Life After the Flood

My How Time Passes

2009-01-10T10:15:00.001-08:00

I had actually taken my blogging to a different web site, but no worries, my thought stream was pretty minimal and uninspired. Much has transpired since the last entry. We made the move to New Orleans and that was great. We attempted to buy the house up in Ashfield and that went nowhere. We put down a deposit and negotiated repairs, but the sellers did nothing so we pulled out of the deal. I flew up every month through Dec to finish my yoga training. Nan turned our Ashfield house into a B&B. For Christmas we hired a moving truck and moved all our stuff out of Norton Hill and down to NOLA. Now I am toiling about here in NOLA painting and decorating and we are happy as can be. Lesson: just make a decision, any decision, and go for it. There is good in everything. Even Donnie is happy here now that it feels like home. He has his comfy chair and his big TV, I've cleaned up the yard for the kids. I take the dogs to the levee and they romp blissfully along the Mississippi. It is all good. The Katrina chaos is behind us. Officially as of 1.1.9 we have stepped into our future. Phew! That's all I have to say.

You are so glad I did not write...

2008-07-24T19:54:00.000-07:00

Yeah. If I'd have been writing all this time I'm sure someone would have had me committed. Let me first say that we are still in Ashfield. We are finally scheduled to leave on the 31st. It has been quite the emotional adventure. It all started with a conversation in the car on the way up here where my husband started waxing romantic about all the wondrous things about Ashfield. Then Nina started. Then I got up here and walked into the house and it was like a storybook. Then I heard an audible crack as my resolve began to weaken. It was all downhill from there.

Suffice to say that emotions and scenarios have run the gamut. From "should we stay" to "should we go" and every manifestation in between. Nina even posed the option of moving to Virginia -- she thinks that is a very kid friendly place. I actually considered it for a few minutes. My husband has divorced himself entirely from the debate as he cannot stand it anymore. And frankly, nor can I. But luckily, we had landed on a plan. As challenging as it might be, there is a house here that is reasonably priced that could serve as a lovely vacation house. So lovely, in fact, that my mother is interested in splitting is with us. So there it is. The compromise. And if we decide at some future date to return to paradise, if the oil spills keep stinking up the French Quarter or if the muggings continue to escalate in our little New Orleans hood, well we have a place that is high, dry, safe and damn lovely.

I feel the Gods are smiling upon us.

In the mean time I am packing my heart out. Now, armed with a plan of some clarity and merit, I can focus and advance. Prior to "the plan" I was moving in small, annoying, unproductive circles. My yoga teacher said in class, the day of my epiphany, that when we loose consciousness of the space between our breaths, our thoughts become stale and uninspired. Mine were downright moldy. I was so sick of my internal dialog I thought of lopping off my head. It is amazing how, well I don't know about you, but how my mind can spin out of control on an issue. Even when I know what I want, I can be so thrown off track and then reel around like a balloon shooting out air.

D and I are not in agreement. I don't think it is possible in this life for us to actually, authentically agree. Okay, it is possible but not frequent. On this issue of stay/go/2nd home we have been completely out of sync. This has proven challenging. The day of my epiphany I decided to take the reigns. We need this place. We love this place. This place can feed our soul in a way our beloved New Orleans cannot. And if it costs us a small mortgage payment every month, well so be it. I'll get a job and pay for it. The fact that we can come up here in the winter and let the kids sled down the front yard and have a white Christmas is worth the price of admission.

And it can also serve as an evacuation plan, just in case.

I've learned alot about me this summer. I've learned to trust the universe and trust myself. We are going to be alright. This chaos is the price we've had to pay for a future, manifesting as I write this, that is amazing, beautiful, fun and prosperous. I can feel it. I could not feel it before, but I do now.

Bring it on!

Giant Steps

2008-05-29T21:34:00.000-07:00

In one more week we will be leaving here. When we return we will have our worldly possesions with us. Yep, we are finally moving out of Ashfield and returning in full to New Orleans. No, we still do not have doorknobs but we are closer every day to getting them. I'm chipping away at it day by day. Today I finally secured all the windows. After doing so I realized that this is the first time in the 18 or so years I've lived in this house that all the accessable windows were locked. This house has never been properly secured. Having said that, we will probably get robbed tomorrow! I'll really have to keep an eye on my keys now. I'll really be locked out. It's a silly thing, but it made me feel good. I'm excited to finally get our dining room table, some curtains, the kids stuff. It will feel like home. I'm tired of camping in an empty house. And just in time for hurricane season!!! Yippppeeeeee!!

Tomorrow is Nina's last day of school. Lola's was Wed. It is amazing that they finished an entire school year here. Nina knows so much French and Lola has grown so much. It is really cool to see them adapt and thrive in this environment. Lola does not like the heat. She flinches whenever we go outside. "I'm hot!" she yells, as if I can do something about it. I think Nina is ready for a break from school. She still talks about Ashfield and misses it there. We are going up for a few weeks. I hope she is not too upset by us moving out of that house.

That's all I got. I'm whooped.

Name the Baby

2008-05-01T07:27:00.001-07:00

So Much Stuff

2008-04-07T18:06:00.000-07:00

There is so much I want to write about during the course of the day, but as the evening descends and I go through the rituals of baths and bedtime stories my energy begins to wane and I forget all I wanted to write about. Much has transpired lately. My husbands family has moved in next door and brought with them all their dramas. And there are many. They also brought their children and their dog. For the most part it is fun to have family next door, but it is tiring too. Jorge is still in the basement apartment and he has his share of adventure. My mother was here for almost a week. She was thinking of moving here as well, but I believe New Orleans is not her place. It is too cluttered for her. Too spontaneous and irresponsible. Nan is also staying with us. It is Jazz Fest season. I'm looking forward to cold beer, hot sun and music. It is my favorite time of year. I still do not have doorknobs or curtains. I did not think it would take this long. But we keep moving forward. Everyday something small is accomplished and in this way we will get it done. I guess that's it for today. I have to go read "The Velveteen Rabbit" to two squeaky clean kids.

The Beach

2008-03-27T20:14:00.000-07:00

I'm in Florida with the kids at my mom's condo. It is a much needed respite. I was exhausted when we left New Orleans. My bones were tired. My hair was tired. But now I'm feeling better. I have a tan. I spent the day in the pool with the girls. Lola does not like the beach. The sand freaks her out. Nina is in love with the ocean. I get so scared watching her near the surf. I'm so afraid a big wave will come and swallow her up.

