Good Children

Wrong business

Rachel Ray Show employee sues for $1 million.

NASCAR official sues for $225 million.

I'm obviously in the wrong business.

Affordable Housing

I don't have much time or clarity to give this rant it's due but I just want to address the issue of "affordable housing" in New Orleans. I have been a supporter of the projects being torn down from the beginning. The bottom line is that they don't work.

When I received a pamphlet in my door whining about the destruction of the projects urging me to call my city council member to rally against it, I called immediately. I called in support of demolition. When I drove down Earhart and saw that B.W. Cooper was getting knocked down brick building by ugly brick building, I cheered.

However, as the owner of a rental property, I decided that if I was going to take such a stand against housing projects then I needed to put my house on the line. I would open my doors to Section 8.

When my apartment was becoming available for a new tenant I called HUD thinking that they could help me. I called the local chapter three times before securing an actual person on the phone and all they did was tell me that I needed to call HANO. HANO had a recorded voice message saying that there were no available properties so if I was a tenant, I was out of luck. It also directed me to their website which hadn't been updated since shortly after the storm. No real person was available to speak with and no one could answer my questions.

By some stroke of luck I found an application for landlords to announce an available rental property online. I filled it out and faxed it to the number listed and I sent a copy via the USPS. I included every possible contact number as well as email and mailing address. That was over three months ago and I have yet to hear from them.

My apartment is now rented to a couple from New York at a rental rate much less than what I could have gotten from Section 8 tenants. I'm just pointing this out because the apartment, newly painted and partially renovated, is currently rented for under market value.

All I want to say is that there are affordable properties out there to be rented. There are also blighted and abandoned properties that would make lovely homes for a family after some sprucing up. I don't want to hear anymore whining from anyone -- recovery czars, professional protesters or city leaders about the lack of "affordable housing."

The end.

So how are things down there?

At the wedding last weekend a friend asked me if I was sick of answering questions about New Orleans. I replied that I wasn't but as each year passes, it just gets more difficult because there is so much involved in answering, "so how's it going?"

Recovery is slow. Painfully slow. But, shortly after returning I got used to blocking out major swaths of the city in my mind as I drove by. I feel like we're not getting what we were promised. On the other hand, my neighborhood is fine, the Quarter is fine, blah, blah, blah.

What I never manage to get to in my oft rehearsed spiel is how nuts we all are. Imagine hundreds of thousands of people defining nearly everything in their lives from where they are going out to eat that night to summer vacation plans by a single event. I know New Orleans is not the first city to have a catastrophic event but this is the first time that it has happened to me. I think that I can safely say that no one in an area affected by Katrina goes a single day without a thought about the storm. Some days are worse than others.

I know there will come a day when I can drive to the airport without seeing water lines and Claiborne Avenue will be 100% occupied once more. Lakeview will be full of residents soon enough and I still won't have any reason to go there. Someday soon I'll use the last of my Red Cross sponges and cleaning supplies and maybe I'll forget where that blue cooler in the shed came from that housed our food while our refrigerator sat out on the curb. The smells will sit hidden in my psyche a little longer unfortunately.

Anyway, this was all brought on from stepping out of town for a bit (thank god, I so needed it) and by another blogger's post today. Please take the time to visit Gris Grits today and read A's post. It's really lovely.

Finally, when of the questions that I got at the wedding that cracks me up as I think about it was when one guy leaned in and looked rather embarrassed when he asked if we'd ever "been to the Mardi Gras." I explained to him that 99.6% of us keep our shirts on in my best tour guide tone. Just once I'd like to someone aside and fill their heads with tales of debauchery and explain that flashing for beads isn't all that crazy when most the city copulates freely on the streets on any given day.

Reunion Part Deux

I'm going to share a couple reasonably decent photos of me from the wedding in the interest of fairness. It wouldn't be right to only post high school pics of myself. Seriously, something needs to be done about those breasts. Can I donate them to science?

I had a great time and the wedding was in Johnson on Dreaming Mountain which was gorgeous. I can't say enough about the location. The food was great, the weather was great, the couple was beautiful, etc., etc.

The only weird thing about being around folks from high school was how we all slipped back into the nonsensical banter -- which worked for me despite how concerned I was about being perceived. In the end, it didn't matter at all. In fact, everything mattered a lot less after a few glasses of wine.

I must have caught a cold of some sort as I was all wonky a couple of days ago and now the kids are all stuffed up and won't sleep. Well, actually they will sleep but they keep waking each other up. Just a moment ago Addy yelled out that she needed to "go toilet" and when I entered the bedroom to whisk her off, she informed me that she had "finished." Finished indeed. Thankfully every single mattress in this place is covered with plastic. When I threw the sheets into the wash I remembered that there was something else that I meant to buy today -- laundry detergent. I think that I will sleep on the couch tonight.

I've been driving around taking photos and getting giveaways for a couple of contests over at Green Daily. Be sure to enter -- unless you are a relative (sorry it's against the rules). We have one giveaway coming up on Thursday for an entire composting kit and then at the end of the month we'll be giving away a free, battery powered lawn mower worth $400. You saw it here first!

Clickety-clack

It figures that after anxiously awaiting its return for nearly three years, I will be gone for the street car celebration activities this weekend.

However, before I left New Orleans, I practiced looking both ways while driving over the neutral ground in preparation.

