What Gets You Up in the Morning

I get cold feet. If they're ice cold, I cannot sleep. If I cannot sleep, I have to get up and put on socks, warm them in front of the fireplace, take a bath or wrap them up. That's just one of the reasons I get out of bed. There are many others, such as bright light shining on my face, incessant dog barking and my least favorite reason, the rowdy neighbors next door.

We all have our reasons for getting out of bed, with the most common one being because the alarm goes off. I get out of bed for that too. But it's never voluntary. You know those commercials for coffee, or sleep aids or crescent rolls where the people wake up with a giant stretch and a big smile? Yeah. Who are those freakin weirdos? I'd like to once, just once, see someone I know get up in the morning like that.

Christmas is just around the corner, which is one of the very best reasons to get up in the morning. Even when December 25 rolls around, I still slide out of bed with only one eye open (whichever one isn't closed shut with eye goop). The kids may jump on the bed with excitement and shriek with delight, but that doesn't mean I share their immediate enthusiasm. Yes, I'm happy to be up and excited about presents but the truth is, I've likely stayed up the night before wrapping presents until some ungodly hour with duct tape, chewing gum and glue. It probably doesn't help that I've most likely had a few too many glasses of cheer, which often puts a damper on enthusiasm (or anything that requires loud noises). But, Christmas does get me up in the morning.

The holiday season is also almost here which SHOULD mean lots of extra sleep and NOT having to get up in the morning. But like so many other painful Murphy's Laws, I almost never sleep in on holidays. There's always an unexpected knock at the door, or the kids are especially rangy given the fact that there's no school, or someone in the house has run out of toilet paper and is calling my name. In those instances I hearken the spirit of my dead mother and say "I've changed my name!" which was often her retort.

This week I have a day off of work (it's the one day between jobs) and I won't have to get up in the morning. But, I just might. I hope to spend the day visiting cool shops, taking a leisurely lunch with friends and wrapping gifts. Part of me hopes I don't get up and nap until noon. Part of me wishes I could rise out of bed with a big ass smile on my face and hit the mall at warp speed. I doubt it will happen though cause I'll probably get cold feet.

The Season is Upon Me...

I love the holidays. They come racing through my home and my life without much fanfare and are gone before I can catch my breath. Know what I'm talking about? I wish I could say "This year I'm going to be prepared" with absolute certainty. But, I cannot. I'm more prepared, but still not completely ready for them. Who are those people who have their pumpkin pies baked weeks ahead, their Christmas decorations hung in November and all their gifts wrapped by September? I'd like to be one of them; just once.

One of my sister-in-laws (who has a for real gift-wrapping cupboard) usually has all the presents on her list checked off sometime mid August. Honest to god. I've seen her list and her cupboard. It's awe-inspiring and makes me just a wee bit envious. Ironically, I totally suck at gift wrapping, which means stuff goes into bags or gets wrapped by Kevin. But, hey, why couldn't I have an entire gift bag cupboard? I used to have a gift bag drawer way back when but it got nixed/destroyed/thrown out after one of our many moves.

Despite my best efforts, some kid's birthday is announced about 25 minutes before the actual birthday party which means scrambling for a present. I often find myself driving like a mad woman to the nearest TJ Maxx for a gift or gift card. If I'm lucky, I find a gift bag/card of some sort in the check out line and it's a go. More often than not, however, I end up stuffing a gift into some random bag with a tag that says "Merry Christmas Grandma" on it, which I'm ripping off the bag as my kid is exiting the car on the way to the party. It's way too freakin stressful and it's at those exact moments I curse the gods who have not given me the "organized mommy" gene. Damn you, organizing gods! I want a gift bag shelf or rack or yes, even drawer.

