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Feb 1, 201910:40 AM
Joie d'Eve

Living, loving, laughing, and learning in the new New Orleans

Have Pajamas, Will NOT Travel

My life as a homebody



Often, you hear people say that if they won the lottery, they would travel. Or they list it as a retirement goal: to travel more. They include it on dating profiles: “loves fine dining, hiking and traveling.”

That is not me.

Then there is a whole subset of people like my mom, people who don’t like the actual traveling part of travel and need three G&Ts and half a Xanax to set foot on an airplane but love being somewhere new and exploring.

That is not me either.

This is a character flaw on my part. I wish I were more adventurous. I wish I liked new things more. I wish I were more willing to take risks.

But I like routine. I like my city. Even more than that, I like my house, and more than that, I like my pajamas, and most of all, I love my family.

I have friends who travel a lot – my kids have berets from Paris from my bestie Sarah and souvenirs from Bali from my beloved former officemate Angie – but when they try to tell me how great traveling is, all I can think of is, “Yeah, Cuba sounds cool and all, but have you heard of Netflix?”

So when I had to travel to Philadelphia this past weekend for a work conference, I was not exactly excited. Or – I was, but I was excited about A. meeting other people who work in my same field; B. learning about cool new ideas in my field; and C. having my own hotel room.

And yes, overall, I had a good time. I ate cheese steak and DiNic’s roast pork (aka America’s best sandwich) and butterscotch Krimpets. I met new people, learned new things, and passed out and took in a lot of business cards. I bought Philly-themed presents for my family and even did a very moderate bit of exploring.

Perhaps best of all, at the end of each day, after networking and going to the mix-and-mingle parties, I would take a bath all by myself and read a book without my kids interrupting me every 30 seconds.

I am glad I went – but even gladder to be home.

Even if I don’t care to see other places, necessarily, I am also not someone who thinks that New Orleans is the best/only place in the world. But I do know, with great certainty, that New Orleans is the best/only place for me.

Gumbo > cheese steak, always!



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Joie d'Eve

Living, loving, laughing, and learning in the new New Orleans


        Eve is further proof, if any is needed, that New Orleans girls can never escape the city. After living here since the age of 3 and graduating from Ben Franklin High School, Eve moved to Columbia, Mo., where she received bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism and became truly, unhealthily obsessed with grammar.She had originally intended to strike out to New York City and work in the cutthroat magazine industry there, but after Katrina, Eve felt a strong pull to return home, to her roots, her family, her waterlogged and struggling city – and a much more forgiving work atmosphere that would allow her to skip a routine of everyday makeup and size 0 designer label business suits and enjoy the occasional cocktail or three with an absurdly fattening lunch. She moved back home in January 2008 and lives in Mid-City with her two daughters, Ruby and Georgia; her stepson, Elliot; and her husband, Robert Peyton.Eve blogs about the joys and struggles of living in post-Katrina New Orleans, the unique problems and delights of raising a child in such a diverse and challenging city – including her experiences with the public education system – and her always entertaining and extremely colorful family.Eve has won numerous writing awards, including the Pirates Alley Faulkner Society Gold Medal, the Society of Professional Journalists Mark of Excellence award for column-writing and Press Club of New Orleans awards for her Editor’s Note in New Orleans Homes & Lifestyles and for this blog, most recently winning the award for "Best Feature Affiliated Blog."She welcomes comments, advice, empty flattery, recipes, drink invitations and – most especially – grammatical or linguistic debates.




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