boys and girls

Learning to mortar was much fun. The guy who tried before me, he got it on the trowel and it all slopped off the block - couldn't do it at all. Me, I stepped right up and the leader said, "Oh, if she does it better than you ..." and it was like I was the expert demonstrator on HGTV.

"She did!"
"Oh, sorry," I slapped that mortar like a pro and got another trowel-full.
"She, she, ... she's probably decorated cakes."

Decorated cakes?!

What I could have said: "Look buddy, just because you're a mortar dud doesn't say anything about my home skills you sexist pig you don't know shit."
Instead, I expertly laid the block and prepped another. Sometimes, silence is golden. If he wants a cake decorator, he can talk to my friend Gail. Otherwise, I'm building houses so just step back.

All that mortaring and hauling concrete blocks and mixing and pouring concrete and laying beams for flooring - I am whooped!

Jenny - I found a Mexican restaurant NOT on our list, and I ate there with two vegetarians (one vegan) and they were pleased. (And the Guatemalan waiter remembered me - I'm working it.) (Speaking of boys, I just got email from the Nigerian artist I met at the African restaurant ... he has an art festival the same weekend as Voodoo Music Festival, so friends! I have many activities for us!)

So, day 1 with Habitat for Humanity was successful, and I have few cuts and blisters. I'll be back for more tomorrow (though leaving early to take Tami to the airport - actually we will check her in and if there's time, we will jet to a nearby pupuseria!).

The apartment still isn't really ready - I'm not moving in probably until the window is put in the bedroom because I don't want to clean and set up my room just to have dirty boys coming through with big saws to cut through brick. I took my bed and new table & chairs there yesterday ... and we got stuck in a horrible thunderstorm that drenched everything. I'm trying to dry out my mattress, but I dunno ... I may have to buy a new one which is a major $$ bummer - and the chair seats got waterstained so I'll need to reupholster them. Oh well, things could always be worse.

Speaking of thunderstorms ... today at the worksite, rain started and we packed up power tools and took shelter under a tent and there was a 20-minute deluge that was HARD. We went back to work, and maybe an hour later, there was a lightning strike SO CLOSE that we could all feel it. We just looked at each other and packed up FAST!

Overheard: "Are the wheelbarrows grounded, since they have rubber wheels?"

grits and pecans

How do I know I'm in the South?

Breakfast: Instant grits (yum, actually)
Lunch: Eat? It's too hot and humid to eat!
Dinner: Pecan waffles at Waffle House. (And very yummy hash browns.)

milk

I was raised by Kansans, so I call the least-fat milk "skim." That's just the way I was raised, so don't mess with my midwest values.

In California, however, people in coffee shops often looked at me blankly. Somebody, usually an older person, would turn over her shoulder and say, "She means nonfat." So, I adapted. It became nonfat. I became lactose-bilingual.

But then I came to New Orleans, and I ordered a nonfat latte at CC's. Blank look. "Skim? It's a skinny latte!" she shouted to the barista.

Back to my roots, I see.

When I told this story to Tami, she thought I was crazy. "Skim? Nonfat? You should be ordering soy and avoiding supporting the whole evil dairy industry! You want me to tell you again about the health problems of drinking that gross, disgusting milk?! Do you want to read these articles?!"

doing business in NOLA

Back to painting and cleaning today (which is probably really for the same intent as a dog pisses on a fire hydrant), then I called the landlord about the plumbing. Bathtub doesn't drain, toilet doesn't work right, bathroom sink drains slowly, and kitchen sink's water pressure is a trickle. He has been calling plumbers and can't reach a one - and those he actually corners are so overwhelmed with work already.

OK. Hopefully Tami doesn't mind if I stay at her house longer. He won't charge me rent until things are fixed. Hopefully it's soon! But, I'm prepared for it not being so.

So then I went to his office to make some phone calls.

First was the LA DMV. The first number didn't work because the phone company was having difficulties (the message said). The toll-free number did.

Do I have to take the written test in LA to get a license? No, but in addition to my social security card and birth certificate, they require a letter of clearance. "Letter of what?!" I asked. She told me to call the CA DMV and ask them to write me a letter of clearance.

What the eff does she think, that I have some friend there to chat with? WTF? And when I google it, other states require I send in the license to get a letter - so I couldn't drive legally, not even to the DMV?? And California doesn't say anything about how to get one. So now I'm looking on the Lousiana website and it says NOTHING about that. But, the office is closed now. Good grief. And here is an interesting tale of such things. So I think I will take my entire filing cabinet full of documents with me and hope for the best.

