Part 4: Where do we go now? Where do we go now? Ahhhahhahhhahhhahhhh...

Recap: The Entercom Bigwigs were just telling us that we had two choices: Go to the Superdome, or try our luck in an SUV. People without SUVs (us included) started panicking and crying. We didn't know what to do. The Dome was not an option for us, but we didn't have an SUV, either.

Mark remembered that Spud McConnell was talking about his 4Runner earlier, and how he had half a mind, as the waters started coming up, to just get in and leave. But he wouldn't do that to the company. He had a job to do. He signed up for it. He wouldn't abandon it. But now his job was ordering him to do it.

Before the people in charge finished speaking, Mark silently got off the couch next to me and made his way over to Spud. My mind racing a billion miles an hour, worrying about our lives and the cats' lives, I lowered my head into my hands. Suddenly, Mark was back at my side.

"Spud's going to take us," he whispered. I looked up quickly at him, then at Spud. The speech was over. Two more people walked up to Spud, Layla, a news girl, and Charlie, Mark's former supervisor when the Bayou was still adult contemporary and he was a DJ there. I looked at Mark again. "What about the cats?"

"Spud said we can bring them."

We ran down to the production room, packed as many things onto our backs as we could, leaving cat litter and water and our pillows behind. We met up with Spud near the stairs. He ran back to his office to get something.

The generator system was set up weird. There was one just for broadcasting purposes, and one just for living purposes. That one had been shut off for conservation, I assume. So all of Entercom, friends, family, and pets included, had to go down four flights of pitch black stairs in order to make it to safety. At one point, just as I didn't think I could make it anymore, Oldies sation Kool 95.7 DJ Tommy Tucker appeared behind me and offered to take Lily's carrier from me. He carried her until we reached the bottom and we had to split up to go to our respective parking garages.

Spud was parked in the Superdome garage. We were in the New Orleans Center garage. We did not have time to even check on our car. We had to go. Spud opened the back of his 4Runner and threw out his kids' sports equipment and a baby seat. "We needed a new one of these anyway," he said. He threw out a few jugs of water. A security guard walked past. "HEY!" Spud called, gesturing to the jugs. "Take these. You may need them!" The guard waved in acknowledgement. We piled all of our belongings into his vehicle. As we were about to pull off, Spud said, "Whose suitcase is that over there? That's not any of yours, is it?" Charlie looked at it.

"No, but it IS yours."

"Shit." He threw the car into park and grabbed it. I held it on my lap.

We flew out of the garage and met water instantly. We eased onto the street. We followed the directions we had been given for our evacuation. The water got deeper and deeper.

I should mention here that when they told us to evacuate, the water was only about halfway up the hubcaps of the cars left on the street. It took us maybe 15 minutes to get downstairs and load the car, then pull onto the street. By this point, the water was up to the windows of the 4Runner. That's about 3 or 4 FEET. In 15 MINUTES.

We ventured into the deep water. Suddenly, we stalled. In water up to the windows between the Dome and the New Orleans Arena. No one said a word. I closed my eyes and whispered, "Oh please oh please oh please oh please" over and over to myself. Spud kept turning it over and over and over, sweet talking the engine. "Come on, baby. Come on." I was running through my head what we could leave in the truck in order to save the cats, thinking we were about to lose my textbooks and our clothes and bathroom gear, when suddenly, the 4Runner purred to life. Spud thre the car in reverse and sped backwards. He turned around and went flying past the FEMA, National Guard, Red Cross, and local law enforcement guys. They all motioned for him to slow down, as he was kicking up an impressive wake. He rolled down his window and said, "No way. Not if I want to make it out!" A couple of large trucks from Wildlife and Fisheries pulled in front of us and went slowly. We were afraid of stalling again.

When we got to Loyola Drive, it was DRY. We flew down Loyola and made it to the first on-ramp to take us to the Crescent City Connection. When we got up the ramp, three vehicles were in front of us, and a fire engine was blocking our path. They were not allowing us up there. Spud backed down the ramp and went to Tchoupitoulas St., and was able to get on there. We made it onto the CCC and crossed the Mississippi River. We looked over and saw what we had just escaped. The Hyatt and the Dominion Tower looked like Oklahoma City. As we drove up the ramp and over the bridge, we saw old-time New Orleans-style houses that had collapsed. Bricks were everywhere. Trees were in buildings. Rooftops were missing. Water was rising everywhere around the CBD. The Dome? Even more impressive in its nakidity now that we could see the whole thing. No one looked back. Just ahead and sideways. We drove silently on.

Until Spud spoke.

"You know," said our actor savior, "In the movie version of all of this," he looked next to him at Layla. "You and I would be having an affair." He glanced behind him to see Mark behind Layla and me in the middle. "You two would still be married, but you would be 9 months pregnant and ready to pop." He looked in the mirror and saw Charlie on my left. "And you would be gay."

"Wait, why am I the gay one?"

"Two reasons. One, you're the only one I can't pair up with someone. And two, I'm not going to be the gay one. This is my movie."

We needed that. So desperately. We all lost it and giggled like school girls. Then we made it across the bridge.

Here on the West Bank, it was not water damage but wind damage. Billboard signs were bent in half. Buildings were missing fronts. Trees were down, blocking HWY 90. Spud messed up his antenna driving through the forest that was now HWY 90. We basically rode in silence, listening to WWL. It hit us. There were people on the air who were supposed to be leaving with us. Evidently, they didn't make it out due to the water. It was people we'd seen gathering their stuff and heading to vehicles. At the same time we were. They must have been in a different parking garage and were unable to get out.

We got to the 310 exit, and headed towards Baton Rouge. Spud asked if we had anywhere in particular we'd like to be dropped off. At this point, we had not even considered it. We just wanted out. Charlie and Layla are both LSU grads and had contacts. Charlie worked for a radio station, so he was going there. Layla's friend's parents live in Baton Rouge, so she was going there. Our cell phones were not working. We had no way of contacting anyone to tell them what we were doing or to see if someone could take us in.

I reached in my purse for a pack of gum. I realized that I had not brushed my teeth since Sunday night. That was also the last time I'd showered. On top of that, I'd just put on my clothes from Sunday after my shower because I was rushing to get back to the Dominion Tower before the Hyatt's evacuation took place and grabbed the wrong clothes. It was now Tuesday morning. We realized we were all probably pretty ripe. This was especially true for Charlie, Spud, Mark, and me, since we'd been in our sanctioned looting of the Sundries shop.

We discussed at one point that we felt like all of our work raiding the shop was for nothing. But once we turned on the radio and heard their stranded coworkers back on air, we felt we'd done something good. They would have plenty of food, drinks, and medicinal supplies. Enough to last for a while, if necessary.

We all chomped on that gum in silence. Everyone was grateful for it, as we were all so rank.

Around Gonzales, I checked my phone again. It worked!!! Verizon towers in the Baton Rouge area were apparently unharmed. I called my parents and told them that we were forced to evacuate. We were headed to Baton Rouge, but that was all we knew. Mark called his parents. They said they would pick us up in Baton Rouge and bring us to their house in Morgan City, which still had electricity. Charlie said we could hang out at the radio station until they came, if we needed to. We had a plan. Finally.

Spud decided he wanted to go to a Baton Rouge news station, because he felt they would want the personal story of us making it out of the storm, and going through it, too. We pulled up at Channel 2 Baton Rouge, and Spud led the way. He spoke to some people, who liked the idea, and they mic'd him up and put him on. They let us stand in the back, behind the camera man, to watch.

Here, we saw visuals of the city for the first time. We saw the extensive flooding. We saw buildings on fire. We saw flaming gas leaks. We saw submerged homes and cars. We saw crumpled buildings. We saw people waving for help on rooftops. We saw people carrying bags through chest-high water. We saw crying babies, children, adults, and eldery. We saw lost wet pets wandering streets and standing on houses. We saw trees down. We saw things you see in blockbuster summer disaster movies.

Then we saw Spud cry.

He lost it on the news. In front of the viewers. In front of the cameras. In front of the anchors. In front of us. We teared up with him. he shook his head, placing it in his massive paws. "I keep thinking of all of those people who called me last night. I bet 60 percent of those who called me, asking to be saved, scared out of their minds....I bet I was the last person they spoke to. And I couldn't help them. I bet 60 percent of those people are gone." He dissolved into tears.

Watching this large, confident, boisterous man break down in front of people was hard. He was our cheerleader. He was our savior. He was our guardian angel.

I swear, if anyone had told me a few days earlier that my guardian angel would be a very large foul-mouthed chain-smoking actor named Spud, I'd have laughed in that person's face. But here we were.

I leaned into Mark and cried quietly into his chest. Layla and Charlie wiped tears from their eyes. The anchors looked like they didn't know what to do. We composed ourselves, and Spud told the story of the rising waters, what the CBD looked like, and our dramatic escape. Then we were interrupted by a confirmation on where the 17th Street Canal breeched.

It was on the New Orleans side of the Canal. Near the Old Hammond Hwy. Bridge. One street and about 6-10 blocks away from our house. It was two blocks long, and there was no stopping the water yet. I choked back a huge sob. Mark pulled me out to the newsroom and outside. I launched into hysterics. I grabbed my cell phone and called my parents. I held myself together long enough until I told them the news. Then I was inconsolable again. This meant that not only did we lose our home and everything in it, we lost my car and my father's BP service station. We still weren't sure of the status of my brother's house in Old Metairie, nor did we know about my parents' house in North Metairie. Quite possibly, my family was completely wiped out.

Between Mark and my father, I quieted down. Then I talked to my mom and my brother and had to be calmed down every time I spoke to a new person. By this point, it was almost noon. We'd left Entercom around 6:45, 7 a.m. Spud was ready to roll.

We went to find food. We found out that Great Wall in Baton Rouge was open, and Spud praised it to the skies. When we got there, we were given a choice between a long table and a round table. Spud said, "Give us the round one. We want to be able to look at each other." It was a buffet, and it was just what we needed.

I thought back and realized that all I'd eaten since Sunday afternoon was: a small bowl of chicken and sausage gumbo, a packet of cheese and peanut butter crackers, a couple of Pringles, and a hot dog or two. It was now lunchtime on Tuesday. I hadn't eaten anything that day.

We scarfed our food like we would never see food again. Buffet was a great idea. We were so hungry. When the bill came, Spud grabbed the check. He wouldn't let us pay. He said that he had another job working on a movie in St. Francisville, but our jobs were probably doubtful. He said he makes a lot more money off movies than radio, so lunch was on him. He wouldn't let us touch the check. We were even more in this man's debt, but he wouldn't hear any of it from any of us. His word was final.

We dropped off Charlie and Layla at the radio station. Spud brought us back to Channel 2. Before he left, I gave him a huge hug. We sat around waiting for Mark's parents.

They got there shortly after, and we took the almost two-hour ride to Morgan City. We were supposed to be there the next weekend, Labor Day Weekend, for the Shrimp and Petroleum Festival. (Yes, you read that right. I like to call it "The Greasy Prawns Festival.")

Stay tuned for Part 5: Everything starts sinking in in Morgan City.

Part 3: The End of the Storm Was Really Only the Beginning.

Recap: The storm was winding down. Garland was broadcasting in the hallway, bringing the news and a comforting voice to the people of New Orleans during a very scary time, despite the fact that the building was seemingly about to collapse on us.

