12/12

been a long time

Wow-it really HAS been a long time....since I've even thought about being here. I think all the crap has passed with that goof ball from work stalking me....so I may put the site back up to its regular "spot" early next year.....hey-I may even turn over a new leaf and start writing again. Just haven't felt like it, as you can probably surmise from the lack of anything new here. Its not so much that I've been down....its just that I've been BORING. No kayaking...no big adventures....no NOTHING. Just work, and working out, and thats about it. Occasionally I go out to eat. I don't do anything exciting any more except my boyfriend. And since I don't write about that here...well.....I don't have much to write about.

There is one thing though. I'm planning a Jeep trip to Canyon de Chinelle this May. If I have to go alone, I'm going. I've scheduled the week off...Robbie won't completely say "yes" to it yet, but my mom says she'll meet me down there. So we are going to get a native indian guide to bring us down into the canyon, and we'll do plenty of 4 wheeling and camping and hiking....and I'm sure that will be a real adventure. Hopefully something fun and interesting will happen before then though??

10/22

link trouble

Forget about that Ofoto thing-I have never tried it before, but apparently I have to send out the link to each individual email account for it to work...so I'm just going to do this the "old fashioned" way. If you prefer to see the photos through Ofoto (ie: have a dial up connection) email me and I'll "invite" you to see the pictures. Here are some of the better pics of our trip.

any of you p.netters know who's boats these are? I saw them in Arches in October!

2

Landscape Arch

Wall Arch

lookout going to Double O Arch

Mom

7

Mom at Navajo Arch which was full of water from rain

me near Navajo Arch

beautiful view through Partition Arch

11

12

13

Window Arch

15

Me acting like a fool...again

Mom near Landscape Arch

18

Newspaper Rock

Sign at Newspaper Rock

More Rock

Unc

Mom, Unc and Shannon. Notice how Mature my mother looks in this photo

Shan and Nate

Unc and I

Mom, Aryan and I

Aryan in a Delorian

Mom's garden (thats a huge tomato bush with tons of 'maters on it!)

View from mom's porch

Miss Pickles and the svelte Miss Harley Jo

This was probably the best Utah trip yet. Robbie was unable to come with me because he's working/interning/getting a 2nd Masters Degree at LSU...so I took Unc. We flew for free on my sky miles, but we had to take a 3 leg flight to get there leaving out of Baton Rouge. Unc doesn't like to fly and had a lot of trepidation about the trip ...not the least of which being "What the hell am I going to do in Utah for a week, toots?"

When we got there I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable, but my sister Shannon promised him that they'd go fishing the next day (he brought his reels with the intention of buying a cheapie rod at Wally World, which we did.) After he caught his first cutthroat he was hooked and has decided that he "likes it up here." All told for the week Unc, Shannon and Nate probably caught over 30 fish at Strawberry Reservior and a small reservior in Tooele just a few minutes from Nate and Shan's house.

Mom and I ditched Unc for 3 days and drove down to Moab for some car camping and hiking in Arches and Canyonlands. Mom, who believes in comfort while camping, filled the back of the minivan with blankets....and I'm glad she did. All of the rain that Moab gets in October (1.13" on average) happend the first night we were there. It was really humid and the temps probably dipped down into the high 30's...which I know is nothing to you Northern types, but I'm not a fan of cold and wet.

The next day was incredible though; beautifully clear skys, highs in the low 70's and since it was a weekday, there weren't many people in Arches. We probably hiked about 7 miles and saw at least 7 arches. It was a great trip. The day we left we went down to Canyonlands and saw Newspaper Rock, which is on Bureau of Land Management Land....and well worth the trip. There is no fee to get into the area to see it and you can camp for free if you like.

When we got back we took a side trip with Unc, Nate, Shan and Aryan to the Car Museum in downtown Salt Lake. Its not all that, everything is sort of just sitting in a huge, nasty warehouse, but the proceeds go to the Boys Club, so its not a worthless trip. Other than that, we didn't do too much else but hang out and drink and chat. The night we were leaving Unc told me, "Come heah, Toots, I gotta kiss ya. I had a great time."

