Conversations With a Four-Year-Old, Volume Six

E: Mommy, where do you think unicorns come from? Because I think they come from Texas!

Me: Really? How come?

E: Well, I've never seen any unicorns in New Orleans or in Georgia, so they must all be in Texas.

Me: Hmm. Maybe so.


Dear Charles

You've been gone for 8 1/2 years now. How is that possible? And is it really quite possible that I think about you at least once, still, every day? It seems that way, but sometimes, I'm not sure--it's like when you try to check to see if you've fallen asleep, but then realize that in order to do so, you have to actually be awake. Or when you realize you really are doing two things at once, like reading and singing the lyrics to a song at the same time. Am I the only one who does that?

Anyway....I can't be 100% certain, but I'm pretty sure that I still think about you at least once every day. For some reason, it's usually in the morning, on my way to work. It's become almost a habit, even, to have some random thought of you right around 8:15 a.m., right around the time that I've turned onto Jena Street--the part that's so potholed that you have to smile each morning, as you pass the "Go Slow or You Will Kill Your Car" sign that someone affixed to a telephone pole.

So, what do I think, when I think about you each morning?


Do you ever have one of those nights where you question what you were thinking when you agreed to get married and have children? I'm having one of those nights.

I'm not real worried about it--I've been in this relationship for 15 years (how is it possible that I'm old enough to have been in a relationship for 15 years?). I'm not real concerned that this is going to be the big one that does us in.

But still, sometimes, I just want to bitch and kvetch on this blog. I started this blog as an online journal, after I lost all of my journals in Katrina. And I stayed under the radar for the first 2-3 years, with no one reading this blog but me. But now, knowing that there are at least a few people who read this blog regularly and a few more who stop by every now and again, I feel more of a need to censor myself.

I tell y'all about the good stuff, the mundane stuff, and the bad stuff, especially when it comes to certain parts of motherhood, Katrina, and life in the City of New Orleans. But I don't talk about the days when I'm ready to strangle my husband. And I won't talk about it now, other than to say, once again, I'm having one of those nights.

We've been together 15 years, and I'm fully committed to us being together until death do us part. But that doesn't mean it's always easy, right? I love him, but good God, does he irritate me sometimes.


Proud Moments in Motherhood

I swear, she's not really flipping the bird in this picture, even though she is. If it helps, she didn't know she was doing it. (Or so I keep telling myself.) I think it was a redirected nose-pick attempt, once she realized the camera was on her. Anyway, look--a fire truck!

How to Irritate the Piss Out of Me*

Be a pedestrian in New Orleans. Walk up to the light and see that you have the "don't walk" signal flashing at you. Look at me in my car and see that I have a green light. Proceed to walk into the crosswalk anyway, and then walk as slowly as possible, making me miss the entire green light waiting for you to cross the street illegally.

Alternately, look at my car, traveling down the street at 40 miles per hour, and decide that right then would be a great time to walk directly in front of my car, causing me to slam on brakes and scare the hell out of myself, while alternately fantasizing about running your ass over.

Repeat, 3-5 times per day

What is it with the pedestrians in this town? I really wish I could explain to everyone that the old adage, "the pedestrian always has the right of way," does not apply when you're disobeying traffic signals and/or walking directly into oncoming traffic. And don't even get me started on tourists in the French Quarter who think we're Disney World and not an actual functioning city.

Deep, cleansing breath.

*I would've preferred to call this post "How to Annoy Me," but Dooce already claimed it.

Google Search of the Month

I'm sorry, y'all, I know I'm obsessed with the people who end up at this blog via a google search. But I just can't help myself. It's a sickness, I think. I'll try to restrain myself to only posting about this once a month, starting...now....

Funniest search this month? "Do old grits turn into bugs?" Um, no, but if you leave them exposed long enough, the weevils will get into them, along with your flour.

Weirdest search of the month? "Free XXX gris porn." Not weird in and of itself, now that we've established that people are typing "gris" instead of "girls." But whoever did that search ended up spending 21 minutes on this site. What in God's name could they have found that interested them? My mom blogging? My witty banter? I guess I'll never know....