There is no feeling in the world greater than the feeling you get when something you hold as important to your life is gone...forever...and then stumbling across that important object later.
We had a few boxes in our attic in Lakeview that were dry. Mostly our Christmas Ornaments. The boxes came to my parents' house and have been there ever since.
As you will recall, we lost everything but those boxes that were in the attic. Which meant our marriage certificate, our SS cards, at least my birth certificate, and my college diploma.
Or so I thought.
My parents brought over some more boxes this weekend. I was looking for a certain bowl to put with the rest of its set, and stumbled across what ended up being one of those attic boxes. I could see it didn't have the bowl, but it did have a lot of papers. Mostly random copies of my college newspaper. I went back later and dug through that box, just to see what was there. And at the bottom, safe in its "leather" holder, was my DIPLOMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I didn't know if I'd ever be able to replace it, especially since the school's president retired not long after I graduated, and a duplicate would not be the same.
So now I have my high school and pre-K diplomas, which are at my parents' house and always have been (I guess my 8th grade one is there, too), and my college diploma. We got a new copy of our marriage license, so we are no longer living in sin, haha. So I'm halfway to existing again! Yay!
Also, I found what appears to be a journal I kept in study hall junior year. It's riotous. It also goes into that summer and talks all about summer camp. So many goofy anecdotes...and why can't life be as simple as it was in 1996?
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Catch-up
School is long over, we are mostly settled in the house, and camp is going to be half over on Friday. Unbelievable.
A lot has happened, yet nothing has happened.
Our roof leaked in a heavy rainstorm. We had it repaired.
Allstate is trying to cancel our insurance due to structural issues. We have a couple more weeks to finish our repairs (mortar cracks, replacing weak eaves, etc.)and submit photographic proof that it was all repaired in order to retain our insurance. Some of their issues were already fixed, like the siding on this side of the house and the foundation issues. Why they insured us and then two months later changed their minds, we'll never know.
The president of our school, who I adore, is leaving. Jobs are unsure. At least we've all signed our contracts.
I got my schedule for next year. I'm the only 7th and 8th grade teacher with 13 duties scheduled each week. I also am the only teacher teaching six classes a day again. At least this time, my only off period is in the afternoon, and not early in the day. I also have a twice-a-week club and an advisory group (homeroom). Plus, I have to start school again this semester. And I am under contract to stay twice a week after school for a few hours and update the school website. Mark better get used to the idea of cooking, that's all I can say.
UNO dropped me as a student because it had been a year since my last classes. I have had to reapply and am waiting to hear if I've been readmitted. Am I annoyed? Heavily.
Camp, at least, is going well. We've had "Let the Good Times Roll Week" (that's our theme this summer), "Wild Wild West Week," "Zany Zoo Week," and we are now in "Pirate Week." Arrrrrr. Next week is "Magic Week," and my costume for "Dress in Your Magical Gear Day" will be superb, if the two parts I had to order come in.
We had "Dress Like an Athlete Day," and I wore my Reggie Bush jersey and fleur de lis jewelry. We had "Dress Like A Cowboy or Cowgirl Day," and I was a cowgirl. Last week had "Dress Like an Animal Day," and I made a cool bird mask and wore a boa as wings. Friday is "Dress Like a Pirate Day." I enjoy this part of my job a lot.
As for field trips, I've been to Bowling, Posh Paint Pub, Breaux Mart, Laser Tag, Cookin' Cajun, and a couple of other places, but I can't think of them at the moment.
Staff is enjoying themselves, my cousin Kate reminds me a lot of myself at the junior counselor level, and the kids are cute. We survived the overnight and the late stay and successfully brought 3- and 4-year-olds on a bus to a grocery store for a field trip. Our new camp director is young and fun and energetic..or at least fakes energy well. We're having a blast. I make a camp slideshow at the end of each week, and we always end it with goofy pictures of us that revolve around the week's theme. They're big hits.
I've been messing with pictures in Photoshop lately. Mostly to stick an odd picture of Kate into weird places, like Gotham City and Venice.
We broke in the house with a barbecue on my birthday (oh yeah, did I mention that I think I'm officially in the "pushing 30" age range now? Zoinks.) that doubled as a housewarming party. Tons of food, tons of family, tons of friends, tons of fun. What was the old McDonald's commercial? "Food, folks, and fun!"
We're about to start painting the outside of the house. Finishing the mortar comes first. Then we paint. Bought a ton more paint the other day. Huzzah.
A lot has happened, yet nothing has happened.
Our roof leaked in a heavy rainstorm. We had it repaired.
Allstate is trying to cancel our insurance due to structural issues. We have a couple more weeks to finish our repairs (mortar cracks, replacing weak eaves, etc.)and submit photographic proof that it was all repaired in order to retain our insurance. Some of their issues were already fixed, like the siding on this side of the house and the foundation issues. Why they insured us and then two months later changed their minds, we'll never know.
The president of our school, who I adore, is leaving. Jobs are unsure. At least we've all signed our contracts.
I got my schedule for next year. I'm the only 7th and 8th grade teacher with 13 duties scheduled each week. I also am the only teacher teaching six classes a day again. At least this time, my only off period is in the afternoon, and not early in the day. I also have a twice-a-week club and an advisory group (homeroom). Plus, I have to start school again this semester. And I am under contract to stay twice a week after school for a few hours and update the school website. Mark better get used to the idea of cooking, that's all I can say.
UNO dropped me as a student because it had been a year since my last classes. I have had to reapply and am waiting to hear if I've been readmitted. Am I annoyed? Heavily.
Camp, at least, is going well. We've had "Let the Good Times Roll Week" (that's our theme this summer), "Wild Wild West Week," "Zany Zoo Week," and we are now in "Pirate Week." Arrrrrr. Next week is "Magic Week," and my costume for "Dress in Your Magical Gear Day" will be superb, if the two parts I had to order come in.
We had "Dress Like an Athlete Day," and I wore my Reggie Bush jersey and fleur de lis jewelry. We had "Dress Like A Cowboy or Cowgirl Day," and I was a cowgirl. Last week had "Dress Like an Animal Day," and I made a cool bird mask and wore a boa as wings. Friday is "Dress Like a Pirate Day." I enjoy this part of my job a lot.
As for field trips, I've been to Bowling, Posh Paint Pub, Breaux Mart, Laser Tag, Cookin' Cajun, and a couple of other places, but I can't think of them at the moment.
Staff is enjoying themselves, my cousin Kate reminds me a lot of myself at the junior counselor level, and the kids are cute. We survived the overnight and the late stay and successfully brought 3- and 4-year-olds on a bus to a grocery store for a field trip. Our new camp director is young and fun and energetic..or at least fakes energy well. We're having a blast. I make a camp slideshow at the end of each week, and we always end it with goofy pictures of us that revolve around the week's theme. They're big hits.
I've been messing with pictures in Photoshop lately. Mostly to stick an odd picture of Kate into weird places, like Gotham City and Venice.
We broke in the house with a barbecue on my birthday (oh yeah, did I mention that I think I'm officially in the "pushing 30" age range now? Zoinks.) that doubled as a housewarming party. Tons of food, tons of family, tons of friends, tons of fun. What was the old McDonald's commercial? "Food, folks, and fun!"
We're about to start painting the outside of the house. Finishing the mortar comes first. Then we paint. Bought a ton more paint the other day. Huzzah.
Monday, May 21, 2007
School is winding down.
So, last year, I had a student I really connected with. I'd heard about his temper issues, and I'd heard about his lack of care for school, and I pushed that back in my mind. He graduated in May and returned as a Freshman in the fall. Well, his temper got the best of him a few times, and so he was asked not to return. At graduation last year and today, I gave my graduates personal letters. I thank them for all that they are and all that they did. I had one mom today come to me with tears in her eyes and tell me how much they both appreciated his letter and how upset she was that I'm staying in 7/8 and can't move up. She said I captured his interest in reading, something no other teacher has done before. She warmed my heart and really made my day.
Just now, I checked my school e-mail. This anger-management kid from last year really and truly reminded me of Blake P., a friend of mine from college who'd better be reading my blog, because I check his every day. Yup. I follow all friends blogs every day. Anyway, he speaks like Blake, like the type of books Blake likes, and has the same demeanor. They even have similar speech patterns. And I had an e-mail waiting for me. I'm changing names to protect the innocent, but this is truly making my job feel worthwhile.
"Dear Mrs. M.,
I hope you don't hold anything against me contacting you because of my reputation at school. If not I look forward to keeping in contact with you. I've heard that the school year is nearly over for you and I hope it has treater you better than it has me. (Not trying to be depressive) I'd like to corespond with you for two reasons; One being that I think you are quite frankly the best teacher I have ever had. I fondly remember the days in your classroom as very happy ones indeed. The second being that I think I've come about to writing my book in a very serious way. You've told me that you really believe in my abilities as a writer. I wish to honor those words by asking a boon that I hope you will look favorably upon. Blunty, will you be my ghost writer? If remeber correctly you finished your courses last year for a literature major. Also I know that you have a great interest in literature as a whole. I hope I can depend on you as a guide in my blundering through the writing process. I know that I'm not on the top of your list of people to talk to and things to do. Knowing this I won't feel put off if you decline. Take as long as you like in responding to this message. I'm in no hurry and the book won't be written in a day. I'm looking forward to your response very much.
Sincerely,
W. L.,
still your student at heart"
I cannot describe what this e-mail means to me. Of course, I will clandestinely work with him. He has a gift in writing. That e-mail was written by a 9th grader. I feel with some guidance, he will be something one day.
This was an incredibly rough year for our grade levels of 7 and 8. We had some problems and some difficult kids. The 8th graders are gone now, so we're down to the 7th graders. And when you have a difficult year (ALL of the 7th 8th teachers did...even the calmest, most zen teacher said there were days she wanted to cry...), you start doubting yourself.
Some of the parents who came on the 7/8 trip to Washington were so amazed by us on the trip. One of the most common phrases we heard across the boards was, "I don't know how you all do this all day, every day. You deserve awards..." Our principal, who was on the trip, put it into perspective. He said, "There are jobs, and there are vocations. We don't look at teaching as a job. It's certainly not a way to make money. It's a calling. A vocation. And most people don't realize that. It takes a lot of dedication and a lot of yourself to be a teacher."
Just wanted to share this.
We don't get paid a lot in money, but I think this e-mail serves as my Christmas bonus for the next year.
Just now, I checked my school e-mail. This anger-management kid from last year really and truly reminded me of Blake P., a friend of mine from college who'd better be reading my blog, because I check his every day. Yup. I follow all friends blogs every day. Anyway, he speaks like Blake, like the type of books Blake likes, and has the same demeanor. They even have similar speech patterns. And I had an e-mail waiting for me. I'm changing names to protect the innocent, but this is truly making my job feel worthwhile.
"Dear Mrs. M.,
I hope you don't hold anything against me contacting you because of my reputation at school. If not I look forward to keeping in contact with you. I've heard that the school year is nearly over for you and I hope it has treater you better than it has me. (Not trying to be depressive) I'd like to corespond with you for two reasons; One being that I think you are quite frankly the best teacher I have ever had. I fondly remember the days in your classroom as very happy ones indeed. The second being that I think I've come about to writing my book in a very serious way. You've told me that you really believe in my abilities as a writer. I wish to honor those words by asking a boon that I hope you will look favorably upon. Blunty, will you be my ghost writer? If remeber correctly you finished your courses last year for a literature major. Also I know that you have a great interest in literature as a whole. I hope I can depend on you as a guide in my blundering through the writing process. I know that I'm not on the top of your list of people to talk to and things to do. Knowing this I won't feel put off if you decline. Take as long as you like in responding to this message. I'm in no hurry and the book won't be written in a day. I'm looking forward to your response very much.
Sincerely,
W. L.,
still your student at heart"
I cannot describe what this e-mail means to me. Of course, I will clandestinely work with him. He has a gift in writing. That e-mail was written by a 9th grader. I feel with some guidance, he will be something one day.
This was an incredibly rough year for our grade levels of 7 and 8. We had some problems and some difficult kids. The 8th graders are gone now, so we're down to the 7th graders. And when you have a difficult year (ALL of the 7th 8th teachers did...even the calmest, most zen teacher said there were days she wanted to cry...), you start doubting yourself.
Some of the parents who came on the 7/8 trip to Washington were so amazed by us on the trip. One of the most common phrases we heard across the boards was, "I don't know how you all do this all day, every day. You deserve awards..." Our principal, who was on the trip, put it into perspective. He said, "There are jobs, and there are vocations. We don't look at teaching as a job. It's certainly not a way to make money. It's a calling. A vocation. And most people don't realize that. It takes a lot of dedication and a lot of yourself to be a teacher."
Just wanted to share this.
We don't get paid a lot in money, but I think this e-mail serves as my Christmas bonus for the next year.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Catching up
So, due to my chaperoning adventure in D.C. and Williamsburg, I have left everyone in a lurch. I posted that we bought the house, and that is as far as I've gotten.
It took less than half an hour Friday morning. I didn't even have to take off work to do it, because Friday was the first day of Jazz Fest. Our school is fairly close, and we sell parking spaces for it, so we close down for the day on each Friday. Only one other school, the one next door, gets Jazz Fest Fridays! After we signed the papers, we got lunch and ran errands. Bought 15 cans of paint plus supplies, a shower curtain rod, a microwave, got the water work order in, and finally got a new copy of our marriage license. We are officially married again! And next time, we evacuate with it. Now I just need a birth certificate, a college diploma, and a social security card, and I will be a real live human being again.
Saturday was spent scrubbing. The people who lived there before had 4 teenagers (and one of them had a baby of her own), plus the mother and the grandmother. They lived there for 11 years. They trashed the house. The roaches....ohhh they're awful. We're buying stock in Raid. The filth on the walls from these people is astounding. We have to take Chlorox wipes and rub them down before painting. They have holes in every interior door. Nine windows are broken/cracked. Savory people, I tell you.
We had to do it alone. My mom worked, my dad worked, my brother was helping Alicia and Kurt move, and no friends could make it. It was a very frustrating day, especially since I was leaving Monday. My mom and I went to Wal-Mart and bought over $200 worth of cleaning supplies. It was ridiculous. We still ended up having to buy more stuff as we went through the house.
Needless to say, Saturday was rough. We also fit in picking up my Dee-Dee, whose retirement condo is down the street, practically. We showed her around and got her to agree to sitting at the house Monday to wait for the water to be turned on.
