making my teeth hurt

When you sit outside my house and crank up your stereo high enough with the bass just right - you can make my fillings ache.

Wish I didn't know that.

two blocks away

Last night about 8:30 pm, two blocks from my house, somebody was murdered.

That's all the information I have, because it was buried in the B section at the bottom of the page, in the same short article about another murder in another part of town. No info at all about the victim, etc.

It doesn't bother me so much about a murder happening not so far from me. What bothers me is how blase the whole thing is taken in stride. I heard no sirens, nothing. There was a lot of street noise last night - lots of people hanging out, chatting, car radios blaring. But surely that wouldn't have masked the sounds of gunshots and ambulance?

Is it somebody I've walked past and said "hi" to? The murder rate of black young males in this city - it's an epidemic and so very, very troubling.

the best grilled catfish ...

... I've ever eaten is two blocks away. It's an always-bustling place so I didn't really want to go, but nothing else is so close. It was awesome.

While waiting I had an interesting conversation with a drunk disinherited Mississippian. He did have his teeth, but still not my type. His friends were a little embarrassed about his behavior but he ignored them. "You look smart," he said. "Is that so?" "Well, at least you white folks always think you're smart." "So, you're saying you think all white folks are the same?" "Don't be making what I say sound all racial." "I'm clarifying - are we all the same in your mind?" "No, no, I don't mean it like that." "Oh, because that's what it sounds like."

I don't care how drunk a person is - I still get to call 'em on their shit. And when I walked out a woman I hadn't noticed said, "I bet you're glad to get away from him. Talk talk talk." "He's ok, he just wanted free legal advice and I'm not a lawyer yet." She was really friendly and made me realize that she was keeping an eye on the whole situation just in case he got out of control - as were most of the many people in there. He was a cultural lesson - or at least purported to be, telling me how black folks are and how white folks are. Apparently it's pretty simple, so once Randy gets his word out a bunch of sociologists will be out of work.

Anyway, this place also sells fresh seafood, so now I know where to go for fresh trout, catfish, etc. (like shrimp - when hell freezes over, since I don't like shrimp and nothing's going to make me like it). I have a really hard time buying fish at the grocery stores here - it always looks pretty nasty and is way expensive. But here it's not too pricey, and looked really good and fresh.

Oh, and the part funny to me - woman in front of me ordered a turkey neck. That was it - just a turkey neck.

Only in New Orleans. And Hawaii, apparently, since Stephen loves his turkey necks. That and the Saints may actually lure the Yamasakis here to visit some day.

first walk

I got to thinking about fufu and next thing I knew, I was out the door walking. There I was at Bennachin's where I had a lovely spinach & okra soup with fufu, then I kept on walking. A sheriff's car outside my friend Angelina's house - interesting. (It's on the way, people, I'm not stalking!)

"Somehow" ended up at Cafe du Monde, then wandered around on back home.

All on foot, all without the hassles of parking limits, etc. Wore out a flip flop, but an enjoyable evening stroll. I'm not real fond of the tourists in the Quarter, but on the edges it's awesome. Made a cook at Port of Call double over in laughter even.

There's a church on Esplanade near Villere - Episcopal I think - that keeps a list of all the murders in New Orleans. Big sign. I counted 71 names for 2007. What a shame, what a shame. The vast majority are young males, and how can we not realize this is a CRISIS? People shooting at each other is not a symbol that things are ok in our society!

The church also had free English lessons (sign in Spanish), so I might give a call and see if they need a volunteer - it's a quick bike ride from my house and I could help out sometimes.

afternoon delight

When Tiff told the boys I was coming to visit, they asked if they knew me and if I was sarcastic.

To the second, a definite affirmative, as this title indicates.

I'm going, in about 20 minutes, to take my Con Law final - making it up from yesterday. My brain feels encased in cotton, though it's a little better now than a few hours ago (when I emailed about the job interview this morning to confirm, he responded asking at 7:40 if I could be there at 8:00 (two hours earlier than planned) ... showering was in a hurry, and brain was definitely in cotton then).

I hate afternoon exams - my body doesn't function well from about 2-4 pm. I've always known this and have frequently planned appropriately, but I don't have any control that ALL my finals this year (what my grades are entirely based upon) are during the very worst time of day for me.

