Conversations With an Eight-Year-Old, Volume 1

E: I wouldn't want to kill an alligator, but the dead ones sure are delicious.

Fear and Faith

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, after Katrina, life in New Orleans kinda sorta sucked for awhile. In addition to accepting the unbelievable as commonplace, it was damn lonely. Don't get me wrong, the camaraderie that everyone felt here for one another was amazing. The guy standing in line with you at the grocery store became your new best friend as you shared your flood stories, as did that guy who worked on the 11th floor whom you'd never spoken to before, after four years of working at the same place, the clerk at the gas station, and any other random stranger you might sit next to in a bar. That part was one of the most uplifting things I've ever been a part of.

But there was also loneliness, and a lot of it--at least for me.  As someone who had no family in New Orleans, other than my husband and daughter, I oftentimes felt jealous of the huge connection that all of the locals here had with their families. They all had dinner together every Friday night, it was nothing to drop your newborn off at your mama's house for the weekend  (sooo jealous) so that you could go out with your friends and have fun, etc. Through the pre-Katrina years, I made a lot of friends here--friends who I now call family. But after Katrina, they all moved away.

Valentin

Words of Wisdom

From a post at New Orleans Slate:

We here in New Orleans watched the NASA shots of Sandy headed your way. She was huge, well organized, aimed at you, and we knew how that felt. She was perfect, as Katrina was, actually beautiful when viewed from the safety of a distant satellite lens. We saw the targets on your backs and understood, possibly as no other group of people can.

Initially, there was some bitter grousing about our having had to defend our City's right to exist and be rebuilt, something you might not have to do. We weathered the nasty comments about our being idiots living below sea level and even nastier comments about tax payer money being wasted on morons and ingrates and freeloaders. These comments were ubiquitous after Katrina, but we wouldn't wish what you're dealing with on anyone because we've been there.

We endured extreme heat, while you folks have to deal with unbelievable cold, as the power went out and stayed out. We are also a city in which some people don't have cars, so we understand the New Yorkers who are utterly stranded as the subway tunnels have turned into something better navigated by gondolas than train cars. We know as we see aerial views of Asbury Park, Seaside Heights, Atlantic City, and all the coastal towns that what we're seeing in no way shows us the length and breadth and depth of the devastation  We know you aren't overstating it when you say it looks like a war zone. We understand the loss of everything you own. We know the tears you'll shed as your kids' yearbooks and baby pictures are gone forever. We understand your toughness, your determination to rebuild, your compassion for your neighbors, and your statements about your family being fine and your losses were "only stuff."

We get it.

11.06.12

Sandy

Now that Hurricane Sandy is heading for New Jersey, how soon before we begin to hear any of the following:

1.  Why would they build a city in such a dangerous place?

2.  Why would anyone who lives in such a place not take the personal responsibility to own a car in case they need to evacuate?

3.  Doesn't this present New York City with a "silver lining"? A "blank slate" upon which to re-imagine itself?

4.  Why should a cab driver in Detroit care about rebuilding a city in a flood zone?

Tinker Bell

Isaac via FB

Thank you, Facebook, for making this hurricane a much more enjoyable experience, since I was able to communicate with friends and family the entire time, even when we were without power for almost a week. Obviously, I didn't blog during that time, so here's an FB account of how I spent my hurrication.

(And true confession time: I am an extremely sarcastic person--not in a mean way--just in a dry humor sort of way. It's an inherited trait and/or survival skill I got from my father. And besides, w hat else is there to do while waiting for a hurricane/riding out a hurricane than exercise your somewhat odd sense of humor online? 

August 25
If I were a meteorologist, I would call it the CONE OF DOOM just to make things more fun.

August 26
Shit. I guess I'm buying batteries and beer today.

I just heard that Jim Cantore is headed this way. Y'all know that means we're all going to die, right?

Adventures in Homework

She did, actually, pick Pants on Fire as the winner of the 2011 Louisiana Derby. I'm so proud.  

Election Prayer

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to not engage my conservative Facebook friends when they post annoying and/or offensive stuff. Amen.

Stand Up and Get Drunk

Okay, so, that game pretty much sucked. And I hate it when I actually agree with something that Bobby Hebert says, like if the Saints don't win next week against the Chiefs, we should all go throw ourselves off the Huey P. Long.

But I suppose it's just things returning to normal, and I should be used to it. After all, I started watching the Saints during the "glory days" of Mike Ditka and Ricky Williams. And for some reason, I continued watching them during the Jim Haslett/Aaron Brooks days. (I blame my husband.) So, it appears we're back to the status quo. I can live with that.

On the plus side, I love the group I watch the games with. If you can still be laughing your ass off when the Panthers get yet another touchdown, it's a good day, all in all, right? It even came complete with a dramatic reading of Chris Kluwe's letter to the bigoted, homophobic Maryland politician during halftime. (Can you say "lustful cockmonster?") I also learned, although I probably could've lived without knowing about it, that some women are capable of putting a whole chicken in places that it really shouldn't go. The salmonella possibilities are endless. And horrifying. (Google it.)

Anyway, there's always next year, right? And I'm sure Jeff Duncan will make me feel better in the morning. #wegotthis

Peace and Isaac

Mostly, my anger from Katrina is gone. Mostly, I'm over it. I still get overwhelmed with sadness sometimes, but, as Kenny and I discussed this evening, it's not sadness for my own personal losses anymore. Am I still going to be sad sometimes about having no tangible record of my life before age 35? Sure. But mostly, when I get sad about Katrina, it's a sense of melancholy, an overwhelming feeling of sadness for what the people of this area went through--not what I personally went through. And sometimes, the heartache and anger of what everyone here had to suffer, of how people died, and of how some people never recovered, is enough to make me want to curl up into a ball and sob. But for the most part, I'm okay.

