I’m feeling disoriented as I write this. My weekend almost qualified as pre-pandemic normal.

We had out-of-town company, so we treated them to one of Dr. A and my favorite New Orleans eateries, Brigtsen’s, on Friday night. The words homey and fine dining rarely appear in the same sentence, but they apply to Brigtsen’s. It’s located in an Uptown house that was converted into a restaurant in 1986. Chef Frank Brigtsen is a protege of Paul Prudhomme. It doesn’t get better than that, y’all.

Brigtsen’s has become one of my happy places and I was pleased to share it with our company. Great food, great service, and a great vibe. That concludes this inadvertent restaurant review except for this picture of Dr. A’s gorgeous dessert:

Cue obligatory musical interlude:

On Saturday, we went to a Diwali party thrown by one of Dr. A’s favorite colleagues and her husband who is one of my favorite fellow faculty spouses, Diwali is a festival of lights that’s a big deal on the Indian subcontinent. I was also there to honor the most important lesson I learned at my father’s knee, “Never turn down free food.”

I spent much of the evening hanging out with the Brazilian fiancée of one of Dr. A’s colleagues. I didn’t know that mathematicians could be so funny. He’s lived in the US for many years but still closely follows events back home. I learned that anti-Bolsonaro Brazilians call him Bozo. It’s perfect, especially since I call Bozo’s American role model, Pennywise. Bring on the sinister clowns…

We go from Bozo to Bingo. Another thing I learned at the Diwali party is that Bingo is the universal language. We played it to earn the favor of the goddess Lakshmi as well as good luck for the coming year. The last thing I expected to do was play Bingo. It made me feel Catholic or like one of the Golden Girls…

I’m proud of myself for not making a joke about Diwali and De Beaver at the party. I wasn’t sure that anyone had the required knowledge of American teevee trivia. Besides, why date myself by sounding like Eddie Haskell. Of course, I do that here nearly every day…

I also resisted the temptation to sing this childhood favorite:

The grand finale of this almost-normal weekend was attending the Saints-Falcons game at the Superdome. Nobody except sportscasters adds the sponsor’s name but I must admit to liking the Caesar’s label more than former sponsor Mercedes-Benz. They currently sponsor the fakakta dome in Atlanta. Cue obligatory booing…

We sat in seats given us by Dr. A’s mentor Dr. Rod. He’s a wonderful man who put us on his ticket sharing list long ago. He has new seats. The Saints turned his old section into luxury boxes last year. It wasn’t quite the same: I went often enough that I became acquainted with his “section family” many of whom had sat in the same seats for decades. I missed them and Dr. Rod as well. It’s more fun when he’s at the game. Thanks again, kind sir

Another thing that was different was the outcome. My winning streak was broken when the Falcons won 27-25. I was previously undefeated when sitting in Dr. Rod’s seats. I was something like 10-0 before yesterday’s close loss. Oh well, what the hell.

I enjoyed the game and even felt comfortable being unmasked. So much for this zinger from the last Saturday Odds & Sods post:

The mask mandate has been lifted here but I plan to mask up like Zorro. I’ll leave the saber at home for obvious reasons. I’ll let y’all know how it goes.

I kept one promise and broke the other. So it goes.

I did *not* enjoy the post-game scrum of exiting our seats and leaving the Dome. That’s when the mask came out. In part, to ward off the cigarette smoke. I remain wary of crowds. The habits of a long lockdown are hard to break.

I took the weekend off from politics and spent it eating, drinking, and booing the Falcons. I didn’t feel like writing about it today either. I’ll be back on the beat tomorrow afternoon. Stay tuned.

The last word goes to Nancy Wilson and Dianne Reeves with today’s theme song: