A friend called to tell me her next door neighbor came out to her after several years of friendship. She said, “Is it me or am I a magnet for straight people turning gay?” I said T’s mom read somewhere that every year the percentage of gays goes up. I told her not to fret it, it’s just that people are doing what is natural instead of repressing urges and being miserable trying to be a square peg in a round hole (so to speak). She said, I’m just wondering who the next one to fall is. Ha!
Archive for February, 2009
Mom and I went to Mandina’s today after a few weeks of not getting together for our Saturday ritual. She hadn’t been there in ages and she was thrilled to be going after our efforts to go to Parkway were thwarted by them being closed. When we walked in two very elderly ladies were seated in the bench by the door, one of them asked mom if she wanted to sit down. Later mom said she was glad the woman didn’t say, “Do you NEED to sit down.”
Mom had a photo of herself that was taken twenty years ago after she had been out partying all night and had come home at 5 AM. She looked terrific and she said more than anything, she missed that neck.
We talked for the first time in total honesty about how symbiotic she is with my sister. And I told her she had the power to thwart that negative downward spiral especially since she believes she foresees my sister’s next moves. I dared her to go with me once a month to a nursing home and read to the residents, maybe the newspaper, maybe InStyle, maybe their horoscopes, but just to engage and in return be making a contribution. She took me on, but time will see if this has carry through.
Meanwhile the woman who moved in temporarily across from her, who asked her to give her stuff like sheets and anything else she might want to give away is now moving to Marrero. Thank god. Not that mom wouldn’t give her anything, but she has a tendency to be a sucker – in a good way, a big heart sucker who has a soft spot for the downtrodden – but a sucker in a bad way in the sense that she doesn’t recognize herself in that picture.
There was a guy working at Mandina’s who is a friend of a guy I went out with just over a year ago. I asked mom if she thought he was gay, and she looked and looked and then she said, uh huh. One move she said told her. I said well a friend of mine was convinced the guy I went out with is gay and that was what was “missing” and then we saw these two together one night. I said, “And last I saw my date he was sporting not one, but two pierced ears.” Mom said, “Zero to sixty.”
I said, “Whatyagonnado?”
You know all those beads that you fought dearly for during the parades – well here’s your chance to make sure they don’t end up in landfill for the next 8 billion years. You can take them to 5700 Loyola Ave, off of Nashville.
Woke up to a calm that was echoed in everything – the quietness in the house with the absence of Wolfie, the tranquilness of the park this morning as Loca and I walked through a sort of stillness, thickness, almost lulling white noise and overexposed light. The calm before the storm, even though the storm was Tuesday, when we all stormed into the streets with costumes and fire in our bellies ready to roar.
It’s almost spring, you can tell by the pink and purple blooming thistles on the banks of the lagoon, the new growth on the bark, the windows opened and the birds singing. We’ve crossed our seasonal hump here in New Orleans despite the fact that St. Joseph’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day parades are in the wings – our winter festivities have come to an end. Now it is time for Spring fun.
Wolfie went in today to start her heart worm treatment. The first fifteen days are the worst, where the injection is killing the worms and she has to remain as tranquil as possible. The house is SO QUIET without her even though she doesn’t make any noise hardly ever.
What’s there to regret?
Sixty times around the sun
While staring at it
February 16 – only 356 days to go…
The build up to Mardi Gras always seems to come on like a freight train. While the rest of the world is planning their year in January, we are starting our Mardi Gras revelry, fresh off the holidays. Depending on the moon, it can come on like a freight train – last year it was February 5, when we were barely out of New Year’s diapers.
What’s simply amazing about Mardi Gras is the visual feast – how nearly everyone in this city comes out, in costume, and parades through the streets on Fat Tuesday. I can’t even count on both hands all the people I saw yesterday and what’s amazing is how I recognize so many of them in full costume, masks and all.
Last year, on Feb 5th it was perfect temperature and this year was no slouch either. The sun was shining, it was absolutely perfect temperature for wearing a ball gown, and there wasn’t a moment that wasn’t filled with zany heathen pleasure.
So goodbye Mardi Gras 2009, we already miss you.
Yesterday, around 8:30 in the morning, as folks in other parts of the world got their coffee and went to their desks, I already had on my false eyelashes and friends were stopping by for a Bloody Mary – why? because that’s how we roll here in the Big Sleazy and it was Fat Tuesday after all. Here are neighbors on their way out the door:
And finally we made our way to the Marigny to catch friends and fun and St. Ann in front of Mimi’s. Our backstories intact: I was Barbie at 50, a more voluptuous and improved model. T was Malibu Ken, hip, tanned and sporting a do rag. And Jer was age-appropriate Ken, who sensible Barbie left for the younger tanner Ken after she hit a midlife crisis. And Ivette was our angel turned devil, after love turned her head around.