So last time I was in New York it was the skinny head bands worn low on the forehead and the enamel bracelets – this time it is FitFlops – everybody is wearing them and they are reported to help you lose weight and stay fit. Good grief!
Flip Flops are the worst shoes any woman or man could wear – they have no arch support and they give you hammer toes.
Sometime this afternoon, I had had enough of everything and so I changed into some comfortable shoes and went out to explore New York on this fine spring day. I stumbled across a Clark’s shoe store and went in and bought Tin some new sandals as he is already outgrowing the ones he just started wearing only two months ago. Then I stumbled across a theater that had Please Bring playing and so I turned off my phone and went in and let out a big exhale and watched the movie, which was quaint much like any other Holofcenter movie and honestly, I’m not sure I know what it was about but I was glad to be watching it and doing nothing else.
Then I walked a block over to Intimacy which is where I have been buying my bras for the last four years. They have bras for my size and they are sexy and supportive and just wonderful (except for the expensive price). I also picked up a swimsuit as I think I may have given up on bikinis for good.
I went on a hunt for a wife beater for Tin but one was nowhere to be found. A woman at Bloomingdales said that others had asked for it so note to Gap – wifebeater for 12-18 months old – New Orleans is hot, it’s not fun wearing even the simplest tee.
By this time I was done with retail therapy and movies and was ready for dinner, so I ducked into Houston’s even though I was craving Indian. It was low lit with those copper artichoke lights and had that clubby feeling of anonymity that I was craving. I sat at the bar with all the single men who were devouring super sized cheeseburgers and Stella on draft and ordered a shrimp salad and a glass of champagne.
At the time of writing this entry I can tell you this – I need a couple of more afternoons like this to feel whole again!
With the cluster fuck going on in the Gulf over BP’s irresponsible handling of an oil leak gush of proportions that most of us might never know the repercussions in sum, I bring you several thoughts on the subject:
A) Thoughts by Rachel – very unfortunate accident and then reaction by BP in a crisis. They say when the going gets tough, the tough get going, but BP has proven to be a poor communicator, they have come off as arrogant and greedy and thoroughly irresponsible and they almost make Bush/FEMA/CORPs look like innocents in Katrina with their insular cockiness. Hey, it’s our Gulf, not just your well BP.
B) this from someone who knows what is going on: BP did all the wrong things at the wrong time, ignored the signs and pushed ahead all in the name of saving money. Have even heard the the Hydrill ( the top part of the BOP with the big rubber donut that squeezes the pipe and keeps the gas and oil from coming up the riser) had been damaged the week before by some worm who closed it while they were working pipe and tore the rubber. They even had pieces of it coming across the shakers and rather than pull the BOP’s and replace it BP gave the word to continue operations, this was a week or so before the blowout, again all to save some moola. Do I hear mega law suite coming up??? I think so, rumor is the US gov will file criminal charges, after that the sky is the limit for everyone else who can get in on the lawsuit.
C) A good friend at Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries said that shrimpers are stepping up to get thousands of dollars from BP for not being able to shrimp when they wouldn’t be shrimping anyway because the shrimp aren’t ready. True that sounds greedy doesn’t it. But if you are a shrimper in Louisiana chances are a) you got screwed in Katrina, b) you know you’re going to get screwed in this oil spill mess one way or the other, and c) you are a smart cookie who knows you had been getter your money while you can.
D) This was a blog entry I saw:
There’s so much I want to say, I know I’ll miss half the things that come to mind… but I’m still amazed at the stupidity of some people. I’d like to point out the mass of idiots who think the answer is “STOP ALL DRILLING” that you are indeed very dumb. I don’t care how special your mom thinks you are, do the world a favor and shut up.
First of all, it is becoming more apparent that this spill was caused by negligence, in other words, it was preventable with the systems the rig was equipped with. Let’s say you were driving in your car, you saw a brick wall in the road, your first reaction was thinking that can’t be a brick wall in the road so you didn’t take any precautions, by the time you realize it is a brick wall you apply the brakes. Unfortunately you didn’t properly maintain your breaks and they are worn and without brake fluid. You hit the brick wall. Was that the car makers fault? Was it the auto industry as a whole that did that to you? Not hardly. Grow up.
Secondly, it is a fact that the Ixtoc spewed (approx) 420,000 a day for 9 months, the oil was never seen and the ecosystem continued. It is also a fact that oil and natural gas is excreting from the ocean floors all over the world, as we speak, as a natural occurrence. (where do you think the tar balls in Florida ans Texas are coming from?) I’m not saying this spill is ok, but get your facts straight.
