Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

Ohhh y'all.

JazzFest. You must experience it for yourself because it is just fantastic. New Orleans needs you. Come. I know so many things already - namely that there are some lovely people here who want you to eat, drink and be merry and nice and just dance it. Whatever you feel, you can dance it. You can also (apparently) wear whatever it is that you want, but more on that in the next few days ...

Although I would encourage so many, whose midsections have been greeted by gravity, to remember that you can't (read: shouldn't) always get whatcha want.

Oh yeah. The food.

Let's just say that if you measure the worth by the girth, I am such a happy and most wealthy woman that I make Pavoratti look like a lost shepherd. You should just come here to eat. So worth it. You'll sweat it off just by standing in the thick of things at the main (Acura) stage, in Congo Square, in the line for some libations, etc.

Also, I have the greatest hosts in the world. Not only do they feed me their own food, but they have opened their home in such a way as it makes it nearly impossible for me to think of leaving. They also tell me where to find even more food, and then they sit us down to good, good music. My soul is so full it's just righteous.

Tonight at Tipitina's I perfected my own N'awlins strut. And let me tell you, it's the bidness. I got rhythm. Who could ask for anything more, really? I mean, really.

I'm going to write oh so much more upon my return, but I felt I needed to plop at least this much down, and to let you know that Jimmy Buffett thinks that Taylor and I are funny, Plum Street Snowballs are so good and you must always opt for the medium, Cafe du Monde is a must, Bourbon Street is 24/7 shenanigans, and apparently, I'm racist.

Oh! And tonight I witnessed firsthand that in the right hands, a ukelele ain't just for Oahu music and grass skirt sashayin', it's a bonafide instrument covering rock, classical, spanish and bluegrass; it's got prospects ... we heard "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," which obviously should've been renamed, but I digress . . .

Totally wishing you all were here to eat red beans 'n rice with me (homemade), gumbo, crawfish etouffe, po' boys, jama jama, muffalettas, beignets, etc. So dern tasty. Smackity smack. I'm getting cookin' tips and instructions so keep all the stuff you own with elastic in the waists.

Next year kids. We all shall strut down heah and get it on - the eat on, the strut/dance on, the sip on and the sight(s) on. Say that you love me and that you'll come. I thank you - "Mwah!"

In case you wondered what ...

Swingin' a line.