Joie d'Eve

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

When my mom, a Wisconsin native, was 10, she memorized the entire roster of the Green Bay Packers. Even now, she’ll give me her bank card and tell me, “The PIN is Bart Starr-Max McGee.” And I’ll look at her blankly until she sighs and clarifies, “1-5-8-5.” I have the same uncanny memory for numbers –– I did my high school sweetheart’s college applications for him, so I still know his social security number, and even though she moved away a decade ago, I will remember my best friend’s old phone number on my deathbed –– but I have no passion for football. I mean, yes, of course I love the Saints. Who Dat, etc.

Vicarious Autumn

When Michael Jackson died, I found out from Facebook. When President Obama gave his health care speech, I was able to gauge the general reaction by everyone’s Facebook statuses. Ditto when Kanye West made an ass out of himself at…

Preschool Blues

I have a picture in my mind’s eye of myself just a few weeks after my daughter was born. I was more exhausted than I’d ever been in my life, my bloodshot eyes ringed in dark circles. My skin was…

Small World

Errol Laborde recently wrote a blog titled “The Incident” in which he discussed being the victim of a scam in the parking lot of a Rouses. A woman claimed that she had been struck by his car while he was…

The making of a New Orleanian

The first time my now-husband took me home to meet his parents, I was a little nervous. That is, I was a little nervous until we pulled off of the interstate and into total suburbia. Then I became uneasy. When…

New Orleans: The Next Generation

When I was about 14 or 15, in the middle of one of those marathon phone conversations that 14- or 15-year-old girls are famous for, my friend Peter asked me, out of the blue, “What do you think is the…

School ties

Every so often, I think I did it backward. 
I grew up in New Orleans, which –– it must be said –– is not really the most wholesome place in America, and went to college in Columbia, Mo., which is…

The good, the bad and the ugly

In many ways, raising kids in New Orleans isn’t that much different than raising kids anywhere. There are still potty-training and tantrums to grapple with. There’s still the refusal to eat anything other than chicken nuggets. There are still the…

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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