A sobering thought occurred to me a couple of days ago: I've been in New Orleans for an entire year already.... A whole year has passed since I packed up my gear and left Atlanta.... 52 weeks have lapsed since the day I officially moved out of the house I shared with my husband in Commerce to move to a town where I knew no one. So much has happened in the passing of a year that it's difficult to wrap my head around it all.
I don't regret leaving Georgia. It was the only way Ronnie was ever going to fully understand that our marriage was over, and Lord knows I needed a fresh start-a break from the lunacy. Between everything I went through because of the false allegations of a disgruntled employee, to the personal struggles I went through to end a 13 year relationship, let me just say a big "Thank you" to the man who invented anti-depressants! God bless you, my friend. The expression "beautiful disaster" certainly comes to mind.
When I made the decision to move to Louisiana, I told myself I'd give it at least two years to make a final decision on whether or not I'd stay in New Orleans for any length of time. It's a big decision to relocate, one that takes a good deal of planning for ahead of time. Recently, I've been contemplating whether or not to move back to Atlanta at the end of my self-imposed two year timeline, move down to FLA to be closer to my grandparents, or to simply stay here.
I love where I live in NOLA. My apartment has character and history, and even though the floors and walls aren't straight, the kitchen is the size of a closet, and I have no off-street parking, I'm happy here. I have everything I need within walking distance-bars, shops, pharmacy, grocery, coffee shops. There's always something to do if I feel like going out to a movie or a club, and if I feel like staying in, I'm perfectly at my leisure to do so. I'd prefer to have some single friends with whom I had something in common, but at this point in my life, married, settled friends are nice-there's no pressure there. In a way, the situation has actually given me time to grieve and deal with the emotional baggage and loss that comes with divorce. I'm still a long way from being at a point where I'd like to be in another relationship, and frankly, I'm not certain if I'll ever want to get married again, but I feel like I'm making progress sorting everything out.
I haven't made up my mind what I want to do regarding my home base, but thankfully, I still have more time to make a decision. I do know that I miss my friends and family so much that it physically hurts my heart sometimes. I long for lunches w/Amy, seeing my niece all the time, going to hockey games w/Jenn, and having our girls nights w/many bottles of wine and Apples to Apples. I yearn to see the sunsets in GA over the breathtaking downtown skyline and God, I miss good barbecue and soul food like you can only get in the A!
Until I can make a final choice on where to live long term, I'm looking forward to my first real Christmas in New Orleans (I didn't really celebrate last year since I'd just moved in) and I'm counting the many blessings I've had over this past year in my new home. I honestly wasn't too sure I'd make it, but I guess they call it "faith" for a reason.....
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
And the Award goes to....
Many thanks to the lovely Katrina for my Kreativ Blogger Award! http://anotherbrooksbaby.blogspot.com/
Here are The Rules:
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award. (Check)
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog. (Check)
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award. (Check)
4. Write 7 things about yourself that people may not know. (See Below)
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers. (Umm, I don't know 7 bloggers, so.....)
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate. (See #5 above)
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they’ve been nominated. (Again, #5)
Seven Things You Might Not Know About Me:
1. I believe it's possible to love your animals MORE than some human beings and still NOT be certifiable.
2. Despite how much I loathe indecision in other people, I, myself, often suffer from the inability to make swift decisions (and I HATE that about myself).
3. I really wish I had a closer relationship with my mother.
4. I hope to retire early and live out my days on a while sailboat w/a huge white sail, drifting about the Caribbean.
5. I don't know how to sail.
6. I think the key to a happy existence is in learning not to worry about the things out of your control, learning to forgive yourself and others (INCLUDING your parents), seizing happiness whenever it abounds, and learning to appreciate the simple things in life: a good song, the intoxicating smell of a good-looking man, the delicate, warm breeze off the ocean, the laughter of a child, an ice-cold beer.
7. I have freakishly small hands and salt my food in a highly unusual manner.
Here are The Rules:
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award. (Check)
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog. (Check)
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award. (Check)
4. Write 7 things about yourself that people may not know. (See Below)
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers. (Umm, I don't know 7 bloggers, so.....)
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate. (See #5 above)
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they’ve been nominated. (Again, #5)
Seven Things You Might Not Know About Me:
1. I believe it's possible to love your animals MORE than some human beings and still NOT be certifiable.
2. Despite how much I loathe indecision in other people, I, myself, often suffer from the inability to make swift decisions (and I HATE that about myself).
3. I really wish I had a closer relationship with my mother.
4. I hope to retire early and live out my days on a while sailboat w/a huge white sail, drifting about the Caribbean.
5. I don't know how to sail.
6. I think the key to a happy existence is in learning not to worry about the things out of your control, learning to forgive yourself and others (INCLUDING your parents), seizing happiness whenever it abounds, and learning to appreciate the simple things in life: a good song, the intoxicating smell of a good-looking man, the delicate, warm breeze off the ocean, the laughter of a child, an ice-cold beer.
7. I have freakishly small hands and salt my food in a highly unusual manner.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
31 years in, and I still feel no wiser
Amidst the flurrie of activity last week, I haven't really had much time to sit and think. Things are getting easier, after losing Dallas, but being gone for a week made me feel remarkably guilty. Levi was at home for 4 1/2 days w/only occasional human interaction when my neighbor came over to feed him. The second I walked in the door, he was stuck to me like glue. Of course, by that time, I was so exhausted from little, restful sleep over the course of the week that all I did was rest. To that end, sleep was essentially all I did today too, but Levi was content to snuggle up next to me and/or sleep on my head....he was happy just to know I was home!
My 31st birthday was this past week. I had dinner w/my closest girlfriends, who, for all intents and purposes, are actually my sisters. As Brooke and I were talking, I came to the realization that I have, absolutely, no idea how I got here. I blinked and high school was gone. I closed my eyes for just one second and college had flown by. Marriage, divorce, birth, death, moving, and changing.....all have happened in my lifetime, and at 31, I sit here, amazed, by how quickly time has passed.
Along w/the realization of the constantly flowing hourglass came a tremendous amount of sadness. Being married to Ronnie meant sacrificing most of the relationships I had w/friends and spending less time w/my family. He never cared for any of my friends and the only real people he wanted to spend any time w/were his own family members. Don't get me wrong, when we lived in Commerce, I wasn't too keen on driving all over God's Green Earth to see everyone all the time either, but telling him that I was going out for Girl's Night and was planning on just spending the night at one of the girl's houses produced so much arguing that I chucked my friends to the curb just to NOT have to deal w/him. At dinner on Thursday night, talking about bachlorette parties, weddings, showers, get togethers etc., I realized exactly how much I've missed out on, how many memories I don't have.
Most of my friends are now married and having kids, and I don't feel like I'm ANYWHERE close to being ready for any of it. The divorce seems like it was just yesterday. I still, in my head at least, feel like I'm a lot younger than I actually am, and feel like I have plenty of time. The reality, though, is that none of us know how much time we actually have. The best any of us can do is make the most of the time we have.
I'm 31 now, how I got here I still have no idea, but from now through every day in the future, I will continue to live my life to the fullest, love the people I can (making sure they KNOW how much I love them), and make as many memories as possible. I may not be able to take any of my material things with me from one life to the next, but the imprinting left on my soul through the love and happiness I receive out of being with those I care about will undoubtedly stay with me forever.
My 31st birthday was this past week. I had dinner w/my closest girlfriends, who, for all intents and purposes, are actually my sisters. As Brooke and I were talking, I came to the realization that I have, absolutely, no idea how I got here. I blinked and high school was gone. I closed my eyes for just one second and college had flown by. Marriage, divorce, birth, death, moving, and changing.....all have happened in my lifetime, and at 31, I sit here, amazed, by how quickly time has passed.
Along w/the realization of the constantly flowing hourglass came a tremendous amount of sadness. Being married to Ronnie meant sacrificing most of the relationships I had w/friends and spending less time w/my family. He never cared for any of my friends and the only real people he wanted to spend any time w/were his own family members. Don't get me wrong, when we lived in Commerce, I wasn't too keen on driving all over God's Green Earth to see everyone all the time either, but telling him that I was going out for Girl's Night and was planning on just spending the night at one of the girl's houses produced so much arguing that I chucked my friends to the curb just to NOT have to deal w/him. At dinner on Thursday night, talking about bachlorette parties, weddings, showers, get togethers etc., I realized exactly how much I've missed out on, how many memories I don't have.
Most of my friends are now married and having kids, and I don't feel like I'm ANYWHERE close to being ready for any of it. The divorce seems like it was just yesterday. I still, in my head at least, feel like I'm a lot younger than I actually am, and feel like I have plenty of time. The reality, though, is that none of us know how much time we actually have. The best any of us can do is make the most of the time we have.
I'm 31 now, how I got here I still have no idea, but from now through every day in the future, I will continue to live my life to the fullest, love the people I can (making sure they KNOW how much I love them), and make as many memories as possible. I may not be able to take any of my material things with me from one life to the next, but the imprinting left on my soul through the love and happiness I receive out of being with those I care about will undoubtedly stay with me forever.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
No Air
This entry is going to take me awhile to get through because I have to keep stopping to wipe away my tears. I had to say goodbye to Dallas on Monday and my heart and soul ache.
Before I moved out here last year, I took both Levi and Dallas in for check-ups and shots. It was at this visit that Dallas was diagnosed w/breast cancer. After running a more comprehensive blood panel, they also determined that she was in renal failure. Having lost both Shaky and Zeke to CRF, I was not about to lose my Sweet Pea to the same damned disease.
Dallas' doctor and I came up with a game plan-come out w/all guns firing. After spending 3 days in the hospital on IV fluids, the vet determined it was safe enough to proceed with the surgery to remove the tumor. Because cancer tends to metastasize easily in both humans and cats, the decision was made to remove the entire mammary chain (the equivalent of a complete mastectomy rather than just lump removal). As you can imagine, the surgery was rough; Dallas developed complications that are common after surgery, even for people....fluid build-up around the lungs, for example. What made this time so much more difficult was that I was going through the end stages of the divorce and not even living w/Dallas at the time. In the end, she came through the surgery and only ended up popping one staple.
Several weeks later, both Dallas and Levi were with me in the moving van, driving to New Orleans to begin our new life. My Baby Girl endured constant trials in our attempt to manage the renal failure-daily fluid injections, meds of every kind put down her throat, routine bouts of nausea and vomiting, recurring ulcers and constipation-you name it, and she had it. Through all the treatments and side effects, though, Dallas bared everything w/strength and grace.
Dallas was my rock and my touchstone. She was my 20th birthday present and I chose her specifically. I can remember the day I got her, exactly what I was wearing, and how I felt holding her the first time. She slept curled up in the top of my overalls ALL the way to the vet to be checked out! Ronnie frequently made quips that I loved her more than I did him, and sitting here right now, it's hard to say such a statement ISN'T true in some respects. One of the hardest parts of going through my separation was having to leave my baby behind. The trips I made up there every week were JUST to spend time with Dallas and Levi.
Dallas saw me through everything : she stayed up with me during my late night cramming sessions for college, played with me when I was bored around the house, sat on top of my desk when I worked from home, and tried to comfort me every time Ronnie and I fought-w/out fail, amidst the shouting and yelling, Dallas would come and find me in whatever room I was in trying to get away from the husband, crawl up on my lap, give me a reassuring meow and corresponding head-butt, and snuggle up next to me until I stopped crying.
The day Dallas died, I felt like I lived an entire week in one day. Driving home from the doctor's office, I couldn't catch my breath...it just wasn't possible to fill my lungs w/air. Some will think me silly for placing so much emphasis on the life of a cat, treating the loss like it was that of a human being. I don't have children, and I may never-only God knows the ultimate outcome of that topic. I do know, however, that I treat my animals LIKE they are my kids-I teach them manners and how to behave; I take them to the doctor for wellness visits and when they're sick; I'm concerned with what they eat and try to ensure they get adequate nutrition; I brush them to make sure they're groomed properly and not looking wild; and I love them with everything I have. For all of this, I think I am entitled to my grief.
