BK - AK The New Measure of Time

BK and AK. They are not fast food restaurants nor do they represent any bad ass rappers from da hood. BK and AK are new measurements of time; before Katrina and after Katrina. Some people also refer to this new standard as "the storm", which may mean even more acronyms to learn. But for now, I refer to BK and AK since this is how life exists in New Orleans.

This weekend marked the fifth anniversary of Katrina and there was a plethora of events to mark the occasion. From dignitary speeches, to photo exhibits, parades and cookouts, New Orleanians need no reason to throw a party even if it is to mark the worst disaster to hit the city, ever. We took the kids to a few of these "festivities" to learn more about just how awful it was. Was it a morbid thing to do? Not really. Was it important? To us, it was.

As outsiders who didn't live through it, walking through a photo exhibit of devastated homes and lives seemed more voyeuristic than morbid. It gave us some perspective on why everyone keeps talking about life before Katrina and after. Some people just say "It was bad", and call it a day. Looking at a photo of a ragged baby doll floating in dirty water inside the living room of what used to be some one's home is pretty bad. But, staring at a shot of starved dog hanging on a telephone wire is gut wrenching. It gives a pretty clear picture of what people suffered through and witnessed after the storm.

Our family didn't live in New Orleans anytime near Katrina. Yet, we encounter numerous questions about our lives in reference to this event now that we've moved back. Here's an example: last week Kevin and I went to pick up our new health cards. As we drove up a main street in the city core, we struggled with where the building was and if we were heading in the right direction. "Was this here before?" I ask as we pass a shiny new tower next to the old Charity Hospital. There's no need for me to explain before when. It's simply implied.

At a neighbors weekly red beans 'n rice party, I am constantly introduced to new people. Even if I don't explain why we moved back, folks just assume we're coming back after fleeing the storm. Their "Welcome back!" is so enthusiastic, I don't have the heart to tell them we haven't been here in nine years and that our decision had nothing to do with Katrina. I let them think it does simply because it would be weird to discount it all together.

Tourists to New Orleans often remark on how bad parts of the city are, even five years past the storm. I don't bother to explain that some neighborhoods looked that way before the storm and some places look even better after. It would seem impolite. There are several blighted houses that need to be addressed and the city has promised to do so. In that respect, Katrina may have been a blessing in disguise. These houses might never have been on any one's radar otherwise.

Housing, health care, jobs, groceries and parties have all taken on a new meaning in New Orleans because of Katrina. So, if I'm talking about life in here and the letters AK or BK slip out, don't be alarmed. Just know the reference and you'll get what I'm talking about.

Why Do Women Join Book Clubs?

If you have to ask, you'll never know. That was one of Louis Armstrong's favorite sayings and it is totally applicable here. Joining a book club is a favorite past time of moms. Despite the fact that’s it’s just another bitch/gab/gossip session under the guise of intelligent chatter, moms truly believe they are bettering themselves if they join a book club. Do romance novels count as serious reading? If Lois, Kathy, Ruth, Jennifer and Mary say so, then by golly, they do!

Top reasons moms join book clubs:

Expanding their minds – seriously. Who doesn’t feel enriched discussing whether Julia Roberts looks her age or guessing whether she went under the knife? Oh yeah, also, discussing whether she really pulled off the depth of emotion Liz experiences in Thailand is important too. Aren’t following? Then you have just broken the first cardinal rule of book clubs – every book club member everywhere must read EPL. (that’s “Eat, Pray, Love” for all you losers!)


Friendship – no book club member would ever feel anything but love toward another member, even if she does try to outdo your last gathering by having red velvet cupcakes made by that cute new bakery downtown. How thoughtful! The main character in this month’s book loved red velvet… the bitch!


Wine – why bother showing up to a meeting if there isn’t wine involved? It allows everyone to loosen up and share what they really feel about this month’s choice (or the fact that they didn’t bother to read it. Snort!)


Networking – need to branch out from the playground set? Joining a book club allows you to meet a whole new group of mommies! Unless of course you’ve been coerced into joining the playground mommy book club. In that case, you won’t meet anyone new; ever.


No kids – nuff said.

It's been three weeks since we arrived in New Orleans and I've already joined a book club. Yes, they already read EPL and the club went on a field trip to see the flick. (I got hungry). I've read one book so far and am looking forward to the next two books. Our particular book club meets at restaurants and cafes which is another bonus reason to join. I get to eat great food and drink lots of wine!

What I'm enjoying most however, is the friendship. I've met a great group of women who are eager to help me network and find a job, want to listen to my opinion on things and are willing to share some personal stuff. Usually that kind of bonding takes years of casual interactions before getting to the level we are at and I'm grateful to have to skip all that time! It helps that I have a very good buddy (Ms Maria) looking out for me who is VERY outgoing and not afraid to talk to anyone. She's sheparding me into the flock. I'm not quite a black sheep but I also do not live in the rest of the club's neighborhood which is almost a mark against me. Should we be able to afford a home in the Point I'll really be a full fledged member.

