Sitting in the Mojo Coffee House, which I like because it's just a skip away from the Garden District, plus they have Wi-Fi.

As I sit here pecking away on my laptop, I remember how I used to think people who typed on their laptops in public were self-important posers. Now, I admit that some of them probably need to escape to a semi-quiet dark place to escape from everything.

Today I made the not-too-far drive here to New Orleans because I had to get away from all the questions and the looks and the whispers. I hail from a beautiful tiny rural town, and I love it, but like most small sedentary villages, it's filled with suspicion and rumors and fear. So I figured the trip into the city would do me good.

I've done some shopping; bought some clothes at the little glitzy touristy boutiques in the Vieux Carre; some used books, and candles and trinkets. I also took a walk through the Garden District, soaking up the beauty of the majestic stately homes, and wishing I had the money to buy the former Anne Rice mansion, which is the most beautiful home of all. I have to say, sometimes I hate it that every two-bit Goth or wannabe vampire treks to New Orleans thinking they're going to dig up some witches or get bitten by a vampire. But, her descriptions of the Garden District are so marvelous and lovely: it's a leafy paradise, so quiet and genteel with its street cars and cobbled streets.

Anyway, I promise not to tarry too long between my next entry, and I will fill you in on all the events that have taken place.