Big Screen Romance

2008-02-15T19:14:00.000-08:00

My love did it again. He showed his love and devotion to me in the form of hardware. Last year it was a 300 GB hardrive, this year a 28" flat screen monitor. Yes I am writing this while staring into my BIG ASS MONITOR. It is so blindingly bright that I am having to squint. The letters are so huge that although I am sitting back about 4 feet from the thing I can read them with ease. It is truly bananas. I also got a wireless keyboard and mouse to round out the experience relegating my laptop to a life alone atop my sub-woofer. The thing this puppy is good for, the screen that is, is looking at pictures and watching movies. The colors are amazing and the resolution is great. It's a 1080P, whatever that means. I was semi shocked at first when he got it for me, but now I see that my Donnie shows his love in BIG ways: BIG hard drives, BIG screens, BIG jewelry (2 years ago for our anniversary he got me this huge hammered silver affair with BIG green jewels...). My nature is to conserve and get only what I need of something. A 22" monitor would have suited me fine. It would have been more than enough. So when he comes up with this BIG stuff I feel wasteful and it is hard for me to get excited at first. I go through this whole rejection, revulsion, confusion thing before I let myself get interested and finally excited by whatever jumbo sized gift I am presented with. But as time goes on I am getting used to it. It's a Donnie thing. It's a BIG thing. And I am coming to understand that it is a good thing.

Pink

2008-02-11T21:19:00.000-08:00

I have just spent the last two days painting my bathroom pink. Not just any pink... bubblegum pink. If fact, the top half is bg pink and the bottom in a festive coral pink. The two colors are broken up by a stripe of light yellow called Morning Light. It is delightfully hideous. It is Barbie goes to Miami Beach. I need to get some outlandish accessories, besides the yellow duck trash can and the flower shower curtain, to complete the experience. I don't know what has gotten into me but I don't think it is going to stop. I've pulled out the color wheel and have a plan for each and every room. Nina and Lola's room will also explore the wonders of pink. There will be purple in the bedroom, tangerine in my office and jonquil in the kitchen. I'm still looking for the perfect green for the stairway.

I realized that this is the fifth time I've painted this bathroom. I painted it bright green when I was squatting here years ago, then toned it down to a muted green when I was in school. I covered it with light pink at some point and then tried blue for a while. I painted it white at the tenents request when we moved next door for those fated two months before katrina and now I am back to the brightest color I could find. I think I have found the winning combo this time. You see, there are pepto bismol pink tiles in the shower that have a ... medium blue trim tile around the edge. It is an impossible combination to either match or make appealing. It is just funky retro. I was going to try to paint over the tile, which I tried to do once before and failed miserably at (I am still scraping paint out from the grout lines), but I find that after all these years I have actually become attached to those pink tiles. So with that in mind, instead of trying to hide them, I am trying to out pink them. The bath is now so overwelmingly pink that you don't even notice those tiles in the shower. In fact they look a bit dull and unassuming in there. Your eye would not even go there if you were not looking for it.

I am going to string some party lights in there. I have always loved the soft glow of string lights when in the bath. I'm going to find some nice bubbles and maybe a bath pillow and I'm going to go get happy in the pink room of my crayola house.

Mardi Gras, Lent and Wine

2008-02-07T19:43:00.000-08:00

For those who did not see it in person, here we are in all our Mardi Gras splendor. Yes, we are ABBA. It was great fun. I love a good theme well executed. We had a great time. We drank in excess. We sang "Dancing Queen" at every opportunity. We actually drove with the CD in the car and the lyrics printed out, rehearsing on our way to (and from) the MOM's ball. It was fabulous.
Now it is Thursday. Ash Wednesday was spent in recovery. Not so much a hang over as just sheer exhaustion. Today I was on full rebound. I am in overdrive making plans for the house: picking colors and buying chochkies. I want to get everything painted and ready before the rest of our stuff makes it down here. One way or another that will be soon. There is someone sniffing around, thinking about buying the house in Ashfield. What a plus that would be...
The other night a huge clap of thunder woke me out of a dead sleep. The rain was coming down in sheets. Our bedroom has windows on three walls so it is like camping in there. And in that darkness listening to the rain, I got scared. I felt a dread come over me again. The "what am I doing?", the guilt for bringing the kids back to this place where they are vulnerable to catastrophe made my blood cold. But I finally fell back to sleep and the next day the sun was out and there was great MG music on WWOZ and I could not imagine being anywhere else. All day on Mardi Gras I was in awe of the energy and the smiles of everyone on the streets. The mayhem and the madness everywhere in the city. Families uptown, barbeques under the interstate on Claiborne Ave, the French Quarter crazies sporting sequence and lamee and the New Orleans elite riding on REX and making ready for the formality and deep tradition of the ball on MG evening where REX and COMUS meet and MG comes to a close for another year. It richness and eccentricity of this culture just blow me away. I will forever be facinated and infatuated with it.
So I've given up wine for Lent. I drank enough at MOM"s to last 40 days. I also made a promise to do yoga every day until Easter, hoping the habit will stick by then. It has only been two days and all ready I feel better. I am not sure how chanting to Ishvara ties in with the Lenten fast, but it is working for me.

It's Raining

2008-01-16T08:14:00.000-08:00

Well, it's Wednesday. We are back in our furniture-less home. It's raining "to beat the band" out there. It's good. Nina is finally liking school. Her friends gave her a warm and exuberant welcome and now I think she feels apart of the class like she never did before. She has two girlfriends in particular, Katya and Iyako, who she really likes. I've got to get this house together so we can have some play dates here. Lola, too, is liking daycare. She went with no trouble today. And I joined the gym over there so a few days a week I can drop her off and just go up to the gym. Very civilized.

Donnie is looking into office space in the neighborhood. He needs to get out of the house so he can concentrate. There is a building just a block away that has small spaces. It would be perfect for him.

It is freezing cold today and very wet out. I'm a little tired and have lots to do. But things are good and I'm not stressing.

Regaining Sanity

2007-12-26T15:47:00.000-08:00

It was touch and go for a few days there. I actually thought we might try to stay. Donnie kept talking about how beautiful it is here. Nina keeps telling me that Massachusettes is her favorite place. The falling snow was idealic and romantic. The smell of our freshly cut Christmas tree filled the house and lent a beautiful light to the house as we sat in front of our warm fireplace. It could not have been more perfect. Cut to 10 days later. The kids have been sick for a week. My mother is constantly complaining about how cold it is up here. The ice damns on the roof caused a shit-load of water to leak into the house and down the walls as the snow melted. The snow outside melted and refroze to cause a treacherous ice path to the outside world. We have seen almost no one and have done almost nothing. We have been trapped in this house for days. I'm going bananas.
Donnie and I have been debating, almost arguing, about the path to happiness. We have different ideas of the approach to consolidation. I get so confused trying to take both views into consideration and finding a compromise. It had me at a standstill. Then, today I had an epiphany. Perhaps it was due to watching "Meet the Robinsons" over and over with Nina, but it hit me. KEEP MOVING FORWARD. That's it. KEEP MOVING FORWARD.
I went to the attic and I gathered up the boxes. I've been packing ever since. It feels good. I get depressed when I stall out, for whatever reason. I said it to Nan a long time ago: I don't do nothin' well.
I'll be taking a load of stuff down with my mom's SUV. I might even rent another trailer. We don't have to be completely out of here yet. We still have to sell it. But I can take a bunch of stuff down and feel accomplished. Why has this been so fucking difficult for me? I just get stuck. I think I look at the whole picture and get overwelmed. But right now I'm looking at one box of crap at a time. I've got a pile for good will, a pile for the trash, a pile to pack. I take one chaotic corner of the house at a time. I'm not worrying about furniture or big stuff. We can't afford to call the mover yet, not until we actually sell. But I can get another trailer and haul the little stuff. This will make the house less cluttered and more "sellable". It will also make it easier for me to do the repairs if all the crap and chockies are out of her. It will also give the girls their toys in New Orleans and make them feel more at home.
I've got to go cook dinner. I only hope the kids don't puke it up....

