Sunday, October 10, 2010

Meet Foxy.

I recently moved within Baton Rouge, and Foxy is my 87-year-old neighbor.

I've been itching to blog about Foxy, so if you're not already on my Foxy text list, or if the person who lived here before me is not a mutual friend of ours, this is your official intro.

Just to set the record straight, "Foxy" isn't some name I cheekily came up with on a whim. I don't know Foxy's first name. (And for the record, I don't want to, unless she tells me. Her storytelling is the best.)

Foxy originally hails from Opelousas, "stayed in Lafayette a bit," and has lived near downtown since she retired from the state. She likes to say, "M' momma was a Chachere and m' daddy was a Fox. An' I'm Foxy."

And boy, is she ever.

The picture here is of Foxy and me a couple of years ago -- around the time I first met her -- when my friend still lived here and was her neighbor. It was taken during Mardi Gras, when Foxy (and I quote) "isn't the same as when she was a young Fox, but still likes to pass a good time."

Stay tuned for more tidbits from the Fox den. :-)

1 comment:

  1. OH boy! I can't wait to read more about this. When I lived in my first apartment, the lady who lived under me was 90 - Miss Libba and she was a trip! She walked every morning and night and had a different jogging suit (with sunglasses, head band, sock and shoes all the same color as the jogging suit) every day! Needless to say, she was the "mama" of the apartments. If I came in late one night - she told me the next day that I shouldn't have stayed out so late. LOL I miss her and I'm sure she is in heaven pointing her finger at someone. I love "old" people!!


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