T – 7 (read: one whole week and we begin again, as if for the first time). We are going to start over with calendars that are in sync, the old T and the new T have merged, our old plans and our new plans have finally crossed paths, now what awaits us is us – “Can’t you hear my heart beat, for the very first time?” (my Hallmark video for you):
still recovering from the devil that entered my body and took hold.
Yesterday, I walked downstairs to get some cold water because my stomach wasn’t feeling right and there began my long day’s journey into the night – actually into the early morning as I didn’t actually get to sleep till 4AM after spending most of my time reintroducing myself to my bathroom. Thank god for J, who came to bring me Pepto, which I hurled, Prilosec, which finally took away the throbbing pain, and Chicken Noodle…
A random act of violence in Beijing as the volleyball coach’s father-in-law was stabbed to death and his mother-in-law stabbed repeatedly and now in critical condition. When asked if he was going to continue to coach the Olympic team in light of this tragedy – the coach said it depends on the condition of his mother-in-law and family in the next few days – he replied: “Volleyball is my job,” McCutcheon said. “My family is…
One of the silver linings of Katrina is that we are getting a bike path. They have done a lot of work on it leading out to the lake. But sigh, I just realized on returning from Croatia they have designated that this path run directly in front of my house! ACK. So instead of the nice grass leading to the bayou there is going to be a concrete bike path snaking through the grass…
In the months that led up to my leaving for sabbatical, my body was constricting into a tight little ball, by the time I was on a plane to Croatia, my lower back was almost paralyzed with pain. For that reason, my honey carried around a suitcase all by herself that weighed more than her throughout the five weeks we were away (recall it was not filled with clothes just books, shoes, and whatnots). While…
Waiting for my phantom, jet setting, Croatian princess to return to our humble abode here on the bayou. Eight more days – wow – hard to believe that in eight days she will come home, we won’t be calendaring trips all across the planet, separations, days of the month – no, instead, we will be having vodka tonics on the porch and making plans for dinner.
I go to yoga at NOAC where Michele (the Valkyrie or mother, as a friend refers to her) and Libby (the father) each teach these intense classes with a nice dose of enlightenment. I’ve run into old friends, new friends, and acquaintances in these classes but one is a stand out. A woman who has had some troubles in life and some serious issues around drinking and medication, I heard from other friends she had…
Sunday when we went out to join the people for the We Shall Not Be Moved video, it was red dress (hash house harriers) day in New Orleans – I just happened to have a red tutu on so I was mistaken for the wrong event many times that day. As we walked up to the music video gathering, someone asked me what group I was with and I said, “I, we, are with the…
The other day a tugboat collided with a boat on the Mississippi and sent oil a plenty flowing into the river. They have been working diligently to get the oil cleaned up but the smell is unbearable. Standing by the river yesterday for the music video it was like holding your nose inside of an oil barrel. Disgusting. Now we learn the guy driving the tugboat shouldn’t have been – go figure.