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

2007-12-16T15:48:00.000-08:00

Holy cow! It's been snowin' for days up here. The girls and I got in first. We drove up from my Mom's on Wed. It snowed that evening and I did not dig out the car until Sat. We went down the hill to pick up Donnie at the train station and do some shopping and got back up here in time for the BIG storm. It is Sunday evening and I think it is still snowing out there. My mother's car is invisible under a sheet of white. All I can see of the escape is the tattered flag poking up off the back window.

It sure is nice up here. It is quiet and cozy. The house looks so lovely and inviting. It felt homey and safe. (Cue the quartet.) My head is spinning and I am grasping for that resolve I spoke of as I was leaving New Orleans. If only we had the resources to keep both houses. Heck, with the market as it is, we may not have a choice!! We've had barely a nibble on this house since we listed it. I think it would be easier to sell the houses in nola right now, and that would not even be that simple.

Donnie keeps hinting at how nice it is here. Nina keeps telling me that this is her favorite place. Lola, thank God, is ambivalent. The pets seem to prefer it here. I am the only one who is bored to death. It is lovely, it is peaceful, it is cozy and clean.... I can take it for about a week, maybe two, and then I want to go AWOL. Maybe a home based business of some kind that could engage me and give me an income.... I'll take any ideas you all may have.

For the time being, I'm dedicated to having a restful and peaceful Christmas and I'll do whatever I have to AFTER that.

All Aboard!!

2007-12-08T02:41:00.000-08:00

Ok kids, this is it. I'm up. Have been since 3am. We are getting on the train today to head North for the holidays. Our mission... to pack up the big house and bust a move. I'm a little wigged out but I think it is the ruminating about it all that has me tweaked. Once we do it and we are in, and I'm cooking and gardening and everything is "stable" again, I think I will be reborn. I am so tired of all this questioning, all this second-guessing.
Nina is doing so well at her school. Lola loves the JCC. We rollerblade at the park everyday and feed the ducks. The weekends are spent at the Zoo and the Aquarium. The neighborhood is looking better everyday. Except for the issue of global warming and the possibility of complete annihilation in a future super storm, what is not to like about being here?
There are still monumental frustrations. Entergy is threatening to turn all our utilities off, they have already turned off my tenants gas, because they say we never filed our inspection. We have, but they lost them or something. Now we have to start over with that. I've been trying to get our car registered since October 1st. Every time I go there they ask for something different, I get it and bring it but they ask for something else. I've gone there 4 times and still the car is not registered. And then they remind me that the car is not legal to drive. I want to dive over the counter and choke them. But I don't. Instead I plead for help and they promise to call me when the title comes in. It's been 2 weeks since my last visit and still I've heard nothing.
I also had this crazy reaction to my job being over. I was floundering a little. I'm close to everyone on set while we are working, we are like a big family, then we all go our separate ways after the job and it feels like it was just a mirage. But I'm just trippin'. It is a transition to go from the captain of a feature film back to a mother of two. It takes a big adjustment. And I know that I don't want to jump to another job right away. I want to be mom for a while. I like that job alot, too,
Bring it on, I say. I'm ready to pack. I'm ready to sort out this tangle of Entergy madness. I'm ready to rent out and/or sell these damn properties. I'm ready to get out of this Katrina debt/funk/mess. I'm ready to be a grounded mom/yogi/gardener for a while and get myself back to center.
See you in Massachusettes.
t.

It Is Finished

2007-11-19T09:33:00.000-08:00

The movie is wrapped. Now comes the task of shipping out, paying final bills, packing up and moving on. I find that I am particularly moved by this. It will be difficult. This was the perfect movie experience. I loved the guys I was working for and all the folks I was working with. Jobs like this one are rare. I have to say it was a perfect way to come back to work and get back into flow of New Orleans.

Today I cleaned out the back yard with the help of Donnie and some Guatamalan dude we hired for the day. It was a monumental effort but we managed to bag up all the debris and stack up all the bricks and paving stones. We raked and pulled up most of the weeds. I even managed to plant a few petunias and fill the bird bath. It definately gives me some hope. I cleaned the house too and Donnie carried up my aquired file cabinet and I've made a make shift office and set up a "couch" for the kids to watch movies. It is substantially better than it has been and it only took one day of concentrated effort. Why we did not do it sooner, I can't tell ya. It is hard to convince some folks that there is work between where you are and where you want to be. If you just dive in and go for it, you'd be amazed how easy it is. But that is a discussion for another day. Suffice to say, the house is clean and cozy-er. Some curtains would certainly be a nice touch...

I have train tickets for us to travel North and wrangle the rest of our belongings. I'm looking forward to the consolidation. If only I could get someone to buy that house in Ashfield. It would certainly take much of the pressure off. I'm sure the Universe will provide.

I'm whooped and still have to cook some supper so I'll leave it here.

Love to all.
t.

It's Good To Be Home

2007-10-31T13:33:00.000-07:00

They served Crawfish Monica off the catering truck today.
It is 75 and sunny out.
I took the Algiers ferry across the river to work last week and watched the sun come up over the GNO bridge.
We had dinner at Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse the other night and drank $130 bottles of Amarone then walked down Bourbon Street until we all lost each other and went off on our own private adventures.
I took the girls to Boo at the Zoo on Sunday.

We Have Arrived

2007-10-18T09:30:00.000-07:00

The movie is going well. We are almost finished with our second week of shooting and the footage looks great. Steve Yedlin is an awesome DP. It feels good to be working on a film that has substance and is worthy of all the effort. Look for it next spring: American Inquisition.

So then there is the rest of life. That is what has been keeping me up at night. I had a frantic conversation with my friend Nan yesterday, blurting out all my consternation and concern and beg her to tell me what to do. Then I got an email back from her last night saying, "Call me! I know what you should do!" So of coarse I called.