I know this gets easier. At 30, I've lived through enough to know that "this too shall pass". Eventually, I won't think I see Dallas everywhere, or mistake that I hear her meowing from another room. Sometime, wanting to take a nap and knowing that she won't be there to curl up under the covers with me will be easier to take. One day, the thought of coming home and NOT seeing her there won't hurt so badly. Until that day, though, its just me and Levi trying to cope with missing our best friend.
No Air
Jordan Sparks
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
If I should die before I wake
It's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing you is like living in a world with no air, oh
I'm here alone, didn't wanna leave
My heart won't move, it's incomplete
If there was a way that I could make you understand
But how do you expect me
To live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
There's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gon' be without me?
If you ain't here I just can't breathe
There's no air, no air
I walk, I ran, I jump, I flew
Right off the ground to float to you
With no gravity to hold me down for real
But somehow I'm still alive inside
You took my breath but I survived
I don't know how but I don't even care
So how do you expect me
To live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
There's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gon' be without me?
If you ain't here I just can't breathe
There's no air, no air.
Before I moved out here last year, I took both Levi and Dallas in for check-ups and shots. It was at this visit that Dallas was diagnosed w/breast cancer. After running a more comprehensive blood panel, they also determined that she was in renal failure. Having lost both Shaky and Zeke to CRF, I was not about to lose my Sweet Pea to the same damned disease.
Dallas' doctor and I came up with a game plan-come out w/all guns firing. After spending 3 days in the hospital on IV fluids, the vet determined it was safe enough to proceed with the surgery to remove the tumor. Because cancer tends to metastasize easily in both humans and cats, the decision was made to remove the entire mammary chain (the equivalent of a complete mastectomy rather than just lump removal). As you can imagine, the surgery was rough; Dallas developed complications that are common after surgery, even for people....fluid build-up around the lungs, for example. What made this time so much more difficult was that I was going through the end stages of the divorce and not even living w/Dallas at the time. In the end, she came through the surgery and only ended up popping one staple.
Several weeks later, both Dallas and Levi were with me in the moving van, driving to New Orleans to begin our new life. My Baby Girl endured constant trials in our attempt to manage the renal failure-daily fluid injections, meds of every kind put down her throat, routine bouts of nausea and vomiting, recurring ulcers and constipation-you name it, and she had it. Through all the treatments and side effects, though, Dallas bared everything w/strength and grace.
Dallas was my rock and my touchstone. She was my 20th birthday present and I chose her specifically. I can remember the day I got her, exactly what I was wearing, and how I felt holding her the first time. She slept curled up in the top of my overalls ALL the way to the vet to be checked out! Ronnie frequently made quips that I loved her more than I did him, and sitting here right now, it's hard to say such a statement ISN'T true in some respects. One of the hardest parts of going through my separation was having to leave my baby behind. The trips I made up there every week were JUST to spend time with Dallas and Levi.
Dallas saw me through everything : she stayed up with me during my late night cramming sessions for college, played with me when I was bored around the house, sat on top of my desk when I worked from home, and tried to comfort me every time Ronnie and I fought-w/out fail, amidst the shouting and yelling, Dallas would come and find me in whatever room I was in trying to get away from the husband, crawl up on my lap, give me a reassuring meow and corresponding head-butt, and snuggle up next to me until I stopped crying.
The day Dallas died, I felt like I lived an entire week in one day. Driving home from the doctor's office, I couldn't catch my breath...it just wasn't possible to fill my lungs w/air. Some will think me silly for placing so much emphasis on the life of a cat, treating the loss like it was that of a human being. I don't have children, and I may never-only God knows the ultimate outcome of that topic. I do know, however, that I treat my animals LIKE they are my kids-I teach them manners and how to behave; I take them to the doctor for wellness visits and when they're sick; I'm concerned with what they eat and try to ensure they get adequate nutrition; I brush them to make sure they're groomed properly and not looking wild; and I love them with everything I have. For all of this, I think I am entitled to my grief.
I know this gets easier. At 30, I've lived through enough to know that "this too shall pass". Eventually, I won't think I see Dallas everywhere, or mistake that I hear her meowing from another room. Sometime, wanting to take a nap and knowing that she won't be there to curl up under the covers with me will be easier to take. One day, the thought of coming home and NOT seeing her there won't hurt so badly. Until that day, though, its just me and Levi trying to cope with missing our best friend.
No Air
Jordan Sparks
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
If I should die before I wake
It's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing you is like living in a world with no air, oh
I'm here alone, didn't wanna leave
My heart won't move, it's incomplete
If there was a way that I could make you understand
But how do you expect me
To live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
There's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gon' be without me?
If you ain't here I just can't breathe
There's no air, no air
I walk, I ran, I jump, I flew
Right off the ground to float to you
With no gravity to hold me down for real
But somehow I'm still alive inside
You took my breath but I survived
I don't know how but I don't even care
So how do you expect me
To live alone with just me?
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air?
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
There's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gon' be without me?
If you ain't here I just can't breathe
There's no air, no air.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Work, work, work and more work
This week has been pretty hectic. I had my client in town, and an internal person new to my client's program, along w/a whole host of activities, dinners, meetings, etc. to attend and help coordinate. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy every minute of it, despite how mentally draining some of the events were. To be quite honest, though, I even enjoyed the brain-zapping mediation sessions, and no, I'm not a masochist. I just really, REALLY like what I do for a living-not in the way becoming a doctor would have been emotionally and psychologically rewarding; we all know that I'm not changing the world by adjusting claims and managing a desk. This job has its definite challenges and it helps to be able to "think outside the box" and get creative sometimes. Anyone who knows me knows I love a challenge and love to argue, so part of the fun I find in my job is being able to discover a way around the challenge/obstacles to get to a final resolution. Plus, I relish putting events together and I'm never happier than when I'm socializing (particularly with clients/prospective clients).
After meetings the better part of Tuesday, and dinner with some of my client's local counsel (we went to Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse in the Quarter-yum!) Tuesday night, Wednesday was spent in mediation with my client and another one of their attorneys. Thankfully, the case settled at mediation-Hallelujah! That night, our attorney took us to dinner in the Uptown section of NOLA (nearby to where I live). Since my client is from out of town, she hadn't really spent much time Uptown, and being the walking encyclopedia that he is regarding all things New Orleans, our attorney made the night delightful! Dinner was had at Lilette off Magazine and I highly recommend you stop by if you're in the area. The sticky toffee pudding and Nutella custard was, in a word, orgasmic.
After we finished dinner, we had a quick nightcap at the Columns Hotel on St Charles Avenue. What a treat! SO beautiful. Thursday was also spent in mediation, on a case we were, unfortunately, unable to settle. Thankfully, the memories of dinner the night before stayed with all throughout the tedious next day. I took some pics at the hotel, a place I hadn't been before September 30, 2009.
Many thanks to Brian and Mark, and Matthew for dinner Tuesday and Wednesday nights, respectively. Additional thanks to Matthew for all the hard work this past week.
After meetings the better part of Tuesday, and dinner with some of my client's local counsel (we went to Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse in the Quarter-yum!) Tuesday night, Wednesday was spent in mediation with my client and another one of their attorneys. Thankfully, the case settled at mediation-Hallelujah! That night, our attorney took us to dinner in the Uptown section of NOLA (nearby to where I live). Since my client is from out of town, she hadn't really spent much time Uptown, and being the walking encyclopedia that he is regarding all things New Orleans, our attorney made the night delightful! Dinner was had at Lilette off Magazine and I highly recommend you stop by if you're in the area. The sticky toffee pudding and Nutella custard was, in a word, orgasmic.
After we finished dinner, we had a quick nightcap at the Columns Hotel on St Charles Avenue. What a treat! SO beautiful. Thursday was also spent in mediation, on a case we were, unfortunately, unable to settle. Thankfully, the memories of dinner the night before stayed with all throughout the tedious next day. I took some pics at the hotel, a place I hadn't been before September 30, 2009.
Many thanks to Brian and Mark, and Matthew for dinner Tuesday and Wednesday nights, respectively. Additional thanks to Matthew for all the hard work this past week.
Friday, October 2, 2009
They should put more meats on sticks....
Last Sunday was my first Alligator Festival in the sprawling town of Lulling, LA. If you don't happen to know where Lulling is, don't feel badly-neither do I!
I attended the fair with Shaun and Curtis and their kids, Savannah and Kyle (and Kyle's bff Corey). As soon as we got there, Kyle and Corey took off to do what young teenage boys will do (and what that is, I haven't the foggiest- - -never been a teenage boy before), leaving Savannah and I to ride the Festival rides.
I LOVE roller coasters, and always have. Unfortunately, though, these particular carnival rides were not exactly designed for someone 5'7". I have bruises on the tops of my thighs from trying to maneuver my legs out from under some of the safety bars! Savannah, who just turned 9 (see last post), rode everything with me, despite some serious reservations of the ride that hangs you completely upside down on multiple occasions. We had a great time, and neither one of us got sick (unlike Kyle!)!!
Got to see the end of one band, ate a cochon de lait po boy (pronounced: ko-shawn-de-lay), a carmel apple and some alligator (although not in that order) and got a nice redneck sunburn on my arms and chest. All-in-all, a delightful excursion and I stand by my former statement: they really should put more meats on sticks....who doesn't LOVE meat on a stick!?!?!
Didn't take many pics, but here are a few:
I attended the fair with Shaun and Curtis and their kids, Savannah and Kyle (and Kyle's bff Corey). As soon as we got there, Kyle and Corey took off to do what young teenage boys will do (and what that is, I haven't the foggiest- - -never been a teenage boy before), leaving Savannah and I to ride the Festival rides.
I LOVE roller coasters, and always have. Unfortunately, though, these particular carnival rides were not exactly designed for someone 5'7". I have bruises on the tops of my thighs from trying to maneuver my legs out from under some of the safety bars! Savannah, who just turned 9 (see last post), rode everything with me, despite some serious reservations of the ride that hangs you completely upside down on multiple occasions. We had a great time, and neither one of us got sick (unlike Kyle!)!!
Got to see the end of one band, ate a cochon de lait po boy (pronounced: ko-shawn-de-lay), a carmel apple and some alligator (although not in that order) and got a nice redneck sunburn on my arms and chest. All-in-all, a delightful excursion and I stand by my former statement: they really should put more meats on sticks....who doesn't LOVE meat on a stick!?!?!
Didn't take many pics, but here are a few:
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thank God I'm just Aunt Jackie/Miss Jackie
I just got back from my friend Shaun's daughter's 9th birthday party. Twelve 7-11 year old girls, screaming, running, laughing, all trying to talk over one another......WOW. My ears hurt.
Anyone who knows me knows I positively ADORE kids. They are so much fun and can be so inspiring. One of the more painful things about my divorce was having to leave my niece and nephew-when they're the kids of your ex's brother, its not often that you get to continue having a relationship. I loved Maia and Joseph, loved seeing who they were growing up to become, and will always have them in my thoughts. I am so grateful and thankful that I have my sister's daughter Brianna in my world. That precocious little girl is the light of my life and I wish I got to see her more frequently....a major drawback to living three states away.
While children are such a blessing, after tonight, I am again reminded how much I LOVE ONLY being Aunt Jackie (or Miss Jackie to the kids of all my friends). As Aunt Jackie, I get to spoil the kids rotten, play with them until they have no energy left, pump 'em full of cookies and soda, then happily return them to mom and dad! Aunt Jackie doesn't have to discipline or ever be the bad guy; Aunt Jackie is always there for support or advice, and Aunt Jackie exposes them to new and exciting music and culture, like The Jackson 5. Sorry about that Leanna-Lanie WILL stop singing ABC one of these days, I promise! Best of all, Aunt Jackie doesn't have to constantly clean up after messes made by wee ones-when I'm done, that's it!
