you ask? Because a massive line of hella crazy storms preceding a cold front (*cue Hallelujah chorus!*) was bearing down on Lafayette…aaaand the truck had no fuel. Nice. So we had to stop and get gas. And, of course, as soon as we pulled into the gas station, nature unleashed her full fury- pouring rain and twenty mile-per-hour winds. Son of a B***H!!! moment #2. Poor Alex cowered behind the pump as much as he could, but still got pretty wet. Then we drove like bats out of hell trying to get in front of that thing, which we eventually managed to do right outside of Baton Rouge. Ahhhhhh, thaaaat was better.

The rest of the day was great. We visited with Mom and Dad Mottram, and they treated us to dinner (supper? Whatever. Last meal of the day…if you’re a normal person and not, um…me) at their local Chinese buffet. Noticeably absent from dining at the buffet with Mom and Dad Mottram were the normal loss-of-appetite comments Alex subjects me to when we dine in such fashion in Lafayette. Valid proof that he was, indeed, “raised right,” as they say. Anyway, that was much fun as we got not only the tickets, but Christmas and anniversary checks, too. (Money, money, money! I love money! Oh, and of course, I love my in-laws, too!)

We headed into New Orleans proper to catch up with Burt and Melissa. Burt (nicknamed B Daigle by the NOLA set) and Melissa (nicknamed Sister- or more accurately, Sistah- by her sisters, which was then adopted by the NOLA set) moved down to New Orleans back in the summer and purchased a townhouse this fall and, nosey *ss bi**h that I am, I’ve been dying to check out their new pad ever since. It did not disappoint. Burt and Melissa got a phat crib, yo! Seriously. It's in Lakeview, which is a part of the city that was flooded during Katrina, and their place has been refurbished. It's three stories, so only the bottom floor was flooded, and they have 3 bedrooms and 3 ½ baths, real wood floors, granite counters, stainless steel appliances...yeah, you get the picture. This place is so big, they can't even fill half the rooms. It's almost twice the square footage of our house in Lafayette. If you throw in the two-car garage and work room, then it is. Is it weird that I want my much younger brother and his wife to adopt me? Anyway, Burt and Melissa are livin’ the high life over there in the big city, and I am plenty envious, I tell ya.

After a blissful night’s slumber at Chez Sistah and B Daigle's, we left for the Superdome at about 10:00 AM. Game time was noon. Of course, the cold front had come through and it was delightfully nippy. *Yay!* We had to stop at the bank to get money and stuff, but I still felt we had plenty of time to get there and be settled before kick off. Mmm-hmmm, you know what’s coming right? By 10:30 AM, we were stuck in traffic. For almost an hour, we were in line for the Dome exit off of I-10 East only to be shooed back onto the interstate just as we had reached the point where we should have been able to park. Why? I have NO idea. Maybe you needed a parking pass or something. The cop just blew his whistle and pointed us onto the ramp leading back onto the highway. I was in so much shock and disbelief, I couldn’t even launch into an impressive string of trucker epithets. I think I said, “I’m gonna cry!” three times while Alex said, “Okay, it’s too late now. We just deal with it!” at escalating volume until I shut the hell up. At this point, it was 11:35. Final Son of a B***H!!! moment of the trip. Somehow Alex got us down in the vicinity of the dome, screeched into the Holiday Inn parking garage, hauled me through the streets, figured out where to go in the Dome to get to the suite, and had me hoofing it through the hallway to the actual suite as the Saints kicked off. We almost made it! But we didn’t…but who cares cuz that suite was freakin’ SWEET! Food out the wazoo, free beer, free hard liquor and mixers, leather stadium seats with cupholder, a cute little Saints towel to wave around and a shiny new roster sheet waiting for you on your seat, flat screen TV to keep you abreast of the other games, clean restrooms with no waiting even during halftime. Yes, peeps, this is the way to watch football. If you, like I, have ever said to yourself, it can’t be that good up there, they’re not getting the real game experience, and all those other things we say to try and fool ourselves into believing that we aren’t missing out on anything. We are sooooo wrong. We are soooo missing out. Even if that was the only time I will ever get to experience it, thank you, Baby Jesus, for giving me a brother-in-law with a really rich friend, even if his pockets are lined with the blood money of Bush administration defense contracts. I don’t care. I got to watch the Saints like all those old, rich, fat Republicans, and it was awesome. As I looked down upon the great unwashed masses and imagined them queuing up for their Dome Foam and eboli infested bathrooms, I was unequivocally and blissfully happy. People, I have lived the dream, and it was oh so, so good. And I know it was a dream because the Saints actually won the game. Boo-ya! We're still alive for the playoffs!