Sunday, though, my parents and Geoff showed up. We painted the den a lovely light buttery yellow color, Morning Sunshine. We didn't get the crown molding, though. We needed a better brush. That was done today. We also started on our bedroom, which is a deep, yet light, greyish purple color to coordinate with our bedspread. We got the first coat done in there. By that point, it was too late to do much else. I had to get home to pack for my flight. We had a 6 a.m. flight, which meant that we had to be to the airport no later than 4 a.m. Blech.
I didn't get to bed until almost midnight. Or maybe after. I had to get up at 3 a.m. It was rough. I was so sore and so exhausted. Made it to the airport on time. Flew out on time. Had a fairly smooth flight to Atlanta, where we had a 25-minute layover. They moved our departure gate, and that caused some confusion. But we sorted it out. We settled in for our flight to Dulles. It was uneventful until we were preparing to land. Now, I am NOT a fan of flying. I'm terrified of it. And we hit some of the worst turbulence I've ever experienced. And I hit that air pocket that time. This was way worse. As we were coming in, one student got sick. A parent chaperon took care of her. We were almost on the ground when the pilot had to pull back up and circle the airport. Which meant much more turbulence. Another kid and a parent chaperon got sick. We finally landed. It had all of the rest of us green and quaky. I've never been airsick before, but I could tell that if we went much longer, I would have been. I was so glad to be on the ground.
We had lunch at Ballston Common Mall. I met up with Emi there! She was going to bring Gavin so I could meet him, but our lunch hour coincided with his naptime, so I missed him. Boo. Lunch was hard to do, because while we were able to not sit with the kids, they still kept interrupting with silly questions. Not like there weren't 12 other adults with us or anything.... But it was still great to see her. Short but sweet, I'll take it.
From there, we went to the Iwo Jima Memorial and Arlington National Cemetery. We got to see the changing of the guards, which impressed a few of the kids to no end. One girl even told me that it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen, and she wasn't one of the ones I would have expected to hear that from. We drove past the Pentagon and saw the repaired side of the building. I hadn't been in D.C. since fall of 2000. It was something else to see it. The bricks are different colors. We also saw the Air Force Memorial, which is pretty sweet looking.
We took a lengthy bus ride towards Williamsburg, stopping at Old Country Buffet. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I hate buffets. But the mac and cheese was good, as were the corn and the salad fixings. The chocolate chip cookie I ate was tasty, too. I was almost impressed...
Around 9 p.m., we made it to Williamsburg. We met up with two ghost tour leaders and broke into two groups. We started at the College of William and Mary and walked all through colonial Williamsburg for about 2 hours, listening to spooky tales. It was pretty neat. Exhausted, we checked into the Holiday Inn Patriot. We discovered that the vending machine were empty and the ice machines were broken. We had children who needed medication, and we hadn't had a chance to have a drink since dinner at 6 p.m. We were all dying of thirst. Our On-Site Coordinator threw his hands up over it and said there was nothing he could do. Principal Mike and VP Marie and I went head-to-head with this rude man. He refused to do anything about it and kept saying, "What do you want me to do? I can do nothing." He refused to let our two security guards leave to get drinks. We had no transportation, and, allegedly, neither did he. Finally, the girl at the hotel desk said there was one employee who just left, and she would ask him to do it. One of the parents donated $40 to buy Sprites for the kids. That was pretty nice of him. Around 1 a.m. EST, I went to bed. I'd been up since 3 a.m. CST. I was exhausted.
On this same day, my grandmother babysat the house while we waited for the parish to turn on the water. She was on the front porch when a cop who lives in the neighborhood drove up and stopped to see if she needed help. Around this time, my father arrived to bring her home. While he was there, two code enforcers showed up. A neighbor called in a complaint about the yard, which looked like it hadn't been cut since last summer. I don't blame them, to be honest. It was awful. They were trying to write us up until my dad told them that we'd just bought the house and that the lawn mower wasn't coming until this weekend, but that it would be cut. They said okay and that they would return by Monday to ensure that it had been cut. Sheesh. As it was, there was a problem with the parish's side of the water main, and they couldn't turn on our water "until later in the week." Fantastic. Dee-dee also killed many roaches while she was there. She put her purse in a cabinet, and she ended up taking home two stowaways! EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. The pest people can't come until the shoring is complete, because we are getting a termite contract, and they have to dig trenches. Once the shoring is done, it'll be fine. But with no fridge yet, we can't keep food there, anyway, so it doesn't matter. It's just so nasty.
On Tuesday, we loaded up the bus after breakfast and headed out to Jamestown, where we saw a glass blowing demonstration. I bought a cobalt inkwell that I plan to use as a bud vase in my office. We moved over to the Jamestown fort and the ships. We had a great time and learned a lot of interesting things. Well, I did. I'm assuming they did, too.
We had lunch at a '50s-style McDonald's, which was kind of neat. We met up with our account manager from our trip and let her hear all about the previous night's problems. She was appalled. We moved back to colonial Williamsburg and divided into two walking groups. We toured the old capitol, had a mock trial of one of our students in the courthouse, played trapball, saw the apothecary shop and the silversmith's shop, went in the stocks, saw horses and carriages, and did some colonial shopping. I bought Mark a tri-cornered hat, my mom some Earl Grey tea leaves, and my dad a pack of colonial playing cards. One student, who is a natural drummer (never took a lesson until this year, and blew us all away by performing for Reggie Bush last year), played a drum that another student bought. He attracted quite the crowd!!
We had dinner at the commons at the College of William and Mary. I was wary...I thought...ew....college cafeteria....but man...it was amazing. Chefs fixed your food in front of you. They had a vegan line, a Chinese line, a pizza line, a hot meal line (which was serving red beans and rice that looked more like jambalaya), a wrap and panini line, a dessert line, a salad line, a soup line.... I told the lady there that if my college had a cafeteria like that, I would have actually used my meal plan! The food was excellent.
Of course, I also went to a rinky-dink state university. Go figure.
After that, we checked in to the Comfort Inn in Laurel, Maryland. And...guess what.... it didn't have working vending or ice machines! However, we had leftover Sprite and made it through the night. We asked Joe, our awesome bus driver, if he would let us stop at a store the next night, and he agreed.
Mark found out that the shoring company, which was supposed to start working on May 14, could fit us in on Wednesday. Yay! He worked on painting the ceilings in the house all week. All by himself. I was so proud...
On Wednesday, we toured Mt. Vernon, home of George Washington. It was lovely. I bought Geoff a souvenir there, but as I haven't given it to him yet, I won't discuss it here. We had lunch at the Old Post Office Pavilion, and all of the kids got ripped off in a cheapo electronics store that gave away crap, like laser pointers, to each customer. I have a collection of 8. Apparently, our On-Site Coordinator said the record is 10. We took some time at the National Archives (which has its temperature regulated by Geoff's company), then the Holocaust Museum for Daniel's Story. One of our Daniels didn't take it well and had to be reassured and consoled for quite some time. I think he was projecting his name.
While in the exhibit, one of the kids was caught acting up. This old lady who was touring the exhibit ripped him a new one. And rightfully so. He knew full-well what he was doing. Then, after she was done, it was MY turn. This young kid in a museum uniform came up while i was trying not to scream at the child. At first, he was a slight help. Then, he turned to his anti-American political agenda. First, he told them to remember the children being murdered in the Sudan every day. Then he told them to think of global warming. Ummm...aren't we in the Holocaust museum? Isn't there a time and a place? The he says, "Do what you can to stop global warming. And vote. Never forget to vote. Because if you don't, then we end up with idiots like Bush in office." Ok. I hate Bush. That's a pretty well-documented fact. But that wasn't the time, the place, or the audience for an anti-Bush tirade. I grabbed a few kids (many of whom were scared of this young guy), and moved through the exhibit. But then he stalked the nicest mom chaperon. He followed her through, going on an anti-Bush, anti-American tirade. He was apparently of Japanese descent, because he went on a tirade about the Japanese internment camps, and how his family was affected by them. Ok...more on-topic, but this isn't about you, dude. I reported him to the information desk, because he was basically berating that mom. She was very uncomfortable. The guy at the desk was very upset by what I told him, and he had me fill out a complaint sheet and speak to the internship coordinator, who was the guy's supervisor. Apparently, he was just an intern. The mom was very grateful to me for that.
We decided the kids needed to decompress, so we stopped at the Washington Monument and let them run around. We had a great time, especially with our cameras.
Then we went to Union Station to eat at Pizzeria Uno. It was pretty okay. One of the kids, who teases one of our teachers relentlessly about her hometown of Chicago, had me call her so he could inform her that he'd just eaten "nasty old Chicaaaago-style pizza." Haha. We also saw the FDR memorial and drove past some other landmarks.
That day, the shoring people started working, Mark painted more ceilings, our gas got turned on, and the sofa and recliner were delivered. Yayyyy somewhere to sit other than the dirty floors!
On Thursday, we went to the National Cathedral, which was gorgeous. It's medieval-style architecture, complete with flying buttresses. Heh heh. Buttresses. We fit in the Korea, Vietnam, and Lincoln Memorials. Very impressive and striking monuments. We spent the afternoon in the Smithsonian complexes. My group did the Air and Space Museum. We tried to do the National Gallery of Art and the Natural History Museum, but they each closed before we could see much more than a couple of paintings and the dinosaur bones.
We had a strange time at Vie de France for dinner. The service was weird and I think Big Pun was selling blinking necklaces to the kids. Thankfully, the food was delicious.
More painting was accomplished at home, and we still didn't have water!
Friday morning had us checking out of the hotel, driving down Embassy Row, and taking photo stops at the White House and at the Capitol. We had lunch at the Reagan International Trade Center, then we moved back over to the Smithsonian area. We went to the Museum of Modern art and the National Gallery of Art. Actually, only Mike and I went to NGA. Marie and one of the dads brought the kids outside because they were tiring out after the intense week. There was an exhibit of photography of "Paris in Transition." I thought it was such a Zen moment.
Then we found out that the kids were misbehaving. Some will be suspended this week.
We got on the bus and headed toward the Baltimore airport. We were stuck in awful traffic. Emergency vehicles whizzed by. Then we found out why. A SMALL PLANE HAD CRASHED NEXT TO THE HIGHWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! I told you before, I'm an awful flyer. To top it off, we had the bus full of kids, who ALL saw it. And, if it couldn't get much worse, the weather in the southeast was horrible, and we weren't sure if we'd make it to Atlanta, let alone New Orleans, that night.
At 5 p.m., we made it to the airport. Our flight was for 5:32 p.m. We rushed through the airport check-in and security, where I got stopped for forgetting I had a bottle of Fiji in my bag. Had to throw it away. Sigh. We barely made it on the plane, and missed our dinner opportunity. We left right on time for Atlanta, and made it with no trouble. Then, we sat waiting to taxi for almost an HOUR. The airport was busy and we had to wait for runway space. The sky was grim, and we were getting nervous. Luckily, we made it home about 9:15 CST. But we hadn't had dinner, as our layover was only 25 minutes in Atlanta. I was starving. All of the parents were there, the luggage was claimed, and Mark and I made a Cane's run for dinner at 10:15. It was good to be home.
After dinner, we made a quick trip to the house so I could see the furniture and the progress. But then we crashed when we made it back home.
We slept until almost noon on Saturday, then grabbed lunch and headed over. Mark's parents brought us a lawnmower and a weed eater. They ran to Lowe's and got a scythe, a machete, and an electric hedge trimmer, and then proceeded to annihilate the jungle that was our lawn. Mark said people kept slowing down to see the progress, haha. They managed to do it all. My mom and I spent the day painting my bathroom, my dad finished the trim in the den, and Mark worked on the second coat in our room. But then, he ran out of paint, and our hardware store is closed on Sundays, so we had to skip doing that room for the time being. My bathroom is "Breakaway Blue." It's cool.
Dee-Dee and her sister, Myron, came over, as did Alicia and Kurt. We had a very busy day. We were supposed to go to Geoff's to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, but we were too exhausted.
Today, we finished touching up my bathroom, picked up two bookcases from Kurt and Alicia, painted Mark's office/the guest room, and painted my office. We did all but his crown molding and the second coat around the edges of my walls, plus the crown molding. We also had a visit from Mimi and Lance, and from Jen. Again, a busy day. We worked from after lunch until 8:45 p.m.
I'm beat.
It took less than half an hour Friday morning. I didn't even have to take off work to do it, because Friday was the first day of Jazz Fest. Our school is fairly close, and we sell parking spaces for it, so we close down for the day on each Friday. Only one other school, the one next door, gets Jazz Fest Fridays! After we signed the papers, we got lunch and ran errands. Bought 15 cans of paint plus supplies, a shower curtain rod, a microwave, got the water work order in, and finally got a new copy of our marriage license. We are officially married again! And next time, we evacuate with it. Now I just need a birth certificate, a college diploma, and a social security card, and I will be a real live human being again.
Saturday was spent scrubbing. The people who lived there before had 4 teenagers (and one of them had a baby of her own), plus the mother and the grandmother. They lived there for 11 years. They trashed the house. The roaches....ohhh they're awful. We're buying stock in Raid. The filth on the walls from these people is astounding. We have to take Chlorox wipes and rub them down before painting. They have holes in every interior door. Nine windows are broken/cracked. Savory people, I tell you.
We had to do it alone. My mom worked, my dad worked, my brother was helping Alicia and Kurt move, and no friends could make it. It was a very frustrating day, especially since I was leaving Monday. My mom and I went to Wal-Mart and bought over $200 worth of cleaning supplies. It was ridiculous. We still ended up having to buy more stuff as we went through the house.
Needless to say, Saturday was rough. We also fit in picking up my Dee-Dee, whose retirement condo is down the street, practically. We showed her around and got her to agree to sitting at the house Monday to wait for the water to be turned on.
Sunday, though, my parents and Geoff showed up. We painted the den a lovely light buttery yellow color, Morning Sunshine. We didn't get the crown molding, though. We needed a better brush. That was done today. We also started on our bedroom, which is a deep, yet light, greyish purple color to coordinate with our bedspread. We got the first coat done in there. By that point, it was too late to do much else. I had to get home to pack for my flight. We had a 6 a.m. flight, which meant that we had to be to the airport no later than 4 a.m. Blech.