I love children, and nothing about that will ever change. I'm really looking forward to starting my volunteer work at Children's Hospital of New Orleans next week and plan to devote as much of my spare time to the hospital as possible. Perhaps, one of these days, I'll find someone suitable to breed with, but until then, friends of mine who happen to be parents, please take note: I consider it not only my job but my duty to love your children, give them everything I possibly can (including Diet Coke/Sprite, brownies, cookies, and bubble gum) then hand them back over to you completely hyped up and totally punch drunk w/happiness!
Anyone who knows me knows I positively ADORE kids. They are so much fun and can be so inspiring. One of the more painful things about my divorce was having to leave my niece and nephew-when they're the kids of your ex's brother, its not often that you get to continue having a relationship. I loved Maia and Joseph, loved seeing who they were growing up to become, and will always have them in my thoughts. I am so grateful and thankful that I have my sister's daughter Brianna in my world. That precocious little girl is the light of my life and I wish I got to see her more frequently....a major drawback to living three states away.
While children are such a blessing, after tonight, I am again reminded how much I LOVE ONLY being Aunt Jackie (or Miss Jackie to the kids of all my friends). As Aunt Jackie, I get to spoil the kids rotten, play with them until they have no energy left, pump 'em full of cookies and soda, then happily return them to mom and dad! Aunt Jackie doesn't have to discipline or ever be the bad guy; Aunt Jackie is always there for support or advice, and Aunt Jackie exposes them to new and exciting music and culture, like The Jackson 5. Sorry about that Leanna-Lanie WILL stop singing ABC one of these days, I promise! Best of all, Aunt Jackie doesn't have to constantly clean up after messes made by wee ones-when I'm done, that's it!
I love children, and nothing about that will ever change. I'm really looking forward to starting my volunteer work at Children's Hospital of New Orleans next week and plan to devote as much of my spare time to the hospital as possible. Perhaps, one of these days, I'll find someone suitable to breed with, but until then, friends of mine who happen to be parents, please take note: I consider it not only my job but my duty to love your children, give them everything I possibly can (including Diet Coke/Sprite, brownies, cookies, and bubble gum) then hand them back over to you completely hyped up and totally punch drunk w/happiness!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I'm sorry!
I am always the first person to step up and admit when I'm wrong, when I've messed up, and I genuinely try to take responsibility for all my actions-good and bad. My recent antics (see the reference to Labor Day in the last post) have hurt a couple people, one person in particular. I have no idea if this person checks out the blog or not, and even though I've apologized profusely, I remain plagued by guilt compounded by an utter uncertainty of exactly what I did wrong. I've tried to live my whole life with few regrets, and so far I've done pretty good. Despite that, I've managed to add yet another tick to the regret column.
Living through my childhood and my failed marriage, I can certainly attest to the fact that there are always going to be ups and downs in every relationship. Sometimes the people you love are going to disappoint you, such is the reality of life and love and people. What makes us human is our ability to continue to love people through the pain, step up to the plate and make amends, and to forgive. A lesson I've had a hard time learning is that you not only have to learn to forgive those that hurt you, but also forgive yourself. Self-loathing gets you absolutely nowhere.
So, with the above in mind, I will say one last "I really am sorry" and purge my own sadness from my heart; I am human and I make mistakes. Since music has always held a huge influence in my life, I'll close w/a passage from one of my favorite songs:
You see time, time is our friend
cause for us there is no end
And all you gotta do is have a little faith in me
I said I will hold you up, I will hold you up
Your love gives me strength enough
So have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
Living through my childhood and my failed marriage, I can certainly attest to the fact that there are always going to be ups and downs in every relationship. Sometimes the people you love are going to disappoint you, such is the reality of life and love and people. What makes us human is our ability to continue to love people through the pain, step up to the plate and make amends, and to forgive. A lesson I've had a hard time learning is that you not only have to learn to forgive those that hurt you, but also forgive yourself. Self-loathing gets you absolutely nowhere.
So, with the above in mind, I will say one last "I really am sorry" and purge my own sadness from my heart; I am human and I make mistakes. Since music has always held a huge influence in my life, I'll close w/a passage from one of my favorite songs:
You see time, time is our friend
cause for us there is no end
And all you gotta do is have a little faith in me
I said I will hold you up, I will hold you up
Your love gives me strength enough
So have a little faith in me
Have a little faith in me
The Family Came and took NOLA by storm!
Mom, Beck, Brianna, and Trev all stopped in for a visit at the end of July. I never really realized how much I'd miss Mom, Becky, and Bre until I was an 8 hour drive away. I've missed Trevor like crazy for years, but being so far away from loved ones is just a sacrifice of the service man, so even though I cry like a banshee every time I have to send him off on a plane, I've learned to accept the pain. At least I didn't have to send him back to California in his fatigues this time...that always makes it much worse, like I'm sending my baby brother off to war.
I, unfortunately, couldn't take the whole week off, but the family was able to entertain themselves w/touristy things, plus, Trev and Mom built my computer while I was at the office, and for that, I'll always be grateful. I took them crabbing w/my friend Shaun and her family. They had a great time and I will forever be thankful to The Harris/Murray family for showing my fam such hospitality.
Mom had a difficult time w/the humidity (I guess I've just grown tolerant) and with as small as my apartment is, having one bathroom for 4 adults, after one week in only 450sq ft, I think we were all in need of some more space (and better air conditioning!). My family is crazy (and please don't take offense, cause I share the same blood), but I wouldn't have it any other way, and I'm so happy I got to see them all (esp Trevor before he gets deployed again this November).
Here are some pics:
I, unfortunately, couldn't take the whole week off, but the family was able to entertain themselves w/touristy things, plus, Trev and Mom built my computer while I was at the office, and for that, I'll always be grateful. I took them crabbing w/my friend Shaun and her family. They had a great time and I will forever be thankful to The Harris/Murray family for showing my fam such hospitality.
Mom had a difficult time w/the humidity (I guess I've just grown tolerant) and with as small as my apartment is, having one bathroom for 4 adults, after one week in only 450sq ft, I think we were all in need of some more space (and better air conditioning!). My family is crazy (and please don't take offense, cause I share the same blood), but I wouldn't have it any other way, and I'm so happy I got to see them all (esp Trevor before he gets deployed again this November).
Here are some pics:
Work, Shower, Rinse, Repeat
Haven't blogged in a couple weeks, mostly just cause nothing is going on. I think my friend Jennifer put it best when asked about her activities : "Work, Shower, Rinse, Repeat."
I told myself that I worked non-stop in Atlanta because I was just so busy, but I think the reality was I just didn't want to be at home dealing w/the painful collapse of my marriage. I've come to discover, however, that I really am a workaholic. So, aside from putting in the time at the office and being on Facebook continuously (thanks for whoever invented THAT!), I mostly just sleep and chill w/the domesticated beasts. I realize it's neither fun nor exciting, but it is the reality.
My sister and the baby (I'll always refer to her as the baby, despite how old she gets) came by for Labor Day. Aside from drinking so much I blacked out and can't remember more than half the night (NOT one of my finer moments), we had a good time. Thanks for taking care of me, sissy. We went to the beach w/some friends and their kids, which Brianna loved, and out on a boat to see coastal Mississippi and some of the destruction still remaining from Hurricane Katrina. I simply can't imagine how anyone lived through such destruction.
On a positive note, I'm starting volunteer work at Children's Hospital here in New Orleans very soon. Gotta get a TB test and then I should be set. I adore children and have been blessed to know so many wonderful little people (not midgets). Since I may never have any of my own, I thought it was time to start giving back to the wee ones that have touched my soul.
I'll keep you posted on how it goes!
I told myself that I worked non-stop in Atlanta because I was just so busy, but I think the reality was I just didn't want to be at home dealing w/the painful collapse of my marriage. I've come to discover, however, that I really am a workaholic. So, aside from putting in the time at the office and being on Facebook continuously (thanks for whoever invented THAT!), I mostly just sleep and chill w/the domesticated beasts. I realize it's neither fun nor exciting, but it is the reality.
My sister and the baby (I'll always refer to her as the baby, despite how old she gets) came by for Labor Day. Aside from drinking so much I blacked out and can't remember more than half the night (NOT one of my finer moments), we had a good time. Thanks for taking care of me, sissy. We went to the beach w/some friends and their kids, which Brianna loved, and out on a boat to see coastal Mississippi and some of the destruction still remaining from Hurricane Katrina. I simply can't imagine how anyone lived through such destruction.
On a positive note, I'm starting volunteer work at Children's Hospital here in New Orleans very soon. Gotta get a TB test and then I should be set. I adore children and have been blessed to know so many wonderful little people (not midgets). Since I may never have any of my own, I thought it was time to start giving back to the wee ones that have touched my soul.
I'll keep you posted on how it goes!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
A further thought...
Reasons why it's nice being single :
1. Cereal, it's what's for dinner (forget beef!).
2. I can sit around in whatever I want (case in point, right now, its the shirt I wore to the office, my underwear, and ballet flats).
3. I can go to bed whenever I so choose and not worry about disturbing someone.
3a. I get the WHOLE bed to myself!
3b. I don't have to listen to someone snore so loudly it rattles the paint from the walls.
4. I don't have to clean if I don't want to and I don't have to cook if I don't want to (see #1).
5. And this one should be obvious, I get to play Channel Commando all the time!
6. I don't have to talk about anything when I walk in the door-not my day, not politics, not family affairs. I can just be quiet, drink a beer, and decompress in peace.
I'm sure there are other things I could think of, but this is all I could come up w/off the top of my head and not completely sound like a bitter, cynical woman.
Now, if you'll excuse me, my big, comfy bed w/cool crisp sheets is calling my name. Good night, and big balls.
1. Cereal, it's what's for dinner (forget beef!).
2. I can sit around in whatever I want (case in point, right now, its the shirt I wore to the office, my underwear, and ballet flats).
3. I can go to bed whenever I so choose and not worry about disturbing someone.
3a. I get the WHOLE bed to myself!
3b. I don't have to listen to someone snore so loudly it rattles the paint from the walls.
4. I don't have to clean if I don't want to and I don't have to cook if I don't want to (see #1).
5. And this one should be obvious, I get to play Channel Commando all the time!
6. I don't have to talk about anything when I walk in the door-not my day, not politics, not family affairs. I can just be quiet, drink a beer, and decompress in peace.
I'm sure there are other things I could think of, but this is all I could come up w/off the top of my head and not completely sound like a bitter, cynical woman.
Now, if you'll excuse me, my big, comfy bed w/cool crisp sheets is calling my name. Good night, and big balls.
If this is what awaits me, I'll be happily single forever!
It was a Saturday night in June. As is now often the case, unless I've already made plans, I'd been lazily sitting around the house all day and had finally gotten up, cleaned the house, showered, and tossed in some laundry.
It was around 7:30pm, and I was starting to get a little hungry. My Turkish neighbor, Al, texted me and asked if he could come by and say hello to the cats (he cat sits for me when I have to go out of town). While I didn't really feel like any visitors, I hadn't seen Al in awhile, so I told him to come over. I told myself it was the neighborly thing to do.
Al came over, beer in hand (of course), and he sat down on my ottoman and we chatted whilst he visited w/Dallas and Levi (they LOVE him, btw). I was pretty famished by this time, having not eaten anything all day. Rather than be rude and tell him to leave because I was going out, I asked Al if he'd want to go out and get some food. After all, what's wrong w/sharing a meal w/a neighbor? I really wasn't planning on this being a date, but I know Al is kinda sweet on me, so why not? Al said he'd like to go and asked if I could wait for 15 minutes. I said sure, but told him to hurry.
Now, if you know anything about me, you know that when I get THAT hungry, I become rather mean. In fact, I think my ex-mother-in-law told me I could be an outright bitch when I'm hungry.....Nice. 15 minutes came and went, no Al. 20 minutes, 25 minutes, 30 MINUTES later, and he finally showed up. I think my comment to him was something like "You should NEVER keep a lady waiting." ....Hello pretentious brat (at least I can admit it!).