I can't see much of the street cars from the balcony of our house due to the brick monstrosity behind us. I'm thinking about asking them to take off their second story.

Reunion

A friend of mine from high school is getting married this weekend in Vermont. I didn't go to my 5 year nor 10 year high school reunion. There were very few of us that did -- I want to say less than 20. That's how much the class of over 300 students liked each other. Seriously. But I enjoy seeing the friends that I did have. I don't see nearly enough of them. I've kept in touch with a few but I see them infrequently. I haven't had a conversation with one of my favorites in nearly ten years since I took a trip out West to visit.

My trip to Vermont this month will serve as my 14 year reunion. There will be old friends at the wedding and those that aren't there, I'll catch up with during my stay. I spent the day today shopping. I figured I needed some new clothes. I hate shopping now. I've hated shopping ever since I started working in an office. I could never find a balance with professional wear and thrift store chic. The result was a muddled look and two kids and several pounds later, I generally look like I just got out of bed.

Today went surprisingly ok. I found some nice pieces. I found pants that actually fit. I put way too much thought into the clothes as I was buying them, however. I'm not sure of the look that I was going for, "aged hipster," perhaps. I acquired clothes by designers that I had once read about in W so many years ago ... Mossimo, Mizrahi ... except I pulled these labels from the clearance racks at Target.

I bought clothes like I always have; with an image of someone else in my head. I was looking for a sweater to go with my yellow dress that I bought for the wedding and settled for a cropped green one with some fancy knit work on the shoulders. My internal dialog told me that it wasn't something that I would normally wear but a faceless image of someone that I had recently admired came to mind and I went for it.

I've always shopped this way for as long as I can remember -- save for a few years when I really think that I had my own thing going on but even that was assisted by what Old Gold had in stock. Anyway, I came across a short sleeved sweater at Target. It was a nice, dark grey with a boat neck by Mossimo. When I ran it through my database of mental images, of styles that I've admired, I found who it reminded me of:  Myself. Boston. 1995. So I bought it, of course, and paired it with some new black capris.

High school has been on my mind a lot lately. I think that it's because of the wedding and the fact that a friend of mine sent me some photos from senior year. I don't ever want to look back on my life and say that high school was the peak. God forbid. It was fraught with emotion, a lot of obnoxious behavior and bumbling insecurities that led to poor choices. However, I have never replaced those friends. I have never found the closeness with a group of people that I had with them. I have never laughed as hard as I once did because nothing has been quite as funny.

Maybe I'm thinking back because I am actively trying to make new friends again -- or as active as I get. I have a great group of New Orleans friends that I adore but I don't get to see them much now that I have kids. I feel like I'm stuck until they start procreating or Marguerite goes off to college.

Anyway, I spent the day trying to portray through my clothing choices who I am in 48 hours time. 48 hours to catch up on ten years. Actually, a lot less. More like 45 minutes tops of talk time. So what I wear is important. My choices have to say that I'm still a great deal of fun but that I've matured. I adhere to most conventional standards but I'm ready to buck the system if the occasion arises. I'm a mom and a wife and that changes me immensely ... but it doesn't change me at all.

All this and so much more.

Stung

Hey, remember when I said that I wouldn't complain about any physical ailments until August? I lied.

The cat's claw that once enveloped my yard is now limited to two sides; the back fence and the fences on the right. When I noticed it encroaching on the left fence, I set out to trim it back which seriously angered a few wasps that were having some sort of party there. I was completely shocked when I got stung because I didn't even know that they were wasps.

Yeah. I kind of feel like an idiot for that one especially since just the day before I was incredibly annoyed when The Husband inferred that I couldn't tell the difference between an earthworm and a snake. It's just that these wasps were reddish/blackish/brownish, not the typical yellow-banded insect that I grew up with. Now I know.

So how did this environmentally conscious writer react after receiving her first wasp sting? With lots and lots of chemicals. Vengeance is mine MoFos.

I have come the conclusion that my backyard is DANGEROUS and that's why I have avoided it for the past five years.

"One More Thing" or "Random allusion"

While working in the backyard today I smashed my left thumb and right pinkie in to separate incidents. All I could think as I nursed my wounds was that L7 was right all along. Bricks ARE heavy.

This is the last time that I will complain about a physical ailment until at least August. I promise.

I distinctly remember playing with earthworms when I was around three years old. I would pull them in two and let them dry in the sun. I am not proud of this but I was three and they are worms after all. So, it was with great hesitation that I handed two worms over to Adelaide today. I was relieved as she pet them carefully. But a some point the two became four and I resolved not to hand her any more for a while.

I handed them to her in the first place because I don't want her to be squeamish around bugs and invertebrates. Hopefully the squeal that I let out when I saw a toad later in the day did not impress itself into her psyche.

My Hero

The hero of the week award goes to my brother who nearly started a flame war over someone correcting a proofreading error of mine. He also used the internet equivalent of "do we have to take this outside?"

The funny thing is that this particular comment didn't bother me as I know (and surely you know) that my proofreading skills are poor ... or rather, I hate doing it.

Thank you bro for looking out for me.

Oh so sore

I have been working hard installing window A/Cs, hanging lights and scrubbing the hell out of every surface in the apartment next door. Needless to say, my muscles are rather sore at the end of the day.

To my dismay, the restorative powers of sleep don't work as well anymore and my muscles are sore even two days later.  What the hell?