When my husband and I had to get out of our house in the French Quarter in New Orleans, our new house wasn’t ready. My evil contractor assured me we’d be able to move in within two weeks so we moved for what we thought was a short stay into my friend Elizabeth’s guest house. We ended up staying six months.

Elizabeth and I have know each other since we were born, thank God, and are used to sharing everything, including space. An English secretary that is now in my house was parked in her mother’s house for years because my own mother did not have a place to put it. My first sofa originally belonged to Elizabeth’s Aunt Fanny and it made the grand tour from Mississippi to DC to Florida to New York before landing back at Elizabeth’s sister McGee’s house in New Orleans. Recently, Elizabeth rented her house out to a famous rock star who was recording an album in New Orleans, so she came to live on our third floor for two months. I still "owe" her four months, but we don’t actually keep tabs, and we know we barely have to ask when we need something.

My point is there is nothing off-limits where the people I love are concerned, whether it is money, homes, cars or jewelry (McGee wore my pearl and diamond earrings when she married last year), and I am very, very lucky to have friends who feel the same way. Also, I always end up gaining more than I lend. My friend Jessica’s son Taylor lived with us for three months when he came to New Orleans last year to start his career as a chef and he was a total gift. I went to visit Taylor just days after he was born in Los Angeles and now he is an amazingly fine young man who enriched our lives immeasurably while he was in residence. The dog went into a prolonged funk after he left and our kitchen has never been as clean since. Fortunately, he is only a few blocks away, but I wouldn’t trade anything for that time.