Al doesn't drive, not that he doesn't know how (or so he says), he just doesn't like to get behind the wheel. So, we hopped in the Volvo and headed down Magazine. I wanted wings so I took him to WOW-this bar/wing place down near me. There wasn't really anyone in the bar for a Saturday night, so we sat down immediately. That was where the pleasantries ended.
The waitress came over to take a simple drink order. Al couldn't decide what he wanted and asked her to come back.....She came back and he STILL didn't know what he wanted to drink! I ordered an Abita Amber draft and he finally just asked for the same thing. From here, the menu issues began. "What does he want?" "How hot is "hot" on the wing category?" "Am I gonna get wings?" Al must have looked at that menu for 20 minutes before making a decision. In the meantime, I told him, "I'm ordering an appetizer. What will you NOT eat?" Obviously, I didn't wanna get something the man wouldn't like! This spawned off into another 5 minutes of discussion. First he said chips and salsa. Well, unfortunately, the waitress was standing at the table when he said that, and as soon as he said "chips and salsa" she trotted off. I just assumed she was as exasperated by him as I was and was leaving to give him more time.
Eventually, Al decided he wanted fried pickles and fried mushrooms. Waitress came back, I placed the order and went ahead and ordered my food too. Al followed suit. While we're sitting there waiting for the apps, his critique began: "The floors are awfully dirty in here. Why can't they sweep?" "Look at the light fixture. That really needs to be cleaned." "Why aren't there more napkins on the table?" "This table cloth is sticky." "My silverware looks dirty." "The booths in here look like something from the Brady Bunch and what's up w/the strands of colored Christmas lights on the walls?" I finally told him he was in a bar and if he wanted some place clean, he shouldn't have chosen New Orleans as a place to live.
He was pretty loaded by this time so he turned the conversation to the Jews, Greeks, and Blacks. OK.....CHAPPY DONE! I sat there at the table looking at my neighbor thinking "My God when will this be over?!?!?" Around that time, the waitress brought out some chips and salsa. I asked her what it was and she said it was what he ordered.... "Ummm, okay..." We started nibbling. The man began double and triple dipping. "Hello, does proper etiquette mean ANYTHING to you?" When you barely know someone YOU DON'T DOUBLE DIP! I sat amazed, but it gets better, or worse, depending on how you're viewing the situation.
The waitress then brought out the fried pickles and the fried mushrooms, which would have been fine, if we hadn't already ordered wings and fries too! Ziggy Piggy! Al gobbled up the mushrooms amidst more complaining and a slew of offensive comments. The wings finally came and I just tried to get through them as fast as I could. Much to my surprise, the night got worse. As I was sucking down wings and chugging my beer, my neighbor, Al, does something so grotesque I was w/out speech..... The man blew his nose at the table. He proceeded to do this several times throughout what was left of the meal. And that was it for me.....CHECK!
The waitress brought the bill, just as Al wanted to toast to our first date. I rarely hold my tongue for anyone, so I pointedly told him this was NOT a date, and reached for the check. He asked why I didn't think it was a date, and as old school and cliche as this is going to sound, my response was "You're not paying. It's not a date." The bill, with THREE appetizers was $50 so he handed me a $20. I handed the book back to the waitress and asked her to process w/due haste.
On the way home, Al wanted to stop off at a new bar that's just opened up down the street from me, The Rum House. I, of course, said no, and drove us home. As I walked to my door, keys ALREADY in hand, he said we should definitely do this again. My response was a simple "no". He of course pushed for a more elaborate response, to which I replied "I have never, in my life, been at a table w/someone who complains about every little thing. You didn't stop complaining for one second and you couldn't make your mind up about ANYTHING!" Al was, thankfully, too drunk by this point to really comprehend what I was telling him, so I don't think I hurt his feelings....much.
Seriously, if the above is what awaits me in the dating pool, please, everyone, refrain from trying to set me up-ever.
It was around 7:30pm, and I was starting to get a little hungry. My Turkish neighbor, Al, texted me and asked if he could come by and say hello to the cats (he cat sits for me when I have to go out of town). While I didn't really feel like any visitors, I hadn't seen Al in awhile, so I told him to come over. I told myself it was the neighborly thing to do.
Al came over, beer in hand (of course), and he sat down on my ottoman and we chatted whilst he visited w/Dallas and Levi (they LOVE him, btw). I was pretty famished by this time, having not eaten anything all day. Rather than be rude and tell him to leave because I was going out, I asked Al if he'd want to go out and get some food. After all, what's wrong w/sharing a meal w/a neighbor? I really wasn't planning on this being a date, but I know Al is kinda sweet on me, so why not? Al said he'd like to go and asked if I could wait for 15 minutes. I said sure, but told him to hurry.
Now, if you know anything about me, you know that when I get THAT hungry, I become rather mean. In fact, I think my ex-mother-in-law told me I could be an outright bitch when I'm hungry.....Nice. 15 minutes came and went, no Al. 20 minutes, 25 minutes, 30 MINUTES later, and he finally showed up. I think my comment to him was something like "You should NEVER keep a lady waiting." ....Hello pretentious brat (at least I can admit it!).
Al doesn't drive, not that he doesn't know how (or so he says), he just doesn't like to get behind the wheel. So, we hopped in the Volvo and headed down Magazine. I wanted wings so I took him to WOW-this bar/wing place down near me. There wasn't really anyone in the bar for a Saturday night, so we sat down immediately. That was where the pleasantries ended.
The waitress came over to take a simple drink order. Al couldn't decide what he wanted and asked her to come back.....She came back and he STILL didn't know what he wanted to drink! I ordered an Abita Amber draft and he finally just asked for the same thing. From here, the menu issues began. "What does he want?" "How hot is "hot" on the wing category?" "Am I gonna get wings?" Al must have looked at that menu for 20 minutes before making a decision. In the meantime, I told him, "I'm ordering an appetizer. What will you NOT eat?" Obviously, I didn't wanna get something the man wouldn't like! This spawned off into another 5 minutes of discussion. First he said chips and salsa. Well, unfortunately, the waitress was standing at the table when he said that, and as soon as he said "chips and salsa" she trotted off. I just assumed she was as exasperated by him as I was and was leaving to give him more time.
Eventually, Al decided he wanted fried pickles and fried mushrooms. Waitress came back, I placed the order and went ahead and ordered my food too. Al followed suit. While we're sitting there waiting for the apps, his critique began: "The floors are awfully dirty in here. Why can't they sweep?" "Look at the light fixture. That really needs to be cleaned." "Why aren't there more napkins on the table?" "This table cloth is sticky." "My silverware looks dirty." "The booths in here look like something from the Brady Bunch and what's up w/the strands of colored Christmas lights on the walls?" I finally told him he was in a bar and if he wanted some place clean, he shouldn't have chosen New Orleans as a place to live.
He was pretty loaded by this time so he turned the conversation to the Jews, Greeks, and Blacks. OK.....CHAPPY DONE! I sat there at the table looking at my neighbor thinking "My God when will this be over?!?!?" Around that time, the waitress brought out some chips and salsa. I asked her what it was and she said it was what he ordered.... "Ummm, okay..." We started nibbling. The man began double and triple dipping. "Hello, does proper etiquette mean ANYTHING to you?" When you barely know someone YOU DON'T DOUBLE DIP! I sat amazed, but it gets better, or worse, depending on how you're viewing the situation.
The waitress then brought out the fried pickles and the fried mushrooms, which would have been fine, if we hadn't already ordered wings and fries too! Ziggy Piggy! Al gobbled up the mushrooms amidst more complaining and a slew of offensive comments. The wings finally came and I just tried to get through them as fast as I could. Much to my surprise, the night got worse. As I was sucking down wings and chugging my beer, my neighbor, Al, does something so grotesque I was w/out speech..... The man blew his nose at the table. He proceeded to do this several times throughout what was left of the meal. And that was it for me.....CHECK!
The waitress brought the bill, just as Al wanted to toast to our first date. I rarely hold my tongue for anyone, so I pointedly told him this was NOT a date, and reached for the check. He asked why I didn't think it was a date, and as old school and cliche as this is going to sound, my response was "You're not paying. It's not a date." The bill, with THREE appetizers was $50 so he handed me a $20. I handed the book back to the waitress and asked her to process w/due haste.
On the way home, Al wanted to stop off at a new bar that's just opened up down the street from me, The Rum House. I, of course, said no, and drove us home. As I walked to my door, keys ALREADY in hand, he said we should definitely do this again. My response was a simple "no". He of course pushed for a more elaborate response, to which I replied "I have never, in my life, been at a table w/someone who complains about every little thing. You didn't stop complaining for one second and you couldn't make your mind up about ANYTHING!" Al was, thankfully, too drunk by this point to really comprehend what I was telling him, so I don't think I hurt his feelings....much.
Seriously, if the above is what awaits me in the dating pool, please, everyone, refrain from trying to set me up-ever.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Come here, my pretty. You shall be my dinner!
When my my friend Shaun invited me to go crabbing for the first time, I jumped at the opportunity. I love crabmeat; who wouldn't love catching the little buggers? It wasn't of course until after I said "yes" that she told me I'd need to meet up with them at 6am that I hesitated. "Aaaallllright. I'll be there." I don't think I even went to bed that Friday night, just dozed on the couch until Shaun called around 5am. Quick brush of the teeth, wash of the face, and change of the clothes, and I was out the door.
I met Shaun, Curtis, and the kids down by the Spillway at some kind of nature park thing the schools sometimes bring the kids to. This was early June, and by 6am, it was already at 85% humidity and the day was just warming up. The heat index reached 110 that day, if I recall. Shaun's kids are already pros at this-at 8 and 13 years old! Here they are trying to teach clumsy, uncoordinated, accident-prone Miss Jackie how to crab.....it really is a shame there aren't pictures to go along w/this story.
We crabbed off this peninsula for, I don't know, maybe an hour and a half. We caught perhaps 4 crabs. The water was simply too shallow and as soon as you pulled the crab up, they saw you, realized the jig was up, and took off!
After a rather unsuccessful time, Curtis took us to someplace underneath the freeway off Hwy 51. Now, I'm not exceptionally keen on eating anything that's been exposed to chemicals and highway water runoff, so I was a bit concerned. Other people were there, though, and when I said something, Shaun's husband just laughed at me: crabs are bottom feeders anyway, so what should it matter if oil and petroleum products have passed through their lungs?
It wasn't until we got to this location that we started pulling in the crabs left and right! Seemed like every time we dropped a chicken neck down, a crab was taking off w/it! (Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that part: you crab w/chicken necks tied to strings and slowly pull the crabs into waiting nets-kinda dirty, but a whole lotta fun!). We ended up catching 5 or 6 dozen total.
After cleaning up and resting (we were all exhausted from getting up so early and being out in the heat so long), Curtis got to boiling the crabs. Aside from being a complete pain to crack and eat, those crabs were the tastiest things I've ever eaten (mmmm....petroleum flavored crabmeat ----j/k)!
I've never had an experience like my first crabbing adventure. I've gone fishing plenty of times, but I simply pulled the fish from the water and dropped it into a bucket. When you've never done everything from start to finish, it's very surreal: to take a living creature out of its environment, cook it 6 hours later, and eat it shortly thereafter.....there's something primordial about it.
Wrapped up in the moment on the dock off Hwy 51, wanting to recognize the price that was being paid, I said a small "thanks" to Mr. Crab, the little pokey creature that gave it's life so that I might have tasty crabcakes.
I met Shaun, Curtis, and the kids down by the Spillway at some kind of nature park thing the schools sometimes bring the kids to. This was early June, and by 6am, it was already at 85% humidity and the day was just warming up. The heat index reached 110 that day, if I recall. Shaun's kids are already pros at this-at 8 and 13 years old! Here they are trying to teach clumsy, uncoordinated, accident-prone Miss Jackie how to crab.....it really is a shame there aren't pictures to go along w/this story.
We crabbed off this peninsula for, I don't know, maybe an hour and a half. We caught perhaps 4 crabs. The water was simply too shallow and as soon as you pulled the crab up, they saw you, realized the jig was up, and took off!