I didn't get to bed until almost midnight. Or maybe after. I had to get up at 3 a.m. It was rough. I was so sore and so exhausted. Made it to the airport on time. Flew out on time. Had a fairly smooth flight to Atlanta, where we had a 25-minute layover. They moved our departure gate, and that caused some confusion. But we sorted it out. We settled in for our flight to Dulles. It was uneventful until we were preparing to land. Now, I am NOT a fan of flying. I'm terrified of it. And we hit some of the worst turbulence I've ever experienced. And I hit that air pocket that time. This was way worse. As we were coming in, one student got sick. A parent chaperon took care of her. We were almost on the ground when the pilot had to pull back up and circle the airport. Which meant much more turbulence. Another kid and a parent chaperon got sick. We finally landed. It had all of the rest of us green and quaky. I've never been airsick before, but I could tell that if we went much longer, I would have been. I was so glad to be on the ground.
We had lunch at Ballston Common Mall. I met up with Emi there! She was going to bring Gavin so I could meet him, but our lunch hour coincided with his naptime, so I missed him. Boo. Lunch was hard to do, because while we were able to not sit with the kids, they still kept interrupting with silly questions. Not like there weren't 12 other adults with us or anything.... But it was still great to see her. Short but sweet, I'll take it.
From there, we went to the Iwo Jima Memorial and Arlington National Cemetery. We got to see the changing of the guards, which impressed a few of the kids to no end. One girl even told me that it was the coolest thing she'd ever seen, and she wasn't one of the ones I would have expected to hear that from. We drove past the Pentagon and saw the repaired side of the building. I hadn't been in D.C. since fall of 2000. It was something else to see it. The bricks are different colors. We also saw the Air Force Memorial, which is pretty sweet looking.
We took a lengthy bus ride towards Williamsburg, stopping at Old Country Buffet. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I hate buffets. But the mac and cheese was good, as were the corn and the salad fixings. The chocolate chip cookie I ate was tasty, too. I was almost impressed...
Around 9 p.m., we made it to Williamsburg. We met up with two ghost tour leaders and broke into two groups. We started at the College of William and Mary and walked all through colonial Williamsburg for about 2 hours, listening to spooky tales. It was pretty neat. Exhausted, we checked into the Holiday Inn Patriot. We discovered that the vending machine were empty and the ice machines were broken. We had children who needed medication, and we hadn't had a chance to have a drink since dinner at 6 p.m. We were all dying of thirst. Our On-Site Coordinator threw his hands up over it and said there was nothing he could do. Principal Mike and VP Marie and I went head-to-head with this rude man. He refused to do anything about it and kept saying, "What do you want me to do? I can do nothing." He refused to let our two security guards leave to get drinks. We had no transportation, and, allegedly, neither did he. Finally, the girl at the hotel desk said there was one employee who just left, and she would ask him to do it. One of the parents donated $40 to buy Sprites for the kids. That was pretty nice of him. Around 1 a.m. EST, I went to bed. I'd been up since 3 a.m. CST. I was exhausted.
On this same day, my grandmother babysat the house while we waited for the parish to turn on the water. She was on the front porch when a cop who lives in the neighborhood drove up and stopped to see if she needed help. Around this time, my father arrived to bring her home. While he was there, two code enforcers showed up. A neighbor called in a complaint about the yard, which looked like it hadn't been cut since last summer. I don't blame them, to be honest. It was awful. They were trying to write us up until my dad told them that we'd just bought the house and that the lawn mower wasn't coming until this weekend, but that it would be cut. They said okay and that they would return by Monday to ensure that it had been cut. Sheesh. As it was, there was a problem with the parish's side of the water main, and they couldn't turn on our water "until later in the week." Fantastic. Dee-dee also killed many roaches while she was there. She put her purse in a cabinet, and she ended up taking home two stowaways! EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. The pest people can't come until the shoring is complete, because we are getting a termite contract, and they have to dig trenches. Once the shoring is done, it'll be fine. But with no fridge yet, we can't keep food there, anyway, so it doesn't matter. It's just so nasty.
On Tuesday, we loaded up the bus after breakfast and headed out to Jamestown, where we saw a glass blowing demonstration. I bought a cobalt inkwell that I plan to use as a bud vase in my office. We moved over to the Jamestown fort and the ships. We had a great time and learned a lot of interesting things. Well, I did. I'm assuming they did, too.
We had lunch at a '50s-style McDonald's, which was kind of neat. We met up with our account manager from our trip and let her hear all about the previous night's problems. She was appalled. We moved back to colonial Williamsburg and divided into two walking groups. We toured the old capitol, had a mock trial of one of our students in the courthouse, played trapball, saw the apothecary shop and the silversmith's shop, went in the stocks, saw horses and carriages, and did some colonial shopping. I bought Mark a tri-cornered hat, my mom some Earl Grey tea leaves, and my dad a pack of colonial playing cards. One student, who is a natural drummer (never took a lesson until this year, and blew us all away by performing for Reggie Bush last year), played a drum that another student bought. He attracted quite the crowd!!
We had dinner at the commons at the College of William and Mary. I was wary...I thought...ew....college cafeteria....but man...it was amazing. Chefs fixed your food in front of you. They had a vegan line, a Chinese line, a pizza line, a hot meal line (which was serving red beans and rice that looked more like jambalaya), a wrap and panini line, a dessert line, a salad line, a soup line.... I told the lady there that if my college had a cafeteria like that, I would have actually used my meal plan! The food was excellent.
Of course, I also went to a rinky-dink state university. Go figure.
After that, we checked in to the Comfort Inn in Laurel, Maryland. And...guess what.... it didn't have working vending or ice machines! However, we had leftover Sprite and made it through the night. We asked Joe, our awesome bus driver, if he would let us stop at a store the next night, and he agreed.
Mark found out that the shoring company, which was supposed to start working on May 14, could fit us in on Wednesday. Yay! He worked on painting the ceilings in the house all week. All by himself. I was so proud...
On Wednesday, we toured Mt. Vernon, home of George Washington. It was lovely. I bought Geoff a souvenir there, but as I haven't given it to him yet, I won't discuss it here. We had lunch at the Old Post Office Pavilion, and all of the kids got ripped off in a cheapo electronics store that gave away crap, like laser pointers, to each customer. I have a collection of 8. Apparently, our On-Site Coordinator said the record is 10. We took some time at the National Archives (which has its temperature regulated by Geoff's company), then the Holocaust Museum for Daniel's Story. One of our Daniels didn't take it well and had to be reassured and consoled for quite some time. I think he was projecting his name.
While in the exhibit, one of the kids was caught acting up. This old lady who was touring the exhibit ripped him a new one. And rightfully so. He knew full-well what he was doing. Then, after she was done, it was MY turn. This young kid in a museum uniform came up while i was trying not to scream at the child. At first, he was a slight help. Then, he turned to his anti-American political agenda. First, he told them to remember the children being murdered in the Sudan every day. Then he told them to think of global warming. Ummm...aren't we in the Holocaust museum? Isn't there a time and a place? The he says, "Do what you can to stop global warming. And vote. Never forget to vote. Because if you don't, then we end up with idiots like Bush in office." Ok. I hate Bush. That's a pretty well-documented fact. But that wasn't the time, the place, or the audience for an anti-Bush tirade. I grabbed a few kids (many of whom were scared of this young guy), and moved through the exhibit. But then he stalked the nicest mom chaperon. He followed her through, going on an anti-Bush, anti-American tirade. He was apparently of Japanese descent, because he went on a tirade about the Japanese internment camps, and how his family was affected by them. Ok...more on-topic, but this isn't about you, dude. I reported him to the information desk, because he was basically berating that mom. She was very uncomfortable. The guy at the desk was very upset by what I told him, and he had me fill out a complaint sheet and speak to the internship coordinator, who was the guy's supervisor. Apparently, he was just an intern. The mom was very grateful to me for that.
We decided the kids needed to decompress, so we stopped at the Washington Monument and let them run around. We had a great time, especially with our cameras.
Then we went to Union Station to eat at Pizzeria Uno. It was pretty okay. One of the kids, who teases one of our teachers relentlessly about her hometown of Chicago, had me call her so he could inform her that he'd just eaten "nasty old Chicaaaago-style pizza." Haha. We also saw the FDR memorial and drove past some other landmarks.
That day, the shoring people started working, Mark painted more ceilings, our gas got turned on, and the sofa and recliner were delivered. Yayyyy somewhere to sit other than the dirty floors!
On Thursday, we went to the National Cathedral, which was gorgeous. It's medieval-style architecture, complete with flying buttresses. Heh heh. Buttresses. We fit in the Korea, Vietnam, and Lincoln Memorials. Very impressive and striking monuments. We spent the afternoon in the Smithsonian complexes. My group did the Air and Space Museum. We tried to do the National Gallery of Art and the Natural History Museum, but they each closed before we could see much more than a couple of paintings and the dinosaur bones.
We had a strange time at Vie de France for dinner. The service was weird and I think Big Pun was selling blinking necklaces to the kids. Thankfully, the food was delicious.
More painting was accomplished at home, and we still didn't have water!
Friday morning had us checking out of the hotel, driving down Embassy Row, and taking photo stops at the White House and at the Capitol. We had lunch at the Reagan International Trade Center, then we moved back over to the Smithsonian area. We went to the Museum of Modern art and the National Gallery of Art. Actually, only Mike and I went to NGA. Marie and one of the dads brought the kids outside because they were tiring out after the intense week. There was an exhibit of photography of "Paris in Transition." I thought it was such a Zen moment.
Then we found out that the kids were misbehaving. Some will be suspended this week.
We got on the bus and headed toward the Baltimore airport. We were stuck in awful traffic. Emergency vehicles whizzed by. Then we found out why. A SMALL PLANE HAD CRASHED NEXT TO THE HIGHWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! I told you before, I'm an awful flyer. To top it off, we had the bus full of kids, who ALL saw it. And, if it couldn't get much worse, the weather in the southeast was horrible, and we weren't sure if we'd make it to Atlanta, let alone New Orleans, that night.
At 5 p.m., we made it to the airport. Our flight was for 5:32 p.m. We rushed through the airport check-in and security, where I got stopped for forgetting I had a bottle of Fiji in my bag. Had to throw it away. Sigh. We barely made it on the plane, and missed our dinner opportunity. We left right on time for Atlanta, and made it with no trouble. Then, we sat waiting to taxi for almost an HOUR. The airport was busy and we had to wait for runway space. The sky was grim, and we were getting nervous. Luckily, we made it home about 9:15 CST. But we hadn't had dinner, as our layover was only 25 minutes in Atlanta. I was starving. All of the parents were there, the luggage was claimed, and Mark and I made a Cane's run for dinner at 10:15. It was good to be home.
After dinner, we made a quick trip to the house so I could see the furniture and the progress. But then we crashed when we made it back home.
We slept until almost noon on Saturday, then grabbed lunch and headed over. Mark's parents brought us a lawnmower and a weed eater. They ran to Lowe's and got a scythe, a machete, and an electric hedge trimmer, and then proceeded to annihilate the jungle that was our lawn. Mark said people kept slowing down to see the progress, haha. They managed to do it all. My mom and I spent the day painting my bathroom, my dad finished the trim in the den, and Mark worked on the second coat in our room. But then, he ran out of paint, and our hardware store is closed on Sundays, so we had to skip doing that room for the time being. My bathroom is "Breakaway Blue." It's cool.
Dee-Dee and her sister, Myron, came over, as did Alicia and Kurt. We had a very busy day. We were supposed to go to Geoff's to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, but we were too exhausted.
Today, we finished touching up my bathroom, picked up two bookcases from Kurt and Alicia, painted Mark's office/the guest room, and painted my office. We did all but his crown molding and the second coat around the edges of my walls, plus the crown molding. We also had a visit from Mimi and Lance, and from Jen. Again, a busy day. We worked from after lunch until 8:45 p.m.
I'm beat.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Lots to discuss
You may remember that last year, my eldest cousin had the first great-grandchild in the family. Well, this weekend was his first birthday party. The actual day is the 24th, but we celebrated at my aunt and uncle's house in Folsom, LA, Saturday. Ummm...he's adorable and well-behaved. Totally uninterested in cake and presents. But a very happy little guy.
On Sunday, we walked in the MS Walk. My aunt and my friend both have MS, and I walk in their honors each year. We had fun. It was in Audubon Park, so it was a lovely walk.
Today, we found out ...well...check the post below this one.
Also, we had a bomb threat at school. You may have seen us on the news. Again. I swear, we are NOT happy unless we are on TV or something. I pulled up to work to a very full parking lot this morning and thought maybe I'd watched the clock wrong. Miss Natalie, the cafeteria lady, stopped me and said, "You know we can't let you all in the building yet, right?"
Uhhhh.....
Apparently, someone vandalized the school bus. This happened a few weeks ago. We have one of those giant colorful maps of the US on the blacktop, and someone painted Spongebob up in New England. Spongebob was making an obscene gesture. They painted anarchy symbols on the church and on the school bus. Well, today, they came in and found that they had changed the name of the school to "Holy Moly" and painted a blunt under the word High. Then they drew an exploding bomb (not a Roadrunner and Coyote bomb, but a 24 bomb) and wrote, "There's a bomb under seat 17." They also used tools to remove the mirrors and the stop signs. Because of the use of tools and the events of last week, they called the cops, who brought the bomb-sniffing dogs and the CSI guys. They lifted at least 2 complete palm prints off the bus. Hopefully, they'll catch these hoods.
After about an hour of standing around, avoiding the media, and reassuring parents while trying to keep students in the dark, they let us inside. I'll keep you posted if they catch anyone. They seem to think it's one of two scenarios: 1 is a disgruntled student, 2 is neighborhood kids.
Also, I had my evaluation today, and it was kickass. Getting a small raise and a stipend to update our pathetic school website. Yay...it needs work....
Worked 12 hours because we had a meeting about our class trip to DC and Williamsburg. We leave at 6 a.m. Monday, which means we will have to be to the airport at 4 a.m. Luckily, Mark goes to work for 5 a.m., so it's not that inconvenient. It just sucks royally.
I can't wait to escape reality for a week.
On Sunday, we walked in the MS Walk. My aunt and my friend both have MS, and I walk in their honors each year. We had fun. It was in Audubon Park, so it was a lovely walk.
Today, we found out ...well...check the post below this one.
Also, we had a bomb threat at school. You may have seen us on the news. Again. I swear, we are NOT happy unless we are on TV or something. I pulled up to work to a very full parking lot this morning and thought maybe I'd watched the clock wrong. Miss Natalie, the cafeteria lady, stopped me and said, "You know we can't let you all in the building yet, right?"