I woke up from my nap to see that so much chaos had broken out. I was able to text people until about 1 p.m. I last spoke to my mother around 10 a.m. as the windows were shattering, the two of us crying like babies. I was sure I was never going to see them again. I honestly thought that we would die in that building. Sobbing hysterically, my mother told me goodbye, saying, "I will hold you again, my baby. I will." I lost it. I was far from consolation. Then my parents set off in tropical storm force winds from Pensacola. Yes, the storm was that large. I had no idea where they were headed. Neither did they. I knew they would have a long, hard road ahead of them.

That was the last phone call I was able to make on my phone. Landlines went out sometime around then. Texting was the only form of communication. Until 1. Suddenly, I was cut off from the world. With one exception: the Internet. I posted like a madwoman to MySpace. I sent out e-mail after e-mail. A lot of people posted that they were glad New Orleans had seemingly done so well. All of them were ready to come home. I shot off e-mails telling them what we were going through, and how the surroundings, mainly the now-naked Superdome, looked. Everyone was shocked. No one else was in the city, all were posting from Texas and other places. I kept telling the truth and trying to keep them from thinking they would be home that evening. Until 4 p.m.

One of the last e-mails I recieved was from my brother-in-law, telling me that my parents had made it to Auburn, Ala., and had gotten the last available room in the Microtel. He gave the phone and room numbers. I tried my cell one last time, and got nothing. But I didn't write down the room number. Remember this.

The last e-mail I sent was to male Blake (female Blake comes to play later), warning him not to try to make it back to St. Charles Parish. I had just seen the story about the lower 9th Ward, how 200,000 people were on their rooftops, surrounded by floodwaters. They waited to be rescued. People away from New Orleans weren't getting that. National media made it seem as though we'd made it out okay.

Coincidentally, we lost the Internet around the time the storm subsided. We couldn't believe our eyes as we looked at the carnage that was the studios. We couldn't believe the naked Dome. We just couldn't believe it. But we seemed to be okay. People were out walking around Monday afternoon, looking at the downed trees, the broken windows. Mark and I strolled carefully through the New Orleans Center. We tried to get in the garage to check on his car, but the doors were locked. I brought the camera and took pictures of the topless Dome, the splintered atrium windows in the N.O.C., the water stains on the ceiling, the flooded Café du Monde, the shattered trees. We wondered how our house looked, but figured we'd be home in a day or so. Our plan was to ride around to Geoff's house, my parents' house, my dad's BP station....and to call people and let them know the status. We were the only ones who had stayed and were even remotely close to the city. Everyone else was in Dallas, Houston, Baton Rouge, Arkansas, Florida...we figured we'd do a courtesy while I had the next day off of school and work.

The sun was coming out. People were walking pets around the Dome. We learned that the Dome had two holes in the roof, and sky was visible. It was being used as a shelter for medical needs, followed by low-income families and people without means to escape in a timely manner. Thousands of people were crammed in there. That evening, some of the FM people and news reporters walked over to the Dome for coverage. They came back, reporting that relief and boredom were settling in, and so everyone was singing Gospel music. Remember this, too.

At midnight, Mark went back on air. Spud McConnell was hosting. Spud is a local actor who was on "Roseanne" in the '80s, who gets a lot of roles in local films and commercials, and is THE definitive portrayer of Ignatius J. Reilly and Huey Long. He's also a graduate of Nicholls State University and a former member of the Nicholls Players. Mark and I are both of those. So, through these commonalities, and work, a shared acquaintance of a former mass communication teacher named Chuck, and Spud's all-around niceness, he and Mark struck up a good working relationship. I sat in the booth with Mark while he worked. The shift started out pretty predictably.

It was weird. Only WWL was broadcasting, out of all of the stations in the city. We lost TV the night before, cell phones that morning, texting that afternoon, and then Internet. Past sundown, reporters couldn't do much, because the city was without power. The National Guard had been stationed around the Dome since either Saturday or Sunday. So we were safe, especially with the storm over. They were predicting us spending a few more days at the station, so that WWL could bring news and comfort to the people. However, we had no way of getting information. The land lines were down, so calling out was not an option. But for some reason, people could usually call in to the WWL studios. Go figure. WWL actually began to rely, basically, on hearsay. If someone called in with a neighborhood report, we had to take him at his word. Callers called in with these reports, with questions about restoration of power and when they would be able to return. Then it got weird.

We heard about the 9th Ward earlier. Then, we learned that a canal had breached in St. Bernard Parish, and that "Da Parish" was under. We felt awful upon hearing this news. My teaching partner, Melissa, is from Violet in St. Bernard. I felt for her. I hoped she'd made it out alright.

Then, we heard a rumor that the Southern Yacht Club, where our wedding reception was held just under 3 1/2 years ago, was on fire.

Next, North Kenner, including the Esplanade Mall, was supposedly under water. That didn't sound good at all, since my parents live in North Metairie towards the Kenner line.

After that, we started getting a lot of calls from Mid-City. Frantic calls. All saying something like this: "I'm in Mid-City, and we didn't have any water from the storm until a few mintues ago. Now it's coming into my house. I'm on my second floor, but I may have to go to my attic, and maybe even my roof." The calls got more and more desperate. Mid-City residents were getting hysterical. "I'm on my roof. My house is on this street near this landmark. I'm on my roof. Water is rising. Help me!" "I'm watching the water from my roof. There's an old lady/single mother across the street. I hear them yelling. Someone come help! We live on this street near this street." On a lot of these calls, you could hear crickets and frogs, with cries for help in the background.

The mood in the Entercom suites changed. It went from mild relief about the storm to confusion. Why was the water rising now, between midnight and 4 a.m. Tuesday, when the storm was over for almost 12 hours? Theories were posed: Broken water lines. Clogged drains. It wasn't raining, so it couldn't be that. But what was it? Confusion led to fear.

A man called in, telling us that he'd seen a Tulane Hospital doctor on a national news channel who said that the 17th Street Canal had breached. The Canal stretches from the Mississippi River to Lake Pontchartrain and divides Metairie from New Orleans. We were a little worried at first, because there's only one street between the canal and our cross street. But since the water was coming up in Mid-City, which was the only place we'd recieved panicky phone calls, we figured the breach had to be somewhere up that way. We worried that our neighborhood might have flooded. We live in Lakeview, and it has been around forever, through Betsy, Camille, and countless other hurricanes, with no trouble. Our house was over 50 years old. It sits off the street a good ways. We'd probably be okay.

Other people called in, confirming what the man reported. But no one knew where the breach was or how big it was. We were a little nervous. But it had to be up by Mid-City. We had Veterans Blvd. in the way of that area. We'd be fine.

They announced that Jefferson Parish, where my parents live, was not allowed home until Labor Day at 6 a.m. That didn't sound too good for my parents. Or my brother, who'd moved to Old Metairie earlier in the year.

Tierza Simmons, an FM personality on B97, had a Cingular phone. If you stood near the blown-out windows of the Conference Room, you could get reception. She offered to let us use her phone to call our families and let them know we were okay. Mark got through to his parents. I called Microtel next.

I got through on my first try. I asked the desk guy for my parents' room number, because I had it in my e-mail, which I could no longer access. I thought they were in room 109. But I wasn't positive, and at 4:15 a.m., I didn't think it would be polite to call the wrong room. The guy told me there was no one by that name. I spelled it, since it's a good ole Louisiana surname, and this Alabaman probably couldn't spell it. Nothing. "Well, there were some people who were supposed to check in at 3 and never made it. Could they be one of those?" Oh GOD. Don't say those words to me. Then it dawned on me. I said that they hadn't made reservations, that they'd evacuated from New Orleans, and checked in that afternoon sometime before 4 p.m. Central time. Maybe they were listed somewhere else. The guy said no. There was one list. I said they checked in, that they had to be there. He insisted that they weren't. I grew frantic.

I tried the desperation card. I told him about the helicopters swarming around me that made me keep asking him to repaat everything. I told him how I was in New Orleans still and just wanted to let my parents know that I was okay. I told him about the military and Wildlife and Fisheries trucks bringing the airlifted 9th Ward residents from their rooftops to the Dome. I told him about the horrible storm and our busted windows. I told him how my parents were kicked out of a hotel in Pensacola in TS winds and found refuge in his hotel. I said all this on the verge of tears. His response?

"That's nice."

WHAT!?!?! EXCUSE YOU!?!?!?!? Then he informed me that they were not on the current guest list, a former guest list, a future guest list, or the all-time guest list. I stopped being desperate and started being pissed. I told him that I thought they were in room 109, but didn't want to dial it in case I was wrong, could he see who was in room 109 please?

"There's no one even in that room."

I got angrier and angrier I spelled and respelled my father's name, but the guy bsically kept insisting that I was an idiot. I asked him if they were, in fact, the Microtel in Auburn, Alabama. He said yes. I said, "I got this number from an e-mail my in-laws sent me before we lost the Internet. I could NOT have obtained this number, or the name of your hotel, which I've NEVER even HEARD of, and so I KNOW for a FACT that they are there. Check that list again!"

He asked if it could be under a different name. I said the only three people in the room have the same last name. It would only be Stanley, Stan, Kathleen, Kathy, Geoffrey, or Geoff. He said, "Could it be Joseph?" That's my father's middle name. I told him that, and said, "Well, what room is that person in?"

"109." ASSSSSSSSSSHOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLE!!!!!!! That was the room I thought they were in in the first place. The room he said was empty. "CONNECT ME!"

My father answered the phone. I told him that he wasn't allowed home, that the news didn't sound good for his neighborhood or my brother's, and that mine was iffy. I asked if they'd heard about the breach, which they had, but nothing definite. I asked about the Yacht Club. It had burned to the ground. I asked about the Esplanade Mall. Under water. Target at Clearview? The front fell off. Things looked bleak all around.

I talked to the three members of my family, and we cried together. My dad told me that they only had their hotel room until Friday, because Auburn had a home game, and the rooms were already rented out. We didn't know what they were going to do. They weren't allowed back in JP. They would be nomads the following weekend.

In the meantime, someone came up to Mark and said we were starting to take on water. Security was letting them loot the Sundries shop again. Again, they were inventorying and purchasing everything we took. He went down 5 flights of stairs to help out. When I got off the phone, around 4:45, someone asked me to help out. I was glad to. For two hours, we carried boxes and bags of food, drinks, and medicinal supplies up to the second level. We had to avoid broken glass and work under the cover of darkness. We didn't want passersby to see what we were doing and join in. We finished just as day was breaking. Tired, hot, sweaty, and sore, we went back up the five flights of stairs to our production room. I got Shazzy to use the litter box the night before, and Lily went right before we had our sanctioned looting experience. We were about to get some long-overdue sleep when someone opened the door. "They're having a meeting up front, and everyone, staff or not, is required to attend."

We went to the lobby, and all of the refugees were there. The Entercom bigwigs told us something chilling:

"Water is rising, and it's rising quickly. We do not think we can keep you here. We are running out of generator fuel. We will lose water and electricity soon, and we will not be able to broadcast any more. Everyone must leave. We have two options, and we cannot tell you which one is better. You have to decide what is best for you. You can go to the Dome, or you can try your luck in an SUV. We don't know which is better or which is worse. That is for you to decide. But you have to decide NOW. The water is rising quickly, and you must leave in the next ten minutes."