After a rather unsuccessful time, Curtis took us to someplace underneath the freeway off Hwy 51. Now, I'm not exceptionally keen on eating anything that's been exposed to chemicals and highway water runoff, so I was a bit concerned. Other people were there, though, and when I said something, Shaun's husband just laughed at me: crabs are bottom feeders anyway, so what should it matter if oil and petroleum products have passed through their lungs?
It wasn't until we got to this location that we started pulling in the crabs left and right! Seemed like every time we dropped a chicken neck down, a crab was taking off w/it! (Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that part: you crab w/chicken necks tied to strings and slowly pull the crabs into waiting nets-kinda dirty, but a whole lotta fun!). We ended up catching 5 or 6 dozen total.
After cleaning up and resting (we were all exhausted from getting up so early and being out in the heat so long), Curtis got to boiling the crabs. Aside from being a complete pain to crack and eat, those crabs were the tastiest things I've ever eaten (mmmm....petroleum flavored crabmeat ----j/k)!
I've never had an experience like my first crabbing adventure. I've gone fishing plenty of times, but I simply pulled the fish from the water and dropped it into a bucket. When you've never done everything from start to finish, it's very surreal: to take a living creature out of its environment, cook it 6 hours later, and eat it shortly thereafter.....there's something primordial about it.
Wrapped up in the moment on the dock off Hwy 51, wanting to recognize the price that was being paid, I said a small "thanks" to Mr. Crab, the little pokey creature that gave it's life so that I might have tasty crabcakes.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Rainbow Flag Brigade
The end of May brought Memorial Day. Since I hadn't seen a very good friend (w/the exception of my last business trip to Atlanta in April), we decided to spend the long holiday weekend in Pensacola Beach. Neither Audrey (my friend) nor I had been to Pensacola before, so we thought it would be an exciting trip.
My job was to make the hotel arrangements. After scouring the Internet for hours, I finally found a site that would allow me to book the reservation and NOT have to pay for the entire stay up front (we were splitting the cost of the room). The Bay Beach Inn looked to be clean and comfortable and was certainly affordable. I booked the room and hoped the place was as pleasant in reality as it appeared online.
To know AJ is to love her, and to love her means you love that she procrastinates about almost everything. Bearing that in mind, and knowing Pensacola is less than a 3 hour drive from my house, I figured I could leave around 1 and we'd arrive at the same time. People never cease to amaze me, though, and by the time I'd left the house, Audrey was already in Pensacola. No problem; she'd go ahead and get the room, rest up some, and we'd be ready to party that night.
About 30 minutes went by with no call from Audrey, so I assumed she was in the room resting and relaxing. I should have known, of course, that nothing in my life can EVER be so simple. I eventually got a call from my very stressed out friend telling me the hotel didn't have our reservation and that they were booked solid through the weekend. AJ went on to tell me that the hotel THOUGHT they might still be able to accommodate us, though. Ok, great, crisis averted. The hotel gave Audrey a key and told her to go up to a room. Thinking, as any normal person would, that the hotel clerk was sending her to an available room, AJ opened the door, and walked in to find the room occupado!
Quick trip down to the front desk, again another key was given. AJ walked to the next room-same DAMN thing-someone was already in the room! The third time must have been the charm, for although she walked into an empty room, it wasn't the room either of us thought we'd be getting. I booked a room w/a balcony, but there was no balcony to be had.
Audrey conveyd all this to me on the phone and said she was just going to rest after driving for 8 hours and let me deal w/it when I got there. That was fine by me-I have no problem arguing anyone. Before I get off the phone, AJ said there was something else neither of us had anticipated for our vacation: It was Gay Pride Weekend.....I laughed and told her I'd see her in a couple of hours.
All-in-all, it only took me 3 hours to get to Pensacola from NOLA. As soon as I'd arrived, I called AJ from the parking lot to let her know I was there and began to walk toward the room. You must know that I have no problem w/gay folks, straight folks, tran folks, or any variation in between; everybody deserves to be happy in this world and whatever makes you happy, I want for you. That being said, had I known ahead of time what I'd be walking into, I'd have dressed a little differently. A golfer cap, layered tank, ripped jeans, flip flops and coral jewelry didn't exactly scream heterosexual. Nevertheless, I smiled and laughed to myself as several other hotel patrons checked me out while walking to the room.
Dealing with the hotel staff was pointless. They informed me they didn't use hotels.com to book reservations so it didn't matter if I'd booked the room ahead of time or not. After several back and forths, we opted to stay in the one available room they'd put us in. Saturday night we attempted to socialize at the hotel and have drinks in their "club", ummmm....no. They served us hunch punch and played the most wretched music.
As if Audrey and I didn't already look like a couple, the NBA playoffs were on and Audrey is a huge basketball fan. So, w/nothing else to do and no men to flirt with, we took to watching the tv in the bar. I loathe all things basketball, so I was people watching more than anything. I will say, as far as my first Gay Pride Weekend experience was concerned, the Pensacola event seemed to have a very large, diverse showing. The organizers should be proud.
While watching tv, this incredibly drunk, and rather disheveled looking, man came up to us and was trying (emphasis on TRYING) to seduce Audrey. He was doing a little dance and even tried to drop it down. Of course, when he dropped, he couldn't get back up, but ya had to give him pointers for trying! I know I was supposed to be Audrey's wing-woman but I was laughing SO hard at this ridiculous man, I think a little pee came out! We've all made fools of ourselves when drinking, but this was something new for the record books!
The rest of the trip was rather uneventful. The weather was horrible except for one day and that one day was spent at the beach, which was fabulous-HUGE waves, cool water, porcelain colored sand, light breeze. It really was a shame the whole trip didn't afford us such glorious weather. All-in-all, Pensacola was a bit too family oriented for Audrey and I, but we both enjoyed the chance to see each other and relax away from the office for a few days.
I didn't get any pictures from the trip to Pensacola, because there really wasn't anything to take photos of except a whole lotta rainbow flags, our less than desirable accommodations, and poor weather, but here's a photo of AJ and I from last year.
My job was to make the hotel arrangements. After scouring the Internet for hours, I finally found a site that would allow me to book the reservation and NOT have to pay for the entire stay up front (we were splitting the cost of the room). The Bay Beach Inn looked to be clean and comfortable and was certainly affordable. I booked the room and hoped the place was as pleasant in reality as it appeared online.
To know AJ is to love her, and to love her means you love that she procrastinates about almost everything. Bearing that in mind, and knowing Pensacola is less than a 3 hour drive from my house, I figured I could leave around 1 and we'd arrive at the same time. People never cease to amaze me, though, and by the time I'd left the house, Audrey was already in Pensacola. No problem; she'd go ahead and get the room, rest up some, and we'd be ready to party that night.
About 30 minutes went by with no call from Audrey, so I assumed she was in the room resting and relaxing. I should have known, of course, that nothing in my life can EVER be so simple. I eventually got a call from my very stressed out friend telling me the hotel didn't have our reservation and that they were booked solid through the weekend. AJ went on to tell me that the hotel THOUGHT they might still be able to accommodate us, though. Ok, great, crisis averted. The hotel gave Audrey a key and told her to go up to a room. Thinking, as any normal person would, that the hotel clerk was sending her to an available room, AJ opened the door, and walked in to find the room occupado!
Quick trip down to the front desk, again another key was given. AJ walked to the next room-same DAMN thing-someone was already in the room! The third time must have been the charm, for although she walked into an empty room, it wasn't the room either of us thought we'd be getting. I booked a room w/a balcony, but there was no balcony to be had.
Audrey conveyd all this to me on the phone and said she was just going to rest after driving for 8 hours and let me deal w/it when I got there. That was fine by me-I have no problem arguing anyone. Before I get off the phone, AJ said there was something else neither of us had anticipated for our vacation: It was Gay Pride Weekend.....I laughed and told her I'd see her in a couple of hours.
All-in-all, it only took me 3 hours to get to Pensacola from NOLA. As soon as I'd arrived, I called AJ from the parking lot to let her know I was there and began to walk toward the room. You must know that I have no problem w/gay folks, straight folks, tran folks, or any variation in between; everybody deserves to be happy in this world and whatever makes you happy, I want for you. That being said, had I known ahead of time what I'd be walking into, I'd have dressed a little differently. A golfer cap, layered tank, ripped jeans, flip flops and coral jewelry didn't exactly scream heterosexual. Nevertheless, I smiled and laughed to myself as several other hotel patrons checked me out while walking to the room.
Dealing with the hotel staff was pointless. They informed me they didn't use hotels.com to book reservations so it didn't matter if I'd booked the room ahead of time or not. After several back and forths, we opted to stay in the one available room they'd put us in. Saturday night we attempted to socialize at the hotel and have drinks in their "club", ummmm....no. They served us hunch punch and played the most wretched music.
As if Audrey and I didn't already look like a couple, the NBA playoffs were on and Audrey is a huge basketball fan. So, w/nothing else to do and no men to flirt with, we took to watching the tv in the bar. I loathe all things basketball, so I was people watching more than anything. I will say, as far as my first Gay Pride Weekend experience was concerned, the Pensacola event seemed to have a very large, diverse showing. The organizers should be proud.
While watching tv, this incredibly drunk, and rather disheveled looking, man came up to us and was trying (emphasis on TRYING) to seduce Audrey. He was doing a little dance and even tried to drop it down. Of course, when he dropped, he couldn't get back up, but ya had to give him pointers for trying! I know I was supposed to be Audrey's wing-woman but I was laughing SO hard at this ridiculous man, I think a little pee came out! We've all made fools of ourselves when drinking, but this was something new for the record books!
The rest of the trip was rather uneventful. The weather was horrible except for one day and that one day was spent at the beach, which was fabulous-HUGE waves, cool water, porcelain colored sand, light breeze. It really was a shame the whole trip didn't afford us such glorious weather. All-in-all, Pensacola was a bit too family oriented for Audrey and I, but we both enjoyed the chance to see each other and relax away from the office for a few days.
I didn't get any pictures from the trip to Pensacola, because there really wasn't anything to take photos of except a whole lotta rainbow flags, our less than desirable accommodations, and poor weather, but here's a photo of AJ and I from last year.
Friday, August 7, 2009
My Beautiful Bouncer
The second night Amy and I were down in the Quarter at the end of April, I met someone. Not one of the countless strangers and tourists I've met thus far; I met a LOCAL.
This local was the bouncer at one of the bars Ames and I checked out before we settled in again at the Famous Door (I wanna say it was the B Street Club, but honestly, they all run together after awhile). As Amy and I were walking by that fateful night, he asked us if we wanted to go up to the balcony. A innocent enough question and since Amy had never done the balcony thing, I said sure! We walked through the bar, up the staircase to the second floor and out onto the balcony. Amy and I tossed beads at folks and I showed her what I learned during Mardi Gras (which did NOT include raising your shirt!)......we had a good time.
When throwing beads got boring, we opted to leave. While she was using the bathroom upstairs, the bouncer came back up. I engaged him in some conversation, found out that he is active duty Coast Guard, originally from Florida, and he lives right down the street from my apartment. Amy came back out around that time, and we left.
Amy's visit ended the next day, but all the while, I couldn't stop thinking about the guy I met when she was here. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm nothing if not incredibly direct-I always go after what I want and I usually don't make any apologies along the way. After one weekend of rest, I decided that I was gonna go BACK down to the Quarter, find this bouncer, and get to know him a little more-CARPE DIEM!
That Saturday in May, after catching a cab to the Quarter, I walked into the bar, a little disappointed that I didn't see the bouncer at the door. I proceeded straight around the musician and up the stairs to the second floor. Much to my surprise, the bouncer was sitting at the bar on the top floor, having a drink! I ordered a drink, made some eye contact and smiled, and walked out to the balcony to people watch. After awhile, I came back in and sat down and struck up a conversation. He remembered me as soon as we started talking.