So, folks, if you have a chance to get out to Salt Lake or anywhere in Utah this time of year, I highly recommend it. Its beautiful. I'm not the skiing type, so I can say this and really mean it. Spring and Fall are beautiful there.

In other-not so great-news, Robbie was in an accident in his truck...someone pulled out in front of him on a busy road here in the rain, and he ran into her front quarterpanel. The damage was pretty bad to his truck, and we think they are probably going to total it. The bad thing is, his truck isn't worth much so the girl's insurance probably wont' give him much for it....probably not enough to cover the damage. So we'll be looking for another truck for him this week. He's pretty bummed out about it...and I am too. I'm just now starting to financially regroup from Katrina and its just another expense we'll have to face. But thats life, eh?

10/18

been a while!

Ok, no story yet BUT you can check out some of my photos from the trip from which I just returned (yeah, Utah again! But this time with Unc. Plus another side trip to Moab with mom-best trip yet. I love Moab....if only I could move there...) Click here for Ofoto gallery Yeah...thats probably easier than loading them all up to my site. I promise later on this week to write. I just haven't had time...and as you all can tell, I certainly haven't felt like it. LAZY me.

7/1

more kitchen gadgets

Why do I do stupid things?

This morning when I got up I was a bit dehydrated so I decided that I’d make myself a smoothie in lieu of my normal granola and yogurt for breakfast.

(you can see the disaster waiting to happen here)

I had too many solids and not enough liquid in the blender so I opened the top and added more soy milk. Still wasn’t budging much. So I got a butter knife out of the drawer….

(insert cliffhanger musical score here)

And stuck it into the blender…not so gingerly…to sort of ooch the stuff around and get it all moving around.

The knife made contact with the blender blade and at that moment there was an instant explosion of blueberries, strawberries, protein powder, soy milk and ice cubes all over the kitchen, the cat and me. I mean ALL OVER. The cabinets, the floor, the walls, and it even made it across the room onto the carpet. I was dressed for work too. I had smoothie in my hair, down my arms, on my chest, my feet…everywhere.

Miss Pickles was happy about it. She likes smoothies. I was running late, so I did a cursory clean up and changed, poured the half solid remainder of what was in the blender into a cup and left for work. Don’t even want to think about what I’m going home to-I wasn’t exactly fully awake when I left the house. But at least I had the ability to laugh at myself. Day didn’t start out too well.

In other news I found out why I have ice cubes in strange areas of the freezer. The ice cube maker turns them into little frozen projectiles and literally spits them out of the ice maker thingie. Saw it with my own eyes this morning. The little bar was moving up and as it did, ice cubes violently spewed forth from the little white cube tray.

The kitchen gods were conspiring against me today…or perhaps my own stupidity was?

6/17

meat grinder

One of the more fun (or tedious) parts of this Katrina experience has been buying new stuff to outfit my bare apartment. Most of the purchases have been large: a nice futon with a Serta mattress on it, a bed, 2 dressers (one for me and one for Robbie), a table and chairs, barstools. Some are the smaller things that you realize you are missing, like a blender, candles, containers, plants, big lamp, art for the walls. Then there are the things you never owned but think you can't live without: fondue pot, home sprouter, chinese fighting fish with his own big fish bowl. Last but not least, the impulse purchases: meat grinder/sausage maker.

In 32 years of my life I've had some interesting hobbies, such as soap making, playing music, kayaking, feeding homeless cats and even a very brief stint at cross stich which was so short lived I don't think it could really be considered a hobby. Most of them are still things I do today. (Kayaking being the obvious one if I'd get off my ass and get out there and do it.) But never, ever have I had even the most remote desire to grind my own meat and stuff it into a pig intestine.

Until now?

