Tonight in New Orleans it’s bedlam; parties, costumes, and Voodoo Fest. I had a tiny buzz when I wrote yesterday’s post, completely not realizing that it was seven years to the day (more or less) that we kissed for the very first time. Voodoo, DBA, then Dave’s son whisked you away. I guess we could probably call that our first date. What a night. What a story. What a tragedy. I really would have married you last year. Dysfunctionally ever after.  Not how I imagined it, but happy anniversary, babe.