She said, "you should stay in New Orleans." This was strange to me as I know for a fact that she wants my ass up in Ashfield. But there it was hanging in the air. We should stay in New Orleans. Then she said, "and get a vacation house in Ashfield!" Well, that might be trickier, but sure, why not!

So there it is. We are staying. The plan is as follows:
1. Give away the chickens.
1.5. Let go of the yoga school for now.
2. Bury a statue of St. Joseph in front of the Ashfield house.
3. Move our stuff down here at Christmas.
4. Clean up the New Orleans house.
5. Sell the yellow house (with the help of St. Joseph).
6. Consolidate resources and get over the Katrina financial mess we are in.
7. Take some work in the early spring when the mess is sorted out and we are comfortable.
8. Nan comes down for Jazz Fest in the spring and stays with us.
9. Plan on going to Ashfield next summer and shopping around for a small house there.
10. Hope the levees hold for a while.

How does that sound? I feel good. You feel good? Seems so damn simple. I know I've said it over and over, but somehow today it just clicked. This is a good plan.
We will be in Ashfield again and we will see our friends there regularly. I think the lack of control and the stress and fatigue just made everything seem so difficult and overwhelming. Now it seems possible and reasonable.

Days Go By

2007-09-19T14:24:00.000-07:00

I think we have hit our stride for now. The "transition" phase is behind us. Our days are as follows: I get up at 6:30 and get the girls and I ready for the day. We finish breakfast and hit the road by 7:30. We pick up Max every morning and take him to Audubon with Nina. They are in the same class and it was the answer to Nina's anxiety about going to a new school to make it a cooperative adventure with Max. They sing songs and laugh all the way to school now. In fact, everyday they hold hands as they walk to school from the car and I've been taking a picture of them every morning.

Then I drop Lola off at JCC. She was very upset about it the first few days, but now we have gotten to a place where I sit with her for a few minutes and play with her. Then I say, "ok, are you ready? mommy has to go. go see your teacher." Lola sits there for a moment regarding her teacher then she kisses me and walks over to the teacher without tears. It's really great. She has a good time there.

Then I am off to work.

Nina is doing Mad Science on Mondays, ballet on Tuesdays and soccer on Wednesdays after school. Millie picks Lola up at 11:45 then goes and gets Nina after Lola has a nap. Donnie gets off work around 6:30 and takes over. I get home at 7 ish and we get them ready for bed. On the weekends we work on the house and go to the park.

That is our new routine.

Our house is void of furniture. The yard is full of debris. The neighborhood is still vacant and sad. It is hard to get a feeling of comfort and security. On that level I miss our life in Ashfield. We have done so much work on this house, but all the work was done half-assed. Not being here to supervise left it vulnerable to bone-head decision making by an assortment of contractors who did not play well with each other. It is disappointing.

I like my work. I always have liked film making. I like being the big cheese. I like working with my peeps again. It feels good to be working hard in familiar territory. It also feels good to be bringing home a substantial paycheck again.

But something is still missing. Something ain't right. Is it a 'here or there" question or is it something broken inside? I don't know. I'm in my house, on my block, in my hood where I've always felt right. Now I feel familiar, but not right. I don't know how to discribe it. I don't feel the ahhhhhhhhh I was hoping for, the feeling like we are on the right path. I'm unsure. I'm not second guessing the decision to come here. I think this step needed to be taken. I just don't think this is it. This may not be where we stay.

But I long for that feeling of belonging that I used to have here. I'm a tree uprooted.

For now the days just go by. Time will tell.

Super heros

2007-09-03T18:51:00.001-07:00

Wow. Well the past few weeks could not have been harder. Had they been I would have lied right down on the ground and yelled uncle. Bone tired. I'm not sure I have the muster to even write this. The kids are in their respective pre K's and nursery schools. The power is on and Donnie has AC in his office. The gas is on so there is a stove and hot water downstairs. There are door knobs on the exterior doors at least and locks on those. The front yard is tidy and there seems to be some grass growing between the weeds. My job is going well and Donnie is catching up with his. We have ordered a new bed that should arrive soon. I've started doing my yoga again. What can I say... we are giving it the old college try. I'm pooped. I have alot to say but its not coming to me right now. I'll post more later. 'nite.

The Skinny - email sent to a friend (edited)

2007-08-25T02:18:00.000-07:00

What can I say to you?? How can I describe this? I'm back in my house of, I don't know, 18 years?? something like that. I'm back to my 1993 standard of living. I sleep on a futon and have no refrigerator or furniture of any kind. I have no curtains. But that does not matter because I have no neighbors. The houses around me are empty and overgrown. The block is quiet. This really hit home when the kids were playing in the driveway yesterday. There was no one else around. There used to be kids in the hood and folks walking around. Now there is no one. Just us. The house is looking great, save for some very stupid choices on the part of the contractor. All, well.... most, fixable. I have an entire downstairs now that I never had before, which is freaky. I'm used to living up here and now we have opened it up to the first floor. Not used to that. Very strange. It makes the house seem gigantic to me. The downstairs is regal and lovely. The kitchen is suave. Black galaxy granite, maple cabinets, high ceilings, mac-daddy light fixtures. Where the fuck did it come from? It was a dump before. Surreal to me.

I am content when in the house. I am freaked out when I leave the house. It is a different city to me in the main, and a different city to me through the eyes of a mother of two little kids. Loud, fast, pissed off, rude, dirty, crowded. I have so much to shelter them from now.

Nina's school is so big I figure it holds the population equivalent of Ashfield. It freaks her out. She is brave. It is like going to college. But she is 3. Lola does not like daycare. It kills me to drop her off there. It is not a small place around the corner but a "facility" miles away. And it's not the distance but the business between us that makes it seem far. If that makes any sense.

In general, the differences between the country life and this post Katrina city life are in neon for me now. I'm in shock, for sure. Donnie wants very much to stay and I hear and feel the sucking sounds of the situation pulling me in. I want the sun house on West Rd, yoga, sleepy afternoons with the kids. Why? because I don't have that option now. Because I got what I asked for. PSYCH! I'm feeling .... totally ungrounded. No, that's not it. I'm feeling... like I am grounded in a ball of suspended particulate that is buffeted about by the tide. I feel like I've been sent back in time by 10 years and I got to bring my kids with me.

That is all I can muster in way of description. More later. -tkc

Isn't it ironic, don't ya think?

2007-08-18T21:20:00.000-07:00

So, just a quick note. We are actually staying in the same hotel that we stayed in when we evacuated New Orleans. We're at the Jameson Inn in Tuscaloosa, Alabama nestled between the Lowe's and the Outback Steakhouse. It is our last night before we drive into New Orleans tomorrow with our small trailer full of goodies. Millie called tonight anxious about our return. Nina can't wait to see her cousins. Dean is headed for Texas. Life is good.