The other night Robbie and I were on the phone looking at more furniture on Overstock.com when the subject of dinner came up. He mentioned that he was having some chicken and apple sausage, which is a particular tube steak that we both hold near and dear to our hearts. One of us...I can't remember who, said "Wouldn't it be cool to make your own chicken and apple sausage at home?"

Then I must have mentioned how much cheaper it would be to do just that, because we normally pay about 6 bucks for 4 small links of it.

Before you know it, I'm searching for sausage recipes and sausage making equipment online. Within 15 minutes I've located a sausage maker thingie on Overstock.com. In 2 more minutes the purchase is complete.

I tell Robbie that he'll be the proud co-owner of a sausage making machine when he moves to Baton Rouge with me. He reminds me that I'll be the sausage making machine, but he seems relatively interested in it...as interested as a person could be about stuffing ground meat into an intestine.

The next day I go to work and tell my co-worker Sandy about my impulse purchase and seemingly new hobby as "sausage maker." She looks at me like I'm green. "Wouldn't it be easier to just buy them?", she asks?

"Well, yeah, obviously, but think of how cheap it will be to make my own sausage," I reply. "Besides, it'll be fun!"

She lifts her eyebrows and makes a half smile at me. Mentions that her mother used to do the sausage making thing, but doesn't give any details.

So, I'm watching tv last night and AFV comes on. One of the clips is a woman making a home video on sausage stuffing. It looks even more disgusting than I originally imagined. Especially when the meat explodes everywhere. Actually that was the cool part....if you don't have to clean it up. :-) So...I'll keep you all informed on how my first sausage making experience goes. The grinder hasn't made it to my door yet, but I intend to try it out on some "loose" sausage first...can't bring myself to do the pig intestine thing yet, and even the synthetic casings look pretty nasty. Heck...sausage looks sort of gross...what was I thinking!

5/16

white noise

geez...has it been this long since I've posted? I guess so.

Once again, a whole lot has happened since April. I'm now a permanant resident of...cough...hack...Baton Rouge. Seriously. I still can't wrap my little New Orleanians Abita beer pickled brain around that. I just can't. I've made it a mission in life to have an intense dislike for Baton Rouge.

Well, guess how much of a total ASS I am? I'm actually enjoying it, and not for the obvious reasons, such as: once again having my own place...the first "my own place" post-that rotten bitch Katrina; not having an hour commute each way to work; not having to live in a smoke filled environment with family (whom I adore, but, well, being a grown woman and living with Unc and Cuz...).......

I'm actually liking Baton Rouge.

There's a little produce shop down the street from here-sort of a farmers market if you will-and I find myself there on the weekends buying most of what I eat during the week. I feel as healty as I have in 9 months because I'm starting to eat right again. There are a few good places to go out, a few decent restaurants (yes, they actually have good Middle Eastern food around here and quite a few family owned ethnic restaurants...one even specializes in the food of Tibet, believe it or not), and the community I live in is quiet and located next to a park.

I do miss the lake.

I do not miss thinking that the lake could be in my living room with just a few days notice.

And hell yes, I miss New Orleans. I miss all of its funkiness, its weirdness, its smells, scents and sights. I miss it all. I miss my little porch on the levee. The bugs. Dragging my boat over it to go kayaking. Damn right I miss it. But its time to leave it all behind.

The other day I ordered a white-noise machine. It has some rather soothing "bug noises" and rain and water noises on it. As I write to you now, I'm taking a trip and never leaving the virtual farm. The Boggle red wine that a good girlfriend of mine got me when I moved in here is helping that along a bit too, I might add. So is the candle that my cool friend Bobbob got me. I've got cool friends. I'm damn lucky.

I'm damn drunk all alone in the apartment and enjoying it thoroughly too.

And I can honestly, honestly tell you all that this is the most relaxed I've been in 9 months.

