Waxing Sentimental On This Day in 1859, at the University of G�ttingen, PhD candidate Albert Niemann isolates the alkaloid C17H21NO4 from leaves of the plant Erythroxylum coca. Niemann names his white, powdery discovery "cocaine" and observes firsthand its peculiarly strong anesthetic effect: "it benumbs the nerves of the tongue, depriving it of feeling and taste." And discos, as we know them, would never be the same again. Hello everyone, I made it back from the visit to the �rents in Florida, although we had one heck of a time getting there. Because of the tropical storm (not Hurricane Dean) that hit Texas, we were delayed 3 hours getting out of Phoenix and ran across the Houston airport only to discover that the plane had just left and they didn�t have any seats anyway. So we took the �discount� coupon and crashed for the night in an okay motel with Chinese delivery �food�. We made it to P�cola the next day at lunchtime, and we proceeded to eat our way across the Gulf Coast. Well, what else are you supposed to on holiday? The actual anniversary was very fine, with a sumptuous Sunday brunch, complete with champers and jazz music. Mom and Dad loved the quilt that we commissioned Hubster�s mother to make for them. We also had the hugest chocolate cake and cheesecake and bread pudding with amaretto sauce . . . Yum!! The really good news about the trip is that Bubba and SIL are no longer quite the finks that they were � they managed to redeem themselves (and actually invited us over to their house!) Hubster and I also made a day trip to New Orleans, and while I did find the landscape and damage very sad, I was almost devastated by what had happened to Bourbon Street in the fifteen years or so since I had been there. Not the hurricane damage as much as the . . . Vegas � fication of the famous Rue. It seemed that every few hundred feet there was a �Mango Mango�, a slick looking dispensary of frozen �hurricanes�, probably made from a slurpee mix, and not the hole-in-the-wall scary places that served real booze out of plastic jugs to wide-eyed sixteen-year-olds . . . not that I ever partook in such an activity. Hmm-mmm. Anyway, I also couldn�t locate the legs coming out the wall. You know what I�m talking about. The strip club with the swinging female mannequin legs, dressed in fishnet stockings, that licentiously swung in and out of the wall above a strip club. I think it was Big Daddy�s? Big Daddy�s is still there, but where are the legs, man?? But the Old Absinthe is still there, and Hubster and I were served luscious Hurricanes, dark rum floating like a thundercloud on top, rich and red, by a cigar-smoking, Etta James-singing barmaid, who graciously allowed me to staple my Mary Kay business cards to the wall. Perhaps I�ll receive a phone call. You never know. Hubster and I also threw ourselves into the Gulf of Mexico on a dangerous surf day, and were battered to within an inch of our lives and we loved every moment of it. I got a little sunburn and we dragged sand everywhere. We also drove out to Orange Beach with Mom and Dad and went to Lulu�s, owned by Lucy Buffett, Jimmy�s little sister, which overlooks a waterway with barges and tugboats tooting down to the sound. Yes, much seafood was eaten, beer was drunk, and I brought home a large chunk of a sand dollar from the beach. Just like every other time you visit your childhood home, much is different, but many of the important things are still the same.
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