For me they perfectly capture the southern climate; hot, humid, and sultry. And they were purely a mistake. Steam from the pool combined with near 100 percent humidity to fog up the camera lens.
I was disappointed when I first saw them. No crystal clear representations of the courtyard. No chance for a do-over with New Orleans now almost 1000 miles away.
Yet something in me paused as I hovered over the delete button.
Sitting in my air-conditioned home, I felt the heat of New Orleans. These “mistakes” captured our trip better than any of the “technically correct” images did.
Side note: I fear the outfit I am wearing is also an “oops” moment. The jury is still out on whether or not it is a good one. I bought the top just before our trip, but when I put it on in the hotel room with the skirt and sandals, I felt like a Laura Ingalls wannabe.
My husband said I looked fine, so I took his word for it, and we headed out for Bourbon Street. As we passed a scantily clad woman in thigh-high leather boots ushering people into a strip club, she said, “Oh, I love your top!” My frail ego was both boosted and deflated at the same time. I smiled and said “thank you” as we walked away.