In other news...which some of you may find incredibly boring if you hate cats..."my" cats at the office...the strays who live in the huge business park that I work at...have all been spayed or neutered by the wonderful folks at Cat Haven.Every weekday morning I've been feeding about 14 cats in 2 different locations of the office park...and all the while worrying that they were just breeding more cats. I contacted Cat Haven and one of the kind hearted women there came every morning and trapped one or two a day until she caught all that we had in those locations and fixed them. Local vets work with them for bargain basement prices to fix the cats and release them back into the feral colonies that they appear to be thriving in. (if a feral cat can, infact, thrive.I know that "mine" are hungry every morning and actually recognize the Jeep and wait for it to show up with the food. Goofy little things actually run up to me now. I don't attempt to touch them, but honestly, I probably could while they are eating.) Its a damn good program-all of the money donated goes to fix feral cats and find homes for kittens. I don't think that they try to place adult ferals because...well...they are feral...but they do take the kittens they find and get them good homes. Cat haven has a tight operational budget, so if you have a few extra dollars and a soft spot for kitties, they'd appreciate your donation. From what I understand, it costs 35 dollars to fix a cat, but the good thing is, that cat gets to live out its life and it doesn't "create" more unwanted animals. So folks, open up your pocket books, send them a few bucks, and tell them that the Suncat sent you. They'd appreciate it, I'd appreciate it, and ultimately you are doing a darned good deed.

Sigh...I miss my cat.

But! Miss Pickles will be coming home soon. Robbie should be bringing her down on his next visit! Katrina was pretty traumatic for pets too, I guess. And Robbie-I owe you a public thanks for taking her in. I know you love her as much as I do...but knowing that she was safe took a huge burden from my shoulders and I thank you. (and I love you, too! )

And so, folks, thats my drunken diatribe for the evening. There'll be more soon. Hopefully I'll post some pictures of my apartment too. Baton Rouge really isn't that bad.

4/05

swayze lake

My cousin John is grinning from ear to ear when I walk in on Friday. "Finally here! Lets go, Cuz. I am ready for a good time! How about you?" He says to me.

I mumble about getting my bag, grabbing a glass of orange juice and then we can go. He's determined that I need a weekend out, and for that matter so does he. The plan is to go to his hunting camp up in Swayze Lake and use that as a home base for going out partying. The big excuse is the Saturday night wedding of his coonass cop friend, Ti-Ray. (thats little Ray in Cajun French to all you non-coonasses.)

Swayze Lake is a small town near Port Barre, off of Hwy 190 which is somewhere in the vicinity of Lafayette. While Lafayette isn't exactly the middle of nowhere, Swayze Lake is about 10 miles away from the middle of nowhere. It takes us about an hour and a half to drive there from Baton Rouge. John is so excited he chatters on the whole way.

"Shit, Tab-I forgot to get Ti-Ray something for his wedding. You'd better stop at the grocery and we'll pick him up a bottle of whiskey and his woman a bottle of red wine. Ti-Ray says she likes cheap red wine."

He tells me to slow down because there is "always" a cop parked under a certain oak tree in a certain front yard running radar on Friday afternoons. Sure enough, he's right. About 2 blocks past where the cop was sitting is the grocery store...the only real grocery store for half a zillion miles. Sopranos. I swear to you. The name of the grocery store is Sopranos. Whaddaya think their logo is? A pistol. All of the 15 year old cashiers have Sopranos written on their tee shirts with little smoking guns on one of the breasts. Thankfully none of them look like they have real guns on them. There is a bit of excitement in the store because the local tv station is doing an impromptu news story inside of the store. The less cool girls try to walk in front of the camera frequently. I avoid it like the plague, thinking that the last thing that I need for my already bad reputation is to be seen inside of "The Soprano's" grocery store half way out in the middle of nowhere buying cheap whiskey and red wine with my coonass 1st cousin.

John's camp is down an extreemly long dirt road. He tells me about his neighbor, Ms. Bonnie, as we drive down the road at about 70 kicking up a huge cloud of red dust. She is one of exactly 2 human residents of Swayze. The other is an old man who lives down the road. The only other people who come to Swayze are there to hunt...the rest of the year its a ghost town. Ms. Bonnie is a creole, who grew up in a 2 room cabin a few hundred feet down the road from where she lives now. She is about 70 years old; once a week she gets on a huge tractor and cuts about 30 acres of grass around her property. She keeps John's grass up for him to. As we pull into his yard, she comes out and berates him for being a "layyzeee azzz" and not coming up to take care of his property more often. He laughs at her and kisses her brown cheek, then introduces her to me as his second mom. As John unpacks the truck, she and I sit on his front porch petting one of her white cats, Crooked Tail. She dishes up all sorts of good dirt on my cuz. "Maaaa, why ya gotta tell her all that?" he calls to her from inside the kitchen, where he is unloading beer into the fridge. "Because its true, you ass!" she hollers back to him. She warns me to keep a good eye on him when we go out that night.

A few minutes later we walked some of the 61 acres he owns back there. He shows me his deer stands and tells me all of the stories about the property. We go back to the house and clean up in preparation to go to the Catfish Festival "just a few" miles down the road, but we have to stop at his friend Steve's house first and meet Ti-Ray to get a bolt cutter. John calls Ti-Ray on the way and he meets us there. He's excited about me meeting Ti. He tells me that Ti-Ray is rough but harmless. Steve's mother is frying catfish in the back kitchen of their house. She laughs and says that Ti-Ray will have a few choice words for me. As he walks in, all 5'-5" - 130 pounds of 60 year old brown coon ass, he looks me up and down then shakes my hand and gives me a kiss on the cheek. He then promplty asks me if I'd like to play "hide the weiner" with him. I laugh and kid him about the fact that he just left his wedding rehersal to bring John some bolt cutters and flirt with a woman half his age. He shrugs and laughs. Steve's mom slaps Ti on the shoulder and offers him some catfish. We joked around for a few minutes, promising Ti we'd get to his wedding early.

I'll not bore you with the details of the festival-it was a drag-but we hooked up with one of his friends and went to Lafayette and partied at this place called "Graham Central Station." It was a hoot. John started to teach me how to dance, and Glenn and 2 other Lafayette cowboys were determined to help. It was a fairly hopeless endeavor, but John was convinced that I showed promise. On the way back we went to King's Casino and Truck Stop for breakfast. It was about 2am. John and Glenn tell me that Ti-Ray's wife to be works there. They hadn't met her so they were wondering what she looked like. I was too tired to care. At 3:30 I crawled into a bunk and slept.

The next night we went to Ti-Ray's wedding, cheap whiskey and wine in a fancy bag. John and I were all decked out. I can honestly say that I've never been to a wedding that had jello shots, fried chicken, and 3 or 4 different types of boudin and sausage. We pick up a friend of John's and head over to a bar called "Bada's" in Port Barre. He's excited because Danny Collet and Louisiana Tremor are playing and he says we'll have more time to practice our dancing. We are about the first people there, with the exception of a guy who can't be more than 24 years old and has some of the most rotten teeth I've ever seen. Immediately, Rotten Teeth corners me at the bar and tells me about his job cutting trees and about his drunk mom who'll be in the bar shortly. I give John the "save me, you turkey, or you'll pay for this" look. He challenges Rotten Teeth to a game of pool. The bartender gives me a look of pitty and pushes a Coors Light across to me. "He's in here every night. But he's harmless, sweetie," she tells me. "All these coonasses are harmless, aren't they?" I laugh back. My cousin flirts with her from across the pool table. "He's harmless too," I tell her. "Well, he sure can dance, anyway," she says. "Everyone wants to dance with him, you just wait."

A bit later Danny Collet gets there and John excitedly introduces me to him. He's an adoreable, handsome guy and sweet to boot. The Cajun accent sounds wonderful from his lips.