His name is Casey. He lives around the corner from me on Felicity, w/his cousin and his cousin's boyfriend (who also works at the bar). His parents, like so many, are divorced and he has a younger sister in college in North Carolina-she plays volleyball, I think. Casey is in the Coast Guard, looks dashing in his uniform (God Bless the man who invented camera and internet phones), and was a swimmer in school (which has now caused shoulder problems for him). He loves monkeys and motorcycles and owns a "rice burner" (don't ask me what that expression means, and if it's offensive in any capacity to anyone who might be reading this, you have my sincere apologies).
Aside from all the fascinating things I learned about Casey, his life, and how he got to this point, you must know he is, by far and away, the prettiest guy I have ever seen up close! I'm not using "pretty" to imply effeminate; Casey was, and is, stunning. At 6'4" 260lbs (I think....maybe it was 240-can't remember), the man is huge! He has hair that's such a dark chestnut, it's almost black, with eyes the color of the ocean sky after a storm-before the front moves through. He has insanely long, dark lashes, oh, and he's 23.....
Casey wasn't working that Saturday night I went back up to the bar solo-he just happened to be hanging out. While my interlude with him was relatively brief in relation to this vast spectrum that we call life, I continue to look back fondly upon the time I spent with Casey. I honestly believe you learn something from every person who's path you cross in life; what you do with that lesson is up to you. From Casey, I learned that I deserve something exciting and thrilling and beautiful in this world that makes me smile. I continue to carry that lesson with me to this day, and I know it will remain with me always.
This local was the bouncer at one of the bars Ames and I checked out before we settled in again at the Famous Door (I wanna say it was the B Street Club, but honestly, they all run together after awhile). As Amy and I were walking by that fateful night, he asked us if we wanted to go up to the balcony. A innocent enough question and since Amy had never done the balcony thing, I said sure! We walked through the bar, up the staircase to the second floor and out onto the balcony. Amy and I tossed beads at folks and I showed her what I learned during Mardi Gras (which did NOT include raising your shirt!)......we had a good time.
When throwing beads got boring, we opted to leave. While she was using the bathroom upstairs, the bouncer came back up. I engaged him in some conversation, found out that he is active duty Coast Guard, originally from Florida, and he lives right down the street from my apartment. Amy came back out around that time, and we left.
Amy's visit ended the next day, but all the while, I couldn't stop thinking about the guy I met when she was here. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm nothing if not incredibly direct-I always go after what I want and I usually don't make any apologies along the way. After one weekend of rest, I decided that I was gonna go BACK down to the Quarter, find this bouncer, and get to know him a little more-CARPE DIEM!
That Saturday in May, after catching a cab to the Quarter, I walked into the bar, a little disappointed that I didn't see the bouncer at the door. I proceeded straight around the musician and up the stairs to the second floor. Much to my surprise, the bouncer was sitting at the bar on the top floor, having a drink! I ordered a drink, made some eye contact and smiled, and walked out to the balcony to people watch. After awhile, I came back in and sat down and struck up a conversation. He remembered me as soon as we started talking.
His name is Casey. He lives around the corner from me on Felicity, w/his cousin and his cousin's boyfriend (who also works at the bar). His parents, like so many, are divorced and he has a younger sister in college in North Carolina-she plays volleyball, I think. Casey is in the Coast Guard, looks dashing in his uniform (God Bless the man who invented camera and internet phones), and was a swimmer in school (which has now caused shoulder problems for him). He loves monkeys and motorcycles and owns a "rice burner" (don't ask me what that expression means, and if it's offensive in any capacity to anyone who might be reading this, you have my sincere apologies).
Aside from all the fascinating things I learned about Casey, his life, and how he got to this point, you must know he is, by far and away, the prettiest guy I have ever seen up close! I'm not using "pretty" to imply effeminate; Casey was, and is, stunning. At 6'4" 260lbs (I think....maybe it was 240-can't remember), the man is huge! He has hair that's such a dark chestnut, it's almost black, with eyes the color of the ocean sky after a storm-before the front moves through. He has insanely long, dark lashes, oh, and he's 23.....
Casey wasn't working that Saturday night I went back up to the bar solo-he just happened to be hanging out. While my interlude with him was relatively brief in relation to this vast spectrum that we call life, I continue to look back fondly upon the time I spent with Casey. I honestly believe you learn something from every person who's path you cross in life; what you do with that lesson is up to you. From Casey, I learned that I deserve something exciting and thrilling and beautiful in this world that makes me smile. I continue to carry that lesson with me to this day, and I know it will remain with me always.
Welcome to Jazz Fest!
So, we're now up to April 2009 in my back-dated posts. April brought (aside from the taxes I haven't yet finished) one of my nearest and dearest friends for a visit. FINALLY I got someone to come out and see me in the Big Easy! Jazz Fest made a perfect excuse to get a visitor! This will be a VERY long post, so be forewarned. It covers the whole whole visit......
Amy was a sight for sore eyes. I don't think anyone can realize exactly how much you miss the people you love until you up and leave 'em all and are separated for several months. After being late to the airport because of traffic, I met up w/Ames at the curb of Louis Armstrong International around 9:30am, loaded her 60lb suitcase into the car, and we were off.
On our way back to my apartment, I HAD to stop at Maurice's Bakery in Metairie for a keuglehoff. A keuglehoff is a cake, made in a bundt pan, kinda similar to angle food, but much more moist, a completely different texture, and infinitely sweeter. Maurice's makes every flavor of keuglehoff you can imagine, but on this occasion, chocolate chip was our poison. Mmmmm....chocolate.
After Maurice's, I drove down Carrollton to the famous Camellia Grill. The atmosphere is, hhmmmm, unique (think Waffle House w/out the booths), and the food is superb, w/omelets that stretch from one end of the plate to the next. Since it was still brunch, Amy and I each had an omelet, and by the time we got done and we got back to the house (after a dash to the store for booze), we were both ready for a nap!
Naps were had and then it was time to party! 2 hours of showering & grooming later, and we were off to Dickie Brennan's Steak House down in the Quarter. We ordered a "barbecue shrimp" appetizer along w/steaks, some sides to share, and salads. I think Ames was a little leery of ordering the barbecue shrimp, but we did anyway and I just smiled to myself. I knew she was leery because, for most of the rest of the world, "barbecue" implies a thick, tomato and molasses based sauce usually poured over chicken or ribs. That's not the case in New Orleans. Here, the term "barbecue shrimp" means "shrimp cooked in butter, Worcestershire sauce, LOTS of garlic, and spices." The shrimp are usually cooked w/the heads and shells on, and when they're cooked correctly, are some of the best things you'll EVER put in your mouth!
When they brought the appetizer out, Amy gave me this look like "what in the sam-hill is this?!?!?" I'm sure that look mostly had to do w/the fact that they served the shrimp w/the heads and whiskers looking up and out at you, but the expression was nonetheless, priceless. The food at Dickie Brennan's, although pricey, was phenomenal. She and I both were so full afterward that I wasn't sure whether we'd enjoy the Quarter that night....silly me!
Once dinner was over, we ventured out into the night. Frivolity was rampant and the Quarter was hopping, even on a Thursday night. We stopped at the Famous Door and that is where we stayed until around 3AM. I'll get into my love for all things at the FD in later posts, but let me just say, I've never had such a good time. Even if I look like a tourist every, single, time I go down there, I will NOT care. The guys in the house band have SO much energy and charisma that one cannot help but party like a rock star (for lack of a more descriptive phrase).
Friday was spent napping (you have to build up to the lifestyle down here w/drinking and partying all night and then getting back up after only a few hours sleep) and shopping at the mall.
Saturday was Jazz Fest! I'm told that it almost always rains during JF, but when we went, it was hotter than the sun. W/no place to escape from the heat, you can quickly reach critical status if you don't stay hydrated. We sat through Ivan Neville and the Dumpstafunk, and I'm sure got a contact high from all the folks blazin' up around us. The food was okay, but honestly, I was a bit disappointed. In addition to daiquiris, beer, and water, Ames had a shrimp po-boy, some strawberry lemonade, and shrimp taquitos (I think), while I had some fried boudin balls and crawfish monica. The only act I REALLY wanted to see was James Taylor and we could get absolutely NOWHERE near the stage. We couldn't even get close to the jumbo-tron. We ended up getting James Taylor coming at us from the front, and Erykah Badu coming at us from the back, and that was just wrong.
Once James Taylor's set was over, that was it for the day, so we left among a throng of people. Trying to get a cab would have taken at least two hours, so we started walking down Esplanade. Thank God for GPS on Amy's phone! We finally got to a gas station on a corner and took a rest, all the while I was frantically calling and trying to reach Omar the cabbie (who has taken quite a shine to me, but that's another story for MUCH later). There were some cops in the parking lot and one of them jokingly asked me if I had a license to use the phone. My response, albeit a bit paraphrased here, went something like this: "Well, officer, now that you mention it, I don't. BUT, my friend and I could REALLY use a ride. I'm new in town, my friend is visiting for Jazz Fest and we can't get a cab. I don't suppose you could drop us off Uptown, could you? We'll even ride in the back!" ......You're shocked, I know. Don't be.
The officer thought about my proposal for a couple of seconds, and then declined, but it was right about then that I was able to reach Omar. We had to split a cab w/4 other people, Amy and I in the front seat. The folks we shared the cab w/said something about Omar telling them that his "girlfriend" was getting in the cab.....ummmm, no. Amy and I were so thankful to get a ride home, though, that I let the comment slide w/out checking him.
Saturday night, more partying. Once we got home, we showered, dressed, dined and headed back down to the Quarter. We checked out a few other places (one of which lead to my meeting Casey....), but, ultimately, we ended up back at the Famous Door. We closed down Bourbon Street that night, my friends, and ended up back at the house around 5:00-5:3030ish. Amy's flight left around 6pm, and when I dropped her off at the terminal, I said goodbye to my dear, hungover friend, and closed the chapter on another adventure in the life of Chappy.
Jazz Fest, groovin out to the sweet sounds of James Taylor
Chillin w/the Dumpstafunk
Behind the stoners at the 'Funk (notice what's in the foreground...)
Munchin on some tasty grindage
More w/the 'Funk...
Ames and Me lookin like clones before we head down to the Quarter on the first night
Amy was a sight for sore eyes. I don't think anyone can realize exactly how much you miss the people you love until you up and leave 'em all and are separated for several months. After being late to the airport because of traffic, I met up w/Ames at the curb of Louis Armstrong International around 9:30am, loaded her 60lb suitcase into the car, and we were off.
On our way back to my apartment, I HAD to stop at Maurice's Bakery in Metairie for a keuglehoff. A keuglehoff is a cake, made in a bundt pan, kinda similar to angle food, but much more moist, a completely different texture, and infinitely sweeter. Maurice's makes every flavor of keuglehoff you can imagine, but on this occasion, chocolate chip was our poison. Mmmmm....chocolate.
After Maurice's, I drove down Carrollton to the famous Camellia Grill. The atmosphere is, hhmmmm, unique (think Waffle House w/out the booths), and the food is superb, w/omelets that stretch from one end of the plate to the next. Since it was still brunch, Amy and I each had an omelet, and by the time we got done and we got back to the house (after a dash to the store for booze), we were both ready for a nap!
Naps were had and then it was time to party! 2 hours of showering & grooming later, and we were off to Dickie Brennan's Steak House down in the Quarter. We ordered a "barbecue shrimp" appetizer along w/steaks, some sides to share, and salads. I think Ames was a little leery of ordering the barbecue shrimp, but we did anyway and I just smiled to myself. I knew she was leery because, for most of the rest of the world, "barbecue" implies a thick, tomato and molasses based sauce usually poured over chicken or ribs. That's not the case in New Orleans. Here, the term "barbecue shrimp" means "shrimp cooked in butter, Worcestershire sauce, LOTS of garlic, and spices." The shrimp are usually cooked w/the heads and shells on, and when they're cooked correctly, are some of the best things you'll EVER put in your mouth!
