NOLA

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Well, Fat Tuesday is upon us again. If I were to actually give something up for Lent, or had enough money to go back to New Orleans, I might care. This day always does make me think of my one trip down to New Orleans, even though it wasn't during Mardi Gras.

It was the middle of the summer. The hottest, most humid time of year. Five minutes after getting out of the shower you were so glistening with the moisture in the air and your own sweat that you might as well have not taken a shower at all. Every day it rained, and for the hour after the rainstorm, people would go outside in swarms to enjoy the relative respite from the heat.

I remember one day we were on our way to the mall when the rainstorm happened. We looked like a couple of drowned rats as we made our way inside. And what makes more sense at that point then to go try on $300-$500 dresses that there's no way you'll buy? So of course we head to the Betsey Johnson store. Somewhere I have a picture of us in a couple of B.J. originals, complete with stringy, dripping hair. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that taking pictures in the store was against the rules, too.

One of the other highlights of the trip was when Red took me swing dancing. I had taken lessons before, and it was apparently a weekly thing for her. We went to this place called Rock 'N Bowl, which had a handful of bowling lanes, a full bar, and a live band. I remember it was a rockabilly band that night. We danced and danced until they kicked us out. And then we went to a diner to hang out with some of the other "regulars." I got to meet and dance with one of the guys that was in the Gap swing-dancing commercial. He and I continued the night privately after the diner. I'd give more details of that, but a lady doesn't kiss and tell. ;)

I also remember the night my cousin took me out to spend some one-on-one time together. We both ate a couple hits of acid, and took off for the French quarter. I don't remember a whole lot of particulars about that night, but I do remember lots of dancing and laughing. At one point we forgot where we had parked the car, and were just wandering around waiting for our next adventure to pop up. Earlier in the week, we had stopped at a gas station, and my cousin had told me that it was a place you didn't want to go after dark. So we're wandering around the Quarter at about 3 in the morning, drugged out of our minds, and I look up and we're at that exact gas station! Not the most pleasant feeling in the world for an overprotected suburbanite like myself. Later in the evening/morning, we wound up in the park, watching the sun rise over the Mississippi River. It was beautiful, in spite of the smell, and it's one of my favorite memories of my life. Everything was so tranquil, the partying was over, there was just such a sense of peace. It was a wonderful way to end my week in New Orleans.

Another Day, Another Dollar

Thursday, February 16, 2006

The vice-president of our company was talking about his trip to the deli today, describing the ladies that were in front of him in line. He described them as "the type of women that wear ponytails, even though they're too old for it." This came as highly shocking news to me! There comes an age past which you cannot wear ponytails for fear of being ridiculed? How do I know when this age comes? Do you get a letter on your birthday, "Happy Birthday! No more ponytails for you! Oh, and you better start wearing practical shoes, too, by the way."? What will I do after that point on days I sleep in? When I'm doing spring cleaning? If I go to work out? (Yeah, like I work out so often. Pshh.) I can only hope that I won't embarrass myself and my daughter by clinging to youth for too long.

I got hit on at the post office. Doesn't that seem like a strange place to get hit on? Why didn't I think of it back when I was single?! Me and the girls, instead of going out to fun clubs and rocking parties, could've just gone to the local post office. What were we thinking?

I'm developing a severe love/hate relationship with paydays. I love it because, obviously, I get paid. But I'm growing to hate it because getting paid just serves to remind me how broke I really am. I suppose I should learn to just relish the two hours every other week that I actually have some money. Who cares that it all gets to go to the government, and the utility companies, and the grocery store, and the oil cartels? At least I earned it! My blood, sweat, and tears (and hours spent reading blogs) have paid off at last!

Yes, this is really what my workday is like. Someday, whether by choice or chance, I'll be a stay-at-home mom, and then thins will probably only get weirder.

Saints and Such

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Of course, everyone's heard by now that Dick Cheney shot his hunting buddy. I have to say, the part that surprised me the most about this story was not that D.C. shot somebody, but that he has friends!

It's St. Valentine's Day. Why is it that outside of the Catholic community, this and St. Patrick's Day are the only Saints days to be celebrated? There's got to be some cooler saints to celebrate. What about Saint Irene day? Saint Irene was condemned to a bordello but remained unmolested despite being chained and naked. We could celebrate with bondage. "Spank me, it's St. Irene Day!" Wouldn't that be a cute button?

Yes, I joke about the "holiday" and firmly believe that it wouldn't be so popular if it wasn't such a cash cow, but I'll still get mad at Jay if he doesn't show some special gesture. Isn't that so hypocritical of me? Not that I really care. Here's the quandary: I have no idea what to get him. I had the luck of landing one of 3 males that are REALLY, REALLY good at gift giving. Ladies who complain about getting bad gifts: stop complaining. At least you know you're gift will always be better. It's so much stress buying for a good gift-giver. He asked for a computer game, but I don't know about that. Nothing says romance like software that'll make you ignore me for hours at a time.

Our little metropolitan is so exciting that the lead story on the news last night was that John Mellencamp is in the planning stages for a concert downtown. Oooo! In a way though, that makes me happy. At least the lead story isn't about a murder, or rape, or other horrible crime. Life may be boring in Indiana, but it's relatively safe too. The bad with the good, y'know?

Oh, by the way, for those who're curious...
St. Irene's Day is March 30th.