On the first song, which is a style of music folks around here refer to as "Swamp Pop," John pulls me onto the floor to teach me more dance moves. I'm getting better, he tells me. "But stop being so damned nervous! I don't bite. Well, not YOU anyway. Geez."

Sure enough, women are pulling him onto the floor to dance one after the other. Several men get jealous, but their women assure them its all just fun, and John is so easy going and well known that no fights are started.

A little while later, Danny comes and gets me at the bar and dances a song with me while his band plays. They make faces at him from the stage to make him laugh. He does his best to ignore them. I do my best to enjoy the moment, cementing the whole scene in my mind.

Once again, we close the bar, and go to King's for breakfast. John is excited about going to Whiskey River for even more dancing on Sunday evening. "You think I was dancing tonight?" he tells me. "That was NOTHING! Tomorrow, cuz, you will see me in action. The best dancers around will be at Whiskey." He's right. Whiskey River in Henderson is unreal. The folks there are serious about dancing. There isn't a whole lot of drinking going on (unless you count the drinks for courage to ask women to dance), and there aren't a lot of smokers there. Plus the view over Henderson Swamp is incredible.

John introduces me to an short old man named Jean-Jaques, who is wearing a cowboy hat, a sleeveless shirt that used to have sleeves and an incredibly white set of false teeth. "Jean is the man! He's going to teach you how to dance." Jean-Jaques does his best. He's excited about dancing with me and as he pushes me around the dance floor during a waltz, he tells me that if he were about 20 years younger and about 6 inches taller he'd ask me on a date. Oddly enough, I'm flattered, because if I were about 20 years older and about 6 inches shorter I'd have thought he was completely charming and probably would have taken him up on it.

3/13

lunch on manchac pass

"Unc, don't forget we are going out to dinner for your birthday."

"I'm not going to eat anything all day today, Pud," he tells me. "Lets go to that little seafood restaurant on Peavine Road off 51."

I've never been to the restaurant he's talking about, but I am game to try just about anything once when it comes to restaurants.

On Sunday I did my laundry, putzed around a little bit in the house here and at 10:30 in the morning announced that I was going to go back to sleep for a few hours. Unc tells me that I'm just lazy, and that he'll come get me up when he's ready to go. Around here, unless you are one of those really heavy sleepers, you'd better wear ear plugs to nap during the day. Luckily for me...I keep a bunch of them around. Unfortunately for me, I can still hear through the damned things. At about 1:30, my cousin's mom came by and picked him up for a Sunday lunch. Being good coonasses, they believe in loud talk. I pulled the feather pillow over my head in the little single bed and went back to sleep.

At 3 the door to my room flys open and my 69 year old Unc is standing on the thresh.

"Damn, toots, you gonna sleep all day? I'm hungry!"

Child-like I protest that I'm still sleepy and I'll get up in an hour. Then I think the better of it when I hear my Cuz and his mother pull up. Hurridly I dress in blue jeans, tennis shoes and a pink sleeveless shirt. I stick the mascara wand in my eye and curse audibly. Now that I'm back in glasses rather than contacts I can't see to put on makeup worth a damned.

We say our hello's and goodbye's to everyone in the house (who are complaining...loudly...about a bad lunch at Chili's) and head out to Hwy 51 to find a seafood dinner.

Unc lights up a cigarette and we take off in his minivan. He likes to drive and he doesn't really trust my driving because he thinks that I drive faster than he does (which is a big load of b.s., but it really doesn't matter). As we head through LaPlace, he tells me about good places for me to go paddle now that I'm living in the area. Most of the put ins are canals that lead to the lake or to some bayou or another. He warns me about alligators and tells me one of his "momma alligator" stories. He respects alligators and isn't into killing them just to kill them, but he does tend to think of snakes as little speed bumps, which I don't quite understand, being a fan of snakes.

The restaurant on Peavine turns out to be closed on Sundays so we head down the road to the only other restaurant that we both know of in the area - Middendorf's.

Middendorf's, which is located on Manchac pass is about as old school as a Louisiana seafood restaurant can get. People come in all types of clothes - from Sunday best down to cut off blue jeans. You get the typical fried fare; catfish, shrimp, oysters, fries and hushpuppies. You can also get baked flounder, boiled or stuffed crabs and for the non-seafood folks there is steaks and chicken. Sweet tea, Barq's rootbeer in a bottle, and beer are probably the drinks most served. Middendorf's has 2 restaurants on the property. There's the old one, which is the only one I've ever been in and the new one, which is probably more of an overflow place, from what I've been led to believe. The old restaurant has ancient yellow linoleum floors, big heavy dark wood tables with sturdy chairs, and wood paneled walls. It looks pretty much straight out of the 60's. Most of the older waittress's hair looks straight out of the 60's too, so it all feels right.

One of the vintage waitresses smiles at my Unc and asks us, "Whatcha gonna have, dawlin?"

Unc orders us 2 beers, some Italian oysters for the table and a seafood platter for himself. I got the fried catfish...since I've recently developed a rather sad allergy to shrimp. As we drink our beer I see him looking over my shoulder and glance around just as he tells the old couple behind us "hello" - he worked with the old man at Shell a zillion years ago. They are getting up to leave and stop by our table. Unc introduces me as his girlfriend. The old woman's eyebrows dissappear into her hairline and then Unc laughs and says that I'm his niece. I could hear her exhale as her husband laughs. I put my forehead on my hand and look down at the table and smile. They talk for a few more seconds and then excuse themselves.

The subject of Shell brings up interesting stories of a very large welder's helper who worked with them and how they made him and his wife a heavy duty bedframe in the shop. (about 3 years later, that bed, with them in it, went through their trailer floor. Apparently that was the joke of the shop for years.)

He's got a bunch of stories, and now he's got me here to tell them to. If he'd stop kicking my ass in Scrabble, I might be more prone to listen to them again.

3/06

how long?

Geez-its been HOW LONG since I've managed to get online and update this? Its not for lack of wanting to write, believe me. I've had plenty to write about....I've just not had an internet connection to do it with. Then....when I got one by moving in with my Unc and Cuz in Garyville (don't blink or you might miss it, Louisiana), my computer threw a rod.

But I'm back now.

At the end of February I moved in with the aforementioned Unc and Cuz-both of whom I believe you've read about on this site. Its definitely the batchelor pad type environment, not that I'm complaining. Its a roof, and it doesn't leak. Plus they cook quite well. Only bad thing is Unc tends to wake up at 4am whether its a work day or not...not that work days matter to him any more...he's retired. He just makes me tired. If I'm not out of bed putzing around here by 7:30am on a Saturday, he gently, well maybe not so gently, reflects that I'm a lazy bum. But thats cool. So long as they don't start taking away this 32 year old bum's phone priveliges and going out at night priveliges, I'll be ok.

Life in the country isn't so bad, really. On Saturday I was able to go kayaking in Blind River which has a launch only a few mintues from here. There are half a zillion bayous and swamps that feed off of the river; its a beautiful place. (And yes, that was my first paddle of the year...and a rather worthy location for it.) Next time I go, I'll take pictures.

In the afternoons, Unc and I sit on his porch, drink a little Sangria and shoot the bull. Unc keeps a bb gun by the door of his cave and shoots wasps as they try to land on the eaves of the house. We listen to the bugs sing. Saturday Cuz made a bonfire. One afternoon we spotted a pair of hawks making a nest in the next door neighbor's tree.

Its a sort of life I never thought I'd live...even though I know this is for only a little while. At first I was really worried about it feeling like jail. There really isn't much to do out here if you are into going out, but there are plenty of ways to get exercise and countless other things to do (especially considering that the bachelor pad needs some serious woman touch, which I am working on.)