Stay tuned for Part 4: "Where do we go now, where do we go now, ahhhahhhahhhahhahhhahh..."

GRR

So, I typed for two straight hours a most eloquent piece entitled Part 3, and when I went to post it, the site was down for repairs. And since I was using my parents' computer at the house they're staying in, I had to use Dial-up AOHell, and I couldn't go back to what I'd typed and so I'm very disgruntled and haven't written anything since. But I'll be back. I have to stew another couple of days, I think, before I'm ready to write again.

Part 2: The storm begins

Quick recap: Sequestered in the DJ Lounge, I tried to stay sane by playing with the cats. But they were shaking with fear (and possibly cold as the room was so frigid. But I decided to keep it that way in case we lost power.) I got a sweater and blanket and made a coccoon in the chair by the computer. Once in a while, someone would walk in, survey the room, get something, and leave. I watched local news websites and the Weather Channel's site. I checked my e-mail and posted to MySpace a kazilion times. I had 6 hours of this, but at 5 p.m., one hour early, Mark walked in. Someone else had shown up and was going to take over the shift. Then we went to the Hyatt, which is where I left off.

Back in the Dominion Tower, sleep was impossible. Midnight came, and I went back to the computer. But I had exhausted all of the possible sites that would entertain me. I just kept wishing the storm would hurry up and hit land. It was dark outside. Dark and windy. And the storm was still a good 5-6 hours away from us. Around 1 a.m., I got out my textbooks and tried to do some studying. But I fell asleep while reading about teaching literacy. Funny. I woke up about an hour later to complete numbness in my arm, as I had fallen asleep on the desk on my arm. My face was ribbed to match my sweater. The wind was worse, and there was rain beating the windows. I tried to get the cats to eat or use the litter box, but they would have none of that. I put them back in their carriers, and I walked down the hall to the room where Mark was working. I stayed in there for the next two hours. By the time his shift was over, 4 a.m., the storm was still a good bit away, but conditions outside had worsened. Katrina was raging. The wind and the rain whipping against the building were so intense. But things would have to get worse, much worse, before they could get better. And that worried me.

Fears of the unboarded windows in the DJ Lounge prompted us to move our belongings and kittens into the sales area of the Entercom Suites. We chose an empty cubicle near the door, rolled out the sleeping bag, and tried to sleep. This was around 4:45.

By 6 a.m., the full force of Katrina was thrust upon us. I woke up to the sounds of someone yelling, "These windows are going to blow!!! Watch out!! Look at the water!!! We're flooding!!!" Tucked in a cubicle, I just stayed where I was. No water or windows were near us. At 6:15, the whole building swayed noticeably. It was like what I imagine an earthquake would be like. Holding back tears, I moved closer to Mark, who was snoring lightly. Fear coursed through my body. My mind was racing. The sounds of the creaking, swaying building were overpowering. I didn't know what to do. We couldn't go outside; it was far too dangerous. We were only on the 5th floor...if the building would be to collapse, we would probably be killed. I wanted my parents, who had finally found a hotel room (the last available one) at a HOJO in Pensacola around midnight. I wanted them there with me more than I had ever imagined possible. I wanted everything to be okay, but was positive it wouldn't be. While I was laying there, the power went out. With no humming electronics, the storm was more frightening. But the generators kicked in, and I let out a small sigh of relief over the fact that we were keeping electricity. But that sigh was squashed a second later as a crash came from not far away. The first window blew. Water went every where, driven in by 145+ mph winds. The carpets were saturated. People ran everywhere, yelling. At this point, the windows in the sales department systematically blew out. Someone ran over and told us to grab our stuff and move to the center of the suites.

We found an unused production room in the middle of the building. We dropped off the cats first, then went back for the rest. Although the room was soundproof, and it drowned out the sounds of the running, screaming people, the storm was still loud and clear. We saw a flurry of activity outside the window, and learned that the first studio windows of the FM stations were starting to give out.

The windows are double-paned, strong, and soundproof. We watched in horror and awe as the outer windows would get sucked in and out, in and out, in and out. Then, a crack would start spreading across the panes. Then, the sections of the cracking windows would start sucking in and out, in and out, in and out. One by one, or sometimes as a unit, the sections would fly away, never to be seen again. But the windows weren't done. The second window would start doing the same thing as the first. Once the inner window flew into oblivion, the winds raced around the studios, whipping the blinds, the papers, and the furniture around. Some things were sucked out. The doors to the studios would start banging around. Afraid we would lose the doors and have hurricane-force winds throughout the suite, someone found a bunch of bungee cords and rigged up a system connecting the doors and holding them shut. We were afraid that the windows looking into the hallways would go next, but they stayed in tact.

As day broke, we watched out the windows and saw things fly past. We watched the roofing paper billow and try to fly away. water gushed all around, out of holes on the roof, and up pipes on the roof. We still were not halfway through. Almost, but not quite.

Mark decided to forgo sleep in favor of helping out. I curled up with a blanket and a textbook, only to fall asleep again. I woke up about 9 a.m. to the sounds of the storm still raging outside. Mark peeked in on me at one point while I was sleeping and dropped off a Good Humor ice cream treat. I apparently acknowledged it but fell back to sleep and had no memory of it. I woke up excited that the ice cream fairy had visited, even though it was melted. I ate it anyway. By this point, people had been grazing in the kitchen all night, and now, Monday morning, we were running dangerously low on food and water. So the building security agreed to let some Entercom employees into the Sundries shop downstairs to get provisions. They only took the ice cream and dairy items, because those would be spoiled and unsellable after the storm. They inventoried what they took so the company could purchase the food from the lady who owned the shop. They figured she would appreciate some income.

During my short nap, Garland Robinette was on air. The ceiling started pulsating, as the glass conference room windows had blown out and the glass doors to the conference room were trying to do the same. They propped open the doors to the conference room to alleviate that problem, and the WWL Studio, the only one they had boarded up, was about to lose the boards. Garland ran through the building, still broadcasting, and set up in a hallway. WWL was there for the people.

Stay tuned for Part 3: The ending of the storm was really only the beginning.

Part 1 of my own Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius...

Yeah, I'm ripping off the title of a great book. Blatantly. But what are you going to do about it.

As I said in the first Katrina post, we had no idea that the storm was headed our way until the mall was closed. We went home, watched the Weather Channel, and freaked out. We ran around, doing laundry and packing and cleaning. On Saturday night, Mark had to work from 6 until midnight at WWL. Once I was alone, I started panicking. I put in Better Than Ezra and Dane Cook to help take my mind off of things. A Category 4 was headed our way. It could be the big one that wipes us out. I called my parents to see what they were doing for dinner, and my dad picked me up after he boarded up his station. We went to Ground Pat'i, because it was the only non-fast-food restaurant open. Geoff and Calie came, too. I wish Mark had been able to join us. Calie, my mom and I all baked a peach cobbler together that night. While we were waiting to eat it, Calie's mom called to say they were evacuating to St. Francisville, that she needed to come home immediately. Her dad is a Jefferson Parish Police officer, and he had to stay. But at the last minute, her mom decided to go. At this point, my dad wasn't sure if he wanted to stay or not. I think my mom wanted to go, as did Geoff, but good old Stan the Man (STM) didn't want to leave. He said he'd decide in the morning.

I got home and got to work. Come to think of it, I think we left a load in the dryer when we left. Ew. We loaded our photo albums, our yearbooks, my bound copies of the college newspaper, and Mark's tapes from the college radio station into the trunk of Mark's car. We were leaving my car pulled all the way up in the carport, because we weren't sure of the parking situation at the New Orleans Center. At 4:30 a.m., we forced ourselves to go to bed.

At 9 a.m., the phone rang. It was my dad. He said the storm had grown to a Category 5, and that they were leaving. Thank God. They were bringing my wedding photos, my wedding dress, and the two cats. I never would have thought about the wedding dress.

We got up, finished packing and loading the car, and we brought the cats with us. We decided that if they turned us away with the cats, we were just not going to work. When we got there, there was a regular menagerie going on. So it was okay. When we got to the New Orleans Center to park, we couldn't find a spot until the 5th floor. Which may end up being just fine. We took two loads each, leaving the albums and things in the trunk, along with my computer tower, my childhood favorite stuffed animals, and some other things we deemed unnecessary to drag all the way to the Dominion Tower. Mark set me up in the DJ Lounge with the cats, which is where I had Internet access all night long. He worked from noon until 5 p.m. At this point, we grabbed (unkosher!!! GROSS!!!) hot dogs and chips, ate quickly, and went to take our shift in the hotel rooms. Mark took a shower, and I talked on the phone to Carol and Ilyse. I got in the shower, and right as I finished washing the shampoo out of my hair, an air raid siren went off. I jumped out of the tub, making a huge mess and frantically tried to get dry. We were on the 24th floor. I didn't know what was about to happen. It was just the hotel management explaining that they would indeed use the hotel inner evacuation plan, where all guests would be allowed to bring one pillow, one blanket, and medications to a large ballroom. The evacuations would start floor by floor, starting from the top. But they didn't say when it would happen. It took about 2 seconds of conferring to decide we didn't want to take the chance. It was nice to have a real bed for a couple more hours of rest, but if the evacuation started, we may not make it back to Entercom in time for Mark to work from midnight to 4 a.m.

I dressed and we went back to Entercom. We rolled out the sleeping bag and tried to nap on the floor of the DJ Lounge. But we were too keyed up, and we stayed awake, talking. We discussed the possibility that there may be nothing left of our home, and if that was the case, would we want to rebuild in New Orleans, or rebuild elsewhere? We would have a fresh start, so the choice would be ours. But that wasn't necessarily a possibility, so we would discuss it more later if necessary.

Stay tuned for Part 2: Katrina Begins.

Sometimes, you really can't go home again.

It looks like our house is submerged completely under water. We live a city block away from the 17th St. Canal and about half a mile from the breach. I found satellite photos of it, and I picked out our roof. And that's it. Our roof. I picked out the Robert's and my dad's service station, and it's the same thing. UNO is partially dry. The area where the Education Building is is wet, but the further east you go, the more grass you see. But this photo was taken on Wednesday. Who knows by now.

We had to go through the storm, as I said previously, IN New Orleans. And it was hellacious. I mean, I don't have any adjectives to describe what we went through. I can try to describe it, but you'll never fully understand.

And I have decided that I need to blog it. I have to write it down. I thought that I was going to have to wait until I was ready to do it. But I can't sleep at night. I wake up thinking about it all over again. When I finally sleep, it comes back, and the cycle repeats. So I think I have to move on this and get it out before I can start to heal.

I mean, we know that we will come back to nothing. We are prepared. Our area is decimated.

So I need everyone I sent an e-mail or anything to during the storm, while we still had Internet access at WWL, to send me what I sent you. I can track my MySpace stuff easily. I can grab that. But I don't have copies of my Yahoo mails and my Cox mails. So help me help myself. And stay tuned.

Yeesh.

We have to stay in town for Hurrican Katrina because Mark has to work. That's what happens when you work for "THE News, Talk, and Sports Leader!" of radio.