Oh well. That's the least of my problems this time around. I guess I do know the content ok - I did study like a maniac on the airplane and when I would wake up at 4:30 am. I just didn't practice it enough - and that's what the test is all about. But, there's no guarantee I would have practiced it enough even if here, so oh well.

My biggest problem is that I don't explain well enough on the exam questions - I don't make everything explicit. I think it comes from teaching 8th graders, where I'm known to ramble on at length, but getting to the point quickly was definitely an asset in keeping their attention. They don't want you to get to the point on law exams, and rewiring my brain has been difficult, and I don't do it very well.

So, I do have a job lined up probably - as a part-time research assistant. It seems really perfect for me - I can travel quite a bit and get my pro bono hours out of the way and do other NOLA things, all while being able to write some legal experience on my resume. She seems a little scattered about what she wants, and she hired three of us, so I'm not really sure about a lot of things, but I'll go talk to her on Tuesday about it. The interview today was about a FT research assistantship - the pay for all of them is really, really bad. But I like the idea of not showing up in a suit every day and of having flexibility to do other things.

Especially a wake-up call after Carrie. I want to go to Gail's wedding, and Fred's. I want to visit my friends in Riverside and in Oregon and in Alaska, and that's my goal for the summer - legal profession be damned. I want to chop wood at the yurts until my arms ache unbearably (that will take about three minutes) and help them plant a garden.

Next summer I will be completely tied to a law job (hopefully!) and then once I start practicing, vacations are few and far between. I'll worry about my priorities then at that time. For now, I have a summer ahead and I want to play, mosquitoes be damned.

I'm a little proud of myself

All those rental tests where I went undercover to bust racist landlords?

The study has been published - here's an article about it today on the front page of our newspaper. And the person in charge just emailed and said my work was included.

It's nice to be part of something right and just.

The bad news? 58% of housing in this area is less accessible to African Americans.

It sucks to be part of a society so wrong and unjust.

rebuilding rant

All I have to do to get excited again about going to Liberia is start cruising the internet.

Did you know that the life expectancy there is 39.6 years. Hm. Carrie was 39.3 years, and I'm 38.6. Puts it into perspective for me.

I have to go. Even if only for a month instead of the whole summer. If I don't go, I'll never forgive myself for missing this opportunity - I've wanted it for two years. Alfred, the director of "my" organization, promised to hook me up (not his words) with the director of Truth and Reconciliation Commission to work on an anti-impunity measure.

Anti-impunity. I think that is my new middle name, my mantra, my koan. Anti-impunity. It offends all my moral sensibilities that people get away with bad things - but especially in a society which could quite easily fall apart because of it. They believe forgiveness is the answer, but I disagree. I think, in a Rule of Law cult follower kind of way, that accountability is the answer. Not the fake accountability of our government, but a real holding people responsible for what they did. Only then will progress really be made.

And I also do not understand what seems to me Liberia's continued need for external assistance. It's like they always want outsiders to come in and set things right. Of course I know that no LIberians read this blog, or I would not post that - it's oversimplifying the situation. But I have hope - with people like Alfred, and especially with Madame President Ellen, that there will be self-sufficiency.

Which, worries me a little. Here I am ranting about self-sufficiency, and I as an outsider want to "help." That's my main hold-up about going. Not the discomfort, or the complications, or danger, or expense. It's about the contrast between what I really believe (that Liberians need to pull themselves out of this mess) and what I want to do (go there and help on my terms).

Article today talked about donor fatigue - and once that sets in, if you're relying on more help you're screwed.

I guess I'm all up on my high horse about self-sufficiency because I think New Orleans needs a bunch more, too. Not for the levees or that stuff, but for each house and small business. I know that everybody is exhausted from the extreme challenges of dealing with their own stuff - but why aren't people banding together more? Why aren't neighborhoods helping each other with gutting and building? Yeah, like an Amish barn-raising. Working together, things go quickly. Broadmoor is a good example of that, but why not the rest of the city? And why is there such a gap between the people and the government? We're only 200,000 people! There's no reason for this. It's beyond corruption - it's putting a barrier between the represented and the "representatives" that makes so many problems - from these stupid huge garbage cans that nobody has place to keep, to the cops never getting people to tell them who committed the murders, to a school system that needs to be razed and rebuilt.

Lousiana, according to a study I read recently, has the second-lowest rate of volunteerism. I had a hard time believing that - I know a lot of local volunteers - but maybe that's on to something. Why aren't people here helping each other more? I see there are two models - my house is flooded and my neighbor's house is flooded. We can both live in our FEMA trailers and wait for a volunteer service or FEMA or somebody else to come along and gut our houses - OR we can buy one wheelbarrow and first start on my neighbor's house and then when that's done start on mine.

When I first got here, I met a guy who owns a small cell phone shop. He evacuated with his family, but he was back within the week - sneaking past the National Guard lines - to start rebuilding. "Everybody sits around and waits here - why not pick up a damn hammer yourself?" Now, he has some skills, and he has family and friends that help - but he's really on to something.

I know, I'm Alaskan through and through. My father built our house, with the help of friends. I remember my 7th summer was spent picking up nails and cleaning up bags of cement, because a group of guys were there every day until the house was done (well, inhabitable - and then the rest of the work NEVER got done - nobody in my family is good with follow-through). And of course my dad did the same for other people's houses. That's what we did there - no tract housing, no outside consultants, no federal disaster management. We were the Alaskan Amish of a sort.

So I look around here, and I just don't get it. I went to Grand Isle and other small towns, and things look way better than here - because people help each other, people rely on each other - and not just their kin, but on their community. And I know that's buried deep in the nature here, but it's been covered up with something strange. It needs to be uncovered.

singing praises to destruction

They tore down the house next door to me. It was a cute little house, but it sat for almost two years with the Katrina damage, and the people plan to replace it with a two-story using the space better. I thought it would be fun to gut and fix up, but Ahmed's idea of ripping it down was right.

Pipeworks of Harahan did really a fantastic job with ripping it down - it took them only three days of intensive work, during which they never blocked the streets or anything. They didn't leave their debris hoping for FEMA to come back through to pick it up - they loaded all up and drove it away immediately, and they leveled it with sand when they were finished. And they had workers of different ethnicities (always good, in my eyes, and unlike most of the workers I see around who are grouped by ethnicity exclusively). They weren't even obnoxious at all - even when they were pounding out the slab to remove, it was never unnecessary noise.

So kudos to a local firm who does excellent, professional work - and if you need a house torn down in the New Orleans area, I can highly recommend them.

Crescent City Classic

Ayanna and I, perhaps trying to make our friendship more than just about eating together, walked the 10K Crescent City Classic today. I did, however, make more than a few comments about skipping the race and brunching instead - particularly when we walked past Cafe du Monde.

I just ran out of patience. Race start at 8:30, so I got to the end line at 7:45, found parking, and waiting for the shuttle - which they didn't tell us COST MONEY. Ay joined later, and it was a HUGE line. I didn't realize that 60% of New Orleans's population would be there and there'd only be five buses driving us all. Yeah, I'm exaggerating - but not by much. Because we didn't cross the start line until 9:00. Yeah, that's right - almost 1 1/2 hours of waiting just to get to the start line. Crazy.

It's really cold today today, and windy - there were a few times the wind was so loud and hard I felt like a deaf kite. That's probably why there weren't many cheerleaders along the way (one couple sat out there cheering us on, with their little dogs who were wrapped in fur robes and still would rather be inside) or people in costumes or much of a post-party. Maybe we didn't stick around long enough, but I was ready to be done. Six miles ain't that far, but I'm a little sore. I'm told this is a common symptom of hyperthyroidism - quick muscle loss. I'm always fighting a losing battle. Oh well.

In all it was good, but now we know how to do things better. Do our own car shuttle, plan to spend some pre-race time at CDM, that sort of thing.

Another New Orleans experience to check off the list.

why I love ...

First, why I love Southern California. Tortilla art. I've been missing SoCal's Latino culture lately.

Next, why I love New Orleans. Stella Shouting Contest at the Tennessee Williams Fest. Where else is it haute couture to rip your shirt and fall to your knees shouting?

And Louisiana in general. It's a little like Alaska in a way - where else can I say, "Anybody have a way to open this cardboard box?" and every male and several females in the crowd immediately whip out a big ole hunting knife? It's folksy and real like Alaska, and maybe that's why I feel at home. But there's also big difference - people are far friendlier here, and while they are definitely quirky they aren't as extreme as a fair percentage of Alaskans. Too many people move to Alaska because they really can't function in a society where they have to interact with people - because they want to start their own church which tells them to have sex wtih their children and deal tons of meth, that sort of thing.

But here in Louisiana, there are down-home traditions such as Egg Knocking Contest. Where else is it a cultural tradition to tap another's egg? Too funny.

Pacques, pacques, mes amis. Never a dull moment down here.

Habitat week

This has been my week for reconnecting with folks I met through my Habitat volunteering - Kim, Norwood, and now Keith & Netanya.

I took Sabine and Mike over to Chalmette for the Fiesta Islenos. It was ok - the paella wasn't great, though Sabine said the alligator sausage was quite good. We wandered around a bit - not much to see, but good music. I wandered to some ship models and learned a TON about oyster and shrimp boats - there were some oldtimers, a guy about my age (it pains me to say, as he looked firmly middle-aged), and a young kid, and they all do it regularly so I learned about the process. It was fascinating and worth the drive just for that. Then there was a guy selling cypress deck furniture and I fell in love with the porch swings and rockers which were really reasonably priced; got his card and once I'm settled I'll have to indulge in one. So, definitely a productive day.

Sabine and Mike (especially him) really appreciated the drive through upper and lower 9th ward and over into St. Bernard Parish. It's like the tour buses through there - there's a fine line between genuine compassion and wanting to understand vs. the voyeurism of tragedy. They definitely fall to the first side of the line. Things aren't as bad as when I first came a year ago and Tami drove me around, but they definitely don't look so great.

We went by Musicians' Village and it was really rewarding after the efforts there to see kids playing on the front porches! All those houses I worked on - finished! And others built up already. Very exciting.

But the best was driving past Keith and Netanya's house. Keith and I lost touch when he got real busy with student teaching and I with law school. I really meant to go over and help him with rebuilding their house but stuff happens. So I drove around until I saw his truck (didn't even recognize the house anymore) and knocked on the FEMA trailer door. Last time I was there, they'd moved to Metairie, so I was surprised when Netanya opened the door with the CUTEST 2-month-old Naomi.

Keith wasn't around but Netanya and I briefly caught up and she showed us the house - SO MUCH WORK has been done! He just got the sheetrock up! How exciting! And as much as I find the structural work fascinating, this is when I'm the most helpful - I can learn to tape, and I can help with painting and flooring for sure. Keith always was amazed at the exactness of my measurements, so hopefully I'll be able to figure out time to go help over there.

I know I have such fond memories of my time there and the people I met, but I really, really like the neighborhood. I love it that when I drive past everybody smiles and waves - kids playing outside, women standing talking, old men sitting on their porches. I pulled up and asked a neighbor who waved a question and the next thing I knew I was over checking out his great- great-grandnephew.

"Neighborhood" in New Orleans is usually a small area, and its makeup can shift dramatically from one block to the next. When Keith & Netanya live, they love it and feel safe, know all the homeowners, etc. Over a few blocks, maybe not so much - but they're only two blocks from Musicians' Village.

So, I'm going to ask them about housing there - either to rent or to buy. I would love for them to be my neighbors, and it's only 6 miles to school then which is a doable commute. (I wish I could move to Slidell, but 35 miles one way commute,and over that bridge, would KILL ME.) It feels like home there - and not just because Netanya is such a great cook and so welcoming. But it's a real neighborhood, where everybody knows each other and the kids all play outside together and everybody's looking out for each other. Where I can call out and ask her to keep an eye on the kids as I run to the store and does she need anything?

And then I could buy that porchswing/rocker and life would be complete.

satfatoville

Picture this:

Dinner Friday: 1/2 pound of ground beef, with a large baked potato literally dripping with butter and sour cream.

Dinner Saturday: Muffuletta (large sandwich with olive salad, salami, mortodello, and cheese -and the half I got makes two meals).

Let's just say, my arteries may never forgive me. I usually eat well below the RDA of saturated fat, so my body isn't quite sure how to handle Sabine's visit. We had a lovely time at Port of Call last night, though I ate too much and that was uncomfortable. Sabine and Mike got sloshed, trying every drink on the menu, and had a good time.

Today I hit the ground running with chores and studying, then I went to meet Sabine and Mike in the French Quarter. Unfortunately my phone decided to stop working so I wandered around for two hours, shopping, until I got a signal again and coincidentally we were within 100 yards of each other (not that I have any concept of how far 100 yards is, but we were close). We darted into Central Grocery just before they closed - I've been craving the muffuletta with a vigor that makes me worry about the day I can't just drive to the Quarter to pick one up.

And I still have NO CLUE what to do this summer. Or if I should get the Master in International Development. Or if I should buy a house or just find a new apartment, and when. Or, or, or.

And I don't quite know how to tell my neighbor to turn off his A/C when he leaves. It's right by the only door/window I have that I can open (the only way I can get any fresh air) and it's so damn loud. And there's no need! Right now it's about 70 degrees outside - OPEN YOUR WINDOWS! I noticed that he had his front door open WHILE the A/C was running - and it only got up to about 80 today - I sure don't need the A/C for that. And that would be why my electricity bill is less than $40/month and his is well over $300/month. He said he was going to try to conserve energy - and this is how? It doesn't need to be 65 degrees in your apartment, especially when YOU'RE NOT THERE!

OK. Back to Parol Evidence Rule. Tonight's game is Uniform Commercial Code until blood flows from my eyes.

Sabine Day 3

I "studied" this morning (really I went to go get my lab results and search on-line for more information about my care - found some interesting stuff), then picked up Sabine and Mike. We headed out to Belle Chasse for lunch at L'il G's. I was disappointed, but I'm just not really all about the fried seafood. So, I didn't even order - just ate their seafood which worked out (and there were still leftovers).

Then we drove to the Town of Jean Lafitte and saw the puppet display of history while I talked to an oldtime local who told some great tales. Went to the Jean Lafitte Nature Study Center where I birdwatched on Saturday and it was beautiful - irises in bloom, and when we looked long enough a TON of alligators. Lots of anoles and I saw a snake, and no other people around - it was perfect.

Sabine's very favorite thing so far is still the crawfish at the place we went to on the way from the airport, and I think Mike's was the boardwalk today.

I dropped them off to cruise through Audubon Park and then Whole Foods, and I'll pick 'em up in a couple hours and we'll try Port of Call. It's always SO busy there, but I'm craving that sour cream on the potato now.

Sabine Day 2

Early morning pick-up and we went to the Quarter. Found the National Park Service (419 Decatur) with a lovely courtyard and displays, and went on their free walking tour, which was quite good (though it avoided all talk of pirates and voodoo queens). Walked up the Moonwalk over to Jackson Square, saw some good old architecture on Dumaine, learned lots about the Mississippi River, the Battle of New Orleans and other history, and ended up at St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.

We rushed over to Bennachin's to meet Ayanna for lunch. Ay and I have our system now - she gets the black-eyed peas and I get the spinach (both with rice and plantains) and we split 'em to share. Ah, food friends. I think Mike and Sabine were underwhelmed with the restaurant, but at least I have Ayanna. Jen - it is the new Templo, but not gross. :)

Then we headed over back to that cemetery because I wanted to see Marie Laveau's tomb. No voodoo here, though this guy there who kept following us and trying to guilt me into talking to him with really stupid, obnoxious cliches - he just about got a hex from me. When I'm walking away from you, do not follow me and shout after because you will NEVER get my attention unless it is to cause you serious bodily injury.

I left them then, with studying on my mind - but my headache returned, making me pretty pathetic. Pain reliever can take the edge off, but studying is still too painful. Once I'm over this flu, no more excuses.

Tomorrow - off to Lafitte for swamp viewing and Belle Chasse for more good eats. I really do want to like crawfish - and I find them quite tasty - but I'm with Tami - too gross. Besides, every time I eat shellfish I feel ill later. I'll try to stick with the fish tomorrow.

So, Dayton update: he plans to leave for Liberia on the 28th or 30th. Everybody send him good vibes, that everything goes smoothly. I think he's nervous and excited both, and he's been real fed up with Ghana for awhile - his life has just really been on hold there. Once he's settled there and has an address and a phone, I will FINALLY fax him the visa application forms and he'll mail them back to me and then the process will finally be started.

Sabine Day 1

Sabine says there's a Muppet that says, "I came for the food."

That is our friend Sabine, to a T.

Fortunately, this is the place to come.

After spending the morning treating my hair to harsh chemicals and a hacking I'm skeptical of, I met Sabine and Mike at the airport. Somehow I missed the turn I know and ended up in Harahan. Hark, yonder crawfish climbeth into boiling pots. I took a sharp turn into a random seafood place and the next thing I know we had a huge plastic platter of crawfish before us.

Bite, suck - something like that. They look like roaches to me, and I could only manage a few. Yes, they are tasty tasty, but I try not to eat too many insects.

Sabine was in heaven. I'm a little worried that I can't top that experience for her in the next week, so I thought I'd really do a blow-out, so drove them to the French Quarter the long way down St. Charles (beautiful houses and beads in huge oak trees) and up to Cafe du Monde for beignets and cafe au lait. There was hardly any powdered sugar on the beignets, so I wasn't *really* breaking my vow.

Then we went to Sav-A-Center where only Sabine can find things like colored popping corn and 10 pound tubs of chittlins (which she didn't buy, going instead for the Tasso Ham and Andouille Sausage) and sweet potato pancake mix.

What we do the next seven days, I have no idea. That was the extent of my NOLA repertoire.

hospitality redux

Yay! I have an excuse to not cross the bridge tomorrow!

So I planned to continue my list of a million things to do and go to Target. But then I didn't really feel like it and something kept telling me to go to the grocery store instead.

So I did and ran into a classmate and his wife who invited me over to watch the St. Patrick's Day parade tomorrow (actually he'd tried to invite me before but I missed the social cues). I read about it in the paper and thought it sounded fun, and a friend emailed saying which float she'd be riding on and to shout out to her, but honestly I planned to skip it because ... well, it's LENT, PEOPLE. Mardi Gras is OVER. But, this is New Orleans and the fun never really stops.

And classmate's wife said, "Oh, it'll be ok for you to drive over the causeway as long as it's not windy." So I stepped outside the store and the wind was so strong it nearly ripped the cart out of my hands.

South it is - which is actually better with the new parade plans because it starts earlier and is a little closer. I still have to cross a bridge, but it's not 28 miles long because it's over a river (and through the woods) rather than over that damn lake. Of course if I get that "It's a good day to die" vibe, I'm staying home. Cardinals be damned.

here's why I love the South

I just called Kim to confirm that I'm coming over to Mobile (yes, Alabama) on Sunday, and she asked, "You plannin on stayin the whole time?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your whole spring break?"

Now THAT is some hospitality. When I said I was just coming for the day, she said, "Well at least you could stay the night!"

Kim and I met volunteering through Habitat when I first got here, and we bonded over circular saws. She was here for her vacation from nursing school, helping "her man" Norwood (they've been together forever, having even grandchildren together) with his sweat equity hours for Habitat.

They're good people. I'm not sure that Kim was expecting me to agree to visit when she told me months ago that she was moving into a bigger place - but that just shows she doesn't know me. And that she's a trained chef - that sure doesn't hurt (her first question: what would you like to eat?)

Hospitality rocks the South.

Now I just have to figure out which bird watching adventure to go on tomorrow - to the south in Lafitte (which I've heard is really lovely, and it's on my way to the migratory bird festival in a few weeks) or to the north outside Madisonville (which would make me cross the 28-mile causeway [oh, my heart rate just radically accelerated thinking of that horror] AND I could swing by nearby Covington to get me some of those awesome Ariat Fatbaby boots).

Life is pretty damn grand when the worst dilemmas of my weekend are which direction to drive to enjoy nature and what I want to eat when visiting a friend two states over in the hospitable South. I already got six errands done on a fine start to a productive spring break (amazing the energy I have after Popeye's chicken strips).

It ain't Africa, but it'll do.

another apartment

It's in Broadmoor, the best neighborhood - the most diverse, most active, etc. The landlord is awesome, and the apartment is all completely redone. It has washer dryer and lots of closets.

But no central A/C. And I dunno, maybe it's because I've been in New Orleans too long, but 8' ceilings seem low to me now.