When they brought the appetizer out, Amy gave me this look like "what in the sam-hill is this?!?!?" I'm sure that look mostly had to do w/the fact that they served the shrimp w/the heads and whiskers looking up and out at you, but the expression was nonetheless, priceless. The food at Dickie Brennan's, although pricey, was phenomenal. She and I both were so full afterward that I wasn't sure whether we'd enjoy the Quarter that night....silly me!
Once dinner was over, we ventured out into the night. Frivolity was rampant and the Quarter was hopping, even on a Thursday night. We stopped at the Famous Door and that is where we stayed until around 3AM. I'll get into my love for all things at the FD in later posts, but let me just say, I've never had such a good time. Even if I look like a tourist every, single, time I go down there, I will NOT care. The guys in the house band have SO much energy and charisma that one cannot help but party like a rock star (for lack of a more descriptive phrase).
Friday was spent napping (you have to build up to the lifestyle down here w/drinking and partying all night and then getting back up after only a few hours sleep) and shopping at the mall.
Saturday was Jazz Fest! I'm told that it almost always rains during JF, but when we went, it was hotter than the sun. W/no place to escape from the heat, you can quickly reach critical status if you don't stay hydrated. We sat through Ivan Neville and the Dumpstafunk, and I'm sure got a contact high from all the folks blazin' up around us. The food was okay, but honestly, I was a bit disappointed. In addition to daiquiris, beer, and water, Ames had a shrimp po-boy, some strawberry lemonade, and shrimp taquitos (I think), while I had some fried boudin balls and crawfish monica. The only act I REALLY wanted to see was James Taylor and we could get absolutely NOWHERE near the stage. We couldn't even get close to the jumbo-tron. We ended up getting James Taylor coming at us from the front, and Erykah Badu coming at us from the back, and that was just wrong.
Once James Taylor's set was over, that was it for the day, so we left among a throng of people. Trying to get a cab would have taken at least two hours, so we started walking down Esplanade. Thank God for GPS on Amy's phone! We finally got to a gas station on a corner and took a rest, all the while I was frantically calling and trying to reach Omar the cabbie (who has taken quite a shine to me, but that's another story for MUCH later). There were some cops in the parking lot and one of them jokingly asked me if I had a license to use the phone. My response, albeit a bit paraphrased here, went something like this: "Well, officer, now that you mention it, I don't. BUT, my friend and I could REALLY use a ride. I'm new in town, my friend is visiting for Jazz Fest and we can't get a cab. I don't suppose you could drop us off Uptown, could you? We'll even ride in the back!" ......You're shocked, I know. Don't be.
The officer thought about my proposal for a couple of seconds, and then declined, but it was right about then that I was able to reach Omar. We had to split a cab w/4 other people, Amy and I in the front seat. The folks we shared the cab w/said something about Omar telling them that his "girlfriend" was getting in the cab.....ummmm, no. Amy and I were so thankful to get a ride home, though, that I let the comment slide w/out checking him.
Saturday night, more partying. Once we got home, we showered, dressed, dined and headed back down to the Quarter. We checked out a few other places (one of which lead to my meeting Casey....), but, ultimately, we ended up back at the Famous Door. We closed down Bourbon Street that night, my friends, and ended up back at the house around 5:00-5:3030ish. Amy's flight left around 6pm, and when I dropped her off at the terminal, I said goodbye to my dear, hungover friend, and closed the chapter on another adventure in the life of Chappy.
Jazz Fest, groovin out to the sweet sounds of James Taylor
Chillin w/the Dumpstafunk
Behind the stoners at the 'Funk (notice what's in the foreground...)
Munchin on some tasty grindage
More w/the 'Funk...
Ames and Me lookin like clones before we head down to the Quarter on the first night
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Kiss me, I'm Irish!
Aaaah, yes. St Patrick's Day. A day to celebrate my Irish heritage and drink beer with my brethren. I like to claim I'm 100% Irish, Lord knows I'm pale, freckled, and light-eyed enough to get away with claiming loyalty to the mother-land; when you look at Mom and her side of the family, though, you can clearly see I'm a mud-blood, and then the charade is over.
I really lucked out w/where I settled in New Orleans. The area of town that I live in, although considered Uptown, is more specifically called the Lower Garden District. The LGD abuts the Irish Channel. A block, yes, only a block I say, from my house is Parasol's-headquarters for the St Patty's Day celebration at Third and Constance Streets.
March 17, 2009, happened to be on a Tuesday. The Saturday prior to St Patrick's Day is when the parades roll. That Saturday happened to be rainy and stormy so the parade coming down Magazine, and right past my balcony, was substantially delayed. This parade was like none I'd seen before; completely disorganized, chaotic, and racy. The men, in their kilts carrying flowers, stopped to give the ladies on the street a kiss and a rose. Random strangers who felt like joining the parade just hopped in line and walked the route, drunk people just fell over in the streets and folks kept walking.....a very different experience than Mardi Gras.
Since the cops already had all of Magazine and most of Third Streets closed down, rather than get pummeled by drunks on the street, considering the perfect view I had anyway, I opted to stand out on my balcony waving and snapping pictures. In this parade, however, while they still toss the occasional bead, the people on the floats toss food! I was informed of this ahead of time so I was well prepared. They tossed cabbage (for what would a day of the Irish be w/out cabbage!) and carrots, onions, I think some of them tossed potatoes. It was a riot! I tried to get a little of everything, but only ended up w/some carrots-it takes a lot of upper body strength to hurl a cabbage from a moving float to the second story of a house! As it was, one of the girls in my office (Tracey from one of my prior Mardi Gras posts) caught 2 whole sacks of cabbage and she gave me two heads. I made the best stuffed cabbage rolls on the planet! Mmmmm...cabbage.
Third Street on the other side of Magazine remained closed the entire day and into the night. After the parades were over, my Turkish neighbor Alper came over and told me to get my shoes on-we were going down to the party at Parasol's. Out into the drizzle we headed simply to stand on a corner, getting wet, drinking beer and talking. While we were standing and talking (and Al chain smoking), I had occasion to people watch. Drunks are nothing new to me down here and frankly, I find them amusing. One guy in a kilt, w/nothing but the goods God gave him underneath, fell over 10' from me and began licking a woman's muddy toes through the thong of her flip-flop. Gag. The cops? Flirting w/all the ladies and clearly enjoying the festivities more than, in my opinion, a police officer should. I didn't hear about any acts of violence breaking out, though, and all seemed to be having a good time, so I guess that's the important part.
Once it got dark, Al suggested that we walk down the road to a couple of bars. Eh, a bar is a bar is a bar. We went, more beer, yada yada yada, got home and did laundry on Sunday.
Much to my surprise, come Tuesday, after being in the office for all of two hours, I'm asked by my co-workers as to WHY I'm at the office. "Ummmm, working?" "Leave, go home right now!" they say. I learn that the police are shutting off Third Street (which means I'll have NOWHERE to park) and 4,000 people are expected to be at Parasol's by 10am.....I, naively, thought since they had the parades on Saturday that everything was done. Silly me! If there's an excuse to drink and get out of work here in NOLA, the people will come.
I raced back home, just in time to get a decent place to park on the street, and I got inside my crib before the massive influx of people heading to Parasol's hit. There's a bar directly across the street from me too and they were wall to wall. The weather was positively immaculate that morning and afternoon, and was a great day for drinking crappy green beer from a keg!
Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
More from the Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
I really lucked out w/where I settled in New Orleans. The area of town that I live in, although considered Uptown, is more specifically called the Lower Garden District. The LGD abuts the Irish Channel. A block, yes, only a block I say, from my house is Parasol's-headquarters for the St Patty's Day celebration at Third and Constance Streets.
March 17, 2009, happened to be on a Tuesday. The Saturday prior to St Patrick's Day is when the parades roll. That Saturday happened to be rainy and stormy so the parade coming down Magazine, and right past my balcony, was substantially delayed. This parade was like none I'd seen before; completely disorganized, chaotic, and racy. The men, in their kilts carrying flowers, stopped to give the ladies on the street a kiss and a rose. Random strangers who felt like joining the parade just hopped in line and walked the route, drunk people just fell over in the streets and folks kept walking.....a very different experience than Mardi Gras.
Since the cops already had all of Magazine and most of Third Streets closed down, rather than get pummeled by drunks on the street, considering the perfect view I had anyway, I opted to stand out on my balcony waving and snapping pictures. In this parade, however, while they still toss the occasional bead, the people on the floats toss food! I was informed of this ahead of time so I was well prepared. They tossed cabbage (for what would a day of the Irish be w/out cabbage!) and carrots, onions, I think some of them tossed potatoes. It was a riot! I tried to get a little of everything, but only ended up w/some carrots-it takes a lot of upper body strength to hurl a cabbage from a moving float to the second story of a house! As it was, one of the girls in my office (Tracey from one of my prior Mardi Gras posts) caught 2 whole sacks of cabbage and she gave me two heads. I made the best stuffed cabbage rolls on the planet! Mmmmm...cabbage.
Third Street on the other side of Magazine remained closed the entire day and into the night. After the parades were over, my Turkish neighbor Alper came over and told me to get my shoes on-we were going down to the party at Parasol's. Out into the drizzle we headed simply to stand on a corner, getting wet, drinking beer and talking. While we were standing and talking (and Al chain smoking), I had occasion to people watch. Drunks are nothing new to me down here and frankly, I find them amusing. One guy in a kilt, w/nothing but the goods God gave him underneath, fell over 10' from me and began licking a woman's muddy toes through the thong of her flip-flop. Gag. The cops? Flirting w/all the ladies and clearly enjoying the festivities more than, in my opinion, a police officer should. I didn't hear about any acts of violence breaking out, though, and all seemed to be having a good time, so I guess that's the important part.
Once it got dark, Al suggested that we walk down the road to a couple of bars. Eh, a bar is a bar is a bar. We went, more beer, yada yada yada, got home and did laundry on Sunday.
Much to my surprise, come Tuesday, after being in the office for all of two hours, I'm asked by my co-workers as to WHY I'm at the office. "Ummmm, working?" "Leave, go home right now!" they say. I learn that the police are shutting off Third Street (which means I'll have NOWHERE to park) and 4,000 people are expected to be at Parasol's by 10am.....I, naively, thought since they had the parades on Saturday that everything was done. Silly me! If there's an excuse to drink and get out of work here in NOLA, the people will come.
I raced back home, just in time to get a decent place to park on the street, and I got inside my crib before the massive influx of people heading to Parasol's hit. There's a bar directly across the street from me too and they were wall to wall. The weather was positively immaculate that morning and afternoon, and was a great day for drinking crappy green beer from a keg!
Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
St Patrick's Day w/4000 people
More from the Parade the Saturday before 03/17/2009
I'm sorry, you want me to eat WHAT?!?!?!
So, shortly after the fun of Mardi Gras died down, a friend and business associate just happened to be turning 40. Now, you might ask "What does one who lives in Louisiana do to celebrate turning 40 at the beginning of March?" The answer to that question would be a crawfish boil!
If you don't happen to know what a crawfish is, I'm gonna let you Wikipedia that stuff 'cause I just don't have the time to explain. While you certainly CAN eat crawfish anytime of the year, they're really only fresh and soft enough to peel for a very short window in the year. After that, I'm told the water gets too hot and they bury down in the lake waters/mud.
Back to the party....I drive about an hour+ to get to the location where the party is being held (a very nice house w/a pool and well manicured yard). Since, at this point, I've only been in town for a little over three months, there are few people I know at this shindig, which really wasn't a problem for me socially, I've never had a hard time meeting new people. The problem comes later.... Thankfully, though, my friend and his wife who invited me to the Bacchus Ball were at the party.
As you would expect at a party, folks were milling about, drinking and talking. The kids were running too and fro. Merriment abounded. It was at this point that they brought the first batch of crawfish out. I'd never seen anything like it! The men carried this massive pot over to two long tables and began dumping out cooked crawfish, potatoes, mushrooms, garlic, and corn. After the food was dumped, people closed in on the table and got to work. The only thing I can equate this initial scene to is that of an animal trough, w/all animals descending upon the trough to get some tasty vitels.