So thats that. More on Garyville adventures later.

As for me, Katrina has me all screwed up. I'm way out of shape which has left me feeling insecure; I'm virtually homeless (as you can see by the fact that I'm living with family), and all of this leaves me feeling like a kid and not the independent grown strong woman that I had been. Baton Rouge just wasn't condusive to being outside. Post Katrina its been even more congested than it normally is. My weight set got Katrina'ed too, so I didn't have that either. (Katrina-ed...don't you love it? A coworker coined that term. Its well used around the office now for things lost in the friggin hurricane. We all joke about our whole lives getting Katrina-ed.) But all that to say-I'm getting back on track slowly; started busting my ass and exercising this week; feeling better already. I'm definitely ready to have my old self confidence back.

To those of you whom I've not contacted, or had trouble contacting-please forgive me. I really have been holed up and not wanting to talk to anyone....Its been tireing trying to explain my life and my situation over and over, and somewhat depressing to hear about everyone else's misery....so I guess I've been avoiding folks. All I can do is ask you all to forgive me and understand. We've all been through a whole hell of a lot, and I guess I've come close to the breaking point. I feel in many ways that I've had to do all of this alone (even though I know its not entirely true...but in some ways it is). I also have not wanted to inflict all of my misery on my friends and burden them with my "never any good news lately" mentality, so thats the avoidance issue there. I'm coming around-its just taking me awhile. We all deal with this sort of thing in our own time, I guess. So with that I'm signing off for tonight. Promise to get back to story writing soon and less talk about my pathetic ass self. I'd feel better for it.

1/06

reflecting

One almost has trouble accounting for the past few months - the feelings, the crying, the manic laughter, the work, mess and insanity. Its like everyone here lost a part of themselves in the storm and a bit of their minds went with it. Can't think of even one New Orleanian who isn't really changed by Katrina. I've talked about it so much that I really don't want to talk about it here. (heck-sort of surprised to be "here" right now...stealing internet waves out of thin air....doubt that this will last long...but figured I'd give you all a quick update while I could.)

So-Baton Rouge pretty much sucks. I can't wait to leave and go home. My apartment is waiting for me; as soon as the landlords finish fixing it, I can go back, and that just can't happen fast enough. I wasn't finished living there yet. Work will be relocating to the St. Charles area so it'll be an easy commute. Living with my roomies has been cool and its probably just about all thats really kept me from falling into depression, so for that and many other reasons I am eternally greatful for their rescue. Also, I need to thank ALL OF YOU who were so incredibly kind and sent clothes and kitchen stuff and toiletries and towels and books and every other type of thing to me and the folks I could distribute to who lost the contents of their homes. I owe you. Thanks especially to Paul (you know who you are) and your church for sending a whole truckload of stuff down for a family that I am particularly close too.

I am....I am....I am....I am hanging in there and asside from some rough setbacks here and there I AM getting better every day. One thing is for sure-I appreciate everything in my life (as sparse as that everything is) so much more. Still have my kayaks, have a bunch of nice new clothes (thanks to you all), an air mattress, some really nice sheets, a few pieces of jewelry, what I was able to salvage out of my apartment (not much), and a freezer full of food. And I feel lucky to have it all.

Fortunately I was able to spend Christmas in Salt Lake with my family and Robbie-not too much to report except for some pictures, which I will post shortly. Mom, Robbie, Shannon, Nate and I went to Lava Hot Springs, Idaho for an overnighter. That was the highlight of the trip. Probably do a trip report some other day. I really don't feel like writing now (go figure...its not like I've been doing much of that) but I really wanted to set my stuff up to post and make sure that you all knew that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth yet.

So here's to a new year. 2006 has got to be better. I send out my love to all of you...any of you that read this site regularly. Thanks for caring. Thanks for the emails. Thanks for the support. You can not imagine how much it has all meant to me.

1/01/06

another new year

another clean slate. Thank God. For last year see: heah, dawlin.