OK, I'm thinking, a small fluke.

So then I call the electricity to get it set up in my name. I'm expecting needing to go in person, to bring a deposit and documents, etc.

I did not expect what I got. Apparently there's been no service at my address since 2005 (despite me using electricity and gas daily, and there having been tenants earlier), and to get service I will have to hire a licensed electrician and also a licensed plumber (and see above about that) to sign a certificate that I am to fax to the electric office and then wait 48 hours for approval to have the account set up.

And this point my landlord is screaming at some man on the phone about a crazy woman stalking him for a job, so I don't ask him immediately WTF.

So I decide to try another one. Auto registration shouldn't be so hard, right?

I finally get through the phone queue ... and the electricity goes out.

And that's pretty much where I am right now, though the electricity did come back on eventually and I got some more painting and cleaning done. Sweating so hard that my hair is as wet as if just-showered.

Next week I'm volunteering with Habitat for Humanity all week, but the next week I'm free to sort all this stuff out. Though, it may take more time than that. Sigh. I can blame Katrina all I want, but this level of chaos took longer than a year to make.

home improvements

Classified search:

Household Furnishings
Tables Unused Hooker 1 cock. 1sofa $600both. Used 1 cock. 1sofa $200both 985-966-2447 Published in Times-Picayune on 07/28

????

***********
For those of you who've followed me through three blogs now, you remember bikram yoga - doing yoga in a sauna? We did it once, and the man in front of me had a huge pool of sweat which was more than a little disgusting. We all did.

So, I've been practicing bikram housepainting. Unplugged the a/c to paint behind the cord, and realized I like the quiet better. Which is fine when I'm all alone, but when the landlord's family shows up, the first question is why I'm not using the a/c. Shrug. So I looked in the mirror and saw more beads of sweat than Mardi Gras beads thrown up in the trees on St. Charles AVenue. I ain't winning no beauty contests, but actually I don't mind the sweat because it keeps me cool and I wasn't overheating.

And now I pray that they aren't doing construction on the bridge yet today and that I won't get stuck on it again. Ugh.

French quarter green

Tami and I went to the French quarter last night to an awesome West African restaurant (the only one in town, called Bennachin), and in addition to chatting up an interesting Nigerian painter, I noted the colors.

Today, part of my living room and hallway are what I shall call French quarter green - it's a common deep green on the shutters there.

I love it. Who cares if anybody else does??

I had many other things to say here, but I've forgotten them all.

Time to get back to painting (this cafe is a 3-minute walk away) so that I can get back to Slidell for some yummy Mexican food.

You know you're from New Orleans when ...