I'd like you to meet Dean

2007-08-16T08:02:00.000-07:00

So we are traveling to New Orleans. We loaded up a trailor with toys, furniture, clothes and computers and set sail last night at 11:00. We finally got to my mothers house in Jersey by 3:00 AM. I'm sad to leave Ashfield, especially so close to Fall, but it seems like the thing to do right now and besides, the train is in motion. There is no use to second guessing now.

Anyway, I'm here picking up some more furniture at mom's when I get a call from Millie. Now, Millie is who I evacutated with for Katrina. It was Millie who came out of her apt and said, "so, what ya doin' about this storm???" Up to that point I had not heard a peep about Katrina. And, just to make it rich, I had just driven down from my mothers to NOLA the day before her revelation. The rest is history. So for Millie to call, as I am driving to NOLA from my mothers house almost exactly 2 years to the day and say, "did ya hear about that storm??" It gives me pause. And makes me laugh. And it makes me wonder in awe of it all.

So, have you heard about Dean? He's headed to the gulf and he's big.

Time

2007-07-20T02:29:00.000-07:00

Let's see.... May, June, July... that's not so bad. I'd completely lost track of time. Time.

I need a cup of tea. I'll be right back.

OK, I'm back. It's 5:00AM and I can't sleep. I was a raging basket case all day yesterday and I was less than pleasant to my kids and that eats me up. Things are moving fast. Life rolls like a river. Much of it is slow and easy and then you hit the rapids.
I have accepted a job down in New Orleans, quite suddenly. I was turning them down since Spike Lee and the Levee project. I just had no interest in going back to work. But somehow, this guy managed to reel me in and now we are packing up and going down for 4 months. I'm working on finishing up the house there and making it ready for us. I'm spending more than we have on that project, but it's going to be nice. We are closing up this house and just walking away for a while. We'll have to give up the chickens and I'll have to walk away from my yoga training (I've been in yoga teacher training since last January). And off we go back to New Orleans so I can go do a movie. You would think I'd be happy. I'm freaking out.
You see, recently I really started to like it here. I love my yoga school, my kids are happy and healthy, I built them a swing set and a sandbox, I'm finally diggin' this house.... life is good. I saw myself becoming a healthier, happier person both mentally and physically. I was making friends and hanging out. Now, I'm shelving all that to go back to my old life and the spooky part is that New Orleans is really suckin' me in. It is all coming together down there in a mystical way. Everything is just falling into place. But still, I don't want to go.
I don't want to drop my kids off at daycare. I don't want to work 14 hours a day. I don't want to look out onto my broken block. I don't want to pay $16 for a sandwich. I don't want to deal with crooks and sheisters.
Today I was awful. I was on the phone all day and I did not pay attention to the kids. When I finally got off the phone I was spent and had no patience. I was not good to them by the end of the day. Of coarse they were totally pushing my buttons, but they were ignored today. They were pissed. And I hate that. Time is so precious. Nina will be 4 in Sept and when I went to go get her out of her bed asleep and bring her into my room tonight (she loves to sleep with mom), she was so huge in my arms and I could not help but think that I will not be able to do that very much longer. She will be in school soon and then sleeping with me will not be the biggest thing in her life. And I wasted tonight being mad at them and not just rolling around and having fun with them.
Time. This overwhelming feeling of loosing time. I am really loving it here at this house and somehow I am afraid that I will get back to New Orleans and this phase of my life will be over. I will have run out of time to enjoy this town and this house. I will have wasted it crying and complaining and not really seeing what was in front of me. But then the irony is I AM DOING THE SAME THING NOW, IN THIS MOMENT. I'm complaining about the now and not enjoying the day with the kids and enjoying the rain. What a fucking trap. It is maddening.
This is what I'm supposed to be learning in yoga. To be here now, present, in the moment. It is all we have. Sometimes it is so hard. A veil of madness decends on me and I just can't get out from under it. Stress, anxiety, aloneness... these are the factors that bring it on. I'm overwhelmed by the move, job prep, house prep, kid prep, school work. There are just not enough hours to get it all done right.
I suppose I should cut myself some slack. There is a great deal going on and I've been rolling with it for some time. In the large scheme all is well. I just hate myself when I'm not the best I can be for the girls. I see my anger in Nina and it kills me. You only get one chance to do it right. I don't want to fuck it up. They are such beautiful little spirits.
One day at a time. One day at a time.

Harry.....

2007-05-07T09:04:00.000-07:00

Well, if anyone could do it, Harry Connick Jr. could. I felt it. I heard it. A distinct cracking sound as the wall around my heart started to give. Standing out on the Acura field listening to Harry play as the sun was going down in that misty, magic hour that happens at the end of every Jazz Fest, I felt the spark of possibility light once again. He came out before his encore and told the crowd that if it was the only thing he did in this life, it was his duty to tell the world about New Orleans and to not forget what a special and wonderful place it is. Ouch. OUCH.

Down in the Dumps

2007-05-04T08:39:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhhhhhh. Its raining. the sky looks dark and scary. We had another storm last night the made us sit up and consider hiding under the front steps if we heard the train coming. Who needs this? My house still looks like a dump. The block still looks like a dump. New Orleans still looks like a dump. Yes, yes... it's much improved, but it still looks like a frickin' dump! It seems there is a movement to clean things up, but the inertia is overwelming.

There was a big-ass palmetto bug in the kitchen when we got here. Greetings from the South! We've eaten red beans and fried shrimp. I've smelled the sweet olive. But still I'm not feelin' it this time around. I may just be totally exhausted. It may be a temporary condition. It may be that one sunny day at jazz fest will make it all right again. I'm open. But for the moment, I'm pretty disgusted and plum out of motivation.

I did have a talk with my contractor guy this morning and he lit a bit of hope in me. He really wants us to come back and was willing to everything he could to get this place right. But even if this place is right, the rest of the block ain't even close. From our front porch we gaze out upon 6 abandoned houses, and that's just for a start. There were some young ner-do-wells peering in the windows downstairs yesterday. That's all we need, for the few things we've got downstairs to be stolen. That should put me totally over the edge.

Say a prayer for this place.

Wake me up before we go-go (I'm just hangin' on like a yo-yo...)

2007-05-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

April 29
10:30 PM

We are on our way. I got out of school tonight and came home to help pack the car and off we go to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. The kids are in their jams in the back sleeping as we make as much progress as possible tonight.

Things have been difficult as of late, but in a way much different than before. We are really kicking around solid plans trying to make a decision. Should we stay here full time and sell everything? Should we go back to NOLA and just get a little cottage here to vacation in? Should we sell it all and go to Costa Rica? The debates are not fun and fanciful but heated and passionate. We are almost always on opposite sides of every nuance of every issue. It is exhausting and mind numbing. But it is also good therapy. I think, after all the hours of circular arguing and emphatic campaigning for our own particular versions of how life should be, that we are beginning to find a middle ground. OK, this part IS really important to you and this part IS really important to me... so lets find a way to make that work.