They're putting us up at the Hyatt, which is next to the building where he works....but we have to rotate the room. They get half as many rooms as there will be people. So for like 12 hours, it'll be ours, while the other people are working. Ugh. We can bring blankets and pillows for if he's working overnight or something.

This looks like it will be the big one. The one that could wash us away. We have to leave the kitties here. We're closing them up in the computer room, because there's stuff they can climb on to escape any flood waters. It's breaking my heart, but that would be the safest room for them, should anything fly through our windows. We can't bring them with us. And my parents have two cats, so they can't take them. They're waiting until morning to decide whether or not they are evacuating. To me, that's too late. But Mayor Nagin is making the final call for mandatory evacuations at daybreak tomorrow.

The thing about this storm is that it snuck up on us. With my work and school schedule, I haven't had time for the newspaper or for TV. So I was vaguely aware of Katrina, just by listening to the radio to and from work and school. But they were expecting her to hit Florida and travel the coast of Florida. Until today, apparently. I mean, Mark works for, as I said, "THE News, Talk, and Sports Leader" of N.O., and when he got off work at 5 yesterday, there was no reason to worry. The principal of my school came around again after work to tell us all to have a nice weekend, asked if we had anything planned. Didn't say anything about paying attention to the local news media to see if we would have school. But today, they announced that the Archdiocesan schools are closed Monday. UNO's website says that they are closed through Tuesday. We went out to dinner with friends last night, then hung out with more people afterwards. No one said anything like, "Hey, are you evacuating?"

We slept in today, and went to the mall around 1:30 to get lunch and kill time. I noticed some buildings were boarding up, and that's nothing unusual. A bar we passed had this sign, "Due to Hurricane Katrina, we will be OPEN on Tuesday!" (Down here, people have hurricane parties...you evacuate from a lower-lying area of town to your friends' or relatives' house in a higher area, and you get food and candles and batteries and booze, and you party because there's nothing else to do. But when the threat is so bad, like it is now, that kinda dies down.) Anyway, we pull up, and there's a bunch of cars, but not many. We pull in the parking garage at Penney's, because that's the only garage and it's so flippin' hot, and walk to the store. An employee was sitting outside on a smoke break, we thought. She stopped us and said, "Store and mall are closed. Sorry." So I guess the cars there were all employees, and I'm guessing the mall had been open.

So now, we're feeling really dumb and very twilight-zoney. We stopped at Burger King and got lunch (yuck), then came home. Mark noticed two voice mails come through, both from his boss. Boss tells him that if he isn't evacuating, they need him to work. He doesn't have to, but that the main bosslady said something to him about, "This is where we separate the men from the boys, especially where pending promotions are concerned." So in other words, if Mark wants this promotion/raise he's been trying to get, he has to work.

So we're stuck here to ride it out. I'm bringing my textbooks with me, along with some stuff for school. But this monster is headed straight for us. She's a Category 3 right now, but they expect her to go to 4 before landfall. That's because she's moving too slowly, and she's building speed and strength.

I'm not religious by any means, but there's a theory that Our Lady of Prompt Succor (quick help in Latin) once saved the city of N.O. when the Ursuline nuns prayed to stop a raging fire that destroyed much of the city. The fire stopped before it reached their convent. OLPH is considered our protector. So when hurricanes come through, the city starts praying to her. The first words out of my mom's mouth were that she was already praying. The craziest part about it is that I'm almost inclined to believe it. The last few big ones headed towards us turned at the last minute. One, I think Lilli, slowed down speeds when it hit the friction of the coast, and we were spared. I'm not a praying person, but I'm hoping that if this is a real thing, that it pulls through. And, I figure my mom is praying enough for me, and maybe about 1,000 other people.

I'll let you know how we fare.

Oh yeahhh...

Modern, Cool Nerd 73 % Nerd, 65% Geek, 43% Dork

For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd and Geek, earning you the title of: Modern, Cool Nerd. Nerds didn't use to be cool, but in the 90's that all changed. It used to be that, if you were a computer expert, you had to wear plaid or a pocket protector or suspenders or something that announced to the world that you couldn't quite fit in. Not anymore. Now, the intelligent and geeky have eked out for themselves a modicum of respect at the very least, and "geek is chic." The Modern, Cool Nerd is intelligent, knowledgable and always the person to call in a crisis (needing computer advice/an arcane bit of trivia knowledge). They are the one you want as your lifeline in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (or the one up there, winning the million bucks)! Congratulations!

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 80% on nerdiness You scored higher than 89% on geekosity You scored higher than 77% on dork points

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid

After the first week...

I think I like it. I still have no clue as to what is going on. But it's working.

As I was telling the group at Chevy's, and I apologize if you're hearing this again, but it's my blog and a lot of people weren't there, so NYAH, but I feel that my years as a camp counselor were leading up to this job. There's the two teachers in the room. We do a lot of hands-on and art activities. They talk pretty much constantly. They get up and wander. Some of them can't help it. We're working on raising your hand to speak, and we're making progress, but a couple of them get up to tell you whatever it is they want to say after they raise their hands. But at least they raise them now.

Some are so frigging SMART. They get everything immediately. My math class has 6 kids. They work hard. Three of them, one of whom is autistic, know the answers to EVERYTHING. We played a game called "mystery number" yesterday. In this game, I told them I was thinking of a number where the number in the tens column was X, and the number in the ones column was Y, and they had to use a chart to guess it. Sometimes, the question was that I was thinking of a number that was X less than Y, and they had to use to chart to find it. If they got it on the first try, they got a point. If they missed it, I got a point. And if they won, they would get stickers. They only missed two. They understood the lesson.

Now, I'm not that creative. That was in the script. We use the Saxon program, and it has a script for the teacher's guide. Can't take credit.

We have one kid who hasn't shown up yet. Apparently, this is typical. We've also been told that we shouldn't expect to ever see the parents, because they don't return phone calls and they ignore conferences. That's so sad. They must care a little that they send their son to our school, but evidently, they don't care enough.

And it is SOOOOOOO nice to have a boss who acknowledges your presence. The principal and the president both smile and ask how you're doing when they see you in the hall. On Friday, the principal came around to tell us to have a nice weekend before he left. In two weeks, I've had more acknolwedgement than I had in 10 years with the Dub.

The one thing I'm not happy about is the fact that they are sooo religious. Yes, it's a Catholic school, so I should expect morning prayers and Mass on Friday. But in addition to the Our Father in the morning, there is the Pledge to the Cross (didn't know that even EXISTED) and the Pledge of Allegiance (which is normal and not religious, except when the objectionable line is said). Then there's the blessing before meals. Also not unusual, and I really wanted to say the Hamotzi the first few times, especially since both start with the letter B in the first word. Sigh. BUT...we go to lunch at 11:45. At noon, the church bells ring. They ring the Angellus. We have to stop eating and pray the Angellus, which includes the Hail Mary about four times. Gah. It takes forever. Not to pleased with the sheer amount of Catholicism. I know...what did I expect...but I didn't know how MUCH was going to be shoved on me. But it's the price I'm paying to avoid getting shot in the N.O. public schools.

First day of school.

Well, I lived.

Let's list the points. They aren't necessarily highs, they aren't necessarily lows....just points.

-- Made it to work on time.
-- Forgot to buy lunch stuff, so I grabbed some TGI Friday's steak quesadillas out of the freezer. Pathetisad.
-- Our autistic boy threw a fit before school, but did fine. He wanted to go home about halfway through the day, so he kept telling us he didn't feel well. But each time, the pain was in a different spot: back, stomach, head, eye. So he had obviously just had enough and was ready to leave.
-- Another kid, who is overly affectionate, kept trying to sit in our laps. He ran up to me in the middle of spelling and kissed my hand. He spent most of the day crying. I said the word "math, " and he burst into tears. Then, a kid said the word "homework, " and he lsot it.
-- The kids wander a lot. Some can't help it. Others do it because they see everyone else doing it. It's hard to tell which ones are which. The ones who have to, we let. The others have to sit.
-- The room is noisy. It's kind of the nature of the beast, though. We have a "Yacker Tracker, " which is a traffic light that reacts to decibels. If it gets too loud, a siren goes off and the red light lights up. It works, in a way. But they're fascinated by it. They like to try to make it go off. So what we do is, we make them sit in silence for 5 minutes, and we set a timer. If they talk during that time, the time starts over. That's how I did time-outs at the JCC. Setting off the lights will get old after a while, though.
-- The library isn't finished its makeover yet, so the librarian had to come to us. But the kids were good.
-- Our girl from Thibodaux isn't coming any more. They were buying a house here, but the deal fell through. This was going to leave us with one girl. Another class only had one girl, too, so they moved her to ours. And, we had a little girl touring the classes today who will be in our class. Which makes the statistic correct: the ratio of girls to boys with learning disabilities is 1:3. We'll have 17 total, which is a big class.
-- To little boys fought over who I was going to sit by at lunch.
-- No one had to go to the Cool Down room or the Time Out room. So, YAY!!!
-- One of the other teachers brought us motivational cards with quotes from Maya Angelou on them and some Dove Promises. She's great.
-- You should SEE the supplies they had to bring. We spent most of the day switching off on who had to teach and who had to unpack. It was CRAZY. We ALMOST finished.
-- Stayed at school until 5:30.

So, in all, it was a fabulous first day. It'll take some time getting into it, but I think I'll be okay.

Oy vey...

Talk about small worlds and reprogramming....

So we had a guest speaker at teacher inservices today...the father of one of the families I've known through the J over the last 10 years....four kids....had all of them...one IMs me to this day... Apparently, he speaks to us once a month. Random!

Also, a mom who used to bring her cute little boy to babysitting is the accountant for HRA.

In addition, a family with three boys, one of whom got lost in WDW last year and almost lost his $40 cowboy hat out west this year, attends the school.

But on to reprogramming...so, after working with children only in a Jewish environment, I need to retrain my brain to work in a Catholic setting. For instance, I have been joking around that when Halloween and Valentine's Day roll around, I'll have to remember that not only can I talk about these holidays, but I can decorate, celebrate, and teach them. But that was a joke, mostly.

Yesterday, I was helping my co-teacher go through boxes of supplies, and I found a jar filled with colored stones. It looked like candy until I picked it up, and I was thinking that we could give it to the kids for rewards. Then I picked up the jar, not to unpack it, but to see if the candy was kosher. D'oh!

Then, they were talking about how we can use the kitchen for instructional methods if we want, and I was ready to take a tour of it and learn where the dairy and meat sides were, and then I felt excited when I realized that I no longer need approval for items brought in!!! And best of all, no Rabbi Schfiftyfive lording over the kitchen! Woo-woooo!

ARRRRRRRG all around!

So we spent the weekend in Grand Isle. And on Sunday, I woke up sweating like crazy. Which is unusual for Grand Isle, as I am always frozen from the little window units. I felt like crap, too. Then I froze. Then the sweating. Uh-oh. That can mean only one thing: fever. Then I realized how bad my stomach was feeling. And I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, worshipping the porcelain gods, while the family was at the church I refuse to go to.

Unfortunately, Mark had to be to work for 6, so after one more good heave, we hit the road. And I made it back okay. But around nine, all of the water I'd been drinking came back to say hello. I realized that I was just starving. I'd gotten rid of the four bites of toast I'd had earlier. Mark was working 'til midnight. We didn't have any bread or crackers or bland stuff, so I called my parents, who brought over soup, saltines, Gatorade, Sprite, and emetrol. (Which I ended up not having to take.)

