Monster Mash
I don’t even know where my story of Adele is that I started last summer while here. I worked on it in Bali. I’m still curious as to whether she dies or actually does just disappear. Tonight with Mom at Houston’s we got to hear about the saga of her Houma living situation. Richard “is not a drug addict but he is addicted” and the quadrapeligic who wants to live in her apartments with his brother not to mention Linda who can’t make it up the stairs.
Houston’s in Metairie was packed – jammed – only restaurant open on Sunday night in a 50 mile radius. They ran out of gumbo, ribs and who knows what else. So smoky in the bar it was like being in a, well, bar. But the food was tasty even if Nicole, our waitress, couldn’t go one foot without getting into a detailed conversation about how Katrina was nothing, just wait, the next five years are supposed to deliver far worse. Is she dispensing doom? Where does she get her info, I haven’t heard that weather report.
L is in bad shape. K is basically taking the passive aggressive approach to T and is predicting a blow up but rather than make a decision she is just waiting for it to run its course towards this blow up. Meanwhile L, all ready to dive right in, or so he thought, is now forced to sit back and re-contemplate what the next six months look like rather than think about a life with a young wife and possibly children. What can I say to him – I told him he needs to emerge himself in his work and look around him. Sounds like such glib advice doesn’t it? It’s so hard to tell someone something they would rather not hear – I’d rather be telling him she’ll be there for him whether he wants her or not. He’s in a vulnerable state right now. This morning in his kitchen he took notes about what we discussed – K, going to give you the space you need – then the ending gets dicey – but don’t wait too long – no not right –
Meanwhile tonight S told mom that he is going to learn how to cook. Something he has been talking about doing for the past year. I listened to him talking to mom and it was like I was on the outside looking in. Weird place to be.
The water in the bayou is rising again and it is starting to look normal water wise around here. Many trucks rolled through the neighborhood sorting, cherry picking, but at least moving trash – which of course does nothing but cause all the smells to erupt from what is getting released. But hopefully when we return from our travels next week – most of this will have been hauled away and maybe even one good rainfall will give at least a surface clean feel to the area. That and some gas would be welcomed with open arms.
I’ve been quite the firestarter of late – the wooden candlestick that glowed like a flambeau on the backporch, the corn dogs in the toaster oven. Tonight at Gal’s they have a fireplace lit in the backyard which is smoking up the whole porch and causing me to flinch every time I catch whiff of that fire smell. Right now between Houston’s, L’s house the other night, and all the various fires, smoke is starting to really bug me. I’d like some fresh air.
Mom asked tonight how the progress is going on the house – progress? – we’re stalled. S been too busy to make calls to the consultants. B is busy trying to get the Lakeview homes demolished before the mold ruins everything. Progress on our house? None. I keep trying to hold any desire to be in that house in abeyance but every once in a while walking by I get a sense of what the house might look like and I just want to be in it, with my kitchen done and my bathroom done and a tub to take long hot baths in. But that sounds so petty when you think of all the people who lost everything they had and don’t have the wherewithal to rebuild.