We're going to go down and put the yellow house on the market this week. I'm going to asses the state of the purple house and decide if I really want to keep it. I imagine that although at this moment I could conceive of selling, once I'm actually there smelling the sweet olive and sun-baked from a day at festival, I will not want to sell at all. So, I think the answer will lie in moving to a warmer, more efficient house in Ashfield, (one that we happen to have already found), and keeping the purple house and renting it out for now.

This plan meets all our needs. I've realized that I don't really need to live in NOLA full time right now, I just need to know it is there for me when I want to get a fix. I'll have a place to stay if I do decide to take a film or commercial. I'll be able to bring in some money now and then. Thats all I require now. I'm very happy in my yoga school. My teacher is extraordinary and I'm loving it. I'm connecting with people here and I think staying here will be a great adventure now that I've accepted it. I think it will really help to move to a new place that can really be our own. One that is warm and cozy and truly safe for the kids.

The Rollercoaster

2007-03-20T11:39:00.000-07:00

Does it make any sense whatsoever that I am now having second thoughts about going back? I swear I don't even know who the hell I am any more. The internal churnings of my mind bore me to death. Now she wants to think about staying. Oh, geez! "But I'll miss the chickens! Nina loves her friends at school. The environment is so healthy. I could really do something with this house if I gave it a chance!" It is maddening. I did break down and purchase the high-end kitchen cabinets for the purple house. I keep envisioning them under water. But the purchase is significant. It implies intension. Everyone says not to make any major life decisions in March. OK. I won't. I promise. I will continue to wallow in the sea of ever changing mind and perpetual doubt until Spring. We will probably end up in New Orleans, because, at the end of the day I don't like being cold. But it won't be easy. I will miss those chickens.

Back Home?

2007-02-27T15:53:00.000-08:00

So we are back in Massachusettes. The three weeks in New Orleans went by in a flash, but there was a lifetime contained in that flash. We went to the park, we fed the ducks, we did the zoo, a birthday party, Mardi Gras. We worked on the house. We applied to schools for Nina. We saw lots of friends.
Now we are back in Ashfield. It snowed all day. I have cleaned house for two days. My husband, god love hime, does not grasp the subtle nuances of keeping a house. He did not even remember to bring in the mail the entire time we were away. Extrapolate from that... So I"m here grinding away. Trying to make the best of a cold situation. I love this house, I really do. I wish we could take it with us. I could really do something with this structure. But up here, right now, with these kids.... I gotta go. In New Orleans I woke every morning and jumped out of bed. I was ready for anything and rolled with it. We were by no means "comfortable" there. We shared a crappy bed. Lola slept in a pack and play. We had no furniture or functional kitchen. We made do. But somehow we were more in tune with each other and relaxed than we are here in all this ... comfort. This is a beautiful house. I do love it. But it is not mine. I have felt like a guest here since the moment we moved in. I'm grumpy and isolated. In New Orleans I am warm and relaxed. Go figua. We gotta go. And we gotta go soon. I'll miss the chickens. I'll miss not having to lock the doors. But I'll love going to the park every day. I'll love the warm sunshine on my skin. I'll love being a happy, relaxed mother to my kids. I'll love being home again. t.

Existential Yogi

2007-02-15T19:02:00.000-08:00

I don't know what I'm doing. I tried to do my yoga homework last night. I was supposed to write about how my state of mind informs my yoga practice and visa versa. I ended up writing a thesis on how natural disasters inform my state of mind. I ended with the observation that I am no longer depressed but have moved on to existential -- a step I consider an improvement. It might be the yoga. It might not. I may just be numb.

I'm picking light fixtures. I'm designing my dream kitchen. I'm dreaming about getting washed away in a deluge of sewage and debris. It's all so delightful. I do my yoga, unite with the devine and then open some wine. The devine just does not stick with me through the day like some over the counter deoderant. It lights up for a moment and then it is once again all about trash, murder and bad new orleans drivers.

A Bigga Wind

2007-02-13T19:00:00.001-08:00

And then the tornado.... What the fuck!

Donnie came, he saw, he conceeded, we planned to move. Yes, there is still devistation everywhere. Yes, for every renovated house there are dozens that stand gutted and empty. Yes, for every cleaned up swatch of land there are piles of debris and filth. Yes, there is murder and mayhem. But still, somehow, we thought we could make a home here and live a healthy, happy life.

We went to bed last night after a long day of sun and visiting. We had left the kids at Donnie's brothers house and went to an early Valentine's dinner at Mat and Naddie's Restaurant, a luxury we never enjoy. We picked them up and were home and in bed by 10 or 11. On the way up to the house Nina noted the orange sky. Not that unusual for the city, but there was a menacing quality to it. Perhaps it was the speed with which the clouds were moving.

The rain came. I remember hearing it fall. I remember thinking that it had been so long since I'd heard that torrential Louisiana rain. It freaked me out a little. I went back to sleep. Then, around 3 am I woke up from a nightmare. There had been a huge tornado that broke the levee and the current of the Mississippi tore our house apart. I was alone with the girls and we ran to a life boat. I tied them to me and put life vests on them. The current and winds were so strong and huge pieces of the broken houses were banging into us. I was sure we would never survive. I woke up freaking out and tried to wake my husband. I mumbled to him something along the lines of: we can't keep the girls here, it is not safe! I think he told me to go back to sleep.

This morning when we woke up there was no power and there were messages on our phone from our mothers asking if we were ok. That is all we knew about the tornado. It was not until tonight that I found out that a house four blocks from here was picked up and dropped on the neighboring house by the selective twister that passed through our neighborhood. It did not do the damage here that it did down on Carrolton to one side of us or to Gentilly on the other. It just skipped through hitting that one house like a stepping stone.

I've been doing my yoga at night in the quiet after the kids are in bed. All I can here are the sounds of sirens in the not so distant distance. Many of them. I tell my self that it is a good thing. The police are working hard to clean up the city.

We went to several Mardi Gras parades along St. Charles Ave. There was palpable tension in the air. I felt myself tighten up whenever a pack of baggy pants wearing, grilled toothed AA kids walked by. I looked to see if I could spot signs of the 12 year olds packing guns. The words of those young boys saying, "live by the gun, die by the gun", ringing in my memory. What would it take to start some sensesless shoot out? What would I do? How would I throw my body over my kids to ensure they would not get the stray bullet? Surely they were just here to have a good time at the parade. Surely they were not on some gang mission to kill some white family in cold blood.

I can handle all of this. But the notion that nature itself does not want us here... that leaves me cold. Now we are on a different level entirely. Now it is supernatural. I thought all day about what I would do if I heard that freight train coming, or even more, did not hear it coming. What would I do? Like in that dream, how would I deal with the children? How would it feel to know in my last moment of life that I chose to bring us here and now there was no way out?
What a fucking nightmare.

