Sweet 16 - Then and Now

Today, my darling daughter, my first born baby, turns sweet 16. I'm happy for her and excited about her journey through high school and teenage life. My husband on the other hand, is sad. Really, he's sad. I guess he doesn't want to see her grow up. I think he's afraid she'll be leaving us soon. I'll be sad when she does fly the coop but, I'm not sad. Is that weird? Parenting is a strange but wonderful trip. Sometimes it is ridiculously joyful and then unbelievably frustrating...in the span of a few minutes. I love it when both my kids are in on the same joke and laughing together. How does that turn into an insult-fest, tattling mess in mere minutes? I dunno. I'm grateful for the times when our family is together and having a good time, or laughing at something ridiculous. Often that means the joke is on me or my husband, but we'll gladly take it. I'm thinking back to my own 16th birthday. It was a small affair at home, with my best friend and high school sweetheart in attendance. My mom bought a chocolate cake and surprised me with a beautiful pearl ring. I was flabbergasted. Money was tight, to say the least, and I wasn't expecting something so extravagant. It meant so much for many reasons. Beyond it being a special keepsake, it was a bit of a showpiece, something I had not much experience with. Despite my vocal objection to "keeping up with the Jones", or the teenage version of it, I was still desperate to belong and having lovely things helped. My friends didn't care about my things as much as I did. My daughter suffers a bit of this too so, I get it when my daughter struggles with worrying about appearing too hoochie, too tough, too young, too anything. On the other hand, I embraced the school environment I was in that not only allowed for individuality, but encouraged it and so took to my father's closet for inspiration. For a second, fedora hats became a signature of mine. Do I wish my daughter had the where-with-all to dress with more flair? I do. But, she just isn't comfortable going there. We wanted to give our daughter a big splashy party but she'd have none of that. She started off asking for a trip to France (wouldn't we all like one!) and then realized it might be a pipe dream. Her other choices included an iPad, a Macbook, a Galaxy something or other...she has good taste. If you can't have a splashy part you should ask for a splashy gift, right? At least hers are functional and can help her with school. The best part of buying our daughter anything tech related is that she can assemble, upload, connect and run just about anything. In fact, I sometimes loan her out. Seriously. Instruction manuals? She doesn't need them. Common sense and a fearless attitude are all it takes. I don't have any of that. Just the thought of having to set up another streaming anything which connects to any other current device we own sends shivers down my spine. I have gone days and days without Netflix because I can't figure out the solution. In the end, she fixed it. Anytime our internet isn't working, I ask our techie daughter to take a stab at fixing it. Nine times out of ten it works! Why can't I master these tasks? I'm not sure if it is fear exactly, but I know it results in shaking, sweat and exasperation. I know, that could describe a few other things... Besides being fearless, I love that my daughter has spunk and swagger as the kids say today. She has moxie but she's not overly precocious or at all obnoxious. She is sweet (mostly) and funny (always) and deeply sensitive. Sometimes I forget that, especially when she digs in her heels and refuses to surrender to my temper, her brother's annoying chatter and her father's occasional "no". She inherited my scowl, something I secretly adore but try not to acknowledge. She inherited her aversion to loud parenting, something I am guilty of and suffered with myself. But, she's definitely her own person and I love, love, love who she is. So, her 16th birthday comes not with sadness for me, but with joy and anticipation. Happy sweet 16, Cyre!

Bored Housewife

Monday morning, 10:20 a.m. and I can't figure out what to do. Seriously. So far, I have made lunches, taken kids to car pool, swept and mopped four rooms, cleaned the bathroom, filled out my unemployment forms, applied for a new job, had a coffee with my neighbor and ran a couple of loads of laundry. I'll say one thing about being unemployed - my house is in order! I'm seriously considering starting a monumental painting job today. Anything to keep me occupied. It's going on month two of unemployment, which may be (except for when I was home with a new baby or period of time between moving cities) the longest spell I've ever gone without a job. I've been working since I could up sell french fries at McDonald's at the age of 14. The idea of not having a job to go to is so strange and I'm still struggling to be okay with it. In the past few weeks, I have developed a serious left eye twitch and I blame my employment status. Friends and acquaintances keep telling me to enjoy myself. My husband tells me he likes having me around. The dog seems happier with a larger pack around in the daytime. I really wish I could relax but it's hard. I know, mini violins are playing for me. The thing is, it’s not about the title or the job per say that gives me satisfaction. It's the idea of contributing to the household, of paying my way and my share that fuels my desire to work. Having the freedom and/or luxury to buy a really nice lunch or a pair of shoes on eBay are just two of the simple things in life that excite me. I don't have any burning desire to six figures, although I wouldn't turn down such a salary either! I just want to get paid a fair salary for a job well done. Crazy, idea, huh?

