I was tired last night, and forgot to tell about the lunch in a mansion.

This was not just an ordinary HUGE house, but located behind a guarded gate on St. Charles Avenue.

(If you're not familiar with New Orleans that won't be as impressive as it is.)

Said mansion is the home of the Tulane President.

And it has (liveried) servants.

The university president wasn't there--he makes his home available for appropriate groups.

The ceilings were very high--before air conditioning that would have been a definite asset. The paintings hanging on the walls were (I am pretty sure) originals.

The people at the luncheon were Newcomb Institute, and very sociable. Mostly I said nothing, but just listened.

I had a marvelous, memorable time.

Today it's back to the real world. I'm home because I either forgot to set the alarm, or forgot to turn it on.

And now I need to pull my head together (can you create a mental image of that?) and get some household stuff accomplished. A bit of grocery shopping would probably not be out of place.

More later.