Well, I can't think of anything else to say, so......

That's how #3 son regularly ends his phone calls to me -- "Well, Mom. I can't think of anything else to say, so I guess I'll say good-bye."

It makes me laugh everytime. So blunt that child of mine young man.

Bless his ever-loving heart, he's now living with four females. !! I know most of the calls he makes are when my daughter has told him -- J., go call Mom. On many of those calls, he mentions what he's cooking for the girls, or how he's vacuumed the house, or hung bookshelves. Today I heard him asking if they wanted him to brew some coffee.

Somewhere down the road, someone's going to get a well-trained mate.

Every man a king......

....and every woman a queen.

Yes, ma'am. Today, everyone's royalty. If you doubt it -- just look around. Is there anyone not adorned with at least one strand of jewels?

Today our world sparkles with beads, beads, and more beads. Beads glistening on cars and from trees. Beads clicking on Fido and Fluffy as they prance by struttin' their stuff.

Tomorrow it will all be over. But, never fear. For many months to come, all you'll need to do is look up as you walk or drive along and there's a good chance you'll spot a sparkling treasure dangling from a tree branch or a light post. The sparkle of a stray strand of pearls or emerals or rubies that were thrown too high for up-stretched hands to catch at the time.

And....no one will bother to retrieve the strand of precious stones. They will leave them in place for all who pass by to enjoy and remember. Remember that next year it'll happen all over again.

Happy Mardi Gras, y'all!

Once upon a time......

Once upon a time, during a Mardi Gras many moons ago, when my darling daughter "A" was in Brownies, her troop joined with several other troops to parade on a bright, sunny, chilly Saturday.

For months they planned, built floats, constructed costumes, gathered beads and throws, giggled, gossiped, wiggled, dreamed, and basically -- drove us parents crazy. By parade day they were READY to get it on! -- or so they thought.

Somewhere along the way, this parade had taken on a life of its own. The original parade route had been changed to another neighborhood -- one of the largest in the city. Several other groups had joined. Bands had been added! The parade we ended up with was an entirely different animal from the one we started with

And....somewhere along way, we parents the troop leaders had failed to inform our sweet little giggly, wiggly Brownies that they would be riding in a semi-mega parade instead of the family-friendly little parade they were expecting. I do remember A wondering why I was buying beads by the gross....

In the end, the girls were surprised, but not a bit intimidated by the size of the beast/parade. I don't know whose eyes sparkled the brightest -- those throwing the beads or those catching the beads.

That sweet memory came to mind tonight while watching the local news and seeing all the children parading in their school parades.

It took me years to convince my kids that Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the Rose Bowl Parade were legit because -- nobody threw anything.

That's what you get for living in a place that throws a parade at the drop of a hat.

Maybe it's time for a new pair of glasses?

So....I'm trying to train my daughter's cat to stay the heck OFF my sofa because......well, for a variety of reasons.

So....when I see Cassie-the-cat on the furniture, I rustle a plastic grocery bag and she scoots to her pillow. ....I'm not mistreating her perverse little kitty a$$, just making it possible for her and me to coexist in the same house -- given my allergies.

So....this morning when I see a black blob curled up on the sofa, I grab a plastic bag and start making noise with it. That's how I started my morning. Shaking a plastic Target bag over a pair of folded black sweatpants.

Cassie-the-cat was standing behind me -- and I know in my heart she was laughing her little kitty a$$ off.

Happy Hearts, Kisses, Hugs & Candy Day!

Have a wonderful Valentine's Day, everyone!

If your Valentine is not near, or if you're sans Valentine this year, treat yourself to something wonderfully gooey -- chocolate, pizza....

Or maybe something salty and crunchy, like....Garrett popcorn. That's what I sent my kids in North Carolina. (Wish I could have afforded to send some to myself.)

Whatever, be good to yourself and to someone else.

Reflexive pronouns

My daughter (A) called to tell me she'd sent me files of the correspondence they were sending a lawyer re the house in MS -- which has water problems that the builder isn't in a hurry to fix. Which means the house is on the market but not selling because potential buyers are concerned about the puddles in the yard. ....Go figure.

So...."A" asks me to tell her what I think about what they've written. I immediately sensed a trap. The last time she asked me to read (and reflect upon) what she'd written, she was just starting college and taking freshman English. Thinking she wanted me to actually be truthful....I read her theme and told her what I thought she needed to correct. Big mistake!