If you've never been part of a book club, join one. But, make sure it isn't too serious (no books on the history of salt; that takes all the fun out of it) and make sure it involves wine. AND, make sure you get a sitter that night. It's the very best part of the experience.

Private School - More Than the Three R's

Being a product of the public school system, I am of no help to my poor children who are navigating the tricky waters of private school here in New Orleans. Not only do they have to figure out uniforms, a ton of new rules, a new schedule, new teachers , new friends and of course new subjects, they are going to be subjected to religion classes too. Catholic, no less! Don't get me wrong, I"m not knocking Catholics. I'm admitting in a round about way that my kids have a sketchy religious education. A brief stint as methodists, followed by a long period of inactivity, and then an introduction to unitarian universalism has most likely just confused them. And now, we're throwing them into the Lions Den (just kidding; couldn't resist that reference).

But, going to a Catholic school won't be so bad. As the school administrator who so kindly took us in said, "You'll come to appreciate us Catholics more and more". I don't doubt it. I already do, in fact. Just providing a solid education for my kids for the next year is reason enough for me to be thankful. Being successful in finding the right school for kids is a seriously tough business. Were it not for the guidance and kindness of some neighbors, friends and administrators, our kids might have suffered the horror of homeschooling with an over-medicated mommy.

The entire school system in Louisiana (or New Olreans at least) is messy and complicated. For example, deciphering which private schools offer the best and most generous scholarships is difficult. Sometimes it feels like trying to get initiated into a secret club. I'll never forget going to an after work party years ago and listening to 20 somethings answer "What school did ya go to?" It was truly bizarre. No one gave a rats ass if you were at Yale or Tulane or DeVry. They all wanted to know which high school you graduated from. Yes indeed, high school. "Did I miss something?" I wondered.

Each school system and each school for that matter, says a lot about who you and your family are. If you traveled the Holy Name/De La Salle/Sacred Heart route, you were most likely Catholic, middle class and had some serious roots in Louisiana. There are lots of grads with names ending in "eaux" at these schools. Wore the green Newman shirt? Your daddy was a lawyer or business owner or a football star and could afford the very best. Had the good grace, luck, or horseshoes needed to make it into Lusher? Your parents were the ultimate hipsters, an enlightened bunch of artists/musicians/hippies who appreciate a fine, liberal public education.

Like so many other things, Katrina apparently changed the education system forever in this city. The school system was practically gutted (as the weekly alternative paper in town says) and charter schools sprang up everywhere in response. Ineffective teachers were put out to pasture and Teach for America moved in. The education system is getting better in terms of quality, but certainly not in terms of quantity. The best public and charter schools have ridiculous waiting lists and the absolute luxury of picking and choosing (minus the required district spots) the top students. So, where does that leave the rest? Wandering the desert in search of answers and a sign like oh, I don't know, a burning bush perhaps?

We didn't have the luxury of a burning bush, only a burning desire to find a good school. We spent months asking questions, filling out forms and phone calls, and we still came up empty handed. Despite its association with evil and wrong-doing, on Friday the 13th, we scored an appointment with Holy Name of Jesus on our first try (now there's a good sign!) and were quickly accepted into their loving arms. I hope we stay put.

Have we figured out the car pool or the uniform changes yet? Nope. But, we're learning. Have we short-changed the kids on school supplies already? Indeed. A trip back to Office Max however, will change all that. Like I said, this is new territory for all of us and we're doing the best we can. Thankfully, we're in a place where forgiveness is routine. Amen to that.

Full Circle: Fast Friends

Full Circle: Fast Friends: "Disclaimer: by no means does this blog imply that my friends are 'fast' or 'loose'. Well, maybe some of ya'll... It's week two in NOLA an..."

Fast Friends

Disclaimer: by no means does this blog imply that my friends are "fast" or "loose". Well, maybe some of ya'll...



It's week two in NOLA and we are busy making new friends. Cyre has an adoring fan/friend next door, Keller has several boys to call buds, Kev has reconnected with many former hang daddies, and I've met a wonderful group of women too. It feels so good to have my own group of friends, despite already knowing and loving several musicians in town. As one gets older, making friends can seem more of a task than just an experience and I'm thankful it's been such a positive experience for all of us.



Out walking the dog one day last week, the kids and I met a new neighbor also out walking her dog. It turns out she has an adorable granddaughter named Lilly who was ready to make new friends. The very next day, a beautiful, precocious, chatty southern belle turned up at our door ready to play. We've had the pleasure of Lilly's presence every day since and she's made fast friends with Cyre. Though she is friends with Keller, it's Cyre who she longs to play dolls with, discuss fashion, make phone calls and chase after. I'm sure once kids at school meet the new girl, the tiny Canadian and the funny one, Cyre will have a pack of new friends. I use the term pack loosely. Tween girls in a group sound and sometimes act like a pack of hyenas. I know; I was one.