Long time, no see

Yeah. Another year or so has passed since I last posted here. Where does the time go? I'm kidding. I know where it went. Work, family, grad school, dancing, friends...how did I manage to do this again? I think blogging is like working out. Once you get off the treadmill, it's hard to get back on. Now that I'm temporarily unemployed and just working on my Masters, I plan to devote more time to personal expression. I want to paint (don't worry; walls, not canvas), write, organize cupboards and baskets, plant flowers, read great masterpieces and nest. Taking the time to create is so important for many reasons, beyond the obvious. It's time for me to refuel and cliche as it sounds, fill the void I feel inside. This summer has been beyond eventful. Our family traveled to PEI and reconnected with friends and family there. We spent some time (and cash. Ouch.) on our summer cottage and fell in love with it all over again. It wasn't quite enough time there to quench my thirst for the simplicity and sweetness of the island, but it was a taste. That taste is a huge motivator to go back again next year and experience more. Returning home should have made room for review, reflection and rejuvenation. But, me being me, I invited the world to come visit and visit they did. Don't get me wrong; I LOVE having friends come stay with us. But, nearly four weeks in a row was too much. It put a strain on my relationships and I didn't realize it until it was almost over. Next time I will learn to stagger them so as to give our family some breathing room. Adding to that strain is the stress of unemployment. Letting go of the guilt/shame of not working has been an enormous struggle. My devoted and darling husband has given me permission to "take a break" and do some nesting. It's my own stuff that keeps getting in the way. Some of it is pride. Much of it is simple awkwardness/discomfort of being dependent on someone else. Letting go is a work in progress. The bright side of having more time to write is the unburdening that results in expressing myself. A blog, much like a journal, is a place for honesty. Saying painful/hurtful/joyous things out loud is liberating and terrifying. And, absolutely necessary in my case. Here's to more time spent working on my Full Circle.

Find Your Joy! This year I've decided it's time for me to dedicate some time to myself in pursuit of things that bring me joy. Be it they might be considered silly, weird, nerdy and downright uncool by some (mainly, my children)I have jumped in full force and am embracing joy. It's good for the soul, the psyche, the mind, the body and sometimes the skin too. Though it's not as recent as just this year, my participation in my book club has ramped up. I love nothing more than getting together with a group of smart, witty, wild women to drink wine, swap war stories, battle scars and yes, even talk about books. These discussions bring me great joy, in a way that community can. I don't see them but once a month, other than the occasional running into one another at the grocery or the local coffee shop. I've hosted the book club, recommended reading materials and gone to almost every one the meetings. Like most women, I love to have someone rub, scrape, massage and paint my toes. Regular trips to the nail salon are a must. An hour or two alone with a bunch of cheesy magazines that I love reading but can never bring myself to buy in public, is also part of what gives me joy. Great joy. Hair appointments, waxing appointments (yes, in some weird way they too are part of the joy equation) also contribute to joy. Good grooming really can bring joy. If you don't believe me, try it. Meow. Committing myself to working out and attending fitness classes doesn't really bring me joy when I'm actually working out, but afterwards I feel joy. Doing something healthy that nets some noticeable results is joyful. It is. My greatest joy this year, however, involves lots of sequence, a red wig and disco music. Recently I joined a dance group called The Disco Amigos. Though the thought of their mother dancing in public makes my family cringe, it is something my kids are learning to accept; my friends don't necessarily want to join me, but they get it. Dancing with others who aren't afraid to admit they love disco is joyful in itself. Dancing is something that has always given me joy. I'm having a wonderful, joyful life. Go ahead and find your joy. Life is so much better when you do.

Quit Braggin!

I'm not much of a braggart when it comes to my own accomplishments, mostly because I don't think I have that many. I am willing to shamelessly brag on how smart, weird and funny my kids are and how talented, kind and wonderful my husband is. However, when I do something well (especially if it's a surprise) I have to force myself to share my good news. So, here goes. I've been asked not once, but twice, to give presentations to different groups about web stuff. Me. The late-to-the-ball, non techie, Luddite.

