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Besides being awakened at the wee hours to see if I knew a judge who could get a friend of a friend out of Central Lockup – the day started brightly – I love sleeping with the windows open and breathing real air.

Rode my bike uptown to work out and then over to Ricca’s to get hinges for all the rest of the doors being hung at the LaLa. No brass hinges – they were all under water and they said it would take at least a few weeks to polish them and get them up to snuff. So got the iron hinges – 28 of them – and they were so heavy they made me list and then eventually the box fell through the bag and so I had to put the box down my tight bike shorts and hold them to my stomach as I drove them to the LaLa.

Half the doors will have iron, half have the old brass, and god knows I still need to find a metal door knob for the metal door upstairs that has caused so much angst amongst K and S.

L, man of mystery, recommended changing out all the hardware on the doors and that is definitely on the list – but right now it’s on the “manana” list. BTW – speaking of man of mystery, my horoscope this morning said this – (btw these horoscopes are getting more and more esoteric):

“Life is more intense as impulsive Mars entered mysterious Scorpio yesterday along with the Sun, and today sensual Venus joins the emotional dance. This signifies a shift of power from the obvious realms of diplomacy and negotiation (Libra) into the deeper and more hidden world of Scorpio.”

Not even sure what that means, for me anyway, but what caught my eye is that Scorpio is deemed mysterious – much like man of mystery – who is a Scorpio – hmmm – and also its public knowledge that yesterday “the realms of diplomacy and negotiation” certainly elluded me.

La di da – it is a beautiful day today and the week is only going to get better. The siding is almost done on the addition. The shower wall is just about built. The metal door may need an overhang because it doesn’t appear to be as waterproof as it should. M is there painting. C’s phone is disconnected so I can’t get in touch with him to fix some of the shower tiles. P has been MIA since he was thinking he was going to get rich from the LRA (Louisiana Recovery Authority) but S thinks he will be sorely disappointed and be back on the job shortly – he is painting the exterior.

J came by yesterday and fixed the rusty nail streaks along the large mahogany window frames in the front. And he polished up the wood again so they look good as new.

K apologized for being an asshole. I apologized for being a bitch.

There it is. Another day in Wonderland, RachelLand, LaLaLand.

Over here in RachelLand, we have a good time, yeah. IMing with my writer friend R earlier, he was cottoning to the whole fuck off notion and had tickled me so I was giggling for a while after – then later IMing with a colleague who had read my blog on telling people to fuck off and she said she had such a long list to tell – then she started making me belly laugh.

In RachelLand, no one is humorless and if they are, they’re kicked out of RachelLand – those are the rules and we in our tiny world will tolerate no insubordination.

G called from the Big Apple telling me stories of cutting a swatch off her Calvin Kleins to show the designer the fabric she wanted – on her way out and about town with holey underwear – she was making me laugh – she gets to be in RachelLand even if she is in NY.

Hey, it’s so easy to appease the Queen of RachelLand – make me laugh – I roll over so quick-like.

I just walked back from the LaLa where I told K to fuck off. Ever since he came back he can’t open his mouth without saying something negative. Talking to B about the siding he said well it might leak but then again this whole house has leak problems. That was a few days ago and I corrected him and told him the house had been standing sound and sure longer than he has been alive so to stop with the negative. Today he said I needed to get a door knob for the metal door and S said it’s just a normal door knob and he said “there is nothing normal about this house” and I said “an asshole as usual” and he said “takes one to know one” and I said “fuck off.”

Then I came back to a missive from someone who has insulted me for the last time and I told her to fuck off.

So let me tell you – “fuck off” is the best phrase invented in the world – use it or lose it. It reminds me of my friend D who said never miss a honking opportunity when you’re in your car – never miss an opportunity to tell people to fuck off when they are annoying the fuck out of you.

Last night was one of the first in the season to be able to sleep with the windows open – a crisp coldish breeze was blowing in all night. I drove Blue to Metairie to bring it in for the brakes then rode my bike uptown for Pilates and back to MidCity to start work in earnest. Ford said they need to keep the truck for possibly two or more days – it’s what I hate about Veterans Ford – they always take so long to do anything. And I thought Ford had revamped their cars and made them more dependable – what’s with an alternator going dead within six months and brakes going out after less than a year? Shame on you Ford, you have enough headaches with competion from Toyota, you should not be manufacturing crap.

G called to say she had listed her house on Craig’s List and is ready to relocate to New York. If the LaLa wasn’t an anchor around me right now, I’d move there with her.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I held a post mortem with my peeps on Yahoo and sent a note to sales through gritted teeth. Yahoo will rise again but like I said it will be too little too late after the beating it has had.

I had an interesting exchange from one of my blog readers. It’s interesting to me how many women out there relate to my situation – it makes me feel more connected to my sisters at large knowing some have succumbed or are trying not to succumb to the same weaknesses of the flesh and the fantasies of the mind that plague me.

R called to go to Bacchanal and said that Anne was cooking again – damn, I missed her last week and now am missing her again because Blue is not going anywhere until the brakes are fixed and I didn’t have it in me to rally quick enough to catch a ride with R. So I took the Bean out to walk around the bayou before it got dark and ran into Gomez with his boys. We were talking about the state of his current relationship and somehow it brought up the term “girlfriend” and we were trying to define what that term means. Then he said it reminded him of “the girlfriend experience” – something that callgirls offer as one of their services.

It made me laugh. Can you imagine, prostitute walks into hotel room and says, “wow, glad I brought the magnums!” and in the same breath says, “How come you never pick up your clothes? This place is a mess. Do I have to do everything around here?”

