Getting there.

February 11, Brownsville.

Two days of driving, two kids, no problem.
More than 1,500 miles and we would not have spent less time on the road if we hadn't had the kids with us, they never complained, never held us back, they are the champions of the road.
Failing to read our map correctly we followed I-10 and drove through New Orleans. It was late at night, it was raining, the five-lane highway was empty, glistening black, the city looked like an end of the world city, like the cities in the Cormac McCarthy novel "The Road," menacing, sinister, desolate. The Superdome, huge, charged with the memories of pictures of death and desperation, suddenly rose on the left of the freeway, and I almost screamed.
We spent the night in a Walmart parking lot in La Place, just out of New Orleans. In the morning I discovered that it claimed to be "The andouille capital of the world." Unfortunately, as a vegetarian I simply cannot prove this wrong.
Gleanings: JESUS LOVES YOU Moving sale (Life Oak, Louisiana;) the Tchoutacabouffa river (Mississippi;) Bouba Oustalet car ad (Thierry Oustalet was the name of my first boyfriend, I was twelve;) more junkyards than mechanically possible along I-10 in Beaumont, Texas.
Because we had to drop off my mother at the airport in Miami on Sunday we are the last ones to arrive, just one day before the premiere. Some faces have changed, it's good to see the others again.