I went to visit my parents this past weekend, who still live in the city where I grew up–Baton Rouge, Louisiana. While I was there, I was struck all over again by how strong feelings of “home” can be, even after years away, and how wonderful it can be to be in familiar surroundings and with familiar friends, even when that familiarity has to be found and created all over again.
watching the Tigers play, with my dad
While there, I did the traditional (and awesome!) Baton Rouge things: I went to an LSU football game–which, thankfully, was a win–and had beers at The Chimes, Chelsea’s and George’s.
Needless to say, a good time was had by all.
Sadly, Josh wasn’t able to come with me on this excursion, but with the holidays rapidly approaching, we foresee many exciting voyages in the near future. Where oh where will the Philosophers wind up next?
Football inside, golden leaves outside, and coziness all around.
Summer seems to be over up here in Ontario, but the slight chill in the air reminds me that it is, in fact, the best time of year: football season. This year, sadly, marks another year that I will not have the fortune to be in attendance at the Mecca of all LSU Fans, Tiger Stadium. Instead, I will console myself with the fond memories of this summer’s College World Series championship and, perhaps, with Ro-tel dip made solely for my enjoyment on game days–the first of which is this coming Saturday (!!!!). In the meantime, I’m looking for a way to actually see the games, since a) we don’t have ESPN, because it doesn’t exist here and b) it’s not clear that SEC football is something that would be broadcast in Canada at all, even on the equivalent station here, 
From the years of 1995-1999, I missed no home LSU games, including the time when I was 16, when I was sick enough to lose my voice before halftime. This obsession reached a boiling point during my Junior year of high school, when I did an entire Social Studies Fair project on the history of LSU football, which included a model of a 60s-era homecoming float that I constructed out of a shoebox and a bazillion tiny pieces of wadded-up crepe paper, a piece of carpet I stole from the hall of fame, and a bag of grass that I ripped from the 50-yard-line during the field-storming that happened after the upset of then-No.-1 University of Florida in October of ’98. I got an A, by the way. Oh, and in the process of preparing for this project, I managed to run into 