• Your sunglasses fog up when you step outside
• You save newspapers, not for recycling but for tablecloths at crawfishboils
• When you give directions you use "lakeside? and ?riverside' not north &south
• You stand in the "neutral ground" (area of ground between a two sidedstreet) "by ya mommas" (by your mother's house).
• Someone asks for directions and you stop and help them with a smile
• You think a lobster is a crawfish on steroids.
• You take a bite of five-alarm chili and reach for the Tabasco.
• The four basic food groups are boiled seafood, broiled seafood, friedseafood and beer
• You are asked to name the holy trinity and your reply is "onions,celery, bell pepper."
• None of your potential vacation destinations are north of the oldMississippi River Bridge (US 190).
• You refer to Louisiana winters as "Gumbo Weather."
• You sit down to eat boiled crawfish and your host says, "Don't eat thedead ones," and you know what he means.
• You don't know the real names of your friends, only their nicknames.
• You don't learn until high school that Mardi Gras is not a nationalholiday.
• You believe that purple, green, and gold look good together
• Your last name isn't pronounced the way it's spelled.
• You know what a nutria is but you still pick it to represent yourbaseball team.
• You like your rice and your politics dirty.
• No matter where else you go in the world, you are always disappointedinthe food.
• Your loved one dies and you book a jazz band before you call thecoroner.
• Your accent sounds nothing like Harry Connick, Jr's.
• You can sing these jingles by heart: "Rosenberg's, Rosenberg's, 1825Tulane;" "At the beach, at the beach, the Pontchartrain Beach..."
• When a hurricane is imminent, you have a lot more faith in Nash Robertsthan some Super Doppler 6000.
• Your town is low on the education chart, high on the obesity chart andyou don't care because you're No. 1 on the party chart.
• Nothing shocks you. Period. Ever.
• Being in a jam at Tulane and Broad isn't the same as being stuck intraffic.
• You have sno-ball stains on your shoes.
• You call tomato sauce "red gravy."
• Your middle name is your mother's maiden name, or your father'smother'smaiden name, or your mother's mother's maiden name, or yourgrandmother's mother's maiden name, or your grandfather's mother'smaiden name.
• You've done your laundry in a bar.
• You don't show your "pretties" during Mardi Gras.
• Your Santa Claus rides an alligator and your favorite Saint is afootball player.
• You suck heads, eat tail, sing the blues and you actually know whereyougot them shoes.
• You know why you should never, ever swim by the Lake Pontchartrain steps(for more than one reason).
• You cringe every time you hear an actor with a Southern or Cajun accentin a "New Orleans-based" movie or TV show.
• You waste more time navigating back streets than you would if you justsat in traffic.
• Your one-martini lunch becomes a five-bloody mary afternoon... and youkeep your job.
• You're walking in the French Quarter with a plastic cup of beer. Whenitstarts to rain, you cover your beer instead of your head.
• You eat dinner out and spend the entire meal talking about all theothergood places you've eaten.
• You greet people with "Howzyamomma'an'dem?" and hear back "Dey fine!"
• When you refer to a geographical location "way up North," you arereferring to places like Shreveport, Little Rock or Memphis, "where itgets real cold."
• You've ever had Community Coffee.
• You can pronounce Tchoupitoulas but can't spell it.
• You don't worry when you see ships riding higher in the river than thetop of your house.
• The four seasons in your year are: crawfish, shrimp, crab, and KingCake.
• You describe a color as "K & B Purple."
• You know those big roaches can fly, but you're able to sleep at nightanyway.
• You assume everyone has mosquito swarms in their backyard.
• When out of town, you stop and ask someone where there is adrive-through Daiquiri place, and they look at you like you have threeheads.
• You have flood insurance.
• You get on a bus marked "Cemeteries" and don?t think twice.
• You eat sno-balls instead of throwing them.
  

NO taste treats

I got two words for you Michele: Blueberry Mojitos. Actually, "St. Joe's Blueberry Mojito recognized as one of the top 200 drinks in America" says Food and Wine Magazine.

Where? Near here.

Yesterday I cruised by the law school (it happened to be near the crepe place), and they knew me instantly. Um, good?

I've started cleaning out the new place, and having color quandaries. The Roommate wants white. I refuse. It shall be interesting. I think green for the living room, yellow for the kitchen, purples for my bedroom. It's all moot right now because I hurt my right shoulder with enthusiastic cleaning (which I will return to shortly, apparently with my left arm).

Gail - PAINT!! Do not doubt! If you're not sure, then COME HERE AND PAINT WITH ME! :-) Much yumminess!

Everybody says it's hot as hell wherever they are - Oregon, Germany, California - but I have to say it's not too bad here - it's in the upper 80's and lower to mid-90's and extremely humid, but it's not horrible.

Last night I had gumbo and boudin balls at a cafe a couple blocks from the house. Tonight we're going to African food in the French quarter. Two nights ago we went to sushi next door to the cajun cafe from last night. I do need to try a muffaletta soon - but I never seem to have a hungry enough stomach. At the cajun cafe last night there was alligator meat and frog legs, and all sorts of interesting things.

Last night when I stopped at the gas station when I was trying to pay, the customer in front of me asked if I speak French. "A little." Well, thus commenced a thorough lesson on Cajun French, most of which revolved around profanity such as bec mon chu (kiss my ass). I forgot the rest, but I'm sure I'll hear them again.

I officially move in August 1st, but he's cool with me moving stuff in and fixing stuff up before then. Today and tomorrow are cleaning and hopefully painting some, Friday and Saturday are garage sale days, Sunday is moving in with Tami's help, Monday I start volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, Tuesday Tami flies to Jordan and a couple hours later The German Roommate arrives.

Well, the shoulder pain is not dissipating, so time to stop avoiding it.

off Maple Street

I think I found a place to live! Of course I'm having all sorts of worries that it's not the PERFECT place - but it's .5 mile from school and right near great cafes and bookstores on Maple Street. And Whole Foods isn't far away.

There are cockroaches. The windows are small. The A/C are room units.

