We started the day by heading out to the world famous Cafe du Monde for their coffee and beignets.  This is where I became hooked on chicory in my coffee and to this day it is all we drink at home.  The original stand was established in 1862 in the New Orleans French Market.  It is open 24 hours a day seven days a week and only closes on Christmas Day or if a hurricane passes too close according to their website.  The beignets reminded me a lot of Indian fry bread and I did not know the Choctaw people had been in Louisiana for so long!  This was a huge and wonderfully unexpected surprise for me.  My Grandmother was Choctaw and of course I knew Nanih Waiya (sacred ground) in Mississippi.  They were the first nation to get removed in the Trail of Tears to what was then Indian Territory (now Oklahoma).  I knew a century later many had been pushed off that land and “encouraged” to settle in big cities like Dallas.  But I never knew how far my people went back in what is now New Orleans.  Next we visited Jackson Square and the St. Louis Cathedral.  Dedicated to St. Louis of France and founded in 1720, it is the oldest Catholic cathedral in continual use in the United States.  Adjacent is the Cabildo which was once the seat of colonial government and is now a museum.  It was the site of the Louisiana Purchase transfer ceremonies in 1803.  On our honeymoon I asked Burk if we could have our portraits made at Montmartre and he reluctantly agreed.  On our first wedding anniversary I asked for another.  Burk says he looks like a serial killer in our Paris one and that he looks 12 from the one in New York.  To my delight there was a wonderful portrait artist right on the square.  I intensely dislike caricatures so I try to find more talented artists that are able to sketch more realistically.  I asked Burk if we could try again here.  The third cajoling was not as easy.  This was a woman who worked in colored chalk and drew us separately so Burk was free to roam while I sat up straight and prayed this one would turn out.  He was quite happy until I called him back for his sitting.  She was a true hippie from the 60’s who had actually studied art.  To say that my husband is reserved and conservative would be an understatement.  I remember he did not want the maid to see his feet on our honeymoon.  So while I was happily strolling the square our portrait artist proceeded to regale my poor husband with stories of all her past lovers.  I knew something was wrong when I went back to check on him and his face was beet red.  Knowing it could not bode well, I set out to find him food.  Hot food goes a long way with him.  And that is when I discovered another wonderful surprise:  you can walk around with alcohol!  Just walk the streets enjoying a drink!  It was lovely … and a lifesaver.  I pressed a giant beer into his hand along with a huge hot po’boy and scampered off before he could rebel.  He sat for so long I brought him another beer while I heard snippets of “and then there was Jean Claude …”  By the time he was released from the woman’s clutches he looked both relieved and murderous.  For the record she HAS made the best portrait of us to date.  Irish playwright Oscar Wilde said, “Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.”  We left the square as the afternoon shadows began to lengthen; both pleased with our portrait … and happy that it was done.