Now, I try to get in there and see what this is all about, when I realize there's a problem: I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO EAT THESE THINGS! I've eaten crawfish plenty, but the tails have already been peeled and are usually in a sauce or a fondue. Before me on this table were cherry red mudbugs w/full on shells and whisker-like things and eyeballs....How in the WORLD am I supposed to eat this? My salvation came from my friend and his wife who, although they laughed at me plenty, graciously showed me how to peel and eat the crawfish. I think it took me like 3 minutes just to peel the first one on my own, and during those three minutes, they must have peeled a dozen! If my friends hadn't helped, I woulda driven back to New Orleans pretty hungry that night!
The food was excellent-spicy but not so hot my lips were on fire-washed down positively perfect w/an ice cold beer! I wasn't able to get any pics of my actual first time, but I did get some of my second time at my friend Shaun's house for Mother's Day. I might add, now that I'm no longer a novice to the whole crawfish peeling experience, Shaun's husband Curtis' crawfish are the best I've ever had, and to this day, while I'll pinch a tail just fine, I am NOT sucking a head!
If you don't happen to know what a crawfish is, I'm gonna let you Wikipedia that stuff 'cause I just don't have the time to explain. While you certainly CAN eat crawfish anytime of the year, they're really only fresh and soft enough to peel for a very short window in the year. After that, I'm told the water gets too hot and they bury down in the lake waters/mud.
Back to the party....I drive about an hour+ to get to the location where the party is being held (a very nice house w/a pool and well manicured yard). Since, at this point, I've only been in town for a little over three months, there are few people I know at this shindig, which really wasn't a problem for me socially, I've never had a hard time meeting new people. The problem comes later.... Thankfully, though, my friend and his wife who invited me to the Bacchus Ball were at the party.
As you would expect at a party, folks were milling about, drinking and talking. The kids were running too and fro. Merriment abounded. It was at this point that they brought the first batch of crawfish out. I'd never seen anything like it! The men carried this massive pot over to two long tables and began dumping out cooked crawfish, potatoes, mushrooms, garlic, and corn. After the food was dumped, people closed in on the table and got to work. The only thing I can equate this initial scene to is that of an animal trough, w/all animals descending upon the trough to get some tasty vitels.
Now, I try to get in there and see what this is all about, when I realize there's a problem: I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO EAT THESE THINGS! I've eaten crawfish plenty, but the tails have already been peeled and are usually in a sauce or a fondue. Before me on this table were cherry red mudbugs w/full on shells and whisker-like things and eyeballs....How in the WORLD am I supposed to eat this? My salvation came from my friend and his wife who, although they laughed at me plenty, graciously showed me how to peel and eat the crawfish. I think it took me like 3 minutes just to peel the first one on my own, and during those three minutes, they must have peeled a dozen! If my friends hadn't helped, I woulda driven back to New Orleans pretty hungry that night!
The food was excellent-spicy but not so hot my lips were on fire-washed down positively perfect w/an ice cold beer! I wasn't able to get any pics of my actual first time, but I did get some of my second time at my friend Shaun's house for Mother's Day. I might add, now that I'm no longer a novice to the whole crawfish peeling experience, Shaun's husband Curtis' crawfish are the best I've ever had, and to this day, while I'll pinch a tail just fine, I am NOT sucking a head!
I'm back in the saddle again!
It's been what? 6 months? After nonstop harassing from friends and family, I'm back BABY! The blog is up and running again thanks to my mother and brother who bought me a computer while they were in town visiting last week. THANKS GUYS!!! I'll never be able to repay your generosity!
There is so much to catch you all up on with all of my adventures over the last couple of months, from my very first crawfish boil to my first quasi-date post-divorce (yikes is about all I can say to that). Please be patient because it's gonna take some time to get everything in-you all know how incredibly verbose I can be at times! I'm told Mom and Trev loaded all the pics from my camera onto this machine already, though, so perhaps it'll go faster than I anticipate.....
HERE WE GO!!!!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Culmination of Mardi Gras
Fat Tuesday. The City shuts down-literally. Our office is closed and almost all businesses are closed for the day. I couldn't leave my apartment to come to work even I'd wanted to because all of the streets are closed (one of the disadvantages of living smack in the middle of Uptown).
Some clown woke me up at 6:30 in the morning w/a speaker blaring Mardi Gras Mambo right at my apartment window. Chappy was NOT happy. The Zulu parade started at 8am. That one, I wasn't makin'. No way on God's green earth. They give out really neat, hand-painted coconuts, but I simply could not force myself to rise from the comfort and coolness of my cozy sheets and down-mattress cover. I turned on the news to parade coverage, since, thanks to that ass-hat with the Mardi Gras Mambo, I was now awake. Dozed for another 3 hours and finally crawled out of bed, only because the cats were whining to be fed. Hopped in the shower and called Linda to see where she was planning on being on St Charles for the day's festivities. Began the ritual that is my hair and make-up. Still no word from Linda. Dressed and finally a text message from Linda saying she was on the neutral ground at the corner of Felicity and St Charles. No need to bring anything, just come.
Where she was really wouldn't have been THAT far of a walk, maybe like 2 miles or so, but since I knew I'd be drinking by that time, I didn't want to have to walk that far home, I'd much rather drive.........(come on, that should have at least made you smile a little!). Finally found a corner to park on, and despite the fact I was likely to get ticketed, I parked anyway. Walked over to find Linda and Matilda and their families amidst more people than I've ever seen in my life. Finally get to them and chilled. Beer, lots of food, and crazy folks all surrounded me. My view of the parade was obstructed by two men who should NOT be shirtless-one had a vest made of hair, the other had a bigger beer gut than I do. Oh, and their friend was wearing yellow panties on the outside of black cheerleader shorts and a t-shirt that had something to do with rednecks. What do the panties say, you ask? "Happy Mardi Gras" DEElightful!
Linda and Matilda and their family and friends have to be some of the most hospitable people you'll ever meet. Linda kept pouring beer down my throat, literally handing me beer after beer after beer (that's a GOOD woman!), and Matty kept making sure I'd had more than enough to eat. The spread these folks had-WOW! I was in Heaven. I love soul food something awful, and the food they had?!?!? Make you wanna slap yo momma (and the actually had a can of seasoning called "Slap Yo Momma!" on the table). I ate everything except spaghetti, which was kinda odd for a barbecue. Ribs, chicken, turkey necks boiled w/potatoes and corn, butter beans w/ham hocks and okra, cornbread, and for good measure, I even had a salad. Don't want my cholesterol to get too high! :)
I had to go purchase some sunscreen because with as pale as I am, I burn so easily. The only one annoyance was having children in the tent next to us, despite police warning them to stop, throw those fire cap/popper things and one of them flew up, hit me in the arm and the butt. I was not amused. Unfortunately, 6 or 7 people got shot, one block over from where my street intersects St Charles. It was gang related violence but that still doesn't make it any nicer to hear.
After the parades, I helped the ladies clean up and pack up their car while Matty mixed me some kind of cocktail that had Vodka and Mango in it. Walked back to my car and found, shockingly, that I hadn't been ticketed. Drove home, cleaned up, then down to the Quarter, by myself.....AGAIN, for the balcony party I had an invitation for.
Balcony party fun! I loved tossing beads and didn't see nearly as much skin and acts of lewd behavior that everyone warned me of. In fact, I didn't see any lewd behavior. I did see a guy get arrested by a mounty, though, and that was very entertaining! He slapped a lady cop's horse on the butt, the horse reared, and the lady and horse took off after him, all the while trampling folks in the path. The mountys swarmed and took the guy down. All very amusing. I met some new people and hung out with them for a spell, and I was at home and in bed by 1am. As far as rowdy times go, Mardi Gras day itself was fairly insignificant.
Pics follow, and oh, my hair is STILL pink. If you know of a way to get the color out, please share because I SO don't wanna be pink for another 4 months until it all grows out!
The Aftermath (looking down St. Charles toward my house):
Linda (purple) Matilda(seated) box o' wine (on the table)
The backside of the man and his friend blocking my view:
Me at the end of the night from the balcony party:
Some clown woke me up at 6:30 in the morning w/a speaker blaring Mardi Gras Mambo right at my apartment window. Chappy was NOT happy. The Zulu parade started at 8am. That one, I wasn't makin'. No way on God's green earth. They give out really neat, hand-painted coconuts, but I simply could not force myself to rise from the comfort and coolness of my cozy sheets and down-mattress cover. I turned on the news to parade coverage, since, thanks to that ass-hat with the Mardi Gras Mambo, I was now awake. Dozed for another 3 hours and finally crawled out of bed, only because the cats were whining to be fed. Hopped in the shower and called Linda to see where she was planning on being on St Charles for the day's festivities. Began the ritual that is my hair and make-up. Still no word from Linda. Dressed and finally a text message from Linda saying she was on the neutral ground at the corner of Felicity and St Charles. No need to bring anything, just come.
Where she was really wouldn't have been THAT far of a walk, maybe like 2 miles or so, but since I knew I'd be drinking by that time, I didn't want to have to walk that far home, I'd much rather drive.........(come on, that should have at least made you smile a little!). Finally found a corner to park on, and despite the fact I was likely to get ticketed, I parked anyway. Walked over to find Linda and Matilda and their families amidst more people than I've ever seen in my life. Finally get to them and chilled. Beer, lots of food, and crazy folks all surrounded me. My view of the parade was obstructed by two men who should NOT be shirtless-one had a vest made of hair, the other had a bigger beer gut than I do. Oh, and their friend was wearing yellow panties on the outside of black cheerleader shorts and a t-shirt that had something to do with rednecks. What do the panties say, you ask? "Happy Mardi Gras" DEElightful!
Linda and Matilda and their family and friends have to be some of the most hospitable people you'll ever meet. Linda kept pouring beer down my throat, literally handing me beer after beer after beer (that's a GOOD woman!), and Matty kept making sure I'd had more than enough to eat. The spread these folks had-WOW! I was in Heaven. I love soul food something awful, and the food they had?!?!? Make you wanna slap yo momma (and the actually had a can of seasoning called "Slap Yo Momma!" on the table). I ate everything except spaghetti, which was kinda odd for a barbecue. Ribs, chicken, turkey necks boiled w/potatoes and corn, butter beans w/ham hocks and okra, cornbread, and for good measure, I even had a salad. Don't want my cholesterol to get too high! :)
I had to go purchase some sunscreen because with as pale as I am, I burn so easily. The only one annoyance was having children in the tent next to us, despite police warning them to stop, throw those fire cap/popper things and one of them flew up, hit me in the arm and the butt. I was not amused. Unfortunately, 6 or 7 people got shot, one block over from where my street intersects St Charles. It was gang related violence but that still doesn't make it any nicer to hear.
After the parades, I helped the ladies clean up and pack up their car while Matty mixed me some kind of cocktail that had Vodka and Mango in it. Walked back to my car and found, shockingly, that I hadn't been ticketed. Drove home, cleaned up, then down to the Quarter, by myself.....AGAIN, for the balcony party I had an invitation for.
Balcony party fun! I loved tossing beads and didn't see nearly as much skin and acts of lewd behavior that everyone warned me of. In fact, I didn't see any lewd behavior. I did see a guy get arrested by a mounty, though, and that was very entertaining! He slapped a lady cop's horse on the butt, the horse reared, and the lady and horse took off after him, all the while trampling folks in the path. The mountys swarmed and took the guy down. All very amusing. I met some new people and hung out with them for a spell, and I was at home and in bed by 1am. As far as rowdy times go, Mardi Gras day itself was fairly insignificant.
Pics follow, and oh, my hair is STILL pink. If you know of a way to get the color out, please share because I SO don't wanna be pink for another 4 months until it all grows out!
The Aftermath (looking down St. Charles toward my house):
Linda (purple) Matilda(seated) box o' wine (on the table)
The backside of the man and his friend blocking my view:
Me at the end of the night from the balcony party:
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