BUT, the rooms are large (and there's even an extra guest bedroom!), the floors are tile (cleaner!), and the kitchen has new appliances including gas stove and dishwasher and fridge (and new counters), and he'll provide a washer/dryer for us. There's not off-street parking, but there's a parking place for me right in front. The neighborhood is great and safe, and I like the owner's wife and daughter (they're from Bangladesh). There aren't a lot of cupboards in the kitchen, but there's a great-sized pantry. There's a ton of storage space - which will be very helpful to me if I try to sublet the room while I'm gone during summers. The owner gave me the keys so I'll go check it out again right now, and Tami will come over and check it out with me after work.

I must be crazy, because I'm not driving around looking at other places. It's not one of those quaint southern mansions all divided up, but it provides privacy and space. And the mansions are only a block away to look at.

If I like it and get the go-ahead from German roommate, owner will drive me to Sherwin-Williams to let me pick out whatever paints I want and he'll pay for them. This is like a dream come true FOR JENNY. Oh - and he said he'd even help me move in! He said he was holding out for somebody great, and he loved that I'm a teacher now law student.

OK, what questions do I need to ask?? What's important??

Ole Miss mess

Today's adventures included a trip into Mississippi (about 10 minutes away) and on over to Gulfport. It looks like southern Lebanon - total destruction. Coastal buildings' facades sheered away, entire houses and restaurants missing with just foundations or parking spaces left behind. It's shocking. And I really need to get out my camera to show these things.

Borrowed the newspaper from Tami's mom and have some good leads, so I'm back at CC's with a cafe au lait and wireless connection to map them all to see. Tomorrow will be an intensive home-searching day ... looking through the ads for Target, etc. made me want to start stocking a home!

We went to Danny & Clyde's for a Po' Boy (Michele will love it because: "Danny & Clyde’s is simpy the best fresh and healthy food to go" - and she will ignore the fact of mayo and gravy dripping off white bread and 1/2 pound of meat). So many menu items to eat my way through - next will be the muffalettas (though, they are HUGE - half of the po' boy is still in the fridge, and will probably be too soggy to enjoy later). The problem is of course that it's all so much meat, and while I do eat meat it pretty much grosses me out [note: guy just walked past saying, "You go girl! I gotta get up to that typing speed, I really do!" - CC's has quite the little community of visitors]. Staying with Tami, an avid vegetarian and near-vegan, isn't helping me stomach the dead flesh any better (though, I guess eating it that way is better than eating live flesh), and she's even just about got me off milk. I'm so easily influenced by whomever I'm around.

Anyway, while there I stumbled upon brilliance. I will be stupid Yankee for the next three years. I will ask for chowder in all the public places, just to be sure to be identified. I will wear Alaska and Oregon t-shirts. When I am in that role, people are so damn friendly and helpful. At Danny and Clyde's, I had to stop the cashier from helping me too much, and she compromised with giving such explicit, clear directions. I think that's common here - I have not yet gotten lost anywhere because everybody's directions are so clear.

But another benefit to being Stupid Yankee is that it helps me circumvent some of the racism. Tami's mom today told of another po' boy place nearby, and how it had moved from Chalmette (which is a unique kind of place, which I'm familiar with because that's where we did Habitat work in April) and she really likes Chalmette so likes that place. To illustrate not the positive side of Chalmette, she said while in there they were talking about FEMA trailer A/C not working well and it being finally fixed because, "They finally sent a white man to take care of it!" My jaw dropped, of course. Led to conversation about racism and tensions between whites and blacks here, and I remembered how I played Stupid Yankee in the Atlanta airport and things were much better. See Stupid Yankee. She blind. Hey, if it helps me from being invited to a Klan meeting, then I'll play it.

walleyes biting

Funniest thing said to me so far today? "Would you like me to put these boxes somewhere? They're pretty heavy."

Yes, my friends helped me with moving those boxes of books twice, but I moved them at least five times for myself. But thanks, Mr. Mailman, for letting me avoid doing that again for right now.

Common topic of conversation around here? Fishing. There's a whole fishing section of the news - Friday had great walleye fishing on the north side of Lake Pontchartrain - and I hear people talking about it about wherever I go. Live shrimp as bait - that's the trick.

Other funniest thing? I was craving some clam chowder last night, and Tami's mother said only "Yankees" would have such a thing. It's gumbo around here, I have been resolutely told. So now I know, and maybe I can dim that flashing "Yankee" neon sign on my forehead.

The real estate person I emailed last night hasn't called me, so I'll continue with the internet research and on Monday drive back into town and deal with all things. It's probably 4 gallons of gas round-trip, and a white-knuckle drive over very long bridges, so I'll only do it when it's helpful.

Humidity is good for my hair and skin. Or maybe it's the air conditioning, since I rarely leave its joyful ambience.

here!

I am here. In CC's Coffee House in Louisiana, enjoying the free wireless internet connection.

I got in last night about 8:30 ... that was driving on Wednesday from 6:30 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. (losing two hours) and then Thursday from 6:30 a.m. until 8:30 p.m. That's 29 hours. That sucks. Then today I had to get back in my truck in order to drive into New Orleans, which is about an hour away to get to where I need to go.

Things here are not good - near the university, there are still abandoned vehicles and wrecked houses. The roads are in horrible shape (that's nothing new, I hear). Finding housing that meets my specifications will be difficult - especially the part about wanting off-street parking (there's such a shortage of on-street parking, and it's not super-safe, and my insurance will cost more if I have to park on-street).

OK, who just called me with an "unknown" number? Call again!

It is horrifying to me in what bad shape most of this area is. What is the excuse for this?

On the other hand, it's New Orleans! I drove around a bit on my way to look for housing, and it's still a great city. Lots of interesting places to explore and to eat at (I had Lebanese food today - I'm still bitter about that Alexandria, Egypt, eating experience).

So, I arrived safe and sound, and I'm on to new adventures!

the profundity of a refrigerator magnet

Aztec Boy was grateful for the things I left for him yesterday. He took The Little Prince (El Principito) to read in the park yesterday. I like that image - I make schoolboys out of the gangstas. But his favorite was the magnet I left: "Do one thing every day that scares you. -Eleanor Roosevelt." It makes him think a lot, he says. I gave it to him because I thought it would (and because I'm getting rid of almost everything I own). I like being right, and I like being appreciated.

So to impress people, at least teenagers, I should begin to speak in such snippets. Then I bought him a mug that I've been eyeing for months, and it was their last one: "Be the change you want to be in the world. -Gandhi." I wanted the mug for myself, but the thought of packing one more thing made me physically ill, so I gave it to him and he said he'd drink from it and think about it every day. Kids are sweet.

He talked. He talked for two hours nonstop about all his fears of his future, about what he will become, about what will be. Clearly he needed to talk and he just needed somebody to listen. It exhausted me. Sure, we used to talk all the time, but it was no more than 20 minutes before or after school - but never for two hours straight about EVERYTHING of his 17 years condensed with visions of the future. I remember having a really cool older friend when I was that age - she lived in New York City and she had been a camp counselor. I visited her my senior year while visiting colleges, and I had a great time. I probably talked nonstop about my life, and I have no tales of 7 foster homes in one year, abusive stepfathers, illegal immigration. She probably slept for a week after I left.

Aztec Boy is at this point in his life that is so critical. He's started running into legal trouble, his brother is in juvie, he has no male role model. I just want to help tip him in the right direction. I try to be judicious in what I say to him because I know he does listen, sometimes too much. Not that I had much chance to talk today without interrupting. But I got some good zingers in, sayings fit for a refrigerator. "While we always carry within us who our families and parents are, at some point everybody has to get over it and rise above their background." "I know that you are capable of doing anything you set your mind to. The path is not easy for you, but you will succeed."

Maybe I could get a job at Hallmark. Of course I also played the teacher as well. "Why do you think I would be so opposed to you joining the army?" "How are you visualizing your goals?"

If I can just make the difference in this kid's life, it makes all of last year's horrors bearable. If he ends up in college instead of lock-up or on a battlefield, then that makes my existence just a little less pathetic. Pursuing a professional soccer career is a draw.

And now I'm pathetically sitting here amongst cardboard boxes. I'm exhausted and hate moving. Time to do the last packing and loading. ETD tomorrow: 6 a.m.

who is that person?

Sometimes when I hear stories about myself, I wonder about the sanity of the person being referred to. Like the weekends in Africa, the baking overload on Shirley's birthday, the constant-on-the-go.

To see myself through somebody else's eyes can be amusing. Talking to my former principal this morning, I realized how odd I seem to him. "Yeah, three years at law school, that's a long time," I said. "For you! That's a lifetime!"

Then I went hunting down Aztec Boy. He wasn't at school so I went to his foster house with a note asking where the hell he was (no, Jenny, I didn't say hell). His foster mother was there who gave me the scoop he was at immigration office. He's not here legally, exactly, so this is good news. On the phone it only took us a minute to start arguing about how he's quitting summer school. I want to adopt this kid, because we already get on each others' nerves enough, so we could just bypass that whole getting along thing and get straight to family feuds. Anyway, he's going to help me move tomorrow, just to load up the last of the things into my truck. Once I get it back. I just can't imagine one of my high school teachers giving me a call as s/he drove through town, asking me to help them move. Although, I have helped many do such things. See, to me, how I am, it isn't strange. Until I see it through somebody else's eyes. Whatever. I get to nag him on the straight and narrow and get the help I need. It's all good.

I guess flat tires are boring, but mine blew and ripped in a way that set adrenaline pumping through my veins. Oregonians helped me in California, because that's the way they are. I made it back, but I found out today that in addition to ripping off the mudflap and fender liner, the brake line got kinked. This is an expensive trip so far. Hopefully this keeps me safe and sound, because my financial security is slipping away.

It's probably a good thing, because I'm tired. Been tired. Should be in bed now. Have gotten much done, had fun with Michele and Jenny and Sabine and Gail.

OK, there. I'm tired. Yawn.

I'm not dying

Well, at least not of cancer. I guess we're all dying, technically speaking.

The doctor today was really good and really smart. He thinks I had/have thyroiditis. The thyroid is an active gland, it cycles and its levels fluctuate, and there's no way that my TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) could be as low as mine was in May and that I could still not have symptoms.

So, hopefully everything clears up on its own! And there's a good chance of that it seems - the cyst that I just had drained used to be a nodule that my body got rid of. That's pretty cool. Lots of macrophages were swimming around in there.

So, to celebrate the good news I swung by Borders to pick up Sean Paul CD - I need some good driving music!

Now, MUST FINISH PACKING! Two more movies to watch!

tip

If you're calling for details about stalking, be careful who you talk to.

OK, I'm of course not really stalking a student, but I want to check up on him the one day I'm in town - so I called the school to learn school hours. Who answered? The principal. THE PRINCIPAL! And he recognized my voice. Of course, years of stalking practice had me with a great cover story (he effed up and the district owes me $1,000 and I need to fill out a paper).

I'm not Mary Kay LeTourneau or any of the other women teachers who have sex with students. Of course I never would, or be inappropriate at all. But we live in this climate of extreme fear of teacher-student relationships. So, to check up on a former student could be construed in an inappropriate way. I've been in too many places where I've seen the witchhunts against good teachers - but the real problem ones weren't even dealt with.

The way schools are set up, it makes healthy relationships between students and teachers too often seem pathological. What happens? Neither students nor teachers get their emotional needs met. Sure, some people do just fine with a cold, institutional environment, or they find ways around it (being grandmotherly, for example), but too many people die emotional deaths each day because they aren't connected. When I go out on the limb for a kid getting services s/he needs and I have to pull teeth every step of the way - that is bullshit. Classrooms and schools should be places filled with love and caring. Of course that means different things to different people - I, for one, am never thrilled when kids feel the need to hug me. I have personal space issues. Nor am I a warm fuzzy person with desire to praise. But I love fiercely and protectively. I am a pitbull - often harassing students and parents and administrators to do what they need for the student to be successful. I'm surprised no official complaints have been filed against me for that.

But I've been burned too many times - and seen others burned.

And that is why I cannot teach anymore.

The good thing about this morning's conversation is that we were friendly. I actually sustained a positive relationship with an administrator for whom I hold very little respect. He never screwed me over like he did others, and we are still civil. That is a major step for me. Of course the assistant principal and I are not civil, but that's ok. One boss who doesn't hate me - that's a step in the right direction for my law career.

tricks

So one reason I have such a hard time going to bed early is that if I'm not TOTALLY exhausted when I do, I lay there forever with thoughts of Dayton running through my head. It's painful. Beyond painful. And then I have dreams and I wake up in a funk.

So yesterday's trick took the cake - I quit drinking coffee again. Yes, I quit when I came and it was painless, but then I started drinking it again. So when I didn't drink yesterday I got horrible shooting pains in my skull which spread to nausea. I got nothing done, but at least when I went to bed the pain was physical.

