So, yeah, you loyal readers, especially the ones at the Chron, you won’t have me to kick around for the next couple weeks.
Which one hopes you might have already discerned from the photo up top, an image of you now know where I’ll be if you didn’t already know.
So, say, next Thursday morning at 11:30 when you are at work, or you’re lookin’ for some bloggoid type to vent your spleen toward, I’ll be sipping on a frozen latte, perhaps not being able to wait also savoring a crawfish strudel, and be either at Gentilly Stage listening to the New Orleans Suspects, or in the Blues Tent with Tin Men, or in the Gospel Tent where I often start the Fest, along with more fellow Hebrews than you’d imagine, praying along with Melvin “Maestro” Winfield Jr and The Glory Chorale Community Choir.
Just a way of saying thanks to the Lord for the blessing of JazzFest. This, my 35th.
Maybe at the Lagniappe Stage.
But before I go . . . Continue reading Seedy K’s Hoopaholic Hiatus Warning