Believe me, being web savvy is not second nature. I've come to learn just enough to get myself in trouble and invited to do a seminar. I remember taking a "computers 101" course at a local high school with mostly new immigrants back in the late 80s. My former roommate was conducting the seminar so I should have felt comfortable. But I didn't. I remember the trauma of switching from typewriters to computers at Journalism school and I was freaked out. I was convinced I was never going to land a job.

I once was offered a job which was advertised as having strong knowledge of advertising and publishing. Check and check. By that time, I'd been in ad sales for about five years and two of them were in publishing. What I didn't know was this job a) involved tons of flying (I HATE airplanes)and b) was completely digital. I would have to create and execute PowerPoint presentations to publishers in the U.S., about a product that used to include hard copies, but was now all online. First of all, I'd never, ever opened PowerPoint once in my life and second of all, I ONLY knew had to email. For reals.

I'm good at sales and was able to sell my many other fine points during the interview (I had a family to feed) and told myself I'd learn on the job. By day two on the gig, and I'm not even kidding, I knew I was in WAY over my head and went straight to the boss. And, told him so. Despite being the only one with a job at that time, I was willing to give it up and look for something else that would be a fit. My boss desperately wanted a woman in the department and convinced me I'd have all the training I needed and would be wonderful at the job. Needless to say, I lasted about a year and a half before I was on medication for depression and ready to take an admin position or work at a restaurant again, just to get out of it. Thankfully, I found a wonderful position with another magazine.

Fast forward several years and I'm in another country looking for work. By this time I had done a good job of getting my writing portfolio together, with national newspapers and magazine stories under my belt. I found a position as a web editor and thought I should apply since I write and had been keeping up with my blog (WelcometoCharlotte-meg.blogspot.com). I figured I might have a decent shot at it, though I was well aware that I wasn't necessarily much of a web person and I don't love to edit. Regardless, I would be writing every day and it was a job in my field. The editor liked my writing and said I'd be able to learn the web program as I went. Where had I heard that before?

This time, I did learn on the job. A lot. I got familiar with all kinds of software, online publishing programs and yes, even PowerPoint. Best of all, I had earned some confidence when it came to my abilities as both a writer AND a techie. Did I love having to edit and fix web problems? No. But, I learned a very valuable lesson which I've carried with me everywhere I've been since. Make IT guys (let's be real; they're 99% guys) your friend. They are almost always nerdy, hilarious, sarcastic and very very smart.

I digress. Let's fast forward another year and I'm back in New Orleans, at another job as a media specialist, requiring me to create a brand new, semi custom website. At my previous job, we had gone through a website re design so I knew I could do this job...with help from a team of programmers from India. I'm no programmer, but I do know some basic html and CSS. Plus, I had a "Dummies" book so how hard could it be? I severely underestimated the challenges of working with a team of guys with heavy accents on a different time zone. Wow.

In this position, I probably learned the most. I am now very comfortable PowerPoint and even discovered some other programs that work with it and create even more spectacular presentations. I have learned more code and another new software program. Do I know how to edit photos, audio and video clips? Check. Am I a social media maniac? Yup. Can I create web pages on my own? Check.

I'm now at another University as web content editor and loving it. I'm responsible for social media and am killin it. Our followers, fans, likes etc are increasing 10 fold. I create pages, menus, write stories, take meetings, make suggestions...I love it. I guess the enthusiasm is paying off because I've been asked to conduct a "how to use social media for your business" seminar as well as a "create great presentations with SlideRocket" one too.

I'm not quite ready for either one, though I could get the social media one together rather quickly. As for the latter, it's a bit terrifying to consider but so very flattering to be asked. Whether I do it or not, the point is, I've been asked. I've got some skills and others recognize them. So, I'm braggin.

No Time Like the Present

Every year I make the same boring, lame-ass resolutions to lose weight, be nicer to my kids, curb my road rage and expand my vocabulary that most of us do. Though all of these endeavors would make me a nicer, calmer person, truth is they are flaws that are most likely never going to be fixed. Yes, not cussing in the car with my kids would make me a better parent. Losing weight would boost my self-confidence. Learning new ways to describe things would be very pleasing. But really, "Meh" is what I think of these. And so, I don't ever lose any sleep over the fact that I haven't kept them longer than a couple of days.