This year AFTER Christmas, I will go to a big box store and buy extra gift bags, tissue paper (you can NEVER have enough of this stuff) and cards. Every now and then I hit an especially inspiring moment and buy a handful of tasteful, not too offending birthday cards for such emergencies. They ALWAYS get used. Right now, unfortunately, the only birthday card I have in my emergency drawer has a photo of a scary looking dad with a creepy clown face wearing a "Hugs not Drugs" tee, holding a crying baby. Inside it says "Congratulations. You're officially one year closer to losing it". Not the tamest card, for the majority of the population. So, there it remains, hidden away for that certain person with that certain "je ne sais croix". (forgive me, french friends for butchering your beautiful language)

This week we celebrated Thanksgiving with Kevin's parents and a group of close friends. My ex sister-in-law was also in town with her partner and they came as well. It was a bit strange introducing her as my sister-in-law and her partner. My one neighbor looked at me like "huh?" If she was my sister-in-law, didn't that make the man she was with my brother? Yeah, no. I did a little bit of 'splainin. One of those "Awkward family photos" cards would be good at that precise moment.

Anyhow, we had discussed and agreed upon a menu a few days ahead of the date but that didn't mean there weren't a couple of last minute runs to the grocery. Those go without saying. I wanted to have some colorful mums and pumpkins lining the porch but had to settle for my son's toy shotgun and watering can. I wanted to set the table with clever turkey ornaments and colorful napkins but settled for a Christmas table cloth and paper dinner napkins (which I had to run to the store for 2 hours before dinner time). Had I been more prepared, I coulda been a Martha Stewart contender.

Now the turkey leftovers have been gobbled up and guest linens washed. I should have a few weeks reprieve; but, I don't. This week alone I have a massive work presentation, a birthday, a major anniversary and the looming deadline of ordering our family Christmas cards. Oh, and two dentist appointments, my book club meeting and a school seminar. Yeah, me. I don't want to sound all whiny and pitiful, but I am a little overwhelmed.

On the positive side, I have already bought a Christmas tree, some gifts for the family and tentatively booked a girls night out for my birthday. With my husband's hours drying up quickly, I am in no place to ask him to take off work for my birthday or anniversary. We can always go get a drink somewhere afterwards. So, I guess I'm in relatively good shape. Yes, I'd like to have all my gifts bought, cards in the mail and Christmas baking done. If I get all my long distance gifts mailed by December 15, I'll feel good.

Next year, however, is another story. As god as my witness; as god as my witness, if I have to lie, cheat, steal or maim; as god as my witness, me, nor any of my kin will ever go unprepared for the holidays again!

It's Your Thang...Do Whatcha Wanna Do

Finding out what your "thang" is sounds much easier than it is. Sometimes what we identify as ours is left over from our childhood and no longer applies. Often times we take on others' thang such as a parent or aunt or ex-boyfriend, and hang onto it for sentimental reasons.Or maybe even just mental reasons...I didn't really love collecting spoons but my mother gave me one or two, as did my aunt and my boyfriend's grandma. Next thing you know, I apparently love spoons. Do I still own them? Nope. But they did come in handy in a real pinch for my future roommate who needed them to put her contacts in overnight. I'm not 100% sure they weren't used as some sort of drug paraphernalia at one time either. Sorry, mom.

My first year living on my own was a "thang" free for all. I suddenly was collecting "Gone with the Wind" plates, posters and figurines. I missed out on "Madeleine" so now wanted every doll, cereal bowl every made. Was I revisiting my childhood? On some level, yes. I discovered I loved the simple music and message of Stompin Tom Connors who of course, had a connection to my childhood as well. Suddenly, I was his biggest fan. I had Tom birthday parties, a handmade Tom t-shirt, attended Tom concerts...another collection from Firestone Road, my family home.

The first apartment I shared with a man was all about collecting mid century furniture. We scoured flea markets, auctions and antique stores. We amassed gorgeous pieces, though they were without any real pedigree. They were pretty. I loved my playing in my pretty house. But, I grew up and grew apart and moved on to a new phase in my life.