Finally, for you idiots screaming “electric cars are the answer” and “we don’t need gasoline” I’d like to paint a picture of the world without carbon resources. First we’ll fire everyone involved in exploration, including the people bringing supplies to the exploration companies, and the refineries, all the way down to the gas stations and stores that sell the byproducts. Oil is not “just” gasoline. Oil is refined to make everything from gasoline to plastics and rubber, some pharmaceuticals and cosmetics, clothing, and literally hundreds of thousands, if not millions of products that you purchase every day. So basically the entire country is out of work (without the production,refining,transport, and sale of oil byproducts), half naked with no makeup/deodorant/soap, driving on dirt roads (no asphalt anymore) in our solar cars. Oh wait, the cars won’t run without tires or grease/lubricants, let’s not forget the iron ore that was mined for the metal, can’t have that either. I guess we’ll just sit at home then, stinky and ugly, and starving because you’ll now have to grow your own food. Of course this is based on the “theory” that we don’t need oil, but you get the picture. Great plan. I see you’ve thought this through.
I love Wonder Woman – first of all I like her outfit and so when I was doing my behavior modification treatment to overcome anxiety and panic disorder, the coach told me to think of someone I’d like to be and embody for a moment how that person would react to the same issue. So when I felt like I couldn’t drive on a freeway, or a bridge, or other areas that I had become phobic about because I had had one too many panic attacks on them, I thought to myself that I was Wonder Woman – capable not only of driving across a freeway but actually putting my bullet proof bracelets together and using my lasso to beat off any of the hoary monsters who clouded my vision of getting to the next step (read: living an anxiety free life).
I’ve had a couple of friends tell me when I say that I am Wonder Woman that “I don’t have to be” and then I’ve had some other friends send me Wonder Woman tchochtkes which I love – such as stationary, magnets and notebooks with my feminine super hero. I love Wonder Woman, I love that she is my icon, and more than that I love that I have friends who promote the Wonder Woman in me and I love that I have friends who tell me I don’t have to be Wonder Woman.
After all it is a lifestyle choice, not something I was born with.
However, today, I wore my Wonder Woman outfit because I wanted to shine and I’m really tired, and I’m really wanting to go to a spa or to a retreat, but instead I had to be on and on and on so donning the outfit put me in the spirit and suddenly I felt that I could do super heroic feats.
What Would Wonder Woman Do? She’d be herself, that’s what.
Since T injured her knee and I’m on the road, she’s been taking the dogs to the new dog park in City Park. And they LOVE it. Loca gets over there and digs to China and once she has dug sufficiently, she then lies herself down in the cool earth. Heidi chases the ball like there is no tomorrow. Both dogs come home tired, spent, and happy as clams.
What a great idea to have a dog park! I love the walks with Loca and Heidi in the morning because they help me start my day but I have been thinking about running a couple of mornings a week for me and didn’t know what to do about them as I have no time for both a walk and a run. Now T can take them two days a week to play and I’ll go for a run instead. They get fun and I get exercise.
Now that’s a bona-fido good idea.
The other day I dreamed that Tin was talking and sure enough when T and I were reading his nighttime story, we turned to the page with the sheep and he said very clearly and distinctly, Baa Baa. Why farm animal sounds tickle us, I don’t know, but I definitely see a huge progression in his understanding. It seems like weeks ago he was struggling to understand just what we were telling him and now it is clear he understands almost everything. Such as we have always greased him up particularly because of his dry skin on his face and knees, well he used to want to hold the tube of lotion, but now he helps rub it in. He almost helped rub suntan lotion on a girl whose boyfriend was putting it on at the Boogaloo. Meanwhile, he also wipes his own face and tray and he wants to put on his own socks.
His brain is going click, click, click, I get it, now let me do it. You might think that we, as older parents, would hover over him as he is trying out all of these new things but we actually give him space. It’s the grandmother, the young neighbor who hover, hold and box him into such confine that he becomes a cricket in a cage, trying to sing but with no room to saw his legs.
T continues to speak Croatian to him and he is easily understanding both languages equally and simultaneously.
Well, he’s a our little genius – what can I say? It’s these little developments more so than the big ones like walking that are fascinating and quick. And once, as a mother, you have observed these building blocks, it’s hard to know how you wouldn’t want to hover and hold them back and confine them to stay close a little longer.
Sitting in the airport waiting to fly to New York and I’m wondering why New Orleans is one of the very few airports that offer wireless for free? We’re a poor state – how come we can do it but y’all can’t? But that’s part of another discussion. I just pulled out of my driveway to the sounds of Bayou Boogaloo, a free concert filled with three stages and loads of local food, local crafts, and fun that includes a rubber ducky contest to dog obedience training – free being the operative word.
A friend stopped by on her way to the festival and both T and I were dead on the couch as I was getting ready to leave and T was getting ready to nap – we talked about how tired we were from being out late last night (1 AM) and how bloated from eating too much we felt. Our friend said New Orleans is a hard city to live in.