I don't know what to do.

My backyard neighbors are making me crazy - they're always out there making noise and burning things. I can't open my backdoor anymore, which is the only way to air out my apartment (the front has no screen, and mosquitos swarm if I leave it open at all). I don't know if I can make it another two months here.

But, I don't want to commit to something that doesn't feel perfect.

Sigh.

double-dog-dare

Sometimes I double-dog-dare myself.

"What are you, chicken? Bwackbwackbwack! What kind of person lives in fear of change? Weak people, that's who! Are you weak? Fear is stupid!"

And so on.

Yeah, I'm a drill sergeant to myself. We know where Selma gets it from.

But I'll just say it straight out - hell yeah, I'm scared. I'm scared of holes in external walls and the damage from water and termites. I'm scared of fraudulent contractors. I'm scared of hidden serious damage. I'm scared of crazy renters and not finding parking in front of where I live. I'm scared of spending too much time fixing up a house instead of really necessary time spent studying - and I'm scared of not getting a good job when I'm out of school because of it. I'm scared that I'll lose money, and I'm scared that I will hate fixing up property because I'll be bad at it and make bad decisions.

And besides. I left a stable career to go tremendously in debt at age 40, and I'm engaged to a man from a very different culture that I've physically been in proximity with for a total of about 6 weeks. I don't think I'm chicken. I just think that I may be at my quotas of leaps of faith for awhile.

But dammit, there are those cute decorative wooden brackets, and two tenants who need me. Yeah, I have a pathological need to be needed.

Totally different subject, I'm annoyed with one of my classmates. He's a nice guy but I have less respect for him. He interviewed for jobs here. He had a summer job all lined up MONTHS ago - and he's married and his wife is in DC and he was going to be with her. But instead he applies here, and he tells interviewers he plans on staying here after law school. Which is a total lie - he has absolutely no desire to stay here, he just wants to make some money this summer but doesn't apply to jobs in DC.

It just bugs. I told him his karma will be affected accordingly. He told me straight-up that he lied to them, and I don't know how he can be ok with himself for that. It's hard to get a job in New Orleans, and there are people who actually DO plan on staying here, and he is taking a job away from them. Yeah, me, but others, too. I hate lying and I'm none-too-fond of liars. Which makes my new career path a bit of a challenge.

they had me at decorative wooden bracket

I loved the houses - I'm so screwed. One of them is fine, and those people won't go anywhere until they die. The other though - it needs SO MUCH WORK. I can't tell how much is foundational and how much is surface. But see, that's like a dream to me - to have a house just like I want it. And they're huge inside - three times the space I have now, easily. They don't have the arches that I love but they have pocket doors.

The one isn't even habitable now. So I'd be paying rent here plus paying a mortgage until I could move in - the bathroom and kitchen have to be totally redone, and studs replaced on an outside wall, and closets need to be put in. The floors need to be sanded down and refinished - they're beautiful wood floors, but they need work. And just a lot of work - like the mantels and trim need to be painted (and the walls, desperately), but they've been painted over 100+ years so really need to have paint removed first. And outside paint. And, and, and.

I just don't think I can make it work financially. Which is too bad - I really like the couple selling (they got in over their heads, because they're trying to fix up where they live, too), and the people currently living there. Miss Dee liked me, she told them, and that says a lot - her six greatgrandchildren were visiting and she was able to keep them in line. And Mr. Lloyd is retired and looks out for the whole neighborhood - which would be way sweet for me. Parking can be a real problem.

Sigh. I'm very, very torn.

Norwood's with Kim this weekend in Alabama (whom I'll go visit next weekend), but as soon as he's back I'll ask him to go see it with me and tell me what he thinks.

The real problem is that it would take at least $13,000 to make it rentable again ... but I want so much more than that. I want it NICE. I want central air and heat, a washer and dryer (probably in the kitchen - it's big enough), and a shower (now it's those sweet old bathtubs which I would hate to throw out, but I would need me a shower). Maybe even a dishwasher. All that stuff would cost major bank, especially for installation. I want closets put in (there are none - this is historic property). I want nice cabinets and countertops and appliances and fixtures. Not top of the line, but quality. And all that takes money, money, money - and I have none coming in.

Sigh.