However, there is one resolution that came to me via epiphany. I think I may have actually heard some angels singing "ahhhh" when I decided to embrace it; I am going to do whatever task pops into my brain at that present time. How does it work? I remember (while brushing my teeth, one of the most mundane tasks possible) that I need to take a certain paper to work. With toothbrush clenched between my teeth, I walk over to the desk, pick up the paper and put it in my work bag. Right then and there. Here goes another one - I'm working on a document for tomorrow's meeting at work and suddenly it dawns on me that I forgot to send photos to a co-worker. I minimize my document, open outlook, create a new email, attach said photos and hit send. Boom. Mission accomplished.

Some people would say that this particular method is for those with ADD; or maybe it won't allow you to get anything done at all. I'm here to say "Can I get a witness?" I get shit done. More shit. Yes, it's a bit helter skelter, frazzled and lacking in any real rhythm. Know what? I don't care. I get shit done.

I have remembered to send letters, post mail, keep up on reports and keep my life fairly organized. I'm doing less planning and more spontaneous acting. On my day off this week I got groceries, a pedicure, posted a letter, walked the dog, paid a bill and did two loads of laundry before lunch. I just went with the task at hand. I was going to the grocery and thought "My toes are disgusting. I'm going to see if the nail salon is open." I made a quick detour and voila, it worked. I still got home at my set designated time AND I threw in a pedicure. I just had to hustle a little at the grocery store.

Today it's January 19 and I've kept my resolution. That's got to be a record on its own. I love my resolution and I plan on keeping it for a while. Or at least until January 2013.

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?

It's a Small World After All

My husband has a saying - "It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it." I'm not sure who actually coined that phrase, but it comes in handy a lot. Especially here in New Orleans. There have been so many instances over the past few months of this experience, I can hardly fathom where to begin. Suffice to say, the phenomenom is not going to go away; it's only going to get bigger. Er, smaller. You know what I'm saying...



To make my life easier, I'm going to start from most recent and go backwards. Some of these are just coincidences, some are because of geographical location (i.e. right place, right time) and some are just plain weird. I love when strange shit happens and worlds collide and you run into, meet up with or stumble into someone who knows someone who knows you. As my friend Silvia says, "There are only six people in the world. The rest is done with smoke and mirrors."



At my current job, there are series of boards and committees, made up of business and community leaders who have a vested interest in making Algiers a better place. One of the members who's also hip to social media requested a meeting today at a local coffee shop. No one else was told of the meeting except my boss, who also agreed to meet. There we were kibbutzing about how to increase our web presence when not one, not two but THREE other board members sauntered in for coffee. And the local representative who shares the office floor with us. And a good friend, who happens to be working on a business plan for our organization... it was much.



One of favorite neighbors hosts a "reds and rice" party every Monday. Turns out one of the regulars is one of our very good friends. He just never told us about beans and we never put it together until we mentioned his name in passing. Sure enough, he turns up on a regular basis. We get to visit at a party of a mutual friend and neighbor. Love it!

On a recent visit to Charlotte, NC I met a couple from Albana, through my friend Vesa. Her family and small circle of friends are the only Albanians I know. At my husband's gig where I met these fellow Albanians, I also ran into my old neighbor Ethan, who is NOT Albanian. Turns out he knows these Albanians too! How is that?

I know this is going to continue to happen over and over again. Now that we are all on social media, the circle is closing tighter. Take a second (ok; it takes much longer than that) and look up the friends of an interesting friend. You're surely to find someone you know, but didn't know your friend knows. Ya know?

No Explanation Necessary

There are some things that defy explanation. Some things are so strange or scary or sick, it's better to leave well alone and try something else -like laughing. That's what my poor kids are figuring out here in New Orleans. We've encountered plenty of situations that I choose not to explain or are beyond my (notice I didn't say their) comprehension.

Here are just a few:

1. At dinner last night there was a trio/duo??? playing music. It was seemingly a duo, with a hunky guitar player and an old gypsy dude playing accordion. However, there was some woman sitting with them who was playing the blackberry. She wasn't listening or contributing to the music, she was just sitting and texting. What was she doing? I couldn't think of a good explanation when the kids asked, so I just left it alone. She's the sitter, I guess.