But why live anywhere else?
I arrived home on Friday, late in the afternoon, exhausted from our annual conference in Miami – my stamina for combining fun and work is dwindling and I was the one who was asleep by 11 pm every night! The Bayou Boogaloo was in full swing and I was listening to WWOZ on the way home from the airport as Hot Club was opening the festival. When I arrived Tin was napping, but when he woke, the whole family walked over and caught Brother Tyrone and then Bill Summers and Jazalsa as the day faded into night. A neighbor’s daughter gave Tin some glow sticks and another neighbor, a musician, taught him how to drum with them. I was refreshed just getting back home and seeing my family and my bayou and my city.
On Saturday, I woke to an agenda a mile long, in order to accomplish it all, I multitasked. I put Tin in the Ergobaby, and leashed up Heidi and Loca and we went for a long walk through City Park. Tin was able to get his morning nap in the pack. I got walked, the dogs were happy, and then we came home in time to turn around and go hear Mem Shannon opening up the Orleans Stage on the Bayou. The heat was daunting, but Tin managed to dance, eat jambalaya, and I managed to not pass out.
Then it was water the plants, eat lunch, run errands which included getting a new bra to getting dog food and then back in time to start packing for my next trip. But as I was in the bedroom wondering what to wear, and T was feeding Tin, she called to me that the light on the bayou was so lovely and to take a moment and come sit on the porch. (Reason No. 83057 why I love her.) So we all dropped what we were doing and went out to watch the golden light bathe the houses on the other side of the bayou in a rich hue – Tin had his bongo and his drumsticks that I remembered I had and gave him yesterday and he was drumming up a storm – and as usual, when you are porch sitting in New Orleans, people stop by, not just neighbors, but even Dan who I invited in off the bayou many Thanksgivings ago when I was deep frying a turkey. He looked over at the rocking chair and said he remembered my mother sitting right there smiling and smoking a cigarette.
We came inside and put Tin to bed, and then T and I desperately seeking some alone time, left to go to Meaux Bar. We sat at the bar and shared a crawfish crepe and beet salad and decided to go to Tangiers – why not – when we are in Spain this summer. Through the clipped conversations we’ve been able to have because of work, mother visiting, Tin here and there, T had proposed a romantic interlude to add to our summer trip, but the way the mind works, it begins with the idea – Tangiers – and then the details – taxi, ferry, hotel, research – and suddenly you are talking yourself out of it – “We have a child” – “Someone said it’s seedy” – “It might not be good” – but if there is one thing that both of us share in common it is a love of adventure and that spirit overrode our concerns as we sat there together mapping out our near future.
We ended at Circle Bar to hear Gal Holiday & the Honky Tonk Revue and I found myself dancing with one of my neighbors, who is approaching 80 years old and never misses a dancing opportunity. Two friends were buried this week and that gives me pause. Both bore the epitaph of having been FULL of life’s vim and vigor.
Do you know that Tin grew up in the space of my being gone for four days and now I have to leave again? Do you know that T and I almost talked ourselves out of going out last night because we were both tired? Do you know that we almost skipped Tangiers because it was an unknown quantity?
We are always fighting what to leave in and what to leave out because we have no time it seems to do all of what we want to do or accomplish, and in the meantime, life is moving ahead at its own pace.
Sometimes it does feel as if we are running to our grave, but this family at least has decided to dance every inch of the way there. [Note to friends: throw a party when we’re gone because we lived a FULL life.]
After spending time with people I sometimes don’t see but once a year, I’m convinced now that life is a beach. You know how a day at the beach feels? It feels vast and timeless and special; voices are muted against a backdrop of a natural wave machine that is constantly erasing footprints and making space for more; you go in the water and get refreshed, you get out and you are hot, there is shade under an umbrella and plenty to read, but a feeling of drowsiness pervades the mood; still you can’t close your eyes because you continue to be curious about everything under the sun.
My favorite line this weekend was after I offered an observation that the water was so shallow near the shore, a friend said, “I finally realized I was swimming in a foot of water so I just stood up.”
Friends recently went to therapy and were told they are too much in their head. I’ve had similar comments come across my table most of my life – you think too much. As if there was a natural and safe amount of thoughts you should be having at any particular time. They found out today that matter trumps antimatter – I’m saying I learned this at Trump the high rise beach hotel – but when you are at Trump and you find yourself lost in thought on work and nonwork, you start to think that maybe there is something to not thinking, and of being alone too much, about thinking without collaboration, about acting without consultation.
Is it possible to think too much?
Yesterday, something bubbled up on its own volition and became something. Something that I could get behind without thinking about it, because it is just the right thing to do in the sense that it is the thing that makes the most sense.