And that my friends, is why our "thang" changes. We move on and what we love, are passionate about or find fascinating changes too. Think about it. Ever had a hobby that sort of burns out with time? You know, you've taken up knitting with the intent of making everyone you know a beanie cap, a pair of slippers or a tea cosy? Two caps in and you start to think of other things to do while watching tv or convince yourself there's nothing good on at all. That's fairly normal.

But there's a difference between a hobby and a passion. Hobbies can be left alone for weeks on end. Passions may not always be acted upon, but the fire never stops burning. I've had a few hobbies in my time. Salsa dancing, swing dancing. Today, it's zumba. But my passion for politics and change has never burned out. I've volunteered for some candidates, cursed others...I read political columns on a regular basis. My need to do something to contribute to change is always burning in the background.

Since moving to NOLA I've decided that I can work to make change by allowing others to speak their mind and share their ideas on how to make the city better. I created a discussion forum for New Orleanians to talk about their passions. So far, it's been a positive experience but I'm ready to kick it up a notch. I want more speakers, more forums, more discussions.

So, here's a shameless plug. If you have something you are burning about or something burns your ass, think about sharing that with a wider audience of other passionate persons. Sign up for a Point 8 NOLA forum. Contact me and we'll put it together. But, if it has anything to do with little spoons from Little Rock or Spokane, count me out.

This is how we do it

Not to pooh pooh anyone, but yoga in the park is so 1990s. Brassxercise in the park, however, is where its at. Getting funky surrounded by Mother Nature is far more invigorating than heavy breathing in a dark room with a bunch of people who are allergic to showers. Just sayin...

Of course in order to take part in such an event as Brassxercise, you need two things; Dancingman504 as your instructor, and brass band music. If you live in or have ever been to New Orleans, chances are you've encountered both. You rarely find one without the other. If there's a festival, second line, jam or concert in town with brass bands, you're sure to find Dancingma504 there doing his thing.

Earlier this week I had the pleasure of taking part in a Brassxercise class in a park near by my house. Someone in the neighborhood was kind enough to forward me the listserv link with the invite on it. They sent it my way because they know I love dancing, exercise and brass bands, and am kooky enough not to give a crap what other people might think if they happened to see me getting down in the park on a Monday morning.

The class started with me, then a neighbor and her boyfriend/mother-in-law. Shortly after we began, my husband's band mate was walking by on his way to breakfast. I called out to him and he made his way over to say hello. Dancingman504 took this as a sign that Richard was interested in his class. Richard is far too polite to turn anyone down and so he stayed. And sweated. And shook his tail feather.

We were quite a sight to see. One guy passed us on his motorbike and was so intrigued, he did a loop of the park, swung back by us and parked his bike directly across the street. So, we hooped and hollered and put on a show for him. Confession time: it doesn't take much to get me shouting, clapping and generally carrying on, especially if its for someone else's benefit. I'm a cross between a show off and a shit disturber, with a bit of an exhibitionism thrown in.

The best part of all...I'm not alone. There are many of us who excel and/or thrive on mini states of madness. Dancing in the park, in extreme heat on a weekday morning with a native madman speaks to lots of New Orleanians. This is how we do it.

It Takes an Algiers Point Village

I love my hood. Living in the Point is like being a member of a secret club. How do I know this? Cause I'm a full-fledged member. And, because my son announced this on the way to school this morning. And because I am a trusted village member who has several key interactions which are tall tale signs of acceptance and membership.

Here are some of the things that make me a villager:

1. I watch/have over several kids from the neighborhood on any given day/night
2. I'm a member of a book club.
3. The woman who runs the local coffee shop knows what my drink is.
4. The couple who run the local wine shop know what my poison is.
5. My dog has "friends".
6. I've been invited over for dinners by neighbors who didn't know me 10 years ago.
7. I've met the Praline man.
8. I can hear the local rooster in the a.m.
9. I've already pissed off people who park in front of my driveway.
10. People wave and say hello.

I realize joining the neighborhood association is probably the easiest way to become a member, but I'm thinking the other ten reasons are more subtle and say more. So, maybe I won't join the APA just to test my theory.

How do you know your a member of your village?