When do you just fold and say, ok, whatever, I'll live in the goddamn boondocks and chew my cud for the next 18 years so I can sleep at night knowing my kids are safe? My dad told me toinght not be be ridiculous. He said, and I quote, "your not a pansy ass! This was a random, freak event! Stay there, your fine!" Clearly he has not been hit by any major natural disasters lately.

I don't know anything tonight, except that I'm freaked out and I love my kids more than anything.

Sunny and 65

2007-02-09T19:55:00.000-08:00

We are here. I would have written sooner but I only got the internet connection up today. We have been here 5 days now. Our train was late arriving, as usual, and we did not get to bed until 2 in the morning. The apartment was cold and empty, the neighborhood dark and unwelcoming. I went to sleep that night fearing I had made a huge mistake bringing the girls back here. The next morning that same feeling lingered as I curled around Nina trying to keep warm. But then we got up and the sun was shining through the big windows and flooding our room. By 11 it was warm enough to open the doors and stand out on the deck. Jorge took us out to grocery shop and I got to see all the fixed up houses in our hood. I cleaned the apartment and mopped the floor for the kids. We had lots of company that day as friends came by to say 'hi'.

The next night went a little better. We were cozy. The next morning, more sun. We walked to the park on Tuesday and it was amazing. The park is so clean, even the ducks look better. There were tons of children playing. Nina had a blast there. We visited her friend Max, and my friends - Max's parents - and we all had a wonderful time.

That night we slept great.

And it has been like that every day. Each day its gets a little better. Today we got our internet connection and a rental car. We are out and about. We are having a great time. I'm looking into schools, trying to see some before we leave.

Donnie comes tomorrow. He is not sold on the idea of coming back. He thinks it is still too dangerous. Maybe. But it sure feels right to be here. It sure feels like home.

Let The Healing Begin

2007-01-27T18:15:00.000-08:00

Wow. Here we go. In the space of a week I have seen the doctor, upped my thyroid medication, taken an acupuncture treatment, seen a therapist and started an intense yoga teacher training coarse. I've begun structuring my time -- I keep a calendar. I have socialized when invited and even picked up the phone to call others for no specific reason. I've begun thinking about calling the mortgage company regarding the final draft of insurance funds (I'm still whoopin myself up for that call). Oh, and I'm booked on a train to New Orleans next week. The kids are coming with. We are doing Mardi Gras. Yeah, you heard me right! I'm doing Mardi Gras with a three year old and a nine month old baby. I'm open for costuming ideas. I was thinking of a pod and two peas....
I don't know if margarita night was the last straw or what, but after 16 months of wallowing I was tired of myself. My therapist listened to me babble non-stop for an hour and then told me to take the lid off the box. "Even if you can't get out of the box", she said, "take the lid off and look around". Well, I jumped out and got busy. Who knows, next week I may jump back in and pull the lid down tight, but for now I'm lovin' life outta da box.

OK, Enough Already

2007-01-20T14:42:00.000-08:00

Enough about my troubles.

I went to a gathering of a few woman last night; new friends that I have met since moving to this town after the big K. Of coarse at first I dominated the session with my own drama about renovations, travel to NOLA, fears of moving back, recent suicides and murders. Margaritas were poured all around, they showed real interest and that felt good. I got self conscious after a few minutes and tried to steer the conversation to other things, and so we worked our way around the group.

I have always admired woman who can listen well but not give up too much of themselves. I've always had a need to lay it out for all to see. I am much like the levees, all I need is a small crack and I'll turn it into a deluge. It is exacerbated lately by spending most of my time with two kids under 4. Anyway, the real reason we were there finally came up. The grizzly reality that one of us found a lump and, yes, it is malignant.

A lump of any kind is sobering, but a malignant lump puts everything into perspective. Fuck the flooded house, we are healthy. We are together. I do not have to have a breast removed. I do not have to contemplate the real possibility of dying from an ugly disease and leaving my girls without a mother. My friend does. What a fucking schmuck I am to whine about my choices, while she is being robbed of hers.

The thing about this Katrina mess is that we, my family, has choices. We may not like them all, they may not lead us back to the life we had before, but we have choice and resources. So many were left without such luxuries. Everyday, people find "the lump" and their life is forever changed. They soldier on. They deal. This is life.

I need to get over it and move on, because I can.

Helen Hill

2007-01-11T20:17:00.000-08:00

Helen Hill, on the morning of Jan 4th did the world feel any different to you? Did life have a new patina? Were the kisses sweeter, the hugs warmer? Did the air have an intensity about it you'd never noticed before? Could you sence, in retrospect, that that day you were going to die?
Like the Kim family lost in the wilds of Oregon, the story of the shooting death of Helen Hill hit home because of the freakish similarty of the players in the story to my own life. Helen was a filmaker, her husband a doctor I think. They had a two year old and called mid-city home. She loved New Orleans, it was in her blood. And it was that blood that was spilt on Jan 4th by a troubled spirit walking the streets with a gun and much hatred. For all the pain and sorrow we feel over missing our dear city and our fun loving lives, what pain there must be for those that were living deperate lives even before Katrina. What have they now? They are ghosts walking the streets. There homes have no hope of returning. Their neighborhoods are not being rebuilt. Their people were floating dead in the streets. Their lives blown away in the hurricane winds. What fear does a ghost have of the law? They are husks filled with hate. To kill them would be a blessing on them . What does this life have for them but pain. That is all they have to give. And so, that gift was given to Helen and her husband. "Here, feel this for a while... This is what I have left. Let me share with you....".
I was planning my trip back to NOLA when I heard the news about Helen. I am frozen now. I don't know what to do. We had made the decision to go back, but now I am lost again. I only hope that the uprising today, the march in the streets is the begining of something. New Orleans deserves the right to come back. It has given us so much. So much of what this country holds dear has been borne of that city. Hold her hand, help her up, make her better than ever.
I want to go home. Please, I don't want to die going home. I want my girls to be safe and happy. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

Broken

2007-01-06T20:41:00.000-08:00

I have to write. I write because my heart is broken in a million pieces. I write because I feel like a bag of bones steeped in saddness. I cry at least once a day. I cried today in yoga class and yesterday in the car while listening to the subdudes and driving the kids to the toy store. It comes over me like a wave. It only lasts a minute. And it feels good.

New Orleans has always been a problem child, and as such attracted the same. But it is a place where if you have the right stuff you can grow up and make something of yourself (oh black sheep) and have a respectable life without giving up the eccentricity. That love of living, embrace of chaos, keep on dancing, lessez le bon temp roulle that permeated new orleans down deep into the soil is what makes it so unique in the United States. Once you've tapped into that energy, if you like that sort of thing, every place else seems so mundane in comparison. No matter how clean, beautiful and educated other places might be, you have to wonder, "Do these folks ever just dance for the hell of it??"