So I'm home today, instead of working mini-camp. Not necessarily a bad thing, simply because I really haven't stopped in two weeks, what with trip camp and all. Mom calls to check on me. Ten minutes later, the phone rings.

It's the principal at my high school alma mater, wanting to know if I had a job right now because they had a last minute personnel change. WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's the only job I wanted!!!!!!!!! But a week before school starts, I can't turn them down. So I asked to PLEASE be kept in mind for next year, and she said she'd put a note on my file. I AM HEARTBROKEN BEYOND WORDS.

This one time, at band camp....

Western Adventure...

Camp Director was supposed to pick me up at 5:30 a.m. to get to the airport before 6:15, when the kids were supposed to get there. 6 a.m., I hadn't seen or heard from her, and she wasn't answering her phone. So I got Mark to bring me to the airport. At 6:45, she called me frantically. She'd set her alarm wrong. We had to be checked in by 7:30 for our 8 a.m. flight. She made it at 7:20.

Flight was okay, for a flight. It's a well-documented fact that I hate to fly.

We landed in Phoenix, and it was scorching. Went to Baja Fresh, met Mary and Tim there. Yay! Delivered, by hand, the wedding magazine female Blake works for. Saw her ring. Pretty! Went to Cracker Jax, a Celebration Station-type place. Drove go-karts and bumper boats. It was so hot that we practically dried instantly. Walked through Old Town Scottsdale. Drove down to Prescott, AZ, to Camp Charles Pearlstein, our home for two nights. Food was better than at Camp Barney Medintz, especially the cinnamon rolls. On the first night, I got stung twice by a wasp. I've never been stung before, and I was so afraid of anaphylactic shock. I convinced myself that I was going to die. My chest was hurting. My mouth went dry....apparently, I was just freaked out, because I survived.

Next day, we went to Sedona and took a Jeep Tour of the red rocks. We saw the world's only McDonald's with teal arches. Only one other Mickey D's has non-golden arches...it's in Australia, and those are white.

After that, we went to Slide Rock State Park, a natural water park. Basically, it's pretty gross. It's a bunch of slippery rocks and each step brings you closer to broken bones as you slip your way through the water. Some kids jumped off a 20-foot cliff into water. Some went to a 60-foot one. Or so they said. There was a natural slide, too. I ripped my shorts on a rock and skinned my arse in the process, but it was tons of fun. The water was icy. VERY icy. Odd, considering it was over 100 degrees. But a welcome change. I'm guessing Anne is formulating all sorts of reasons why A. that happens and B. it's a disgusting thing to do, and that she'll reply, heehee. Anyhoo...

Went back to CCP. Got up at 5:30 again to go to Las Vegas. Yes, Las Vegas with children. Stopped at the Grand Canyon. Saw the IMAX about it first. Then we moved on to the actual thing. It was very hazy, unfortunately. But cool. And way huger than I ever imagined. On the way, apparently, our bus started having technical difficulties. Our driver, Ralph, who looked like Tweedle-dee and talked like Dan Ackroyd and Louie Anderson's love child, is a psycho hose beast. I wanted to buy him a mansierre. A bro, if you will. Geez. Anyway, we had to get the bus fixed, so we randomly ended up at Bedrock Park, a replica of the town from The Flintstones, while that happened. It could not have been any lamer. We tried to make the best of it. But there's only so much fun you can have there. It would probably be fun if you were 3 years old and it was November, but for our middle-schoolers in July, not so much. I almost bought a Jackelope, but there was no guarantee that it wasn't a taxidermied bunny. I couldn't tell.

Bus fixed. So we thought. We ended up driving 20 miles an hour on the freeway to Vegas with an increasingly surly bus driver who kept yelling at the kids, even though they were better behaved than they've ever been. EVER.

We got to Vegas late. Checked into the Excalibur hotel. Cool enough. Had dinner and took a walking tour of our hotel, the Luxor, and Mandalay Bay. (They're all connected.) Went outside and did a quick tour of the strip in our immediate area. Had some pimps try to give us cards. Awesome. Gotta love legalized prostitution. Got back, showered, went to bed. Boss' daughter, who was in my room, spewed. I don't handle that. Had she had explosive diarrhea, no problem. Wet the bed? Fine. Bled everywhere? Okay. Puke? Call for backup. She may be lactose intolerant, and she'd had ice cream after dinner. Immediately after, another girl in my room had a nightmare. Not a restful night.

Next morning, both were fine. Spent the morning at the hotel pool. Went to the huge, delicious buffet in the hotel. Rode in bus with apologetic bus driver to Circus Circus to go to Adventure Dome, the indoor Amusement Park, and to watch circus acts. Started a 5 mile walk back towards our hotel. Saw the Bellagio Fountains, the gondolas at the Venetian, and everythign else along the way. Went to Gameworks, an arcade, for a "birthday party," where we had one-hour game cards, pizza, unlimited softdrinks, and cake. That was followed by a trip to M&M World. Mmmm....

Got up at 5:30 again to drive to California. Got a new bus, but not a new driver. New bus: broken VCR and NO BATHROOM, same surly driver. But we could do the speed limit!

Arrived in California. Went to the Farmer's Market for lunch. Saw Donald Faison of Clueless and, apparently, Scrubs fame. Shopped in the Grove. Drove through little Israel. Went to Grauman's Chinese Theatre and the Walk of Fame. Went to the Hollywood Wax Museum, then drove through Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. Had dinner at In N Out Burger...mmmm...followed that with dessert at Diddy Riese. They make cookies and ice cream. For one dollar, you can get a sandwich made with 2 cookies of your choice and the ice cream of your choice. So I got chocolate chip cookies and mint chocolate chip ice cream. And....I fell in love with it.

Then we drove out to Malibu, to Camp JCA Shalom, our home for the next two nights. Only...

We were driving along Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), and we were driving for a very long time. It was beautiful, as we watched the sun set. I used that time to make my nightly call to Mark. After an hour or so of driving, friggin' Ralph announces that he has no idea where we'e going. So Pam convinces him to pull in at a gas station, but no one can tell us how to get to Mulholland HWY, as all of the people are tourists. So, we look at a map, think we figure out how to get there, and backtrack about half an hour. We go up Topanga Canyon, which is a long, steep, winding 2-lane mountain road with no shoulder. We finally hear back from the JCA people, who tell us we're waaaayyy off in the wrong direction. At this point, Ralph decides to try to turn around.

Bear in mind that this is a two-lane, long, winding, steep mountain road with no shoulder and that it is midnight. And that he decides to turn around right by a curve in the road.

And so, as we're yelling at him to keep going to find a better place, a car whips around the corner and slams on its brakes. It stops about a foot from the car. Pam and I screamed our heads off as impending doom and bright headlights approach, bringing certain death with them. Then as we're breathing again, a second car whips around the corner and almost slams into the first. They manage to move on. We breathe again. Then car number three whips around at a slower speed than the first two and the cycle repeats. I have never been so close to or so afraid of death in my life. We drove forward after that, and we found an intersection. So we backed into it and turned around safely. JCA Shalom staff came in three cars to meet us at the bottom of the mountain. We waited a while for them, since they were almost 45 minutes away, and we peed outside of the bus under blankets. Such bonding. The staff picked us up and brought us up another loooooong and winding rooooooaaad. We were all so bus sick from the roads. No one vomited, but we were all very ill. It was so late, we were trying to decide whether or not to bathe. They brought us to our tent. As we're putting our stuff (the girls, that is) away, one of the girls says, "Oh, look...a bird came in here!" I looked and saw something frantically flying around the top of the tent. "Wait...that's not a bird, is it?" I asked the staff person helping us.

Her eyes got wide, and we all crouched to the floor in unison. Apparently, the camp had never had a bat before. GREAT! So they moved us to the small side of the conference center. Showering was no longer an option. Then, I lost a contact. We passed out almost immediately.

The next day, we took a scary bus ride back down the mountain, and we went to Universal Studios. We did a few rides, then began our oh-so-scary trip back up the mountain to camp. We made it back before Sundown. We had a Shabbat dinner of chicken, chicken soup, potatoes, salad with Italian dressing, chocolate cake-like brownies, and something else, but I can't remember what. Then we all moved to the big side of the conference center. It had a big garage door, which we left up. We slept with it open. But before that, we all showered, then got together for a Texas Hold 'Em tournament with Wallace's new poker chips from Vegas. We took a night hike, then snacked on Snickers bars and Coke. While Pam was off somewhere doing something, Wallace wandered into the conference center kitchen. Empty, of course. Empty, except for one thing.

He came up to me with a weird look on his face, leaned over, and whispered, "We have a potential situation in the kitchen which I think we need to deal with immediately." So I followed him to the kitchen and saw...the biggest, blackest, hairiest thing I've ever seen in my life:

A TARANTULA! A HUGE FUCKING TARANTULA! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I fear tiny spiders. Imagine how I felt upon seeing Quentin Tarantulatino two feet away from me. We eventually found some staff, who threw him on the mountain. I took a picture. If you want to see it, or any other pictures, let me know and I'll e-mail the Kodak Gallery link to you. So during poker, a SECOND tarantula wandered into the conference center. This one, the kids saw. Much screaming ensued. From them, me, Pam, and maybe even Wallace. The assistant camp director was there, and he caught it in a cup and threw it on the hill.

Despite this, though, the camp was beautiful. And the neighborhood! We passed Cher's house on PCH. We learned that Pamela Anderson was our neighbor. We learned that Martin Sheen was also our neighbor. We learned later on that night on our night hike that he has a huge honking TV, which you can see beaming out across the mountains. We learned that the huge satellites near the camp were featured in Austin Powers 2. And...best of all....we learned that Camp JCA Shalom's boys' side is....BAND CAMP from American Pie 2!!! How fitting is that? People used to say I look like band camp girl, and most of my stories begin with, "This one time, at camp...." and someone once said that I should say, "This one time, at Jew camp..." and it's so funny, because apparently, band camp really WAS Jew camp! Random tangent over.

On Saturday, we woke up early and packed. We went to the zip line, which was HUGE and tons of fun. The worst part was climbing the tree to get to the platform. I have no upper body strength. The guy had to help me. But I loved it all the same. We had a Shabbat lunch of sandwiches, then loaded the bus. we loaded up on fruit, granola, Snickers, and water, lathered on sunscreen, and covered our heads. Then, led by an Israeli named Maayaan who looked like Henry Rollins, we started on a 7 mile hike down the mountains to the Malibu beach. It took four hours. We lost one camper to a possible first-ever asthma attack. We sent her on the pickup truck that brought us water about a third of the way through the hike. That was the end of the most difficult part, but we didn't want to take chances with her. It was a difficult trail. I've never felt dirtier, more exhausted, more sore, or more accomplishment in my life. We got scratched up, a tick was on my shirt, but a guide caught it before it could move to my skin, Wallace had one they had to remove. But it was such a once-in-a-lifetime event. I wouldn't have passed it up for anything. To make it up the difficult, steep, hot, brambly, loose-rocked trail, to stand on a peak, to take in the surroundings, to see the Pacific Ocean finally appear, to make it to the bottom, to look stand and look at where we'd just been and marvel over making it finally, to running down to the beach in Malibu....that's just something I can never forget. I'm still in pain from it, but what are you gonna do? It reminds me that I DID IT. That I made it to tell the tale.