Sigh. I guess it's only been three months or so since I broke it off, so I'm not yet pathological in my grief.

24 hours until I take off, and I haven't started packing yet. Lots to do! Lots to do!

credit report

Today I finally decided on which loan provider I wish to indebt myself into 6 digits, and I filled out the on-line application. I got a "pending" notice and phone number to call.

They almost denied me. Why? I have 30 pages of credit report saying I always pay as agreed.

But there's a collection agency who reported me in 2003 for a $60 bill they say I didn't pay from some place I've never heard of. I certainly never got that bill, and in 2002-2004 I was living in my Tower house so I know it wasn't lost in my numerous moves.

This is SUCH BULLSHIT. How is it legal for them to report this and drop my credit from excellent to fair without ever notifying me? The credit companies have ALL my old addresses, so I know they could have contacted me.

So, I was fortunate, because I had seen this problem two days ago when I ran my credit report because my law school paperwork said I needed loan approval. Therefore, I had a sound argument to give the telephone person - that I had disputed this charge and she should look at everything else. (Plus, I've paid $20K to this company from my LAST student loans! I am an ideal lendee!)

To think that some bogus collection agency could have stood in my way of attending law school! Sheesh!

Tonight we watched Chocolat - not the Pirate-gypsy-boy one, but one that takes place in Cameroon. The subtexts were complicated and confusing (compounded by the problem I have in distinguishing white men from each other), but it made me yearn so strongly for West Africa. This love I have of Africa, it's so deep in my marrow, as if existing long before I ever set foot there (in this lifetime, at least). For all the damn malaria and heat and public latrines and abuses of power, it is where I feel most alive. My experiences there are polar opposites from Claire Denis's (Chocolat is her story), but at the same time things have not changed so much - and she captures it well.

So, I've spent the past three hours trying to find a place in Africa to go to if I quickly get situated in New Orleans. Airfare is atrociously expensive, however, and I realize how selfish that is. Instead, I volunteered to work with Habitat for Humanity in St. Bernard Parish again until classes start. Their work hours are now 6:30 a.m. - 1 p.m., so I could spend afternoons moving and orienting.

But, I am bargaining with myself. To do this volunteering, I will go to Senegal for my three weeks of winter break, to study French in Dakar and do some volunteering. And I'm borrowing almost the whole amount for school, so that I keep my savings for these adventures. I know how I get when I don't get my adventures. Plus I've just started harboring a fantasy that I will do an internship in Liberia next summer in addition to courses in the Greek Isles on maritime commerce and The Hague on international human rights.

Damn it, I keep swearing I'll go to bed earlier, and every night I don't. Much to do in the next two days, then taking off for California on Saturday - woo hoo.

Monday will be interesting - after I sort out how to get the additional $1,000 I'm entitled to from my job, I am going to hunt down a former student. Why? Because he functions better when I'm grilling him about doing his homework and all that. So, I will do that, between trips of emptying my storage and getting a malaria prescription from my old doctor (just in case I *have* to go to Africa for a weekend or something).

(Because of this, Gail, afraid I won't make it to dim sum on Monday - plus, I realized I don't want to drive beyond where I'm staying because the next day I have to start on a 2,000-mile drive - maybe we can do something nearer to where I'll be? It would be fun to see you before I leave for good!)

OK, enough African fantasies. I will not go there until December. I'll just keep telling myself that.

benign

At 8:30 this morning, I got a cheerful phone call. The thyroid cyst is benign. Woo hoo! Now of course the only thing troubling me is that a cyst is NOT what they found a couple months ago in California. Hm ... Friday's appointment will hopefully bring clarity.

I just reserved a locker at First Choice Law School. I guess it's really happening!

needles in my throat

Today was biopsy day. The doctor was really good - he was a real doctor, not a lab tech (like I kept getting in California), and he was clearly really experienced and educated - he was the first doctor I felt like I could really ask questions and he understood them and answered them fully.

Then he did the ultrasound and I got to see the nodules. The largest one, on the left, was about 3 cm x 2 cm. I use past tense because he sucked the fluid out of it - which I got to see - it was a bit bloody, mostly just cystic fluid. It'll probably fill again, but at least it's down for now. What is confusing is that the doctors I saw in CA said that the ultrasound there said I have four nodules, three with vasularity. Um, nothing like that on the ultrasound we saw today. Well, the endocrinologist I see on Friday will have all the info and we can sort it out.