We went back in October after "the event". We were prepared to use covert tactics to get into our neighborhood which was still not on the list of open areas. We had no problem. In fact, one of our neighbors were already there gutting. Jennifer, a no nonsense woman under normal circumstances, was standing out in front of her house in rubberboots and gloves, her hands on her hips and chemical mask hanging around her neck. I walked up and she just started babbling to me as if I'd been there all along. At first I thought it unintelligable, but then I realized there was alot of good information in her ramblings -- things about electrical codes, mold remediation and trash removal. She was offloading the overwhelming tasks at hand that where rolling around in her head. She was literally overflowing. Now you have to realize that for blocks and blocks around us there was nothing. This woman was alone in this place of complete and utter distruction, the only one to have returned to our neighborhood, gutting her house. The scene gave me pause and it gave me hope.

My husband and I camped out in our apt for two weeks on the second floor above the water line. It was surreal walking into that space. It was completely untouched. There was total distruction from 6 feet down, but everything on the second floor was just as we left it. To walk in to that apartment was like walking into a tomb that had been sealed for a thousand years. It was a time capsule.

At night the silence was eerie. We felt so utterly alone.

I was four months pregnant and everyone told me to get the hell out of there, but I could not. This was my home and I had to make a stand. I did not get into the muck, I just oversaw the operation. I picked through the wet files and recovered my daughters birth certificate and social security card, our marriage licence, some photos. My husband and his friend who came with us to help pulled the walls down with their bare hands. I drove the truck that pulled the rope that was tied to the saturated couch and they corraled it down the driveway to the street.

After two weeks my husband had to go back to work so somehow I convinced him to leave me there. I hired a crew and soldiered on with the gutting. We had three houses in a row on our street and I had to save it. I stayed there for another week. My dear friend Kenny found out I was staying on and he asked,"what would you like me to bring you, a gun or a Pitt Bull?" I opted for the Pitt Bull.

Sweet Pea and I got along famously. I walked her around the flooded out neighborhood and we assessed the damage together. When the sun went down and curfew went into effect, we held up in the boarded up apt with the generator running and the TV plugged in. This too was a strange anachronism; to watch a movie amidst this surreal environment. During the day, when the trash removal crews came around they made us go inside and abandon our post on the front porch. They said the dust was toxic.

Sometimes we would drive around looking for wifi. There was a hot spot in front of the CC's coffeehouse on Magazine St. I saw Noah Adams out there one day interviewing the ragtag bunch of laptop wielding citizens gathered on the sidewalk trying to check email. I stayed in the car with Sweet Pea. I'm too mic-shy to give a good sound bite. I felt apart of history never-the-less.

At the end of the third week it was time to go. The front of my house had become the appliance area. We were instructed to sort our refuse in categories, one being household appliances. Why, when I was the only one actually staying in my house, did the appliance pile end up at my door, I will never know. I think the sensory experience of the post-Katrina refrigerators has been told many times, so you know what I'm talking about. It was time to go.

I locked up my house. I kissed all three of them goodbye -- yes, I kissed the houses (above the waterline). I left the doors and windows open so they could dry out. There was nothing left to steal in them, they were all gutted to the studs. I took a good look at the street, my street, my neighborhood. I had to go. I was pregnant. My husband had to be where there was dsl. We could not stay here. I would have. I really would have. Kenny picked up Sweet Pea and took me to the train.

Good bye for now, New Orleans. Be well. I'll be back, I promise.

Life 101

2007-01-06T17:45:00.000-08:00

My three year old daughter just selected the font color for this entry. She, Nina, is hovering over me disecting my every move and recommending that I insert a "Y" in the most unlikely places. I've had to erase a few that she inserted gorilla style into my text.
I am in my pajamas at 7:39 at night, in my overstuffed chair-and-a-half under a blanket with my laptop and my daughter. We have read 6 books tonight: The Spider and the Fly, Guess How Much I Love You, The Polar Express and Julius: Baby Of the World... Oh, and The Potty Book. All decent selections. If it were not for this girl I would silently slip into a dispondant stupor.

hlhll (Nina is helping)

I've been thinking it must be the light. I've noticed that the light outside is very cold and blue. The shadows are long even in the middle of the day. At 1:30 in the afternoon the shadows of the Black Locust trees that stand like a bunch of old men out in the yard talking about the weather cast shadows that cross the entire space between the trees and the house. The sun never gets above the trees on the hill behind our house. The sun is way over there -- over the South, the deep South that used to be our home.
I think about the light I used to know. In the morning it would come in the back door like warm honey. It was not in straight blue shafts but warm amber pools that flowed in and hugged the room. It stuck to the surface of the walls and the glistened on the wood floor. The same would happen on the front porch in the afternoon, but warmer, and more melancholy.
The last time I saw that light in peace was the morning of Aug 27th, 2005. I'd not yet heard of a storm named Katrina. I was two months pregnant, my husband was out of town and I was planning on spending the day knocking around with my then 1 and a half year old daughter. We were out in the back yard and decided to go for a walk. As we came up the driveway our neighbor came out of her apartment with her usual panicked expression, except on this morning it was a bit more panicked than usual. She said, "what are you doing about this storm?" My reply was, "what storm?"
Nina and I went into her perfectly adorable apartment and watched The Weather Channel. Little did I know that the next time I saw that place, it would be in a post-apocalyptic surreal nightmare that was our neighborhood after eight feet of water and sewage receded from our homes.

We left that night about eight o'clock right after the mayor came on TV. He was so scared he looked white. Everyone looked really scared, not just nervous, scared. We drove to Tuscaloosa where we met my husband in a hotel next to a Crackerbarrel. "We" being my daughter Nina, our standard poodle Blue, the cat Trin, the parrot Luka, the same neighbor Millie and her cat whose name I cannot remember. We were all in the cab of my Tundra pick up. Very cozy.
We evacuated to the East, thank heaven. Everyone else went West. We came to understand that we were right in the track of the storm so after one night we moved to Atlanta. It was from there that we watched with disbelief, the reports of the water rising. We were all in one hotel room: Millie had one bed and my husband, Nina and myself had the other. Luckily the dog stayed on the floor.
We watched for clues that our neighborhood was spared, that we could return the next day, but although the reports were vague, it did not look good. Typically the reporters would be standing in one neighborhood and claim they were in another. The big network guys could not really wrap their heads around the complex and colorful melange of neighborhoods and system of parishes that make up Southern Louisiana. Usually I would find this endearing, but in this instance it was insanely frustrating. And it seemed Mid-City was not even in their vocabulary.
We gave up and silently packed the car. We had no real plan. We needed to be alone. We took Millie and her cat to the airport. She did not know it yet, but all she had left was her cat and her very small duffel bag.