2. On the way to the car, we passed a very strange dude sitting at a pop up table on the street doing some sort of something at a table. Why did he have a massive python beside him curled up on a chain? Why was he wearing a shirt that said "I Love My Penis"? Why was he there in the middle of the street doing nothing really? I dunno. I couldn't think of an explanation and was grateful my kids just laughed. Off the hook with that one...

3. You can't live in New Orleans and not travel down Bourbon Street. So, we traumatized/initiated our kids by walking down the infamous road one evening. Why was there a silver painted guy with his head sticking out of a silver painted baby car seat on a giant box? Why did he have weird silver baby hands/flippers? Try explaining that one!!! Just cause, is the best I could come up with.

4. Why is there a festival for any occasion? Take the shrimp and petroleum festival... any other year it would seem more strange but somehow in 2010 it works. Sad, isn't it? I love the strawberry festival, the creole tomato festival and the corn festival. Is there a gumbo festival? Yes. If there isn't one for your favorite food, make a suggestion! I'm sure this town would go for it. Why do they make up these festivals? I'm not sure but I know someone, somewhere has an explanation.

5. Why do New Orleanians keep battling the odds? How come hurricanes, floods, sky high crime rates, crooked politicians (current one not withstanding), backward laws and oil spills don't damper their spirits? That one most definitely defies any explanation other than "they are New Orleanians". You gotta live it to believe it.

What do you know that defies explanation? Tell me, please.

It's Never Enough

Ever notice there are some things you can never have enough of? Okay all you pervs...get your minds out of the gutter! I'm talking actual things/items/products/consumables. I swear, there are certain things I desperately try to stay on top of and no matter what I do, I run out of them. Anyone know what I mean?

Here are just a few things I never seem to have enough of:

1. Band aids. I don't know what my kids do with them. Do they peel them off to show off their wounds or is it for the sheer joy/pain of whipping them off? I can buy, say, three boxes and it seems that before long, there's never one left for me if I cut my finger on a knife or get a blister from a pair of shoes. I think if I ever get any extra cash, I'm totally investing in which ever company makes band aids.

2. Bar soap. I know it sounds weird, but our family totally goes through bar soap in massive quantities. Are we really that dirty? I don't even have any bar soap for hand washing!!! It's strictly for the shower. Back when I was single, I thought it ridiculous that bar soap was sold in packs of three or six. "Who the hell uses that much soap?" I used to wonder. Now I know.

3. Sales. I will probably never buy a vacuum from a vacuum store and I doubt I will ever buy an entire room of furniture from one of those giant Rooms to Go places but I read their sale flyers every frickin week, like my life depends on it. I just love reading about sales. It excites me, even if I know I'll never purchase anything from that particular store. Is it mass consumerism at its worse or is it just me?

4. Clean Undies. My kids informed me yesterday that there was absolutely no clean underwear in their undie drawers. I swear I just did their laundry!! How does that happen? Do they put a pair on and then throw them in the laundry a minute later just for fun? Do they change out of their undies every day when they change out of school uniforms and then change again at night when it's time for bed? I know they both have more than 7 pair each and I do the damn laundry every week. Must be one of those laundry mysteries, along with the Bermuda Triangle of lost socks.

5. Pencils. This one really gets me cause I think Keller might actually be eating them. Someone is. In the past six weeks or so that school has been in session, we have bought three, I repeat three, bags of pencils for the kids. Yes, they have a lot of homework; but I don't remember seeing that many pencil shavings around the house! And, here's the kicker; my son's teacher at school says he doesn't ever seem to have pencils in his desk. Maybe if I put more snacks in his lunch box?

6. Smiles. I love to disarm grumps and mudges with a smile. Lots of times I don't really feel like smiling at the person but I do it anyway just for the reaction. Example - there's a woman in the car pool line at school who has NEVER cracked a smile once. Not to any one, any car or any staff member. Believe me, I watch! This morning I gave her a huge smile and she was forced to sort of smirk back. Ha!

7. Donuts at staff meetings. It doesn't matter if you're on a diet, or already had breakfast or don't really like donuts; you'll still eat one at a staff meeting. And, it makes the meeting all that much better if there's a sweet wad of dough involved, doesn't it? There will always be that one holdout who will pass on a donut at the beginning of the meeting. But, if it runs past an hour and they are waning, you know they are going to reach out and grab whatever is left on the plate and shove it in their mouth cause it will stifle the yawn or scream of boredom. I know; I'm that person.