Then it was back to reality. Upon stumbling into our humble, 1970s countertop, wood laminated abode, our cat Gizmo leapt at our faces to let us know that we had forgotten to leave out food for her. A stunning and irrefutable piece of evidence that the man upstairs was right on when he decided not to endow us with offspring. That kid would probably still be sitting in a suite at the Superdome right now.

Enjoy the pics that follow, my peeps, and then get that darn Christmas shopping done already. You can’t procrastinate forever! Oh wait…that only applies to me. My bad.

The holiest of holies- my ticket to the dream and the souvenir I got to take home and treasure forever.

This picture does no justice to the phenomenally fantastic and unobstructed dream view we had of the field. Brings a tear of joy to my eye just remembering it.

Alex watching the game- fat cat style. Notice the smug grin on his face. Love it.

Proof that dreams do come true!

Proof that I (er...I mean, we) lived the dream, if only for one game.

Celebrate! Good times! C'mon!

So yesterday I traveled with Molly and the tribe to Baton Rouge to help Noah celebrate his sixth birthday at Celebration Station. The day began with a fog as thick as pea soup and continued on to yield temperatures in the eighties and upwards of ninety percent humidity. Ah, December in Louisiana. I think this face pretty much sums it all up weather-wise.
Sing along! It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...if I lived in the jungles of Africa. Can you tell I'm not a fan of this climate? I'd trade places with a person trapped in a snowbank right now. At least I'd freeze to death thinking, Now this is Christmas weather!

Where was I? Oh yes, yes- Noah's party. Molly had asked me to come along to help serve as kid wrangler since Ted had to work, and since I do love spending time with my nephews and nieces, even if it means braving Celebration Station, I signed on. This place is kids' paradise and a black hole for parents' money. As a childess (and not desperately seeking one) person, I have my own take on kids' birthday parties. They usually start out all puppy dogs and rainbows but inevitably lead to hysterical meltdowns by at least one, if not more, of the kiddie participants, which can lead to eruptions by parents and, before you know it, the whole thing has morphed into an ugly scene caused by spiking sugar levels and lack of naps. Not a pretty sight. But it is one I can sit through with a great measure of comfort knowing that, while I may have to witness the transformation from sweetie pie to demon spawn, I will not have to go home with Satan's new minion and perform the exorcism. But, I have to say, Noah's party went really well. Only a few minor dust-ups. Certainly nothing for the record books. They all had a great time. Oh, and the Parent/Uncle of the Day Award goes to Charlie Roy, who drove not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE little boys on rounds of the go-cart track at five minutes per ride. And he was still completely sane afterward. That's impressive. Here's one of my infamous photo essays for ya. * Cue diabolical laughter* Enjoy!

The birthday boy! Ugh, he's so cute I can't even stand it. That combination of freckles and blue eyes is irresistible, no?

Noah's cake of choice was chocolate with white icing sporting a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme.


Makin' a wish!

Don't you think the faces are a dead give away of the soul-sucking attributes of video games? Me, too!


Max tearin' up Star Wars.


Mary Grace and her moms enjoying the party.

The birthday boy got the first ride of the day.
(This was the beginning of Chuck's torture.)


Charlie and Sam racing around the track. I think this was round four. Notice driver's face. Is it possible he's still having fun?!?

So, all in all, a great day. And, one small request from my fave peeps, if I may be so bold? Begin the novenas for a Christmas Day sans shorts and tank tops NOW! Thanks so much!

She's Aliiiive!

So, I bet you guys thought I'd dropped this blog like a big ol' hot potato, huh? Au contraire, mon frere! You should be so lucky. But no, I was merely in a prison called Dupre Library being the **tch of my cellmates named Textbook, Binder, and Notecard. Perhaps you remember them from your own stint in a similar institution? Mmm-hmm, I thought so. For me, there's a major difference between the end of finals undergrad style versus grad style. Namely that I did not go out and get completely **it-faced. I celebrated with a piece of pizza and promptly collapsed into a coma for the next ten hours. Not even a glass of wine because I was too tired to stop off and get a bottle on the way home. Yes, I know, all together now- LAME! But, the point is, it's over, and I think we can all agree that the fact that I survived is a minor freakin' miracle. And I gotta give a shout-out to the Big Guy (or Gal?) upstairs for seeing me through. That'd be God, not Ray Authement, just in case there was any confusion on your part. "Uncle Ray" is da man, but he ain't that good.