We played in the Ocean for a while, then rinsed off and changed on the bus in shifts. We went to Buca di Beppo's, a family-style Italian restaurant and had a mini-Havdallah at the Pope's Table. It's a huge round table with a massive lazy Susan in the middle. You order tons of food (smalls are large, larges are phenomenal) and spin it around to share. We fit all 15 of us. The food was most excellent, the company was good, and we all left happy. After that, we went to the Santa Monica Pier and rode the rides. At 12:30, when the Pier closed, we went to a HOJO in Los Angeles. We checked in, ditched Ralph in favor of the airport shuttle, and had the lights go out momentarily. At first, I was afraid it was an earthquake. I mean, how much more horrible stuff could possible happen? But it was just a quick blackout. It was fixed within a minute, and we went ot our rooms. We showered (we got a suite, while the other rooms had roll-aways and were cramped... Pam called it a thank-you-for-the-summer) and passed out.

Got up at 8:30, loaded the shuttle, went to LAX. Hung out for a while, got on the plane, and left the beautiful California weather. We hit turbulance on the approach to New Orleans, and after we landed and we were waiting for our baggage, they got on the speakers and announced that the ramps were closed due to lightning. But we were HOME. No more travelling! Well, we're going to Grand Isle this weekend, but I don't consider it travelling, per se.

One week left of camp, then a possible week off/mild labor week at the J, then I start the new job with 6 days of in-services!!!! YAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Adam, Liz, and I are all leaving around the same time, so we're planning a big bash at some point to celebrate our freedom. Parrrtayyyyy...and how improper for a school-marm!

Tennessee you later

I slept in my own bed last night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last weekend, we spent Friday night 'til Sunday afternoon in Grand Isle. We may or may not have gotten out of the Gulf due to a shark. It may or may not have been a dolphin or porpoise. But in light of recent attacks, we felt it better to get out of the cesspool that is the beach at Grand Isle.


Although, the infinitely wise grandmother-in-law said we wouldn't have to worry about sharks coming to Grand Isle because "we have warm water here, and sharks don't like it where it's warm. They go where it's cooler." Yeah. That explains why there are so many sharks in Antarctica instead of Florida.

Spent Monday with my parents while Mark worked. Packed. Watched "Team America." The funny thing about that movie is that it's political to you. It caters to your beliefs. To me, it blasts the war, calling it dumb, and blasts America for being so self-righteous. To Kurt, it exists totally to show movie stars how dumb they are for protesting the war. To Matt, it was a terrific send-up spoof of action films. So, bravo, you comedic geniuses. But, next time, take out the vomit and add more puppet sex. And panthers.

Sex panthers?

Anyway, moving right along...

Went to Tennessee on Tuesday. Stayed in Memphis overnight. Saw Graceland, that paeon to all that is wrong with American pop culture, and went to a mall to play blacklight mini-golf, blacklight bowling, and to get an aqua massage, which is heaven on Earth. This year, they even made the water heated. Oh yeah...pardon me while I revel in that memory for a moment...

Moved on to Nashville Wednesday. Went to the COuntry Music Hall of Fame. LAAAAAME. Went to Nashville Shores Water Park. Didn't have many slides. We got bored of it quickly. Moved on to a mall. Ate a good salad. It had eggplant and feta in it. Need I say more? Went to the Nashville JCC. We had six kids and three adults: me, new guy, and an Israeli guy who was fun. Reminded me of Alex. Just darker complected. And not a stoner. Annnnyyyyywaaaayyy...the J was HUGE. The bathroom/locker room area was divided into under 17 and over 18. We could use the adult locker rooms, but the kids couldn't. As the only female counselor, I felt like royalty, plunging into the hot tub, having total control of the room, and complete and utter privacy.

Decided that my problems with camp this year come from the two girls who were on the trip. Big surprise, it's my Ritalin kids. I'm giving them to Pam on the Western Adventure. Sorry, but I'll be with Ritalin kids all year long...I'll need a major break.

Like the other campers. Have lost all tolerance with these two girls.

And back to the stories.

New guy didn't have a chance for major eff ups this time around. Not enough kids, and too many adults. As well as not enough chances to lead a group around. Almost had fun with him.

On Thursday, we drove three hours to Whitwell, TN. It's in the Appalachains, and it's about as far-removed from society as possible. The guy we spoke with there said some people still don't have running water and use rain barrels to bathe. Some do not have electricity yet. I didn't know areas like this still existed.

So why Whitwell?

Whitwell is home to Whitwell Middle School, subject of the Miramax documentary "Paperclips." It is a town of 1,500. WMS had four black students and one hispanic. All the rest are white Protestants. Most never leave the valley. But they started a project to study the Holocaust. They wanted to collect 6 million paperclips to represent the 6 million exterminated Jews. The project started in 1998. At the end of the first year, they had not collected even 1 million. They projected that it would take 10 years to reach the goal at the current rate.

Then, two German correspondants to the White House heard about the project from a 95-year-old survivor, who found it on the Internet. They got the Washington Post involved, as well as Tom Brokaw. And suddenly, the project took off. Stephen Spielberg sent in 1 million clips. People sent them clips on pieces of paper that simply said "Paper Clip 1: So-and-so." "Paper Clip 2: Such and Such." Each stood for someone they knew or lost. They received outpourings of support from famous people, from regular people, from 6 continents, from survivors, from survivors families, from the families of the dead. They recieved hate mail, including one from a man who signed his letter, "Seig Heil, Tommy." The letter accused the school of teaching the kids propaganda about a made-up phenomenon. Attached to the letter was a straightened out paper clip, and the message was, "This is what I think of your project." Another letter had clips bent into swastikas. They also received a suitcase, which belonged to a victim and was found in a camp, from Germany. It had pieces of paper in it attached to oversized clips. Each was a letter of apology to Anne Frank from German school children.

WMS has saved everything. They have autographed photos from Jim Carrey, from The Shrub, from Henry Winkler, and from Spock. They have support letters and hate mail in binder after binder. They have artwork from visitors. They have everything saved in their tiny library, which, before the project, had one book on the Holocaust that hadn't been checked out in 30 years. Now, they have cases of videos and literature on the subject.

We spent two hours reading these letters. Or trying to, as many were in foreign languages. I had to pull the kids away from it to move on to the boxcar.

The boxcar is a railroad car that was used during WW2 to transport people to the camps. It had to be disinfected before it could be brought to America. The floors of such cars were covered in lime, and as people died or went to the bathroom, the lime was used to cover the odors. Immediately following the war, the car was used to transport grain. Then, it was retired, and was used in "Enemy at the Gates." Its sibling cars were destroyed during filming. It was also in bad shape and needed to be restored. (See above thoughts on my take on "Team America" to get an idea of how I felt upon hearing that.) It was rescued by the diplomats (the Schroeders), purceased for $6,000, and reached America September 9, 2001. It was en route to WMS on September 11, 2001. There's bitter irony in that. It made it to WMS a few days later.

The car was placed on the WMS campus. The whole town turned out in committee form to prepare the area. Tracks were laid down. The car was restored and braced to hold the weight of its new cargo. A rock garden and regular garden were set all around it. A monument containing 11 million paper clips (one for each victim, no matter what the reason of the Holocaust.) 18 butterflies, symbolizing freedom, children, new life, and, of course, chai, were painted (later mosaics, because the paint wore off) or sculpted around the car. And, another 11 million clips were placed, with the suitcase of apology letters, inside the car. In all, over 32 million clips have been collected.

To walk up to the car, to hold those letters, to sift through the paper clips, and to stand inside the car are all very sobering experiences. We signed a guestbook. We met the man behind the project. We stood in silence and reflected. We dragged the kids away. We cried during the documentary. The juxtaposition of a memorial to something so horrible in a setting so beautiful.....

We brought 9 people. Half chai. Even though the project is over, we are sending in two paper clips each. Chai. They told us that at least two boxes a week still roll in. The extras are added to the car anyway. We will each put our clips in. One for each of us for our visit, one each for a person we want to honor.

The most beautiful thing of all:

One child, and what does THIS say for Orleans Parish Public Schools, did not know what the Holocaust was. She had NEVER heard of it. We had to teach her about it. When it was time to move to the boxcar, I had to drag the kids away from the books. And the last child, the one I had to coax the most, was the one who had never heard of what she was reading about. I think our jobs were done. I almost cry just thinking about it.

We were supposed to go to the Jack Daniels Distillery, but since we were so far away, we didn't make it in time for a tour. So we went to Grand Old Golf and Games. We did two rounds of mini-golf apiece. It was hard-core. We had to jump the balls across rivers and stuff. Then we played in the arcade, where I found...get this....an X-FILES PINBALL MACHINE! I played it. And did well. And took pictures of it. We had a pizza party, played poker (for chips and giggles only), and went to bed at 3. We got up at 5, loaded the bus, and were on the road by 6. I was asleep before 7.

Got home, showered, dressed, drove to Thibodaux. Went to a wedding. Found out someone we always thougth was gay is actually gay and has a boyfriend. Had to prevent to groom from beating him up after he gave the bride a lapdance. Mark had to escort him out early. Bride's brother threatened him. Bride and Groom got in a fight at the reception. No alcohol was served. But the groomsmen all had bottles of beer. The guests whore shorts, stretch pants, slippers, you name it. We were so overdressed. The reception was in the NSU ballroom. Bride works there and got a great deal on it. Spent the night in Mark's old apartment, now Phil's apartment. Went to La Casa for lunch with the in-laws, then to C and M Music in Houma for a sale so Phil could buy stuff. Walked out with Mark's Christmas present to me. Yup...a Guitar. It was on sale as a package deal: amp, guitar, gig bag, picks, strap, tuner....it's an off brand, but it's pretty and will be something great to learn on. Come on, December!! Hung out at the apartment like old times, went to dinner with Amanda and Mike at Ground Pat'i (damn, but Thibodaux is booming!!!!) and got a Blizzard at DQ. Drove home, unloaded car, picked up daiquiris, went to the A5 palace. Came home, slept in my own bed. Nothing sweeter than that.

Orlando, or how I'm one of the few people to not enjoy WDW.

Yeah.

Orlando had its ups and downs. And I'm not talkign about roller coasters here.

DOWN: had to be to work for 6:30. UP: Roman really was going!
DOWN: Bus ride was 13 hours. UP: Watched Forrest Gump, Breakfast Club, and slept!
DOWN: Got in really late and ate dinner late. UP: Dinner was at the Rainforest Café!
DOWN: Overheard our bus driver on the phone with someone, telling the person, "When I get finished, some souls are going to be delivered!" UP: Dude turned out to be awesome...he's my age, he's married, he's studying to be a preacher (presumably, the thing he was finishing), he was genuinely interested in the kids and what they had to say, he hung out with us, he is in most of our pictures, had awesome dreds, and bought every picture on every ride.

DOWN: It rained every day. UP: I remembered my pancho.
DOWN: My pancho made me look like I had a huge arse. UP: This prompted one of my most random moments in Epcot: singing "Baby Got Back" while backing that thing up, to the thunderous roar of laughter from my campers.
DOWN: Pam didn't make it out to help. UP: they sent Sarit, the cool Israeli chick, instead.
DOWN: Didn't get to see Indiana Jones this year because David lost his wallet. UP: David found his wallet.
DOWN: I lost my voice screaming like a baby on Aerosmith. UP: I survived the ride and bought a magnet of them with their kickin' mullets.