What would the boyfriend paid sex experience be like? He walks in, says I’m horny, and then doesn’t notice the new dress you’re wearing? Or do you pay him to say it looks like you’ve lost weight and to bring peonies in all different colors? Nah, I think I’d prefer the scenario where the “boyfriend” walks in and says lay back, “this is going to take a while” [hey, I’m paying for it, right?] and then he says by the way, when I’m done, I’m going to fix your car and wash and wax it like it never has been waxed before – then I’m going to make sure you have air in all your tires. Yeah, that’s it.

Hmm, note to self – business idea – find a bunch of hot men who are handy, mechanical and horny and start the Boyfriend service asap – there are disconnected women in this city who need a helping hand.

A friend called me this morning worried that her newfound sluttiness might not be a symptom of post-Katrina disconnectedness but rather some new identity she has foisted upon herself as of late. I told her to quit beating herself up over a few (let’s call them) indiscretions because after all she is seeking to connect with someone and it’s not her fault she hasn’t found the perfect fit. There are a lot of people doing what they can to feel reconnected – I’d rather a girl risk carnal knowledge of a few good men than turn to other vices as a panacea.

If it makes you feel good, it can’t be that bad – the songwriter sings.

Yesterday S, my contractor, came by the Can to talk to me about where we’re at and how much $ to finish – yikes – he thinks I can get in by Christmas – I doubt it is what I told him. Then he asked how things were going and I said well since my bonus is determined by how good my last call was and my last call was Yahoo, I was feeling a little wretched about things right now, but whatyagonnado?

This morning the founder of my company emailed me to take on a bet with him on Yahoo even though he keeps comparing Google to Yahoo – listen to me they are not similar – Yahoo is a media company and Google is a tech company. Google competes with MSN and if Yahoo competes anybody – it is with AOL. So we haven’t placed the parameters or the dollar amount but I’m taking that bet on Yahoo.

After leaving Ms. M, TL pulled up. We had both had VIP tickets to the Big Easy Roller Girls last night and had to give them away because of another social obligation. Anyway, he was grousing about the line at CC’s – I said it is because they are incompetent but they’re working on it. He handed me a ticket for a concert he went to last night – Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins – a redhead with a beautiful voice – so I came home and downloaded the album and between The Gourds that L turned me onto, the Go-Betweens that Gomez gave me to rip to my computer last night, and Jenny Lewis – I am now off for a bike ride to complete my Sunday ritual and listen to some good music.

Stopped to talk to Ms. M this morning, the woman who lives directly across the bayou from me, she told me she actually wasn’t born in that house, she was born on DeSoto Street and then moved to the house on Moss when she was about one. Damn, I thought, just shy of a year of being able to say “I was born on the bayou.” She was telling me about the woman who married her cousin and lived next door to her (the house is now for sale), how she wasn’t friendly and then she had a daughter who was even more unfriendly. I told her about my neighbors, how they couldn’t muster a smile from the getgo. She asked, “what makes people like that?” I said, dunno. Don’t even want to know.

Ms. M lived in that house for 92 year, raised her boys there, and said there used to be boats on the water. She remembers the depression where in one week five of her family members lost their jobs. She then asked, “can you imagine anywhere else in the world where you can live on a bayou, where it is this beautiful,” and I laughed and said, no mam, I can’t. This is heaven to me.

She said we got lucky here on the bayou – spared the wrath of Katrina. And I said I know. She said we have her to thank and she nodded towards Cabrini – so I didn’t know if Cabrini was some kind of saint I was unaware of and asked her who she meant. She said Our Lady of the Rosary. Ah, I said. She asked, “are you Catholic?” and I said, close, Jewish, and she said, well you should go thank her, and I said I’d go by her altar today and leave flowers.

We were standing by a telephone pole with a flyer for the “Voodoo on the Bayou” that is happening this coming Saturday night at the Pitot House – she pointed at the flyer and asked if I was going and I said, not sure – waiting to see if L is back at home and up for birthday company. I told her about his back surgery and the double fusion and she took her cane and hit it on the sidewalk multiple times – stupid doctor! she sort of shouted (surprised me) then said, doctors are not supposed to make mistakes! I said, I know.

Then I said the coming weekend was a busy one, what with the costume party at Swirl, the Voodoo Fest, and the Saints game and she said there is always a lot going on isn’t there? and I said indeed, I have been trying to step out of the fray lately because I needed some downtime – she said, Honey, go out. Enjoy yourself.

I said, yes mam, don’t worry, I do, I enjoy myself.

A cool front has set in and the weather is close to perfect here in New Orleans. Arlene and I headed to the LaLa to clean up all the mess from the week. While we were there B and his crew showed up to work on the siding since it is a day without rain and that is a good thing. I opened up the house and let the cool breeze blow through – while Arlene hung out on the porch watching the bayou traffic, I swept up sawdust that is still making me sneeze.

Afterwards, I ran into an old friend crossing the Dumaine Street bridge, she said she’s moved to Ida Street right behind where I live. Then I ran into J smoking a cig and he said he too is moving at the end of the year. He bought his ex-wife’s house because she can no longer afford it but unfortunately it’s on the Westbank.

He told me the story about his kid’s dog, who had been left at the vet during Katrina – the vet stayed with all the dogs (which J found funny since so many physicians didn’t stay with their patients) and Matthew McConaughy ended up evacuated the dog with a bunch of other pets he rescued. The dog wound up in Houston and needed an operation, so a Texan undertook the expense of the operation and about a month after the storm, his kids were telephoned that the dog was safe and healthy and ready to join them. Then another person flew the dog home on a private plane. I told J I hope they renamed that dog Lucky.