Uhhhh.....
Apparently, someone vandalized the school bus. This happened a few weeks ago. We have one of those giant colorful maps of the US on the blacktop, and someone painted Spongebob up in New England. Spongebob was making an obscene gesture. They painted anarchy symbols on the church and on the school bus. Well, today, they came in and found that they had changed the name of the school to "Holy Moly" and painted a blunt under the word High. Then they drew an exploding bomb (not a Roadrunner and Coyote bomb, but a 24 bomb) and wrote, "There's a bomb under seat 17." They also used tools to remove the mirrors and the stop signs. Because of the use of tools and the events of last week, they called the cops, who brought the bomb-sniffing dogs and the CSI guys. They lifted at least 2 complete palm prints off the bus. Hopefully, they'll catch these hoods.
After about an hour of standing around, avoiding the media, and reassuring parents while trying to keep students in the dark, they let us inside. I'll keep you posted if they catch anyone. They seem to think it's one of two scenarios: 1 is a disgruntled student, 2 is neighborhood kids.
Also, I had my evaluation today, and it was kickass. Getting a small raise and a stipend to update our pathetic school website. Yay...it needs work....
Worked 12 hours because we had a meeting about our class trip to DC and Williamsburg. We leave at 6 a.m. Monday, which means we will have to be to the airport at 4 a.m. Luckily, Mark goes to work for 5 a.m., so it's not that inconvenient. It just sucks royally.
I can't wait to escape reality for a week.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Bored on Easter Break
Your Score Is.... 100%!
Congratulations, you scored in the highest percentile. You don't let very many mispronunciations slip by. No sir, not you. You speak quite properly, and everyone is impressed with your command of the English language. But do keep in mind, you probably come across as bookish and pedantic!
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Your life has jumped the shark 13%!
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Wednesday, March 28, 2007
What the hell is going on
I know I've left everyone in an uncomfortable state of suspense these past two weeks. I'd like to apologize. I just didn't want to say anything until everything was set.
These past two weeks have been awful. The Friday before our scheduled act of sale, we learned there may have been a problem. When the house was inspected, they noted that there were some foundations issues that were not a problem now, but would become one. When the appraisal went on, they noted this and said it COULD use leveling/shoring. It did not say it HAD to. Our loan officer, a very nice and helpful man named AJ (and that's honestly not sarcasm there...) told us that the bank was taking some issue here. Our plan had been to get my spider monkey brother Geoff and his equally lanky and excitable roommate, our friend Chris, to crawl under the house (it's a raised house) and to add some support to the piers. My uncle, who is an architect restoring a gorgeous shotgun double Uptown (he's been at it for like 15 years now), said he did it to his house, and it is a good solution, at least for a while.
That weekend, we were worried, but not terribly, based on what everyone was saying. Monday, March 12, the day before our act of sale, we found out that the bank was not signing off on the loan until we agreed and were under contract to shore the house. This was a major problem. We do not have the money to do it. My parents told us that they were planning to give us a good amount of money to help fix up the house. However, this was probably not going to cover it. My father had a contractor he's known for years look at the house. He said, without really looking at it, that it would cost $20-$30,000 to fix it, and then left. We think he didn't want the job in the first place.
I took down the countdown at that point. Well, posted to ignore it, as I was in such a deep state of despair.
"Why?" you ask. Because we do not have much money. We are going to deplete our savings with the down payment and closing costs and inspections and the sofa and recliner we bought. The money my parents are giving us was to buy furniture and appliances, the least of which is a refrigerator.
To lose this house is worse than you can imagine. As I said in another post, I've lost one house already. I am not prepared to lose another.
Back to us not having much money: the housing market is ridiculous here. People want more than $150,000 back in Lakeview for a house that isn't even gutted yet. It's selling for "land value only." There are thousands of houses like that in our former neighborhood. Our loan is for the bottom of the unflooded housing market here. It was extremely slim pickings. Each house we looked at was like walking through a fun house; the floors were slanted at dangerous angles and one became disoriented when walking.
ANY house in our price range had one of the following wrong with it: foundation trouble, one bathroom, shitty neighborhood, small bedrooms that wouldn't hold our queen-sized bed...I could go on. It wasn't just us being picky; one house had a crack house on the corner, and upon reading the police reports in the newspaper that night, we discovered countless arrests on that one street. Things were grim until we found this house on the Internet.
It may not be the most attractive home, but it has huge bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice yard, and is in a neighborhood with million-dollar homes popping up every few houses. It's my brother's neighborhood, Old Metairie. This house, with all of its cosmetic flaws, was the wisest investment. A few coats of paint and some mortar would almost double its value instantly, to be honest.
To lose this house meant several things: losing our shot at freedom and regaining our independence, repairing our straining-due-to-spending-a-year-and-a-half-with-our-parents relationship, and losing our loan. By prequalifying for our loan, we had 90 days to use it. The first 45 had to attach a property to the loan. The next 45 covered all of the inspections and other crap that comes along with buying a house. By the time we had this bomb drop, we were 30 days left to the loan before we would have to endure that painful process all over again.
This is the reason for my explosive post. There was so much at stake on this house. It was more than just house-shopping. It destroyed me.
Mark called a shoring company that advertises with WWL and had them do an estimate. They gave us two scenarios; if it was one type of problem, it would cost $9,000. That we could do. But if it was the other type of problem, the estimate placed it at $34,500. That we could not do.
Everyone started bombarding us with other house ads. I guess it's like when a couple miscarries, and everyone says, "Well, you can always try for another one. By the way, look at this picture of Susie and Gregg's kid!!! Isn't he adorable???" This was a major loss. Another reason for the explosive post. But these ads were more of the same: bad neighborhoods, deserted neighborhoods, one bathroom, etc.
Mark worked with the sales staff at WWL. Apparently, over the years, on-air hosts have done what are called "live spots." A live spot is when the host just randomly starts talking about the nice people over at such and such a company and all of the great work they do. It's not a commercial, per se, but it kind of is. In the past, live spots were done on trade sometimes. One man had Lasic surgery on both eyes for free, another has almost built a house for free. Spud, our savior, agreed to do our live spots and give us the benefits.
But first, they had to get under the house and give us the verdict. The house is raised, yes, but the crawlspace is small. They had to dig a hole in the backyard to get under there. And, as is our luck, it was the $34,500 job.
There went all hope, unless we could get the trade. Then we learned that the trade has been declared illegal in the past couple of years. When Mark told me about it, I said it sounded illegal, but that I was willing to do whatever it took to get the house, and so if it wasn't illegal, well, there you go. Then we found out that it was. Not totally surprised, but crushed. There was only one option left.
We had already low-balled them on the house. They accepted the offer with a slightly higher counter-offer. We didn't think they would drop. Our agent, Jim, told us to try. We dropped the offer by $20,000. All of last week was agony.
Mark spoke with Jim on St. Patrick's Day. He said that the family still owed over $120,000 on the house, and that they were thinking that maybe it could be worked out with their lender. It was a tiny ray of hope. No more word until....
Thursday, Mark talked to Jim, who said he'd spoken to their agent. Apparently, the sellers were having a meeting the next day with their agent. The couple has divorced, and he lives in Texas but was in town for the weekend. We thought this could be a good sign. He wouldn't waste a trip here if the answer was a flat-out no. They met at 1:30. Around 5 p.m., Mark finally heard from our agent. Apparently, the lady was ready to accept the offer, the agent wanted them to accept the offer, and the guy was holding out. He thought they could get a better offer. The agent and ex-wife were trying to get him to understand that they probably wouldn't. The house had been on the market for over a year. They moved out on the 13th, so they were paying the mortgage and 2 rents. If they didn't accept our offer, they had to be up-front about the foundation trouble. Or, they could always fix it themselves. Apparently, there was also a chance of foreclosure if they didn't take our offer. That must have been some meeting.
The result of the meeting was that the guy wanted the weekend to think about it, and we would know on Monday. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR...
But at 10 a.m. Saturday, Jim called to say that the guy had thought it over, and he was ready to agree. But they had to speak to their lenders first to work out a payment plan to cover the rest of what they owed outside of what we were offering.
Monday came, Monday went, not a single word was sent.
Tuesday afternoon, Mark got in touch with Jim. The sellers accepted our offer, and there was new paperwork to fill out. AGAIN. However, we have to wait until their lender agrees, which will be by the end of the week. Apparently, this is a small hurdle, and Jim is confident that we should finally get it.
The act of sale has moved to "on or before April 15." Beings as that is a Sunday, I'm guessing it will be before. Our loan runs out on April 18. We pushed our furniture delivery, which was scheduled for March 30, to April 21.
More on this story as it develops. As of now, it looks like we'll get it, but there is still a chance to not get it. I am staying very low-key on this in the meantime.
Thank you to everyone who worried and/or cared. I may not have responded to you, but I had good reason. Adding to the stress was our designing, giving, and grading 6 exams, then creating our massive report cards (10-12 pages per child!!!!) all last week. Now I'm catching up on the other things that have been turned in since then.
Is it June yet?
These past two weeks have been awful. The Friday before our scheduled act of sale, we learned there may have been a problem. When the house was inspected, they noted that there were some foundations issues that were not a problem now, but would become one. When the appraisal went on, they noted this and said it COULD use leveling/shoring. It did not say it HAD to. Our loan officer, a very nice and helpful man named AJ (and that's honestly not sarcasm there...) told us that the bank was taking some issue here. Our plan had been to get my spider monkey brother Geoff and his equally lanky and excitable roommate, our friend Chris, to crawl under the house (it's a raised house) and to add some support to the piers. My uncle, who is an architect restoring a gorgeous shotgun double Uptown (he's been at it for like 15 years now), said he did it to his house, and it is a good solution, at least for a while.
That weekend, we were worried, but not terribly, based on what everyone was saying. Monday, March 12, the day before our act of sale, we found out that the bank was not signing off on the loan until we agreed and were under contract to shore the house. This was a major problem. We do not have the money to do it. My parents told us that they were planning to give us a good amount of money to help fix up the house. However, this was probably not going to cover it. My father had a contractor he's known for years look at the house. He said, without really looking at it, that it would cost $20-$30,000 to fix it, and then left. We think he didn't want the job in the first place.
I took down the countdown at that point. Well, posted to ignore it, as I was in such a deep state of despair.
"Why?" you ask. Because we do not have much money. We are going to deplete our savings with the down payment and closing costs and inspections and the sofa and recliner we bought. The money my parents are giving us was to buy furniture and appliances, the least of which is a refrigerator.
To lose this house is worse than you can imagine. As I said in another post, I've lost one house already. I am not prepared to lose another.
Back to us not having much money: the housing market is ridiculous here. People want more than $150,000 back in Lakeview for a house that isn't even gutted yet. It's selling for "land value only." There are thousands of houses like that in our former neighborhood. Our loan is for the bottom of the unflooded housing market here. It was extremely slim pickings. Each house we looked at was like walking through a fun house; the floors were slanted at dangerous angles and one became disoriented when walking.
ANY house in our price range had one of the following wrong with it: foundation trouble, one bathroom, shitty neighborhood, small bedrooms that wouldn't hold our queen-sized bed...I could go on. It wasn't just us being picky; one house had a crack house on the corner, and upon reading the police reports in the newspaper that night, we discovered countless arrests on that one street. Things were grim until we found this house on the Internet.
It may not be the most attractive home, but it has huge bedrooms, two bathrooms, a nice yard, and is in a neighborhood with million-dollar homes popping up every few houses. It's my brother's neighborhood, Old Metairie. This house, with all of its cosmetic flaws, was the wisest investment. A few coats of paint and some mortar would almost double its value instantly, to be honest.
To lose this house meant several things: losing our shot at freedom and regaining our independence, repairing our straining-due-to-spending-a-year-and-a-half-with-our-parents relationship, and losing our loan. By prequalifying for our loan, we had 90 days to use it. The first 45 had to attach a property to the loan. The next 45 covered all of the inspections and other crap that comes along with buying a house. By the time we had this bomb drop, we were 30 days left to the loan before we would have to endure that painful process all over again.
This is the reason for my explosive post. There was so much at stake on this house. It was more than just house-shopping. It destroyed me.
Mark called a shoring company that advertises with WWL and had them do an estimate. They gave us two scenarios; if it was one type of problem, it would cost $9,000. That we could do. But if it was the other type of problem, the estimate placed it at $34,500. That we could not do.
Everyone started bombarding us with other house ads. I guess it's like when a couple miscarries, and everyone says, "Well, you can always try for another one. By the way, look at this picture of Susie and Gregg's kid!!! Isn't he adorable???" This was a major loss. Another reason for the explosive post. But these ads were more of the same: bad neighborhoods, deserted neighborhoods, one bathroom, etc.
Mark worked with the sales staff at WWL. Apparently, over the years, on-air hosts have done what are called "live spots." A live spot is when the host just randomly starts talking about the nice people over at such and such a company and all of the great work they do. It's not a commercial, per se, but it kind of is. In the past, live spots were done on trade sometimes. One man had Lasic surgery on both eyes for free, another has almost built a house for free. Spud, our savior, agreed to do our live spots and give us the benefits.
But first, they had to get under the house and give us the verdict. The house is raised, yes, but the crawlspace is small. They had to dig a hole in the backyard to get under there. And, as is our luck, it was the $34,500 job.
There went all hope, unless we could get the trade. Then we learned that the trade has been declared illegal in the past couple of years. When Mark told me about it, I said it sounded illegal, but that I was willing to do whatever it took to get the house, and so if it wasn't illegal, well, there you go. Then we found out that it was. Not totally surprised, but crushed. There was only one option left.
We had already low-balled them on the house. They accepted the offer with a slightly higher counter-offer. We didn't think they would drop. Our agent, Jim, told us to try. We dropped the offer by $20,000. All of last week was agony.
Mark spoke with Jim on St. Patrick's Day. He said that the family still owed over $120,000 on the house, and that they were thinking that maybe it could be worked out with their lender. It was a tiny ray of hope. No more word until....
Thursday, Mark talked to Jim, who said he'd spoken to their agent. Apparently, the sellers were having a meeting the next day with their agent. The couple has divorced, and he lives in Texas but was in town for the weekend. We thought this could be a good sign. He wouldn't waste a trip here if the answer was a flat-out no. They met at 1:30. Around 5 p.m., Mark finally heard from our agent. Apparently, the lady was ready to accept the offer, the agent wanted them to accept the offer, and the guy was holding out. He thought they could get a better offer. The agent and ex-wife were trying to get him to understand that they probably wouldn't. The house had been on the market for over a year. They moved out on the 13th, so they were paying the mortgage and 2 rents. If they didn't accept our offer, they had to be up-front about the foundation trouble. Or, they could always fix it themselves. Apparently, there was also a chance of foreclosure if they didn't take our offer. That must have been some meeting.
