New Orleans, and my comedy of errors

Guys. Guys!!! You know how to make a girl's public preggo announcement pretty awesome. Thank you for all your kind words!! Each one made me grin or tear up in turn, and each one was pretty special.

I'm back from my trip to New Orleans with my anniversary man and his fantastic sisters. Sadly I brought the summer cold from hell home with me, but I'm hoping to run out the clock on that one any time now. Did you hear that, cold? Any. Time. Now.

For your amusement, I thought I'd offer a little "What Not To Do" for your next trip to New Orleans. Or anywhere, really. I am a comedy of errors these days, it appears.

Let's roll the tape!

1. Don't leave your wallet - including all forms of identification and methods of payment - at home.  I figured we'd just hit the big one right off the bat. Fun fact: you are in fact allowed to board a plane without ID if you submit to a thorough two-woman pat-down. Who knew?!  Helpful items include: husband to pull you out of the massive public breakdown that will occur at the airport when you realize your wallet isn't in your purse, husband who is willing to pay for your forgetful ass the whole weekend, and sense of humor.

2. Don't smugly fill out a full TripIt itinerary and then gallantly lead the walk to the restaurant only to discover you switched restaurant addresses on your iPhone App. Or you'll be us, walking hand in hand to our anniversary dinner at Herbsaint only to end up at... Bayona. And then racing over to "Real Herbsaint" in a cab, very late for our reservation. But, bright side, then gallantly leading the walk to Bayona the following night! (I highly recommend both restaurants, by the way.)

3. Don't slack off on the sunscreen. So there we are, our fun group, hanging at the pool and enjoying the amazing weather. I'm feeling great and hoping I look more pregnant than just "overdid it on the beignets" in my tankini. I applied sunscreen, yes, but the same amount as normal. Apparently I should have been aware that Little One baking inside means I have to be militant with the SPF. I mean... why would I know that? It's not in any pregnancy books of mine (trust me, I checked when I got back), and no one's ever told me (ahem sis and sis-in-law). That night I had to sleep in a bath of Vitamin E oil and sheets of cold compresses, then for the rest of the trip had to ditch my cute dresses for long cotton numbers with cardigans. Sigh.

PSA: if you or someone you love is pregnant, tell them to double up on the 'screen!

So yeah. Such a fun weekend, especially for everyone else who got to enjoy the comic relief I was packing. But even my poor (literally), ID-less, direction-challenged, sunburnt self had to admit there's no where else I'd rather be. I just love that place.

I know I lit up your Instagram feeds on Sunday (sorry), but New Orleans is just ridiculously photo-worthy. Here are just a couple, since you've no doubt seen them already.

When can we go back again? (If I promise to bring ID this time...)