After the ultrasound for location, he gave me a local anesthetic - which was a bit painful and I choked on it because some of the liquid got in my windpipe, which is really common especially because my cyst was right there. Then he took three samples - using a really fine needle to first suck out the cystic fluid, then another sample from the solid layer around it, and then from a small nodule nearby. All will be analyzed for any indication of cancer.

But he said that thyroid cysts are 99% benign - I didn't have any of the obvious, typical signs of cancer. So, good to hear.

Got several packets of papers from First Choice Law School - lots of things to fill out and return and figure out and all that. My student loan payments will be over $1,000/month after I graduate for 15 years. That is, of course, horrifying. But, it'll all work out, and I'll pay them off early I'm sure. AND the other good news is that they aren't figuring in my savings, so I can hang on to them to pay interest that accumulates as well as for fun summer/winter/spring breaks - and I could also have my own apartment and set it up. I'll end up borrowing more money, but I'll have higher quality of life, and that matters at my age. Twenty years ago - or even 10 years ago - it wouldn't have mattered much, but I've got higher standards now.

And, to celebrate, I'm buying my dream knives. I found the set for a great deal at a local knife store. This lets me leave my good knives here with Susan - and this way I'll have a block to store the new ones in (which are exactly the same, just one extra), which I've been wanting for years. I know I'm spoiling myself, but I cannot stand to live without good knives. I went in looking for a cleaver, like the kind Gail has, and the lady convinced me to the value of the Santoku, and I'm a convert. Since I don't chop meat bones, it seems the right choice.

So, enough cutting for awhile.

MD update

The update is that there is no update. I went in to see a doctor today - I liked her, though I think I overwhelmed her. I finally got her to agree to fast-track me for a biopsy. One reason I liked her is that she isn't in a rush to worry - she says it is more likely Graves Disease and sometimes people's bodies just handle that themselves and don't even need treatment.

The fast track, however, is over a week from now. BUT, they promise to have the results to the endocrinologist by my appointment with him next Friday. And the doctor said I really should talk to the endocrinologist, so now I can't even leave town early so it all works out I guess.

SO, I won't be taking off as soon as I'd hoped. BUT, it looks like I can take off next week. SO, tentative plan is to leave here on Saturday, July 15th; spend Sunday & Monday in Riverside area, then drive off to NOLA, hopefully arriving there Wednesday (Thursday 7/20 at the latest) to have about three weeks to find a place to live and get established there.

Last night was horrendous for the dogs - they even climbed into the bathtub to hide from the fireworks. Selma mellowed but Otter was up all night in panic mode, and then the evil cat had to jump in my bed, too. So, I'm just a little tired.

life as I know it

Last night I got both dogs in my bed, and their trembling with intense fear at the fireworks was a lot like one of those cheap hotel massaging mattresses.

This morning I had three emails - one from a former Eskimo student in Alaska, one from friend/brother Fred in Liberia, and one from the hiring person at the Jordanian university (I had emailed, saying I was no longer interested in the job).

When I was a kid, these were the sorts of interactions I wanted to have when I was all grown up. So, here I am. Life does not suck.

The law school I refused has now sent me two t-shirts and a pink baseball cap. As if that would change my mind? I'm not that easy!

Enough vacation - I've been slacking since I got here, so now I have many errands to take care of - doctors, glasses, new windshield, oil change, etc. etc. Tomorrow. When the sun comes out.

Selma and fireworks

Selma may be a small dog, but time and again on our travels she has shown herself fearless and ferocious.

Note to self: If I move to a war-torn area, Selma stays in Oregon.

The past couple days have been hard on her - she HATES FIREWORKS. I don't know when it developed, but it's a full-force phobia now. Last night she sat on my lap (a rare occurrence), sat on my feet when I went to the bathroom, and in bed used her paws to roll me over so that she could hide her face in my arms. If she were normally like this, I would find it highly aggravating. But, she's usually so independent that it's a novelty. Poor girl.

And she's had an active social calendar. Friday we went up to Portland and first visited Siva & Muthu, then stayed two nights with Amy & Stephen & the boys, then went to see Liz & Jeremy for a pre-wedding BBQ. Otter just collapses most of that time - spends it passed out in the middle of the gathering area, completely asleep and oblivious. Selma, however, is a bit higher-strung and cannot shirk her duties so. She's exhausted now from all the glad-pawing, and the fireworks keeping her awake in the night were not what she needed. Or is that me?