The result of the meeting was that the guy wanted the weekend to think about it, and we would know on Monday. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR...
But at 10 a.m. Saturday, Jim called to say that the guy had thought it over, and he was ready to agree. But they had to speak to their lenders first to work out a payment plan to cover the rest of what they owed outside of what we were offering.
Monday came, Monday went, not a single word was sent.
Tuesday afternoon, Mark got in touch with Jim. The sellers accepted our offer, and there was new paperwork to fill out. AGAIN. However, we have to wait until their lender agrees, which will be by the end of the week. Apparently, this is a small hurdle, and Jim is confident that we should finally get it.
The act of sale has moved to "on or before April 15." Beings as that is a Sunday, I'm guessing it will be before. Our loan runs out on April 18. We pushed our furniture delivery, which was scheduled for March 30, to April 21.
More on this story as it develops. As of now, it looks like we'll get it, but there is still a chance to not get it. I am staying very low-key on this in the meantime.
Thank you to everyone who worried and/or cared. I may not have responded to you, but I had good reason. Adding to the stress was our designing, giving, and grading 6 exams, then creating our massive report cards (10-12 pages per child!!!!) all last week. Now I'm catching up on the other things that have been turned in since then.
Is it June yet?
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Insulting to women everywhere
Just another reason to dislike the products of Texas....
To be clear, I am pro-choice. I know that if I was careless enough to end up pregnant at this point in my life, I would probably abort. At some other point in my life, I may be willing to go for adoption. I don't want kids. I can't afford kids. And to the people who always say, "You can never afford kids," I understand that this is true, but as we are trying to scrape up enough money to level the house we're trying to buy and worrying that there won't be money left for a fridge, don't even try convincing me now. Had Katrina never happened, perhaps I would feel differently. I wouldn't have to start with naught but the 10K Allstate gave us. I'd have appliances and furniture and art and things. Let's hope that the class-action lawsuit against the Corps of Engineers plays out in our favor. We've filed for a large sum...including mental and physical anguish (I have developed depression and reflux as a result) and property not covered through insurance. If that works out in our favor, I'd consider children.
But that's a different blog.
Anyway, I read this article and felt so angry about it that I am here typing my first non-life status post in over a year and a half. http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070324/od_nm/texas_abortion1_dc;_ylt=AsOODKwDCSWBReqZJ84awivMWM0F
First, I find it painfully obvious that some Republican man came up with this brilliant plan. I say this not as an obnoxious feminist, but as a human. He wants to offer women $500 to skip the abortion and carry the pregnancy to term.
Let that sink in.
First, how can you even put a price on it? What mathematical procedure did he use to decide this was a brilliant idea? What does this man even know about it?
Yeah. $500 will cover the cost of all of the prenatal care, the hospital fees, and whatever else needs to be covered. What about the physical and mental strains on the woman's body? Does he know what problems can arise during pregnancy? What if it's a case of the woman's life or the child's? "Hey, here's $500. Make sure you spend it all before you die, but go easy on it." That's valuing the mother's life at $500. Maybe she could form a trust fund or buy a tiny bond to leave the kid something. "Mommy died so you can have this $500. Enjoy!"
I may not be worth much, but I'm definitely worth more than $500.
This figure is a slap in the face of every woman faced with the difficult position of what to do once she is pregnant. I know that if I was raped and ended up pregnant, I could forget all of the trauma with a magic $500 check from the government. Worst night of my life? No way! I totally scored $500 out of it! That eases my pain and suffering!
If this gets to the people of Texas, they should be ashamed of themselves, their leaders, and their state if they vote it in. I doubt it will, but the current Christian agenda of the country and that state (cough cough Bush cough cough), anything is possible.
And this is happening in New Braunfels, Texas, land of the world's greatest water park, Schlitterbahn. So disappointed.
I especially love how he brings in Iraq. Interesting that that comment came from a Republican. Classy guy, this Dan Patrick. Also not surprising: he hosts a conservative radio talk show. I hate those people.
This is my favorite part: "Critics say the proposal would violate Texas and federal laws against buying babies, which Patrick rejected as 'the typical ridiculous criticism.'" What? This man in insane. "Typical ridiculous criticism?" Either he doesn't know what he's saying, or the journalist who wrote this needs to go back to J-school and learn to put things in context.
$500. You've got to be kidding me.
To be clear, I am pro-choice. I know that if I was careless enough to end up pregnant at this point in my life, I would probably abort. At some other point in my life, I may be willing to go for adoption. I don't want kids. I can't afford kids. And to the people who always say, "You can never afford kids," I understand that this is true, but as we are trying to scrape up enough money to level the house we're trying to buy and worrying that there won't be money left for a fridge, don't even try convincing me now. Had Katrina never happened, perhaps I would feel differently. I wouldn't have to start with naught but the 10K Allstate gave us. I'd have appliances and furniture and art and things. Let's hope that the class-action lawsuit against the Corps of Engineers plays out in our favor. We've filed for a large sum...including mental and physical anguish (I have developed depression and reflux as a result) and property not covered through insurance. If that works out in our favor, I'd consider children.
But that's a different blog.
Anyway, I read this article and felt so angry about it that I am here typing my first non-life status post in over a year and a half. http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070324/od_nm/texas_abortion1_dc;_ylt=AsOODKwDCSWBReqZJ84awivMWM0F
First, I find it painfully obvious that some Republican man came up with this brilliant plan. I say this not as an obnoxious feminist, but as a human. He wants to offer women $500 to skip the abortion and carry the pregnancy to term.
Let that sink in.
First, how can you even put a price on it? What mathematical procedure did he use to decide this was a brilliant idea? What does this man even know about it?
Yeah. $500 will cover the cost of all of the prenatal care, the hospital fees, and whatever else needs to be covered. What about the physical and mental strains on the woman's body? Does he know what problems can arise during pregnancy? What if it's a case of the woman's life or the child's? "Hey, here's $500. Make sure you spend it all before you die, but go easy on it." That's valuing the mother's life at $500. Maybe she could form a trust fund or buy a tiny bond to leave the kid something. "Mommy died so you can have this $500. Enjoy!"
I may not be worth much, but I'm definitely worth more than $500.
This figure is a slap in the face of every woman faced with the difficult position of what to do once she is pregnant. I know that if I was raped and ended up pregnant, I could forget all of the trauma with a magic $500 check from the government. Worst night of my life? No way! I totally scored $500 out of it! That eases my pain and suffering!
If this gets to the people of Texas, they should be ashamed of themselves, their leaders, and their state if they vote it in. I doubt it will, but the current Christian agenda of the country and that state (cough cough Bush cough cough), anything is possible.
And this is happening in New Braunfels, Texas, land of the world's greatest water park, Schlitterbahn. So disappointed.
I especially love how he brings in Iraq. Interesting that that comment came from a Republican. Classy guy, this Dan Patrick. Also not surprising: he hosts a conservative radio talk show. I hate those people.
This is my favorite part: "Critics say the proposal would violate Texas and federal laws against buying babies, which Patrick rejected as 'the typical ridiculous criticism.'" What? This man in insane. "Typical ridiculous criticism?" Either he doesn't know what he's saying, or the journalist who wrote this needs to go back to J-school and learn to put things in context.
$500. You've got to be kidding me.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Not directed at any one person, but every person
No, stop telling me that you understand or you get it. I haven't even said the whole thing.
You don't understand. I lost one house already. I cannot lose another. You have no fucking clue what it is like to be us. And if you do, then skip reading this.
I have felt low in my life. I was pretty low upon Katrina existing. But this, this is a new low. I'm saving what's going on for later. It is not over. But quit fucking trying to understand, because you won't. Don't tell me it will be okay or that it will all work out. Because it may not be okay. Not ever. I will never, I repeat NEVER get over what has happened in the past 18 months. Every time we try to get ahead, some underlying force has ripped the proverbial rug out from under us. It's never anything we do. It's always some force of nature. I'm sick of being shat upon. I have had enough.
I don't even have the strength to keep up. I'm done. There is no spark in me any more. I'm about ready to hang up my hat.
You don't understand. I lost one house already. I cannot lose another. You have no fucking clue what it is like to be us. And if you do, then skip reading this.
I have felt low in my life. I was pretty low upon Katrina existing. But this, this is a new low. I'm saving what's going on for later. It is not over. But quit fucking trying to understand, because you won't. Don't tell me it will be okay or that it will all work out. Because it may not be okay. Not ever. I will never, I repeat NEVER get over what has happened in the past 18 months. Every time we try to get ahead, some underlying force has ripped the proverbial rug out from under us. It's never anything we do. It's always some force of nature. I'm sick of being shat upon. I have had enough.
I don't even have the strength to keep up. I'm done. There is no spark in me any more. I'm about ready to hang up my hat.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Ignore the previous post
THIS IS NOT HAPPENING, THIS IS NOT HAPPENING, THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Update again
Friday was the end of the inspection period for our prospective house. Nothing entirely major...things that can be major in a few years, but that's all due to it being an old house.
We will proceed as planned...
2 weeks until the act of sale...then two weeks until they move out...
Bought a couch and a recliner today. It makes it more real.
We will proceed as planned...
2 weeks until the act of sale...then two weeks until they move out...
Bought a couch and a recliner today. It makes it more real.
| You Are An ENFP |
The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist. |
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
We may have a winner!
We put in a bid on a house Tuesday morning, and they countered today, much lower than we expected! They want the act of sale to be March 13, and then they want 14 days of occupancy....so we'll get to spend two weeks as landlords!!!!
The reign of casa de Stan is about to end after 18 lonnnnnng months!!!
The reign of casa de Stan is about to end after 18 lonnnnnng months!!!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Update
--Looking at houses, round two, involving both sets of parents, 10:30 a.m. Central on Sunday. God help us all.
--Flooring finally installed at my parents' house.
--To be done in line of Katrina repairs: New baseboards in bedrooms, closets, and hallway, with exception of my parents' bedroom.
--Flooring finally installed at my parents' house.
--To be done in line of Katrina repairs: New baseboards in bedrooms, closets, and hallway, with exception of my parents' bedroom.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Cribs: Katrina
My brother posted a link to this on Facebook and I wanted to share it, too. It's pretty brilliant. Little disturbing, but I'm strangely desensitized to the visuals. Except the pool and the fridge. Ugh. Quick note: mild language...I'd call it PG-13, maybe PG.
Anyway, thanks for bringing it to my attention, Geoff.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlTFuXdbHvc
Anyway, thanks for bringing it to my attention, Geoff.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlTFuXdbHvc
Monday, January 22, 2007
I hope Sunday's events don't render the previous post null and void...
I feel so much sadness over the Saints. And so much hatred towards the Bears.
I can't put it into words as eloquently as Chris Rose can, because, frankly, he is the man, and I am not. So I'll let him do it.
http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/frontpage/index.ssf?/base/news-7/1169448177104140.xml&coll=1
By the way...did I tell you how I got to meet him? Back in...October....I think... there was a huge golf tournament and silent auction for school. Lots of Saints and other sports memorabilia, food from local restaurants, a few local celebrities, free spirits...it was fun. Anyway, Chris Rose frequents the bar where it was held, Monkey Hill Bar, and he showed up at the event. He went out, got a couple boxes of his book, "1 dead in attic," came back, and sold and autographed them, donating all of the money to school. He is just so amazing. And, I bought a second copy of his book, which he autographed. It says "To Aimée. Louisiana Toujours! Chris Rose 10-06." It is my new prized possession. He was so cool to meet and chat with while he was autographing. He didn't write up our event, because this was not long before he started writing about things other than despair once his depression article came out. Google it. It's fantastic. So raw...so real...oh heck, I'll link that one, too. Anyway, when we evacuate again, that baby's coming with us. He is my idol.
http://www.nola.com/rose/t-p/index.ssf?/rose/katrina/hell_and_back.html
I can't put it into words as eloquently as Chris Rose can, because, frankly, he is the man, and I am not. So I'll let him do it.
http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/frontpage/index.ssf?/base/news-7/1169448177104140.xml&coll=1
By the way...did I tell you how I got to meet him? Back in...October....I think... there was a huge golf tournament and silent auction for school. Lots of Saints and other sports memorabilia, food from local restaurants, a few local celebrities, free spirits...it was fun. Anyway, Chris Rose frequents the bar where it was held, Monkey Hill Bar, and he showed up at the event. He went out, got a couple boxes of his book, "1 dead in attic," came back, and sold and autographed them, donating all of the money to school. He is just so amazing. And, I bought a second copy of his book, which he autographed. It says "To Aimée. Louisiana Toujours! Chris Rose 10-06." It is my new prized possession. He was so cool to meet and chat with while he was autographing. He didn't write up our event, because this was not long before he started writing about things other than despair once his depression article came out. Google it. It's fantastic. So raw...so real...oh heck, I'll link that one, too. Anyway, when we evacuate again, that baby's coming with us. He is my idol.
http://www.nola.com/rose/t-p/index.ssf?/rose/katrina/hell_and_back.html
Friday, January 19, 2007
Vignet
Phone call, 3:42 p.m., as my students are dismissing for the day.
Phone: "Bzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzzzzz. bzzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzz." ('Twas on vibrate)
7/8 C: "Go Saints!!!!!! See you Monday!!!!!!! Woooooo no school!"
Me: (Finger in ear to hear) "Hello?"
Loan Officer: "Hi, Aimée...this is A.J. How are you today?"
Me: "I'm good...and how about you?"
A.J.: "Good...I tried calling Mark, and he didn't answer, which is unusual, so I decided to try you."
Me: "Yeah, he is working longer hours now. He's probably still at work."
A.J.: "Oh, I didn't know that. So, the Saints are going to the Super Bowl."
Me: "Oh, I certainly hope so!!"
A.J.: "Well, I know they are. You finally got your loan approval!"
Phone: "Bzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzzzzz. bzzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzz." ('Twas on vibrate)
7/8 C: "Go Saints!!!!!! See you Monday!!!!!!! Woooooo no school!"
Me: (Finger in ear to hear) "Hello?"
Loan Officer: "Hi, Aimée...this is A.J. How are you today?"
Me: "I'm good...and how about you?"