DOWN: Didn't get to do Splash Mountain. UP: Did Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Carribbean, where I bought Baby Ben a Winnie the Pooh beanie baby thing dressed like Captain Hook.
DOWN: Had two ritalin kids and two loud mouths in my room. UP: Ummm...there are none for that.
DOWN: New guy is too nice and doesn't pull his weight. UP: I can win the award for most useless staff member.
DOWN: The kids find me mean and hateful because I'm the disciplinarian. UP: "The only kid who matters" LOOOOOOOVES new guy because he doesn't discipline.
DOWN:Thunder Mountain is different now. It sucks. UP: I finally tried Space Mountain. Though I yelled like a bitch, it was kinda fun and made up for the suckiness that is now TM.
DOWN: I hated my roommates. Still do. Brats. Kept me up until I had 4 hours of sleep because they were rotten. Next night, let me get one extra hour for a total of 9 hours of sleep over two nights. Hate three of them, like one, but she got sucked into the crappiness. UP: The other campers were cool.
DOWN: Kids crank called a city councilman's daughter and scared the shit out of her. Her mom got on it and went to investigate the matter. UP: We discovered it and solved the problem before any major action could be taken.

DOWN: NEW GUY FORGOT THE DAMNED TICKETS AND DIDN'T TELL ME HE'D DONE SO UNTIL WE WERE AT THE PARK! He came up to me and said, "Ummm...those tickets we had yesterday..we get new ones everyday, right?" NO! THREE-DAY PARK HOPPERS! He at least offered to pay for the 10 he'd discarded. UP: We went to guest services, they figured out which cards were missing, voided them, and reissued us some cards. At no cost.
DOWN: New guy let his boys watch "Girl Next Door" on HBO at midnight because he'd never heard of it and thought it was a chick flick. UP: No parents have called to yell at us.
DOWN: Girls were horrible on the last night. Had to call Pam for backup. UP: She straightened them out.
DOWN: I've never had to do that before and I'm horrified by the fact that I did. UP: Because I did it, those girls are in danger of not going on trips if they don't shape up, and Pam is being more accessible to me.
DOWN: We got in late due to a faulty agenda that wasn't my fault. UP: We got back in time for Shabbos, and no one was in trouble.
DOWN: Roman was only doing that one trip, and he doesn't get to do this second week of in-town stuff. UP: He kept me sane. I'd be in jail for murder right now had he not talked me down and made me take a walk.
DOWN: Stuck with new guy still. UP: Only 4.5 weeks to go.

DOWN: well, this is a funny story...it's only an up with no down counterpart. UP: Because he's inept, Roman got locked out of his hotel room, while waiting for me to go running, but I was in the bathroom getting ready to run, and I didn't hear my phone ring or him knock, so he went to early breakfast, and I thought David was Roman, but it was just David rolling onto Roman's pillow, so I called him, found out where he was, and met him for breakfast. On the way back, this old guy at the information desk called out, "Good morning, kids!" We told him good morning. He said, "I hope he's treating you all right, ma'am. He'd better treat you right! I don't want to hear he's not treating you right!" So I replied, "Oh, he treats me well!" And the old guy said, "Good, good!" Then I walked back downstairs with new guy. But old dude didn't see us. Then back upstairs. Then we all came down, and I was on my phone, but Roman said the guy looked at us, then at the kids with us, and said, "There sure are a lot of you!" Had I heard, I would have said, "Yeah, we've been busy." What a wasted joke. Ah well.

Oh, and David spooned with Roman one night. HA!

Updated now that the summer is over!

create your own visited states map

Best day ever!

Borrowed a trap from my grandmother's friend. Caught my Lily this evening!!!!!!!!!! She looks okay, but Mark will have to take her to the vet in the morning. She's curled up in my lap purring as I type this!! I'll be in Disney World for camp all week, but I'll come back with an update once I get home and all.

Great phone call I just had

My best friend in the world, who will be 3 in August, apparently realllllly misses me.

I got a phone call from his mom, Heidi, tonight asking when I would be available to babysit him, because he keeps talking about me. He's in summer camp five days a week at his pre-school, and Nijel told me that he "knows" when he's supposed to come to me and always asks on those days if he is going to see me that day.

Well, today, he saw Heidi get her workout stuff together to go work out with Nijel, and his eyes welled up and his lip started quivering, and he wanted to know why he couldn't go with her so he could, "See Aimée and draw pirate ships with her today."

Heidi said "You're almost like an extra mom to him!"

That's my sweetheart!!

I'll be babysitting him on the 25th.

We'll be in Orlando next week, so I think that when I get to the Pirates of the Carribbean, I'll have to get him a souvenier. I miss my little buddy.

Hotlanta, my birthday, and a Lily update

Really, though, Hotlanta is a misnomer. Yeah, it was warm, but I didn't sweat like I do here. I wasn't oppressed by the heat. I didn't feel like dying to escape the heat. Although, since I'm probably going to hell anyway, I guess that would only make matters worse.

But what if we have it wrong? What if we've been told that hell is hot and steamy just so we won't want to go there? What if it's cosmic reverse psychology and hell is really this happenin' place made of ice cream where they don't want too many people to go there? Like, a po-boy place that looks shitty on the outside is generally the home of the best po-boy ever. Don't let the outside fool you. Could be a cool in-joke, you know, hell being crappy.

Anyway, kids were fine, new guy is okay, trip didn't suck too much. Went to the Braves game the first night. They lost. Their catcher got reallllly hurt...taken out in an ambulance, as I later discovered, because he had a concussion and whiplash from getting slammed in the face mask by an Angel. (Which seems to support the above theory...) It rained a little, but sometimes, sitting in the cheap seats is okay, just because we were so high up with our $5 seats that we were under an overhang when the rain started. Girls in my room kept me awake until 3:30. Mostly by quoting "Napoleon Dynamite."

Next day we spent the whole day at Six Flags. Rain held off until 6, which was fine, as we were leaving at 7. So we killed an hour in the stores. By this point, most of the kids were out of money. We waited half an hour for our bus driver to show up. When I called him, he said he was in traffic about 20 minutes away. This, apparently, became his excuse for everything, as he was ALWAYS 20 minutes away. Tried to go to the Hard Rock, but it had been rented out for the night. Walked down the block to a restaurant that had a piano on wires above the bar. It was in a glass case. Anyone who wants to can get on a step ladder on the bar and play. That was kind of neat. We thought the piano was for decoration, but we were wrong. Girls had a pre-teen friendship meltdown that kept me up until 1:30. Skanaky, sweaty, and dirty from Six Flags, and couldn't shower until crisis was solved at 1. I am SO glad I don't have to relive my teen years. Yuch.

Next day, we went to the World of Coke. You can drink Coke products from around the world. Some good, like lemon from Israel, some nasty, like lychee nut from China. And "Beverly" from Italy had an aftertaste even after you washed it down with tons of real American Coke. Hwarf. Then we went to Underground Atlanta. I scheduled it simply to get an aqua massage. Damn thing was GONE! ARRRRRRRGGGG. After the night before, I needed it. Driver was late picking us up, again, and when I called him after 30 minutes, he was, once again, "20 minutes away." This made us late to Andretti Speed Lab, which we had booked as a party. I called the people, and they said it was okay if we were late.

Andretti has top-speed go-karts that look like race cars. They make you wear suits and helmets like real racers. Gloves are optional. I came in second in my race! Anyway, the party was my unofficial birthday party. We got Fuddrucker's kid's meals, an ice cream cake, one race, and $10 token cards for the arcade. I won an orange and yellow stuffed monkey. It rules. The experience ruled, too. I like go-karts.

From there, we went to Camp Barney Medintz in Cleveland, GA. It's about 2 hours north of Atlanta. It was in the mountains and was GORGEOUS! My legs are sore from all of the up- and downhill hiking we had to do over the next few days. We had kosher burgers and chips for dinner, then got a tour of the camp. The cabins are unairconditioned, but the mountain air was cool enough that the fans and screens worked. I'm tired of bugs, though, and grateful for central air now that I'm home. We went out to the Iceberg, which is an inflatable rock climbing wall in the shape of an iceberg. You climb up one side, then slide down the other side into the lake. I am unable to climb rock climbing walls, so I did not do it. After that, we went to milk line, where we got fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and whatever milk or juice we wanted. Mmmm....

On Thursday, we had French toast for breakfast, then we went to arts and crafts. We made cool friendship bracelets with a weird name, something like "Kumi-ha-imo" or something like that. Then we went to something called "Group Initiative." We did some stupid bonding stuff, like human knot. We're such a dysfunctional group, though, that we almost didn't get the knot undone. Finally, though, we did it. Then we did this dumb-ass logic puzzle called "The Magic Shoes," where we had to get everyone across the lava lake, and you could only cross it if you were wearing the shoes, and then you could only wear the shoes once, blah blah blah...and the way it fell, I had to carry a tall, thin girl in my arms and a short girl who probably weighs more than i do now that I'm at my heaviest weight ever, on my back, and I almost made it across when she shifted her weight and I fell forward, jamming my left shoulder, hurting my left ankle and knee, and skinning my right knee. I was in considerable pain. I thought I was badly injured, but my shoulder had popped back in, and really, when DON'T my knee and ankle hurt? But my skinned knee (my first in probably 15 years) is pretty nasty. And boy, did I get muddy. Red mud.

Then we went fishing. A couple people caught small-mouthed bass. I caught nothing. We had kosher chicken nuggets and corn for lunch. Then we had rest period, followed by basketball and dodgeball. We moved on to the volleyball court, the batting cage, and the tetherball. I kick ass in tetherball. "Wanna play me?" I think I won because every time I'd hit the ball, I'd say, "yesss" like Napoleon, and it would crack the kids up, and they couldn't return my hits. Dirty? Yeah. Fun? You bet. We were supposed to have free swim in the pool, but that was closed for undisclosed reasons. Probably Baby Ruths in the pool. Anyway...then we had linguini in garlic cream sauce, garlic bread, and peas and carrots for dinner. We went to the Blob after that. It's an inflatable pillow....huge....and you jump off a platform onto it. Then, you crawl across it and sit on the edge. The next person jumps on it, and it launches you into the air, landing in the lake. It was cool, but I didn't get to go. Line was too long. New guy had his bathing suit on backwards. That was awesome. Kriss Kross to make you, jump, jump! Too bad none of the kids will get that joke....and probably he won't either, since he's only 19. Then we went to the low ropes, where a cute Israeli guy instructed us. We had to hike through a lot of forest to get there, and we had to cross a creek by sliding across a metal rope while holding a metal rope above it. Scary, but awesome. Only half of the kids did the course, due to time constraints. After that was milk line, then an early bedtime. We also had to pack most of our stuff, then load it on a truck to take it the half mile (minimum) trek to the front office of the camp.