8. Bottles of wine. Don't like wine? Doesn't matter; it's still vital to have wine at home. Unexpected guests or girlfriends in crisis require a bottle of wine, so always have one at the ready. I like the look of un opened bottles of wine. They make me feel like a civilized human being and I know that if I'm totally over it or particularly stressed out by the end of the night, I can always open a bottle of wine and the world will be good again.

9. Paper towels. I'm guilty of polluting the world just a little by using lots of paper towels. I'm not down with wiping the counters with the same stinky cloth that just finished cleaning a load of dishes. Even if I rinse it in bleach somehow I still feel like I'm wiping left over egg all over the counter. So, I use paper towels to wipe stuff down. But, I'm learning with this one. I now buy them in bulk.

10. Blogs. I love reading them. I really like the ones with lots of pretty pictures too. I know you do too or you wouldn't have made it to #10. So, thanks.

Dog Days of Late Summer

There are only a few more days until Fall is officially here but you'd never know it in NOLA. It's still stankin hot. People have cause for celebration if the temperature stays in the 80s. My neighbor said she actually kept her windows rolled up on the drive to work the other day because it was so lovely and cool (80 degrees). When, oh when great heat gods will you release us? For the record, 80 degrees does not register as cool to most normal people.

Today while out picking up freebie movie tickets hubby and I accidentally found a great flea market. I picked up various items, including a light sweater jacket. Did I think out loud that it would be perfect for cooler weather? Nope. But I bought it anyway. That must mean that I'm totally ready for cooler weather.

I'm appreciative of the warmth, sun and greenery it produces. I am. But, I am also a lover of the change of seasons and I haven't had my fix in a while. September (one of my favorite months) is supposed to represent back to school, leaves changing color, apple picking and light sweaters. Down here in Louisiana I'm not really going to see many leaves change, the kids went back to school in August and there aren't apples around except for at the grocery. Can't I least just get the light sweater part???

The cooler weather also means its time for mini road trips. I prefer them in the fall than in the summer, especially since we haven't had the A/C in our car working since last year. It didn't matter much until about May of this year. The kids have been troopers but we've sweated our asses off for months and it would be nice to open the windows because we WANTED to, not had to. A side note - apparently Honda Elements (older versions) are known for A/C units that blow up and cost thousands to fix. Why didn't anyone tell me this back in 2008 when we bought the bloody thing?

There's a drought back in North Carolina which is funny to me, cause we've been experiencing the typical summer tropical rains here in New Orleans. Every day in the afternoon it seems as though the skies just open up and pour down on everyone. We've done our fair share of getting caught without umbrellas. Normally rain makes me shiver and cold to the bone; here it just cools me off. I've gotten to where I almost enjoy it.

Our summer was a tough one with the move and lots of stress at my previous job. Things in NOLA have been good and are getting better. Maybe that's why I'm so eager for a change; to embrace our new life here in a new season.

Takin Care of Business

There are so many reasons to love this city, including its attitude toward the musicians. In this town, it's not shameful or embarrassing for my kids to tell their friends their dad is a musician. It's an honor. I don't have to worry about long pauses after explaining what my husband does for a living, nor does he get asked "what do you do in the day time?" when he shares his profession with others. The reply here is always "Cool. Who does he play with?" People here get it.

Not only are musicians revered, they're also well taken care of thanks to the New Orleans Musicians Clinic, through LSU Medicine. That's right, a special clinic and set of doctors who see musicians at little or no cost. Where else on earth would that happen? To boot, their families are taken care of too. Though it's constantly facing possible closures due to scarce funding, people here rally behind it and see to it that musicians get medicine, lab work and check ups like the rest of us.

It's not just charity however, it's an investment. Music is the soul of this city and a huge industry-driver too. JazzFest, French Quarter Festival, Satchmo Fest... there are tons and tons of festivals that rely on musical talent to bring tourists and visitors out. It's one of the main reasons people come here and stay here. You gots to take care of business to get any business.

Several times a day the local jazz radio station plays the day/evening's concert listings and it still amazes me every time I hear it. There are dozens of bands playing every night, all across the city. There's some kind of festival, celebration, parade and gathering every weekend here and almost all of them have live music. In fact, I think there's more live music now than 10 years ago when we were last here.

Some cities have great momuments to past leaders placed all around their metropolis. We have those too. But our real treasures are living and breathing, blowing sweet and funky sounds throughout the crescent city.

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..."