A.J.: "Good...I tried calling Mark, and he didn't answer, which is unusual, so I decided to try you."
Me: "Yeah, he is working longer hours now. He's probably still at work."
A.J.: "Oh, I didn't know that. So, the Saints are going to the Super Bowl."
Me: "Oh, I certainly hope so!!"
A.J.: "Well, I know they are. You finally got your loan approval!"
Saturday, January 13, 2007
National news that quotes me.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/01/12/AR2007011202169.html
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Ho Ho Ho Dat....and other thoughts.
The Saints won again! Dear Lord...could this be the year? And Dallas delivered quite the prettily wrapped package today by losing so spectacularly to Philly. First-round bye is OURS.
Anyway, the most important thing of all is that Christmas is finally over. No one I know seems to have been excited about it this year. I only shopped and made jewelry because I felt I had to do it. I was purely driven by the need to conform.
I didn't bring a single decoration to school this year. My classroom is now as it was weeks ago. My mom hung a wreath on the door, and we bought a tree on sale for $10 at Lowe's last Sunday after the Saints game. It stayed on the porch until Wednesday, then got brought inside, and has a grand total of zero lights and 8 ornaments on it. Those ornaments are the ones that were downstairs already based on the fact that we bought or received them this year. No stockings are hung by the chimney with care, and who really gave a shit if St. Nick would be here? We had dinner at home...mom, dad, Geoff, me, Mark. We visited Lance and Mimi, then the Cabin exchanged secret Santa gifts. We did Midnight Mass because my mom would cry if we didn't. We went to Pam and John's, but were late to that because we were coming in from Morgan City.
Yes, we got fairly decent things, but with no place to put them, it doesn't matter. Mark gave me a lovely necklace, but I don't deserve it.
But we were talking about it last night, and Geoff mentioned that he was shocked that he wasn't in the mood for Christmas this year, but was last year. I noted that last year, we NEEDED Christmas. This year, it seemed trivial and we really didn't need it.
Holidays are a joke.
Anyway, the most important thing of all is that Christmas is finally over. No one I know seems to have been excited about it this year. I only shopped and made jewelry because I felt I had to do it. I was purely driven by the need to conform.
I didn't bring a single decoration to school this year. My classroom is now as it was weeks ago. My mom hung a wreath on the door, and we bought a tree on sale for $10 at Lowe's last Sunday after the Saints game. It stayed on the porch until Wednesday, then got brought inside, and has a grand total of zero lights and 8 ornaments on it. Those ornaments are the ones that were downstairs already based on the fact that we bought or received them this year. No stockings are hung by the chimney with care, and who really gave a shit if St. Nick would be here? We had dinner at home...mom, dad, Geoff, me, Mark. We visited Lance and Mimi, then the Cabin exchanged secret Santa gifts. We did Midnight Mass because my mom would cry if we didn't. We went to Pam and John's, but were late to that because we were coming in from Morgan City.
Yes, we got fairly decent things, but with no place to put them, it doesn't matter. Mark gave me a lovely necklace, but I don't deserve it.
But we were talking about it last night, and Geoff mentioned that he was shocked that he wasn't in the mood for Christmas this year, but was last year. I noted that last year, we NEEDED Christmas. This year, it seemed trivial and we really didn't need it.
Holidays are a joke.
Friday, December 15, 2006
100th post and a mystery.
I intended to do a poignant post for this one, my 100th, but instead, I have a mystery to solve. Perhaps you can help. I got a package in the mail today from an Internet store. In it was the He-Man and She-Ra Christmas movie on DVD. I am very confused. I didn't order it, Mark didn't order it, and neither of us has heard of this website. There was nothing else...no packing slip, no nothing. So, someone has sent me a gift. I want to thank that person. But I have no idea who I should be thanking! Please help!
Friday, December 08, 2006
Results are in...
So, the ultrasound showed that I do not have gallstones. This is a very good thing.
However, my B12 levels are very low. I have to start injections next week, five days in a row. Then I will go once a week for 4 weeks. Then I will go once a month for three months. Then they will recheck my levels and see if I need more.
Also, there are problems with my thyroid. They are referring me to my p.c. physician. If he's no help, then I will be referred to an endocrinologist.
I love aging and my parents' genes.
The good news is that I've got some diagnoses. The bad news is that I've been diagnosed. I'm not going to be able to afford myself much longer. I'm already paying $110 a month for prescriptions, and that's only because I've been skipping my Nasonex. I also will add the Zelnorm, and then who knows what I'll need for the thyroid trouble. Oy vey.
However, my B12 levels are very low. I have to start injections next week, five days in a row. Then I will go once a week for 4 weeks. Then I will go once a month for three months. Then they will recheck my levels and see if I need more.
Also, there are problems with my thyroid. They are referring me to my p.c. physician. If he's no help, then I will be referred to an endocrinologist.
I love aging and my parents' genes.
The good news is that I've got some diagnoses. The bad news is that I've been diagnosed. I'm not going to be able to afford myself much longer. I'm already paying $110 a month for prescriptions, and that's only because I've been skipping my Nasonex. I also will add the Zelnorm, and then who knows what I'll need for the thyroid trouble. Oy vey.
Friday, November 24, 2006
I saw it.
Yes, all of you who posted to me or e-mailed me or tried to call me, I got it. I just don't have much to say. Hence, my updates have become few and far between. I'm not ignoring you; don't think that at all. I just have no reply.
Updates:
There was a delay in the loan application process that required a 30-wait period. Then they will resubmit. We do not know yet whether or not we have one.
We house-sat for my aunt and uncle this week. It was great fun...until we had to come back here. It only drives home how futile it all feels.
We have been told to get out Jan. 1.
My father's daytime help was murdered in New Orleans East in her FEMA trailer. He really liked her...she was a new hire who was happy working for him, and who was about to earn her own set of keys and alarm code when her nephew gunned her down over a senseless family argument. Dad wanted to attend her funeral but decided that under the circumstances (her friend and her brother were also murdered by the guy) he shouldn't. Who knows what the services would be like. But then, we still haven't seen any arrangements in the paper. They caught the guy, though. Now, in addition, he is overworked again. But our friend Chris works for him after school, and he's been a huge help to him. No new help has been hired.
I went to the gastroenterologist and was formally diagnosed with both IBS and Reflux. I am on Nexium and will be on Zelnorm. I can no longer take Advil products. I had to have an abdominal ultrasound to rule out gallstones and a hiatal hernia, plus bloodwork to rule out thyroid trouble. I have not heard back about either test. Hopefully, that is good. However, she wants me to have a colonoscopy in January. We'll see about that.
I am tired of waiting. I am always waiting on someone or something. I do not want to do this any more. I want some instant gratification for once. I wish carpe diem was possibly in Post-Katrina New Orleans.
I am so tired.
Updates:
There was a delay in the loan application process that required a 30-wait period. Then they will resubmit. We do not know yet whether or not we have one.
We house-sat for my aunt and uncle this week. It was great fun...until we had to come back here. It only drives home how futile it all feels.
We have been told to get out Jan. 1.
My father's daytime help was murdered in New Orleans East in her FEMA trailer. He really liked her...she was a new hire who was happy working for him, and who was about to earn her own set of keys and alarm code when her nephew gunned her down over a senseless family argument. Dad wanted to attend her funeral but decided that under the circumstances (her friend and her brother were also murdered by the guy) he shouldn't. Who knows what the services would be like. But then, we still haven't seen any arrangements in the paper. They caught the guy, though. Now, in addition, he is overworked again. But our friend Chris works for him after school, and he's been a huge help to him. No new help has been hired.
I went to the gastroenterologist and was formally diagnosed with both IBS and Reflux. I am on Nexium and will be on Zelnorm. I can no longer take Advil products. I had to have an abdominal ultrasound to rule out gallstones and a hiatal hernia, plus bloodwork to rule out thyroid trouble. I have not heard back about either test. Hopefully, that is good. However, she wants me to have a colonoscopy in January. We'll see about that.
I am tired of waiting. I am always waiting on someone or something. I do not want to do this any more. I want some instant gratification for once. I wish carpe diem was possibly in Post-Katrina New Orleans.
I am so tired.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
And the walls come tumbling down
And when they tumble, they tumble hard.
I never, when I started up with Blogger a year and a half ago....which seems like an entire lifetime ago..... intended it to be a real-live blog. I never wanted to be all emo and sad and sorry on this. It was something I could write goofy observations on, and maybe share what Kate once called my "windbreaker" stories in one place without having to tell the stories orally.
But I feel that it had to take a serious detour less than 14 months ago. It served a purpose: a place to put down all of the bad thoughts and memories in order to get them out. A therapist's couch, if you will. A place where, if people didn't want to hear about it, they could just close, instead of feigning uncomfortable interest in what I had to say.
I finally catalogued all of the horror plus the small triumphs. It's all here; from the fear of facing death in the eyes to the reopening of my father's business in May, I've chronicled it.
And now, I don't know what to do. I suppose I need to keep it open. Because no one wants to hear what I have to say. It's too uncomfortable. I have a new gift in life: bringing people down.
At one point in my life, I'd venture to say that I was a fun person to be with. I am not that any more. And on the occasions when I try to talk about it, no one wants to hear it. Or they cut in with their own miseries. Or they get uncomfortable and change the subject. So I have shut down. They don't want to hear it, so I don't say it. Not even my family wants it any more. My mother loses patience and snaps at me, my father comes up with all of his trials and tribulations of the day, my husband is at a loss for what to say or do and goes to his computer while i sit and cry, and my brother...well...one of the last things I heard him say, just before he tried to slam my fingers in his car door and Mark tried to throw him from his car was, "I will not set foot in this house until they are out of it."
The amount of loss experienced in the last 14 months in this area is astounding. People try to say we're moving on, that things are improving, that things are looking up, that we'll all be okay once we settle down. And I just want to scream.
I face a new antsy these days. Antsy for me before was waiting in line to see a concert, hoping to see a test grade, wondering what my Christmas presents will be, hoping to get a job I applied for. But now antsy is different. I feel antsy at night. Like I have to do something, but am unable to. Like I want to run a million miles without stopping or looking back. I can't sit still, but it's all I want.
I may have developed reflux in the past year. If I am hungry, I get heartburn. I find that I must eat something every 4-5 hours. If I eat, I get heartburn. Fried, spicy, bland, raw, homecooked, prepared....it makes no difference. But if I don't eat, things are worse. And so I carry Pepcid AC at all times and eat and eat and eat, and I have added more than 30 pounds in all of this time. I don't know what I'll wear this winter. My pants do not fit. I bought one pair of jeans and one pair of pants. The rest do not even button. I saw a picture of myself taken about 3 weeks ago. I didn't realize it was me. My face is so round, and my body is distorted. I dont' know who I am any more. My shirts are tight, my underweart is uncomfortable, and I can't button my pants. Shopping makes me sad.
A friend said to me the other day that "We'll all do better once things settle down for us." For us. Us? I know not of whom she speaks. Yes, she has some very serious money issues going on. But she has all of her stuff and a place of her own. I have things I dont' recognize and am still living with my parents.
I go to bridal showers and feel angry and sad. I leave in tears. Sometimes, it's because it's a relative of Mark's, who was untouched and lost three, maybe four days of work after the storm. Nothing else. And I see things given to them that were given to us 4 years ago. And I ache, because I do not have them any more. I didn't even have to like the item. But I see it, and I ache. Sometimes, it's just because here is someone living out life, batting a single eye at the storm, if that, getting all of these items, dreaming, hoping, anticipating. And I realize that here are people who, four years after receiving this items, will still have these items. And if not, then it will have been a matter of choice, not a matter of necessity, to throw it to the curb. These people will not have to carry out every item they ever owned and throw it for the neighborhood and the tourists to see.
And what hurts even more is that when we were first married, we had nothing. We were dumb kids fresh out of college playing grown-up. People helped us. We had showers and a wedding. We were given almost everything and started our married life with a fully-stocked kitchen. Bedroom. Office. Bathroom. My God...people gave us everything from Tums to sheets, from Mr. Clean to sofas. And who will do this this time? This time, when we're starting out with even less than we had before? It's not a greed issue. It's an "Oh my God how will we survive without so much as a whisk?" issue.
Logistically, how will we? We got a whopping $9,000+ for more than $56,000 worth of belongings. It is nto possible to replace it.
People say, "Well, you ought to have a good bit stocked up, what with not having to pay rent and all." Easier said than done. Where has my year's salary gone? Breakfast and lunch items. Clothing and shoes and underwear and socks and pajamas and pantyhose and toiletries and everythign else you use in your daily life but take for granted. Do you know what it is like to stand there, owning a trunk full of photo albums and four days worth of clothes and your two cats? No, you don't. You go to shower, and you have nothing to put on. You have nothing to get clean with. You have to replace it all. More money went into my classroom. It went straight from school back into school. It went to four doctor's visits and tons of medicine each time. It went to gasoline, especially now that I have such a long commute to and from work. It went to having something to do.
My parents, I love. I can never repay them for these past almost 13 months that I have been here. And like 11 that Mark has been here. But we are not at home here. It may sound silly, but it's true. We have nowhere to go. We cannot do anything without being in the way. If we want to watch TV, we have to do it in the den, as we don't have a big enough stand for the tiny TV in our room. There's nowhere to sit and comfortably watch it. My father, who owns the house and the TV in the den, does and should take control of it. But even if we don't want to watch TV, we can't go in there and talk, because he is watching something. We can't sit at the kitchen table, because it connects to the den, and we also hear, "I don't know where you think we're going to eat dinner." My old room is an office, and has nowhere to sit. I wouldn't dream of going in their room. The dining room is full of things from my now-deceased grandmother's place, while the living room is full of the junk we've somehow accumulated this year. There is nowhere to go but this tiny, cramped, progressively dirty room that was my brother's. And the only places to sit are this hard chair at the computer and the bed. Neither is conducive to long-term sitting. But if we want anything to do, this is where we must be.
Go for a walk or do something physical, you say? No. I've tried. I want nothing more than to lose this horrible weight, but there is no way to do it. I leave home at 7 a.m. and get home about 11 hours later. And work doesn't end when I leave. I have things to prepare, things to grade, things to think about. A teacher's work is never done until summer vacation. And even then, it's not done. I spent my summer thinking about school-related things. I am physically tired when I get home. And then I am mentally tired, as I have to be on my feet (figuratively as well as literally) all day. And then I am emotionally drained, as I drive through Mid-City, City Park, and Lakeview, as I drive past FEMA trailers, as I drive home to this sorry little existence we've had to take up. Physical activity, of ALL types, is not an option for me.