All of my friends and family members in other parts of the country have been heartbroken on our behalf that we had to deal with Isaac on the anniversary of Katrina. But to be quite honest, I couldn't think of a more fitting way to spend that day. I didn't have to watch the national news coverage of, what I'm sure, was a "devastating blow for the Gulf Coast," because I didn't have any power to watch said coverage.  From what I've heard, it was quite the heart-wrencher. I may have felt bad for us, too.

Questions You Have to Get Used to When You Live in a Hurricane Zone

Why don't you just sell your house and move?

Did your house flood?

So, it really wasn't anything more than a little rain?

Why do you live there?

Don't you want to move here?

Jim Cantore seems concerned. Are you?

I'm looking at the radar on the Weather Channel right now. Are you sure you're okay?

This is what it looked like. For 30 hours. That weird blowing sound would be the 75 mph gusts. All in all, to be quite honest, not a big deal, now that I'm a hurricane veteran. But DO NOT ride it out without a generator. That part really sucked.

Birthers

Dear Baby Jesus--

I am trying so hard, so very, very hard, to be apolitical on Facebook.  My conservative friends post all sorts of crap about how Obama is the Worst. President. Ever.

They seem to have all forgotten that George W. Bush is the asshole that dragged us into this mess.  And even though, according to some Facebook test I took, I agree more with the Green Party candidate's platform than I do with Obama's, I will still vote for him. And I even don't comment on their crap. But bless me Jesus, for I have sinned.  Tonight, I just coudn't take it anymore. Today, Mittington Romney III went there and made a joke about how no one ever asks hiim for HIS birith certificate. Gee, Mittens, could it be because you're a pompous prick who is so obviously WHITE, despite the fact that you belong to a religon that most people consider a cult, and in spite of the fact that your family fled to Mexico so that they could practice polygamy?

And yet somehow, you're now questioning the validity of the President's nationalism? Really? Because what, he's black? And a Kenyan Muslim, Socialist, Communist, Facist, Nazi? (Note to detractors: you have to pick one--he can't be a Socialist AND a Communist.)

Ways in Which I am Old

What Peter Gabriel looks like in my head:

What Peter Gabriel actually looks like now:

I'm doing this because I saw it on Bayou Creole's blog and I still can't sleep, damnit.  I'm going to bed after this, I promise. 6:00 a.m. comes awfully early....

A. Age: 43

B. Bed size:Queen (wish we had a king, but our bedroom's not big enough)

C. Chore you dislike:  Ironing. I'd rather play volleyball.

D. Dogs:  Tchoupitoulas, a golden retriever. Tchoups for short. He smiles.

E. Essential start to your day: Sitting on the porch for 10 minutes while it's still dark outside, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, but enjoying the hell out of a coke and a cigarette. (I know, I know, one day, maybe I'll quit.)

F. Favorite colors: Favorite colors to wear? Black, white, and khaki. (I'm crazy like that.) Favorite color in general? Mossy green.

G. Gold or silver: White gold, with silver a close second. I hate yellow gold.

H. Height: 5'8". I rarely feel short around another woman, but when I'm with somebody who's 5'10" or 5'11", it's very disconecerting.

I. Instruments you play(ed): Took piano for seven years. Still can't play much other than chopsticks, Mary had a Little Lamb, Heart and Soul, and One Tin Soldier, which I taught to myself. (I can't read music worth a damn, even though I remember that every good boy must find.).

J. Job title: Director of Global Health Research (I know, it cracks me up, too.)

K. Kids: Emmeline

Equal Opportunity

The purpose of this particular post is about the ridiculousness that is election season. Dear God, if there is a god (which I believe there is, although my god isn't Roman Catholic), please let this horror end. I am an unabashed liberal. A progressive, some might say. I believe that there is one god, regardless of your faith--you can be Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, agnostic or atheist. (Hell, you can even be some freaky ass religion like Mormon or Scientologist. Who am I to judge?) But we all still all have the same god, and he is a god of love.

So nothing pisses me off more than a quote like this, from a "pro-life," "Christian" Republican:
'America, America is just more than a place, though. America is an idea. It's the only country founded on an idea. Our rights come from nature and God, not from government. That's right. That's who we are, that's how we built this country. That's who we are. That's what made us great. That's what made us great. We promise equal opportunity, not equal outcomes.'

Aurora and the Ridiculousness of Our of Media

As usual, Athenae says it way better than I could, so I will just link to her:

I cannot make my doctor's office stop showing The Today Show no matter how much I beg. The nurses like it, she says to me. Okay, but after five minutes of it in the waiting room my blood pressure spikes to stroke levels. The morning after the Aurora shootings, before anybody even knew what this was, we were having a panel debate on whether you should "be worried about taking your kids to this movie." First of all, the fucking thing is rated PG-13 and is incredibly loud and violent so no, you shouldn't take your (young) kids to this movie. Not that that stopped half a dozen people at my midafternoon showing from bringing toddlers. I swear the next time a retail spot opens up next to my 'hood's theater I'm snagging it for a drop-off babysitting service for the kids' sakes. I hope that two-year-old keeps you up ALL NIGHT with his nightmares, geniuses. Second, though, WHAT THE FUCK ON EARTH. Really, that's our major concern right now, if you should take your kids to a movie because somehow one dude who went on a rampage at Batman means every movie is now dangerous? You know what's dangerous? The WORLD.

The Exorcist

Dear Mittens: Is this really who you want as your VP candidate?

Cause and Effect

Cause:

Effect:
New Orleans Saints coach Sean Payton has filed for divorce from his wife, Beth, according to a petition from Tarrant County, Texas on June 14.