Woke up at 6 a.m. EST on Friday, my 26th birthday. Got the kids together, then went down the hill with what we'd needed overnight. Long and hard hike that early. Ugh. Especially on your birthday. Slept on the bus most of the way. Had to eat Burger King for lunch. Hate BK now, after they changed their fries. Kids pooled money and bought me a little cheesecake for my birthday. Made the BK Lounge experience a little better. Watched the first two Austin Powers films on the bus on the way home. Hit T.S. Arlene evacuation traffic in Mississippi. Didn't get home until 6:30 p.m. CST. Relaxed a little. Opened Mark's gifts. He gave me "The Best of INXS," the first and second seasons of "Danger Mouse" (DM was one of my first boyfriends. The other was Montgomery Moose of "The Get-Along Gang." Nevermind that he was basically a big frat guy...), and the first season of "Soap," one of TV's all-time best shows. Got Cane's for dinner, then went to Dunkin' Robbins, where I got a mint-chocolate chip and chocolate cake ice cream cake, plus the free dozen donuts you get for buying a cake there.

Went to Geoff and Gootee's house. Blake gave me a Neighborhoodies.com gift certificate, Caroline gave me Rufus from "Family Guy," Alicia and Kurt gave me a gift card for New York and Company, and Geoff and Calie gave me a gift card to Best Buy. Oh, and Kevin went to Sav-A-Center and bought me some cupcakes that said "#1 Dad" on them. How special is that? Liz came over and brought me a "Fantasy," which is only one of the best daiquiris in the world. She brought Halley with her. Roman showed up for a while with two of his friends, too. It was a great night. Got home at 4, woke at 1:45.

On Saturday, my parents took us out to eat at Acme. Then we went to their house for a blackout cake from Maurice's. They gave me my new contacts and a skirt, and my mom apparently is waiting for another gift to come in. Also, I got a mix CD from Devon, featuring midwestern bands, most of which I've never heard of, and many which I've just never heard, and it's great! I love finding new stuff to listen to! And I got a card in the mail from Annie, my pen pal. Good day overall!

Sunday was my first Sunday where I didn't have to work. Woo-woooooo! Went to Ground Pat'i with Alicia, Geoff, Calie, and Kevin while Mark worked. Hung out with them, plus Kurt, after.

Lily: Saw her Friday night, we thought, under my car. Could have sworn I heard her, too. But we didn't get her. Then, on Saturday, Mark went to do laundry, and he saw her by the neighbor's house. We couldn't get to her, and she went under the house. But that means she wasn't hurt by the glass. On Sunday, the neighbors came home, and they let Mark in their backyard. Couldn't see her. On Wednesday night, he got home from basketball, and she was under the carport, eating the food we leave out for her. But he couldn't get out the car fast enough. The lady under whose house she is living is trying to help. She has cat carriers by her doors just in case. She also saw her the other day, but was on the toilet, and by the time she got out there, Lil was gone. Nice lady, even with the TMI. Haven't seen my baby since then, though.

The saddest thing in the whole wide world happened yesterday...

But last night, Shazzy scared Lily. She jumped up to get on the windowsill facing a street, and she jumped so hard and so fast that she broke the window and disappeared through it. By the time we got around to the side of the house, she was down the block. This woman was jogging past. I yelled, "Lily!" and Lily stopped right in front of a hole between the driveway and the house next to ours. The woman saw her and tried to help, but you know how Lily is afraid of strangers. She squoze out of the woman's hands and under the house. I sat by the hole for 3 hours, but she never came out. I finally had to leave because the bugs were eating me a live and it was 9:40. We have no idea if she's hurt or even alive, and we haven't seen her since.

We spoke to most of the neighbors today, and I drove all over the neighborhood. We put water and food under our carport, but there are so many cats in our neighborhood that those probably won't last. We made fliers and put them up near the house. Tomorrow, we're going down to the SPCA and we're going to file a missing cat report. You have to do it in person and bring them a picture. She wears a collar but no tags...hopefully she still has her collar on and hopefully if someone finds her they'll figure out that she's someone's pet. We're also going to put an ad in the Times-Picayune's classifieds section, as well as read it.

I'm just absolutely heartbroken. That's my baby girl cat.

Employment ROCKS!

Yup...got an interview last week. Got the call today. I'm going to teach fourth grade at a Catholic elementary school!

How Newman of Newman...

Sent out 18 résumés to local private and parochial schools. No real hits, but some sent me applications.

Anyway, the best rejection letter ever came to me today, courtesy of Newman. I have altered only the salutation.

"Dear Ms. Peon,

Thank you so much for your inquiry regarding the elementary position at Newman School. While it is hard to write a letter with a less than favorable outcome, I wanted to inform you that we will not be interviewing you for that position at this time. I say this now so that you will be able to continue your job search unencumbered by false expectations.

I appreciate your taking the time to write Newman and wish you well during your job search."

I'd like to point out some missing commas and the fact that it should read "less-than-favorable." Reputation isn't everything, apparently. And man, who bought her a thesaurus? Because that was evidently the best gift ever. This woman must get a lot of use out of it.

I'm not mad at them, just amused that they sent me this letter. With huge words. And bad punctuation. How Newman of them.

Geek Stink Breath

Your Geek Profile:

Academic Geekiness: Highest

Music Geekiness: Highest

SciFi Geekiness: High

Fashion Geekiness: Moderate

Gamer Geekiness: Moderate

Geekiness in Love: Low

General Geekiness: Low

Internet Geekiness: Low

Movie Geekiness: Low

How Geeky Are You?

Also, I have changed things now so that anyone can comment. You don't need an account to call your own any more. Have fun.

Deepest gratitude...

Dear Current News Items,

Thank you so much for taking me back to a simpler time. A happier time. A time when news wasn't serious and was a hobby, not an obsession, of the media. Speaking as a former member of the Fourth Estate, I can say that your presence almost makes me wish I hadn't given up on my first love. You recent news items have returned us to the Clinton-era of wacky hijinks and morons, as opposed to the current "He's gonna get us blowed up!!!" news of the Bush "administration" (Administration, Fraternity Rush Party, Corral, what have ye...).

Runaway Bride, thank you for giving us a dimension of lunacy not seen since the days of the Oral Office. Not since Slick Willie shoved a Cuban where (hopefully!) the sun don't shine has this country had a pathetisad man obsessed with a woman to laugh at. She ran out on her $100,000+ wedding, faked a kidnapping, changed her hair, and ran off to Vegas (Note: WITHOUT YOU) to escape your impending nuptials. Yet, you still "Want her back, because we all make mistakes."

Thank you, Michael Jackson, for your penchant for all things tiny. From wee Macaulay Culkin to your eroding nose, you're a gnome's worst nightmare. Without you, what would Access Hollywood DO???

Thank you, Tiger Woods, for marrying a supermodel/incubus who sucks your playing mastery so that someone else can have the limelight. But thanks again for restoring humanity's faith in you (except in the South, where they don't take kindly to your lifestyle choice and heritage, present company excluded), because with baseball's steroids and the Blanco/Benson Brawl, the kids don't have much to look up to these days.

Which reminds me, thank you, Gov. Blanco and Saints owner Tom Benson. Your petty squabbles on keeping a worthless franchise (my opinion) in town by creating mini-tax hikes in order to raise the money to refurbish the Dome which "aren't enough" really take the heat off of our failing public schools and the fact that our teachers were not all paid a few pay periods ago. Not since Zsa Zsa slapped that cop have we had such a trivial battle in the news. And while we're at it....why not use that hypothetical budget to fix the streets in my neighborhood, since you don't care enough about the students and teachers. My front end will appreciate that when I don't have to turn my steering wheel to the 3:00 position to drive in a 12:00 direction.

So, thanks for keeping the news off that dumbass who thinks 51% of the voting population is a mandate. It's nice to forget that those weapons don't exist, that young kids and family members are dying, and that we still haven't caught the guy responsible for September 11, 2001. 2001, Shrub!!

Sincerely,

A Blue Heart from the only Blue city in a Red State.
("Not BLUE Blue. TOILET BOWL BLUE.")

Music makes the world go 'round and gets me through the day.

Your Taste in Music:

80's Alternative: Highest Influence

90's Alternative: Highest Influence

Adult Alternative: Highest Influence

Alternative Rock: Highest Influence

Ska: Highest Influence

80's Pop: High Influence

90's Pop: High Influence

Classic Rock: High Influence

Old School Hip Hop: High Influence

Punk: High Influence

80's R&B: Medium Influence

80's Rock: Medium Influence

90's Rock: Medium Influence

Dance: Medium Influence

90's Hip Hop: Low Influence

90's R&B: Low Influence

Hair Bands: Low Influence

Progressive Rock: Low Influence

R&B: Low Influence

How's Your Taste in Music?

No home training...

Ok. Please do the world a favor when you have children.

Teach them to clean up after themselves. And how to help people. And that "The Clean Up Song" isn't just a cute, catchy song.

Don't demonstrate how not to act by walking into a messy day care room that was immaculate when you dropped off your 15-month-old and your almost-3-year-old and saying, "Wow, this looks like our house!"

'Cause it's NOT your house. And yes, it's my job to watch your kids. But if they have no home training, then my job is more difficult. And yes, it's the maintenance staff's job to clean what I can't get to because you left your kids with me for two hours, after arriving late, and I don't get paid to stay late and clean up after your kids because the mess is so huge that I can't possibly do it all on my own by noon, and they make me leave.

I never thought I'd see the day when I threw out perfectly good play-dough. But I did. I'm digging it out of my nails and my shoes and the fabric of my shirt.

No home training. I swear.

A lot of deaths...real and metaphorical

The Sunday before Easter, Mary's mom died. She made it back in time to say goodbye, but it was very very sad. But a guilty pleasure to see my hard-core old-school friends and parents and siblings at the funeral. Does this make me a bad person?

Last Friday, there was that terrible motorcycle accident. Yeah...the woman on the bike? One of my mom's friends, who we've affcectionately dubbed, "The Crazy Women/Ladies." I didn't know her, but she had a daughter at SPN who was a grade behind me. I didn't really know her either, but I remember her.

Last week, Geoff and Plan C became officially over, and Geoff was reincarnated with Plan A. Huzzah! (Well, to the reincarnation bit. He's my baby brother. I worry about him.)

Then, alas and alack, my second-favorite comedian of all time, Mitch Hedberg, died. I'm very distraught over this. I mean, I can't eat a baked potato without chuckling. Or watch an oscilating fan. Or see a broken escalator. (In case you are wondering, 1 is Dane Cook, 2 is Mitch, and 3 is Nick Swardson.) Sadder? His death is overshadowed by the following:

Terry Schiavo died, and this can't really be a bad thing.

The Pope is knock knock knockin' on heaven's door. He may be in there now, I dunno. You know those crazy Vatican peeps. Always playin'. Anyway, this also can't be a bad thing. He's like 800 years old, he's been ill for a while, and...well...a changing of teh guards in the Catholic Church can't hurt. I can't wait until someone from my generation can be Pope. I bet we'll have women priests, and less scandals, and maybe even more tolerance of other faiths and LIFESTYLES. Yeah, I know, keep dreaming. But maybe then, I will resuscitate beign Catholic. I can't in good conscience subscribe to them. That's another death that I pretty much finalized last week I realized that I only stay away from meat on Lenten Fridays and do NOTHING else Churchy, except giggle at Dane Cook's routine, so next Lent, FIRE IN THE GRILL, BAYBEEEE.