As it is, I do not even socialize with people who A. dont live with me and B. don't work with me any more. We have nowhere to bring people. What do you want? " Sorry, mom and dad, but you can't be in your own home tonight. We're having friends over. Hope you can find something to do, especially after a long, hard day at work." We've lost touch with so many people.
Our other friends only ever hang out at "The Cabin" anyway. And they all seem happy and well-adjusted. Even the ones whose parents lost everything. Maybe they just conceal better than I do. I don't know. But it's like life never changed for them. And I am tired of both that and of the "same-old, same-old." As it is, that's my brother's house. I cannot go over there any more. I went when my cousin Kate was in town last weekend, but it was very hard for me. But since it's my brother's house, and that's where all of our friends hang out, I have essentially lost them as well.
All of this has left me feeling so very alone.
And so we go out to eat on weekends, we go to the mall on weekends, we go to Target and Best Buy and Wal-Mart and Halloween stores and the French Quarter, and all it leads us to is nothing. False happiness.
Some people will ask what's wrong, and I can't even verbalize it. Because I get told to cheer up. To just try harder. To wait it out, and it'll all settle. That I'm not the only one who lost something. That everyone has lost something. That things will be better. That things are looking up. That things will get back to normal. But it won't. As I think I wrote before, every time we try to get ahead, something happens to throw us backwards. One of us is laid off. A grandparent gets sick. A killer hurricane comes up and body slams the city, leaving us homeless and with nothing but, literally, the clothes on our backs.
I just finished the 13th and finally installment of Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events." And this passage struck me deeply:
"There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don't know and even the people that you don't want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face."
There were actually a great many passages in these books which made me upset. Mostly, they involved the Baudelaires missing some part of their lives from before the Series began, and generally they involved Klaus looking at destroyed books. But usually, they were about extreme sadness.
But sometimes, not even someone holding you is enough.
I cry still. I cry often. I usually cry in the safety and solitude of the shower. Sometimes it spills into less solitary and safe places.
I still do not sleep well. I stay up later than I should because of this. But why not be productive in these hours instead of lying awake, staring at the ceiling?
I have no drive. I bought jewelry-making things, with the intent of making Christmas gifts for people. I am not interested. Mark offers to play chess or checkers, and I am not interested. I made a students give me homework, because I can feel myself losing my desire to read one again. I have nowhere to go. And I feel the urge to run, but cannot. I want to go out with friends but cannot. I want to do something spontaneous and fun, but don't want the effort. I feel urges to eat, and I do that. I want to sleep for a minimum of 8 solid hours, but do not. Six interrupted is the most I can hope for. Even this is a struggle. But if I dont' put this down here, I will not get it out.
Now for one metaphor-less translation of the heading of this post: A while back, I said that I hoped that our house would be torn down. I would not be able to handle seeing another family move in and have fun, because my closure was false and forced. People reacted strangely to hearing this, but if we can't have it, then no one can.
About three weeks ago, the day after we applied for a home loan, I drove home on my normal route, and there was a huge pile of rubble where our house was. The cranes were still there, but the men had gone home. I circled around, tears burning the backs of my eyes, my breath somewhere other than inside me, and drove up to the wreckage. I had my moment. I cried. I had my camera and took pictrues of it. I stopped my tears, turned off the car, and grabbed a brick. A souvenier of what was.
Today, it is a vacant lot filled with mud. And I am okay with that. No one else will have our house. No one else will throw a party and wonder A. where the guests will park or B. how to fit the guests inside once they have found parking spaces. No one else will haul laundry to the carport and have to balance the heavy basket while trying to unlock the laundry room door. No one else will sit in lawn chairs out front, dirty and sweaty from working in the yard, sipping on snowballs from Fireman Phil's. We were the last to do those things. No one can move into our place.
And I can almost pass without looking now. But I have to pass that way. If I don't, I panic. But at least I don't have to look at it.
We haven't heard back on that loan yet. I don't think we'll get it. SOMEONE has very low credit, and I think that will hurt us in the long run. I will let you know, though.
I need to be held, so that I can cry. But I can't do it without an audience.
I want my life back. I want my body back. I want myself back.
I never, when I started up with Blogger a year and a half ago....which seems like an entire lifetime ago..... intended it to be a real-live blog. I never wanted to be all emo and sad and sorry on this. It was something I could write goofy observations on, and maybe share what Kate once called my "windbreaker" stories in one place without having to tell the stories orally.
But I feel that it had to take a serious detour less than 14 months ago. It served a purpose: a place to put down all of the bad thoughts and memories in order to get them out. A therapist's couch, if you will. A place where, if people didn't want to hear about it, they could just close, instead of feigning uncomfortable interest in what I had to say.
I finally catalogued all of the horror plus the small triumphs. It's all here; from the fear of facing death in the eyes to the reopening of my father's business in May, I've chronicled it.
And now, I don't know what to do. I suppose I need to keep it open. Because no one wants to hear what I have to say. It's too uncomfortable. I have a new gift in life: bringing people down.
At one point in my life, I'd venture to say that I was a fun person to be with. I am not that any more. And on the occasions when I try to talk about it, no one wants to hear it. Or they cut in with their own miseries. Or they get uncomfortable and change the subject. So I have shut down. They don't want to hear it, so I don't say it. Not even my family wants it any more. My mother loses patience and snaps at me, my father comes up with all of his trials and tribulations of the day, my husband is at a loss for what to say or do and goes to his computer while i sit and cry, and my brother...well...one of the last things I heard him say, just before he tried to slam my fingers in his car door and Mark tried to throw him from his car was, "I will not set foot in this house until they are out of it."
The amount of loss experienced in the last 14 months in this area is astounding. People try to say we're moving on, that things are improving, that things are looking up, that we'll all be okay once we settle down. And I just want to scream.
I face a new antsy these days. Antsy for me before was waiting in line to see a concert, hoping to see a test grade, wondering what my Christmas presents will be, hoping to get a job I applied for. But now antsy is different. I feel antsy at night. Like I have to do something, but am unable to. Like I want to run a million miles without stopping or looking back. I can't sit still, but it's all I want.
I may have developed reflux in the past year. If I am hungry, I get heartburn. I find that I must eat something every 4-5 hours. If I eat, I get heartburn. Fried, spicy, bland, raw, homecooked, prepared....it makes no difference. But if I don't eat, things are worse. And so I carry Pepcid AC at all times and eat and eat and eat, and I have added more than 30 pounds in all of this time. I don't know what I'll wear this winter. My pants do not fit. I bought one pair of jeans and one pair of pants. The rest do not even button. I saw a picture of myself taken about 3 weeks ago. I didn't realize it was me. My face is so round, and my body is distorted. I dont' know who I am any more. My shirts are tight, my underweart is uncomfortable, and I can't button my pants. Shopping makes me sad.
A friend said to me the other day that "We'll all do better once things settle down for us." For us. Us? I know not of whom she speaks. Yes, she has some very serious money issues going on. But she has all of her stuff and a place of her own. I have things I dont' recognize and am still living with my parents.
I go to bridal showers and feel angry and sad. I leave in tears. Sometimes, it's because it's a relative of Mark's, who was untouched and lost three, maybe four days of work after the storm. Nothing else. And I see things given to them that were given to us 4 years ago. And I ache, because I do not have them any more. I didn't even have to like the item. But I see it, and I ache. Sometimes, it's just because here is someone living out life, batting a single eye at the storm, if that, getting all of these items, dreaming, hoping, anticipating. And I realize that here are people who, four years after receiving this items, will still have these items. And if not, then it will have been a matter of choice, not a matter of necessity, to throw it to the curb. These people will not have to carry out every item they ever owned and throw it for the neighborhood and the tourists to see.
And what hurts even more is that when we were first married, we had nothing. We were dumb kids fresh out of college playing grown-up. People helped us. We had showers and a wedding. We were given almost everything and started our married life with a fully-stocked kitchen. Bedroom. Office. Bathroom. My God...people gave us everything from Tums to sheets, from Mr. Clean to sofas. And who will do this this time? This time, when we're starting out with even less than we had before? It's not a greed issue. It's an "Oh my God how will we survive without so much as a whisk?" issue.
Logistically, how will we? We got a whopping $9,000+ for more than $56,000 worth of belongings. It is nto possible to replace it.
People say, "Well, you ought to have a good bit stocked up, what with not having to pay rent and all." Easier said than done. Where has my year's salary gone? Breakfast and lunch items. Clothing and shoes and underwear and socks and pajamas and pantyhose and toiletries and everythign else you use in your daily life but take for granted. Do you know what it is like to stand there, owning a trunk full of photo albums and four days worth of clothes and your two cats? No, you don't. You go to shower, and you have nothing to put on. You have nothing to get clean with. You have to replace it all. More money went into my classroom. It went straight from school back into school. It went to four doctor's visits and tons of medicine each time. It went to gasoline, especially now that I have such a long commute to and from work. It went to having something to do.
My parents, I love. I can never repay them for these past almost 13 months that I have been here. And like 11 that Mark has been here. But we are not at home here. It may sound silly, but it's true. We have nowhere to go. We cannot do anything without being in the way. If we want to watch TV, we have to do it in the den, as we don't have a big enough stand for the tiny TV in our room. There's nowhere to sit and comfortably watch it. My father, who owns the house and the TV in the den, does and should take control of it. But even if we don't want to watch TV, we can't go in there and talk, because he is watching something. We can't sit at the kitchen table, because it connects to the den, and we also hear, "I don't know where you think we're going to eat dinner." My old room is an office, and has nowhere to sit. I wouldn't dream of going in their room. The dining room is full of things from my now-deceased grandmother's place, while the living room is full of the junk we've somehow accumulated this year. There is nowhere to go but this tiny, cramped, progressively dirty room that was my brother's. And the only places to sit are this hard chair at the computer and the bed. Neither is conducive to long-term sitting. But if we want anything to do, this is where we must be.
Go for a walk or do something physical, you say? No. I've tried. I want nothing more than to lose this horrible weight, but there is no way to do it. I leave home at 7 a.m. and get home about 11 hours later. And work doesn't end when I leave. I have things to prepare, things to grade, things to think about. A teacher's work is never done until summer vacation. And even then, it's not done. I spent my summer thinking about school-related things. I am physically tired when I get home. And then I am mentally tired, as I have to be on my feet (figuratively as well as literally) all day. And then I am emotionally drained, as I drive through Mid-City, City Park, and Lakeview, as I drive past FEMA trailers, as I drive home to this sorry little existence we've had to take up. Physical activity, of ALL types, is not an option for me.
As it is, I do not even socialize with people who A. dont live with me and B. don't work with me any more. We have nowhere to bring people. What do you want? " Sorry, mom and dad, but you can't be in your own home tonight. We're having friends over. Hope you can find something to do, especially after a long, hard day at work." We've lost touch with so many people.
Our other friends only ever hang out at "The Cabin" anyway. And they all seem happy and well-adjusted. Even the ones whose parents lost everything. Maybe they just conceal better than I do. I don't know. But it's like life never changed for them. And I am tired of both that and of the "same-old, same-old." As it is, that's my brother's house. I cannot go over there any more. I went when my cousin Kate was in town last weekend, but it was very hard for me. But since it's my brother's house, and that's where all of our friends hang out, I have essentially lost them as well.
All of this has left me feeling so very alone.
And so we go out to eat on weekends, we go to the mall on weekends, we go to Target and Best Buy and Wal-Mart and Halloween stores and the French Quarter, and all it leads us to is nothing. False happiness.
Some people will ask what's wrong, and I can't even verbalize it. Because I get told to cheer up. To just try harder. To wait it out, and it'll all settle. That I'm not the only one who lost something. That everyone has lost something. That things will be better. That things are looking up. That things will get back to normal. But it won't. As I think I wrote before, every time we try to get ahead, something happens to throw us backwards. One of us is laid off. A grandparent gets sick. A killer hurricane comes up and body slams the city, leaving us homeless and with nothing but, literally, the clothes on our backs.
I just finished the 13th and finally installment of Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Events." And this passage struck me deeply:
"There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don't know and even the people that you don't want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face."
There were actually a great many passages in these books which made me upset. Mostly, they involved the Baudelaires missing some part of their lives from before the Series began, and generally they involved Klaus looking at destroyed books. But usually, they were about extreme sadness.
But sometimes, not even someone holding you is enough.
I cry still. I cry often. I usually cry in the safety and solitude of the shower. Sometimes it spills into less solitary and safe places.
I still do not sleep well. I stay up later than I should because of this. But why not be productive in these hours instead of lying awake, staring at the ceiling?
I have no drive. I bought jewelry-making things, with the intent of making Christmas gifts for people. I am not interested. Mark offers to play chess or checkers, and I am not interested. I made a students give me homework, because I can feel myself losing my desire to read one again. I have nowhere to go. And I feel the urge to run, but cannot. I want to go out with friends but cannot. I want to do something spontaneous and fun, but don't want the effort. I feel urges to eat, and I do that. I want to sleep for a minimum of 8 solid hours, but do not. Six interrupted is the most I can hope for. Even this is a struggle. But if I dont' put this down here, I will not get it out.
Now for one metaphor-less translation of the heading of this post: A while back, I said that I hoped that our house would be torn down. I would not be able to handle seeing another family move in and have fun, because my closure was false and forced. People reacted strangely to hearing this, but if we can't have it, then no one can.
About three weeks ago, the day after we applied for a home loan, I drove home on my normal route, and there was a huge pile of rubble where our house was. The cranes were still there, but the men had gone home. I circled around, tears burning the backs of my eyes, my breath somewhere other than inside me, and drove up to the wreckage. I had my moment. I cried. I had my camera and took pictrues of it. I stopped my tears, turned off the car, and grabbed a brick. A souvenier of what was.
Today, it is a vacant lot filled with mud. And I am okay with that. No one else will have our house. No one else will throw a party and wonder A. where the guests will park or B. how to fit the guests inside once they have found parking spaces. No one else will haul laundry to the carport and have to balance the heavy basket while trying to unlock the laundry room door. No one else will sit in lawn chairs out front, dirty and sweaty from working in the yard, sipping on snowballs from Fireman Phil's. We were the last to do those things. No one can move into our place.
And I can almost pass without looking now. But I have to pass that way. If I don't, I panic. But at least I don't have to look at it.