After she listened to my suggested corrections (which she quickly and totally disregarded), she turned in her paper -- as is/was. As time passed (and she was speaking to me again), I asked her how she'd done on her first paper. Not good, she said.

It turned out that A couldn't understand why her teacher didn't appreciate the fun tone of the paper. All I could say was, "Oh, darlin'. Get used to it. English papers are never suppose to be enjoyable to read or write. It they are -- rest assured, you've done something wrong."

Fast foward to today. Should I have said anything about the misuse of "myself?" (I'm pretty good at spotting mistakes like that. ....Not so good at avoiding the same mistakes....)

I guess I'll find out when she calls or emails. Or....maybe she won't call or email for awhile....

Did you know......

Immediately after Katrina, most of the people I came in contact with were horrified by what had happened to (and in) New Orleans. Even if they weren't fans of New Orleans, they were struck by the problems the storm's aftermath made apparent to the world and were eager to discuss ways to help rebuild a better, stronger city.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long until some people began hesitantly asking why a city like New Orleans should be rebuilt. And....often when that question was asked, another person would say something like -- oh, i'm so glad you asked that so i didn't have to. And then another person or two would murmur in agreement.

In the early days, those people would usually shut-up if you asked them to at least wait to ask that question until the dead had been found and mourned. As time's passed, however, I think the attitude behind the question is in danger of growing. Why should we rebuild New Orleans?

I wonder if those people have any idea that:

"Home ownership

Black people are less likely than the general population to own their own homes, but home ownership in the Lower Ninth Ward was more prevalent than in either New Orleans as a whole or among Blacks generally. If the government refuses to help the uninsured residents of the Lower Ninth Ward rebuild, it will have destroyed what was actually a shining example of Bush's often touted "ownership society."

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"Birthplace & Place of residence five years ago

The United States is generally a mobile society; people move quite frequently. Louisiana, New Orleans and the Lower Ninth Ward are exceptions to that rule. Despite all the social ills in Louisiana and New Orleans, residents had deep roots and were invested in their communities."

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"Education

Residents of New Orleans and of Louisiana are more likely to lack a high school education than residents of the United States as a whole. But New Orleans residents are more likely to have a college education than residents of either the state of Louisiana or the entire country.

However, New Orleans did not invest in all its communities equally. Forty percent of the adult residents of the Lower Ninth Ward lack a high school diploma or GED."

Click Here for Entire Article

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" Residents say the idea that tearing down standing homes (in the Lower Ninth Ward) is necessary is a ruse. City officials and their allies in the development community, assert neighborhood leaders, have been eying the Lower Ninth Ward for upscale redevelopment for years.

Mistrust Amid The Mud
A tour of the ward provides ample evidence for why developers might be interested. The national press, you recall, described the Lower Ninth Ward as ramshackle and poor. But that’s not the full story.

Before the two hurricanes, the Lower Ninth was — and still is — a mix of finely-carpentered shotgun cottages and bungalows, with brick homes and an occasional larger Victorian fitted along a fine grain of interlocking streets. The comfortable neighborly community provided the pedestrian-friendly connections that minimize the need for car ownership. Mass transit was within walking distance.

Home ownership is close to 60 per cent. Homes, handed down through the generations, are often mortgage-free. Many residents bought or built an additional dwelling for their mom, aunt, dad, or son. They invested in their homes and the neighborhood the same way wealthier people invested in the stock market. Many families own more than one property. Scores of damaged homes are not only clearly repairable but had recently been fixed up or were in the process.

Fats Domino Lives Here Still
No, this is not the “poverty-stricken” Lower Ninth Ward depicted by public officials and TV commentators. Modest income yes. Minimum wage jobs yes. But countless chefs from the French Quarter live here, along with restaurant and hotel workers who make the tourist industry function. Harrah’s casino employees live here and so do civil servants who work in City Hall and are among the professionals who make up this working class neighborhood. Dockworkers and other people who earn their keep at the New Orleans port live here too.

Most notably, the Lower Ninth is the area where known and unknown musicians learned their art from birth. Fats Domino, who’s in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, came from here and still lives in a modest yellow-and-black house, with his ex-wife living in a house he bought for her next door. This is the kind of place people choose to live out their life, even when they can afford to move."