One of my biggest fears in moving to New Orleans was that Keller would have a hard time making friends. Lots of kids don't always get him and his encyclopedic knowledge of wars, weapons and mummies. After six days of pestering his sister and his parents, we desperately called a friend of Kevin's with a son Keller's age and begged them to come over. Keller and Ray hit it off and ended their play date shooting a still video of a Lego war. The only thing I remember shooting at age nine was my mouth off, resulting in me not being able to play with Jennifer Renne for a full year. Yeah. Not a good one...

Just like Keller, our new neighbor Zeke has probably never met a stranger he didn't like. On Monday morning of this week he showed up at my door with an invitation to a red beans n' rice party that evening. His enthusiasm was infectious! I just had to come meet the family that produced such a happy, friendly kid. Since that day, the boys have been inseparable and totally unhappy when family commitments, meals and sleep interfere in their games. I am grateful and relieved.

Kev has reconnected with his former hang daddies and is up to no good already. The smart ass jokes and comments are free flowing and his sense of humor is once more in tact. What's different this time, is that he's more humble and appreciative of full time work. He's working hard at making his band the best it can be and the former Disney employee is in full force. Dress code, stage rules and rehearsals are now part of his weekly routine. What a change from disgruntled posties, threatening dogs and proper dismounts!

To my surprise, I've made friends within my first week here, something I absolutely did not plan on. My first move to New Orleans was rather lonely and it took me several months to make any real friends. This round, it's happened much quicker and I'm thrilled. Am I more open? Yes. Did I have the help of my dear friend Maria? Yes. But, I've made friends with neighbors too and on my own. It takes some chutzpah to walk into a stranger's home full of people and sit down at their table and talk. Thank god for the many years of sales and cold calls; I got me some chutzpah!

The ladies of the Algiers Book Club are a loud and opinionated bunch (their words) and just my cup of tea. I fancy myself both a dame and a broad and these women fit both of these descriptions. Though we'd just met, by the end of the night several of the ladies had asked for my resume, suggested places to take my kids and shared more than a couple of cocktails. We even danced together! I absolutely cannot wait for the next gathering and hope to see many of them sooner.

It's Eatin Time!

The fast is over.

We're back in NOLA, in the land of food and a glutton of amazing restaurants. I don't know why, but we just didn't eat out much in Charlotte and we've done just that every single day in the one week we've been back in New Orleans. Yes, there are a gazillion great restaurants here, but it's not like Charlotte was a complete wasteland. It just didn't seem quite as meaningful there.

It's weird to be back. I've titled this new blog full circle, cause that's how it feels. New Orleans is where I met my husband and where my life completely changed. (no need to cue any sort of Air Supply song; it's cliche all right, but 100% true.) I am mostly happy to be here, but somewhat apprehensive too. Starting over is tough anywhere, but somehow it feels like it might be harder here than in Charlotte. I was lucky in the Queen City, and very successful as a writer. I had a fresh start and could be anything I wanted. I don't quite have that luxury here. I'm somewhat remembered, but not as a writer. That just might confuse folks.

The kids are adjusting, but it's harder for them too. They had friends in Toronto, but not BFFs. Plus, they see them at least once a year since we travel to TO frequently. I'm not sure how often we'll get back to Charlotte and that's makes the sting of leaving that much more painful. Poor Cyre is sad, sad, sad about leaving her friends, her school and her Meredith. Truth is, I miss Meredith and the McVadons too. I can only imagine how she feels. Remember 12? Your friends were your whole world (I'm not far from that at 42!) and giving them up is like having an organ ripped out. Okay, a little dramatic; but, I swear all the moping is affecting me.

Keller is happy to be here, but missing his buds too. He is enjoying all the weirdness, the food, the music and le bon temps roulez here. However, I think he is mostly confused and a little bored. He doesn't have the freedom to wander the neighborhood, killing the Dutch. He can't run over to the neighbors houses at 7 am on a Sunday and bombard them with WWI weaponry facts. (don't you want to live next door?) Once the kids start school and he has a routine and regular people to talk to, I'm sure he'll settle down.

The best part though, is how happy my husband is. He's smiling all the time and no longer looks ashen. His walk has a bounce once more. He's grateful, thankful and humble too. It's a lovely combo, though I'm sure it will eventually get old. Playing music every day knowing he can take care of his family has turned his world around. It's the way it's supposed to be. I'm looking forward to that kind of experience myself.

So, off we go to eat more food. More later.

Meg