Anyway, when last I left you, dear peeps, I had promised a rousing post about the Annual Mottram Thanksgiving Shindig in Gulf Shores. Well, luckily for you, I suffer from a chronic case of CRS (Can't Remember **it); therefore, you will be spared the misery...somewhat. Unfortunately for you, I did take pics. So, while you won't have to slog through a reading of my prolific prose, you will, if you choose to conitnue, have to endure a mind-numbingly inane photo essay. Oh yes, it's a classic. And we're off!

Here's some of the insane traffic we encountered along the way. This is a shot of the tunnel in Mobile. This is at the point in the trip where we were tantalizingly close to our destination of Gulf Shores only to encounter the fourth traffic jam. This is also where I started wailing and just generally having a temper tantrum to rival that of two-year-olds everywhere. Sing along time! Alex loves me, this I know, 'cause...he didn't kill me on the way to Gulf Shores for acting like a brat. 'Kay, so that last part doesn't really go with the original song, but you get my drift.

Once we finally arrived, this was the crib my in-laws hooked us up with for this year's festivities. My reaction? A variety of age-inappropriate slang, like Niiiiiiiice! Sweet! and Hollah! At this point, I am pretty sure Alex added Taser to his Christmas wish list.

Here's muh Zandy doin' what he does best. And this was pre- Thanksgiving gorging.

This act of perfected lounging is apparently a family trait passed down through the DNA. Witness the stunning visual evidence above.

We enjoyed this every day. Niiiiice! Sweet! Hollah!

I got to force Alex out onto the beach and make him pose for pics. Thought running through his head? Prolly something along the lines of Hmmm, could I reach her with the Taser from this distance?

And more posing on the beach.

Our cutie-patootie niece Hannah enjoyed the beach. She is the happiest kid EVER! Like every day is a day at DisneyWorld happy. She's fun!

We don't get to see Hannah that often, so Alex made sure to get in some quality "uncle" time with her. They're so cute together that it almost makes me want one of my own. I said almost.

The whole fam enjoyed the beach. Check out Alex's dad. We often marvel at Paw's ability to promptly pass out and catch some Z's in any situation. I want that super-power!

Sarah, our other niece, was in charge of Bingo. BTW, she's gonna make someone a great babysitter. She played with Hannah like a champ.

Stephen, our nephew, is now a teenager, so this Game Boy-obstructed view was pretty much the status quo for the weekend. Not that I blame him. He had seven adults and two little girls for company. Not a lot of Wheeeeeeee! moments for him, know what I'm sayin'?

My darling brother and sister-in-law Chris and Pam are the parents of Stephen and Sarah. They reside in Atlanta and told us some pretty funny stories about dealing with the water shortage there. Chris is hilarious.

Two words- tryptophan overdose. Let this be a warning to you, kids. (And more evidence of why I think he really wants that Taser. I know I'd freakin' kill him if he took a pic like this of me. Forget the posting, just the taking would result in a beat down. And, no, I don't know why he puts up with me.)

Just before we left I took this picture... then began screaming NOOOOOO! You can't make me go! and was drug (or is it dragged?...ah, forget it!) off to the car by Zandy.

That's the tunnel in Mobile again. The traffic on the way home was blissfully non-existent. Lucky for me. One more "incident" and that Taser might still be on the Christmas list.

And that's it. Like a modern day family vacation slideshow, eh? Mmm-hmm, I agree, they are just as boring now as back when they were projected onto the wall of the living room. Look on the bright side, if you ever have trouble sleeping, you can forgo the sleep-binging Ambien and just come here; you'll be lulled into REM in no time flat! But I'm not paying for any keyboards ruined by drool, just so ya know.

Hope you enjoyed the post or at least got a well-deserved nap out of it, and have an awesome weekend, my peeps! You know darn well that I will! Where the heck is that corkscrew?