Click Here for Entire Article

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So, it's not for the thugs and drug-dealers the press is so eager to showcase that New Orleans should be rebuilt. It should be rebuilt for the hard-working New Orleanians for whom it's home -- even if they are now living in (....pick a state, almost any state).

Way too much food!

In the last four days, we've had Mexican food, Lebanese food, Indian food, and SEA-food. ....Lots of each kind. Each day I wake up thinking I can't possibly eat anymore food of any kind that day. But....somehow, for some reason, I do.


I hate when I get in cycles like this -- so out of control. So, this morning when I woke up, I swore I would really watch what I ate -- Weight Watchers point counting. I got busy early and it kept my mind off eating. Until....J calls and tells me not to worry about cooking because he was bringing leftover Chinese.

merde!

Some people shouldn't be allowed to own iPods

As I shimmied down the driveway on my way to the mailbox (to the beat of Abba's "Dancing Queen")....that's the conclusion I came to.

I stick those ear buds in my ears and go to another world. What's with that?

Even though most of the neighborhood was out to witness my antics (because it was one of the only sunny days we've had in weeks), I was actually more embarrassed that I was listening to ABBA, for god's sakes! ....Of course, no one but me knew of my music choice.

Damn J for giving me that iPod for Christmas!

Depression

I started writing this blog post several times last week, only to find myself hitting delete because I couldn't find the words needed to convey my feelings. But all through the week I kept hearing the topic mentioned in different ways, so I'll give it a try one more time.

Last Tuesday, while driving to the dentist, I had WWL on the radio. They were talking about the free tent-style medical clinic that had been set up in New Orleans east the previous weekend and was continuing through last week. People started lining up at 3 a.m. for a chance to visit a doctor or dentist. Hearing about all the people in so much need was heartbreaking to me. But I also learned some other important facts that really need to be made known.

We keep hearing that what happened to New Orleans was a disaster, and that's true, but somehow saying it was a disaster isn't enough. As ridiculous as it may sound, New Orleans is in situation akin to Europe's after WWll. NOLA state of affairs needs much, much more than any state government can handle -- especially the corrupt, inept government of such a poor state as Louisiana. I know we'd scream bloody hell if the feds or military stepped in, but it's more than we can handle.

Here are some of the things I heard on the WWL interview with one of the doctors working with the free clinic in NOLA:

The storm created a group of people he called the new-poor. These are people who had homes, jobs and insurance before Katrina. Now they have none of these. No hospital has been reopened in New Orleans east. No hospital will open in New Orleans east becase of the reduced population and the fact that the people living there now are mostly uninsured.

The population in post-Katrina New Orleans is less than half pre-Katrina numbers, yet the death rate in New Orleans has increased by 48%.

The amount of water pouring out of broken pipes, valves and hydrants in New Orleans is down by about half what it was immediately after Hurricane Katrina, but still adds up to 40 million to 50 million gallons a day.

After the interview, the hosts of the radio program were talking about problems they and the city were facing. One of the guys said in a bemused tone of voice that people were dying of depression. The other host murmured in agreement. This reminded me of something a friend told me. He goes to NOLA regularly on business. Last month we were talking and he mentioned that when he's in coffee shops and cafes, he still notices people burst into tears for no apparent reason.

And then, this weekend, this story comes out.
Click Here
It's about depression in children displaced by Katrina. Tens of thousands of children. Following is the first paragraph:

"NEW ORLEANS — As many as 35,000 children — one-third of those across the Gulf Coast still displaced by Hurricane Katrina — are having major problems with mental health, behavior or school, a new study indicates."

People, something needs to be done. Pardon my French, but....America lost an entire fuckin' city. There needs to be a concerted effort to rebuild it and get its citizens back home. NOLA's local government can't do it alone. Louisiana's state government can't do it alone. We need more than money from the federal government. We need some get-er-done attitudes like the military. It scares me to say we need the military itself, but we need some kind of WPA-ish program down here.

We need a leader to take charge, devise a plan, and implement the plan. We need focus. Does NOLA need to be federalized? Can it be federalized? Would federalization just result in carpetbagging? I don't know. But for the sake of so many children, something needs to be done.