We haven't heard back on that loan yet. I don't think we'll get it. SOMEONE has very low credit, and I think that will hurt us in the long run. I will let you know, though.
I need to be held, so that I can cry. But I can't do it without an audience.
I want my life back. I want my body back. I want myself back.
Monday, October 09, 2006
The Dome Reopening
On Monday, September 25, 2006, the Superdome was scheduled to reopen, with the Saints playing a Monday Night Football game. Southern's band was to do the halftime show, Irma Thomas and Allen Toussaint were to do the National Anthem, and Green Day and U2 were to sing some songs pre-game. Businesses were shutting down, schools were closing early (ours didn't, but we all got to wear black and gold or Saints clothes). It was a special day.
We tried to get free tickets through WWL. We wouldn't find out about them until a few days before the game.
The game was sold out. The only way to get seats this year is through buying season tickets. Unless we got tickets through Mark's job, we would not be going.
The weekend before, we waited. We heard nothing. Monday came. Mark went to work. He heard nothing. I wanted to go only to BE there. And to see U2. And since Reggie Bush is singlehandedly keeping me employed, I felt I should be there for him. I'm no football fan. I hate that sport. I'm a Saints fan in the sense that I feel happy for them when they win, and sad for them when they lose, but other than that, I know nothing about them. But I wanted "to be in that number when the Saints came marching in."
It would be an experience to remember for eternity, I thought. I was there, watching the roof of the Dome fly off during Katrina. I saw the lines of people snaking around the stadium, before the mists began. I saw them desperately trying to get in as the mists and outer bands started coating the city. I saw the people strolling around outside after the storm had passed. I saw the truckloads of people being carted through the early stages of flooding to the refuge of the Dome. I almost was stranded in the floodwaters between the Dome and the New Orleans Arena. The Dome was one of my last glimpses of the city as Spud drove us to the safety of Baton Rouge. And I wanted to be there as it reopened.
People all over the world criticized us for putting football high on our list of priorities. There are other authors more eloquent than I am, so I won't say much on that subject. I will include links to them at the end of this post if you think that what I say is unsatisfactory.
But first, we have been criticized for using millions of dollars to restore it. Most of that money came from FEMA and insurance. All of you critics in other states -- if a tornado ripped through your town, or a mudslide, or a hurricane, or an avalanche...I don't know what your specific potential natural disaster is, but imagine it happening to your home and your business. Now imagine applying for FEMA and collecting your insurance check. What are you supposed to use it on? Your next door neighbor's house? The grocery store down the street that you don't own? A cruise? (Put aside those who falsely applied for funding after the storm and who were caught..they are scum and do not count.) No. You HAVE to use that money to repair or restore your property. Same applies to the Dome.
Also, we need something for tourism. Our blossoming movie industry is non-existent now. Our convention center has a tainted scar from Katrina, too, and people are afraid to plan conventions here now, especially from June 1 to November 30. We have lost a lot of revenue from tourists and from residents who are too afraid and have packed up and moved on. Many companies have also deserted us in our hour of need. Some, like IHOP and MAC cosmetics have come to us, have appeared since the storm, have put faith in us. But many have left, including the headquarters of Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, which originated here. We need money. Desperately. And if we can get some tourists here for the games, then we'll take it. In addition, these tourists, these football teams with their entourages, can come here and see everything first-hand. They can see and they can go back and share.
And while this may seem even more superficial, we need something to DO. The parks are a mess. The Lakefront is a mess. Stores close early. Restaurants are still on the post-storm limited menus. The Hornets are in Oklahoma. The Voodoo haven't come back yet, but are about to. I have now been to two Saints games this season. I am a football hater. But being there was exciting, and it gave me something to DO. You don't know how important that is.
We also need a unity item. And if a bunch of overpaid athletes can give us something to talk about besides sheetrock, demolition, insurance, FEMA trailers, and places that have closed and friends that are gone, then goddammit, don't take them from us.
I've just given away the fact that we did, indeed, get tickets to that homecoming, er, DOMEcoming game. At 3 p.m. that Monday, I had a text from Mark. He just found out we had tickets. My friend Jen, who teaches down the hall from me, was going. She lives two minutes from school. I parked my car at her house, and the P.E. teacher picked us up there and dropped us off a few blocks from the Dome. We walked to it, then waited for Mark. He left the house at three. He did not get to the Dome and into a parking spot until 2 1/2 hours later. Jen and I met up with Over, who was recording Cowboy Mouth's set before the game. With no Mark in sight, and no other things to do, Jen and I accompanied Over to his car, which was all the way over at St. Patrick's Church, to put away his recording equipment. On the way back, Mark called to say he was there.
I tell you, it was more Mardi Gras than Mardi Gras downtown. People were everywhere. Everyone was in a good mood. Jazz musicians were on several corners. Block party ran into block party ran into block party. Booths were set up all over. Merchandise, contests, media broadcasts, food, the GooGoo Dolls, Cowboy Mouth... it was a madhouse.
At 5:30, they opened to doors and started letting people in. But not before they dropped a big black cloth off the Dome, revealing a sign that says, "Our home. Our team. Be a Saint." There was a huge countdown clock above the banner. It was like New Year's Eve, the way the huge crowd counted down together.
The pat-downs at the entrance were dragging, so by the time we got up there, the frisking before entry stopped.
Waiting in line to walk in was nerve-wracking. The anxiety levels and fear levels and sadness levels were high, but then, as soon as I walked in, it was like a triumph. Reopening the Dome is such a milestone. A small one, but one nonetheless. And I got teary-eyed. It was triumph, sadness, joy, fear, and awe all rolled into one.
We climbed to our free nose-bleed seats. We sat down in chairs that had (possibly) never been sat in before. We took in the view. It was still about half an hour before showtime, and the stadium was quickly filling up. The last Dome game I'd attended was when the Colts handed the Saints their rear ends on a silver platter. It was a dismal season, anyway, and it was so empty.
We saw them wheel out all of the stage pieces. The excitement level in the room was only rising. A voice came over the brand-new soundsystem. The noise level in the room dropped slightly so we could hear what was being said. Suddenly, on the new screens in the end zones, reporter Robin Roberts appeared. She is from the Gulf South, and has made it nationally. When her face appeared, the crowd erupted. If you saw the game on TV, you may have noticed she smiled wide while talking and then started yelling into the mic. This was because the crowd was so loud, you couldn't hear her at all. She introduced U2 and Green Day.
They played "Wake Me Up When September Ends," a song I can't ever hear anyway. Ever since we were evacuating and the song was stuck in my head, I haven't been able to hear it without crying. So, naturally, I did. Then they played their new joint effort, "The Saints Are Coming," which was raucous. Even the old people sitting around us were nodding their heads. They followed that with "Beautiful Day." Then Irma Thomas and Allen Toussaint played the national anthem.
And then, after clearing the stage, the Saints arrived. They ran out of an inflatable Saints tunnel and down a line of first-responders from the storm. Again, I cried. And the game got off to an amazing start, staying amazing the entire time. I never thought I'd enjoy a football game. But the mob mentality of enthusiasm was too infectious. It was so loud in there, I was holding my cell phone, which was on vibrate, and I couldn't hear it when I got texts. You could barely hear anything but a roar.
I will spare details of the game. Those can be found anywhere. And you already know they won.
In more ways than one.
For further opinions on the game, go to these articles by columnist Chris Rose. He is amazing. http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/frontpage/index.ssf?/base/news-6/1159337420130960.xml&coll=1
http://www.nola.com/rose/t-p/index.ssf?/base/living-0/1159508031169730.xml&coll=1
http://www.nola.com/rose/t-p/index.ssf?/base/living-0/1159890904114050.xml&coll=1
We tried to get free tickets through WWL. We wouldn't find out about them until a few days before the game.
The game was sold out. The only way to get seats this year is through buying season tickets. Unless we got tickets through Mark's job, we would not be going.
The weekend before, we waited. We heard nothing. Monday came. Mark went to work. He heard nothing. I wanted to go only to BE there. And to see U2. And since Reggie Bush is singlehandedly keeping me employed, I felt I should be there for him. I'm no football fan. I hate that sport. I'm a Saints fan in the sense that I feel happy for them when they win, and sad for them when they lose, but other than that, I know nothing about them. But I wanted "to be in that number when the Saints came marching in."
It would be an experience to remember for eternity, I thought. I was there, watching the roof of the Dome fly off during Katrina. I saw the lines of people snaking around the stadium, before the mists began. I saw them desperately trying to get in as the mists and outer bands started coating the city. I saw the people strolling around outside after the storm had passed. I saw the truckloads of people being carted through the early stages of flooding to the refuge of the Dome. I almost was stranded in the floodwaters between the Dome and the New Orleans Arena. The Dome was one of my last glimpses of the city as Spud drove us to the safety of Baton Rouge. And I wanted to be there as it reopened.
People all over the world criticized us for putting football high on our list of priorities. There are other authors more eloquent than I am, so I won't say much on that subject. I will include links to them at the end of this post if you think that what I say is unsatisfactory.
But first, we have been criticized for using millions of dollars to restore it. Most of that money came from FEMA and insurance. All of you critics in other states -- if a tornado ripped through your town, or a mudslide, or a hurricane, or an avalanche...I don't know what your specific potential natural disaster is, but imagine it happening to your home and your business. Now imagine applying for FEMA and collecting your insurance check. What are you supposed to use it on? Your next door neighbor's house? The grocery store down the street that you don't own? A cruise? (Put aside those who falsely applied for funding after the storm and who were caught..they are scum and do not count.) No. You HAVE to use that money to repair or restore your property. Same applies to the Dome.
Also, we need something for tourism. Our blossoming movie industry is non-existent now. Our convention center has a tainted scar from Katrina, too, and people are afraid to plan conventions here now, especially from June 1 to November 30. We have lost a lot of revenue from tourists and from residents who are too afraid and have packed up and moved on. Many companies have also deserted us in our hour of need. Some, like IHOP and MAC cosmetics have come to us, have appeared since the storm, have put faith in us. But many have left, including the headquarters of Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, which originated here. We need money. Desperately. And if we can get some tourists here for the games, then we'll take it. In addition, these tourists, these football teams with their entourages, can come here and see everything first-hand. They can see and they can go back and share.
And while this may seem even more superficial, we need something to DO. The parks are a mess. The Lakefront is a mess. Stores close early. Restaurants are still on the post-storm limited menus. The Hornets are in Oklahoma. The Voodoo haven't come back yet, but are about to. I have now been to two Saints games this season. I am a football hater. But being there was exciting, and it gave me something to DO. You don't know how important that is.
We also need a unity item. And if a bunch of overpaid athletes can give us something to talk about besides sheetrock, demolition, insurance, FEMA trailers, and places that have closed and friends that are gone, then goddammit, don't take them from us.
I've just given away the fact that we did, indeed, get tickets to that homecoming, er, DOMEcoming game. At 3 p.m. that Monday, I had a text from Mark. He just found out we had tickets. My friend Jen, who teaches down the hall from me, was going. She lives two minutes from school. I parked my car at her house, and the P.E. teacher picked us up there and dropped us off a few blocks from the Dome. We walked to it, then waited for Mark. He left the house at three. He did not get to the Dome and into a parking spot until 2 1/2 hours later. Jen and I met up with Over, who was recording Cowboy Mouth's set before the game. With no Mark in sight, and no other things to do, Jen and I accompanied Over to his car, which was all the way over at St. Patrick's Church, to put away his recording equipment. On the way back, Mark called to say he was there.
I tell you, it was more Mardi Gras than Mardi Gras downtown. People were everywhere. Everyone was in a good mood. Jazz musicians were on several corners. Block party ran into block party ran into block party. Booths were set up all over. Merchandise, contests, media broadcasts, food, the GooGoo Dolls, Cowboy Mouth... it was a madhouse.
At 5:30, they opened to doors and started letting people in. But not before they dropped a big black cloth off the Dome, revealing a sign that says, "Our home. Our team. Be a Saint." There was a huge countdown clock above the banner. It was like New Year's Eve, the way the huge crowd counted down together.
The pat-downs at the entrance were dragging, so by the time we got up there, the frisking before entry stopped.
Waiting in line to walk in was nerve-wracking. The anxiety levels and fear levels and sadness levels were high, but then, as soon as I walked in, it was like a triumph. Reopening the Dome is such a milestone. A small one, but one nonetheless. And I got teary-eyed. It was triumph, sadness, joy, fear, and awe all rolled into one.
We climbed to our free nose-bleed seats. We sat down in chairs that had (possibly) never been sat in before. We took in the view. It was still about half an hour before showtime, and the stadium was quickly filling up. The last Dome game I'd attended was when the Colts handed the Saints their rear ends on a silver platter. It was a dismal season, anyway, and it was so empty.
We saw them wheel out all of the stage pieces. The excitement level in the room was only rising. A voice came over the brand-new soundsystem. The noise level in the room dropped slightly so we could hear what was being said. Suddenly, on the new screens in the end zones, reporter Robin Roberts appeared. She is from the Gulf South, and has made it nationally. When her face appeared, the crowd erupted. If you saw the game on TV, you may have noticed she smiled wide while talking and then started yelling into the mic. This was because the crowd was so loud, you couldn't hear her at all. She introduced U2 and Green Day.
They played "Wake Me Up When September Ends," a song I can't ever hear anyway. Ever since we were evacuating and the song was stuck in my head, I haven't been able to hear it without crying. So, naturally, I did. Then they played their new joint effort, "The Saints Are Coming," which was raucous. Even the old people sitting around us were nodding their heads. They followed that with "Beautiful Day." Then Irma Thomas and Allen Toussaint played the national anthem.
And then, after clearing the stage, the Saints arrived. They ran out of an inflatable Saints tunnel and down a line of first-responders from the storm. Again, I cried. And the game got off to an amazing start, staying amazing the entire time. I never thought I'd enjoy a football game. But the mob mentality of enthusiasm was too infectious. It was so loud in there, I was holding my cell phone, which was on vibrate, and I couldn't hear it when I got texts. You could barely hear anything but a roar.
I will spare details of the game. Those can be found anywhere. And you already know they won.
In more ways than one.
For further opinions on the game, go to these articles by columnist Chris Rose. He is amazing. http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/frontpage/index.ssf?/base/news-6/1159337420130960.xml&coll=1
http://www.nola.com/rose/t-p/index.ssf?/base/living-0/1159508031169730.xml&coll=1
http://www.nola.com/rose/t-p/index.ssf?/base/living-0/1159890904114050.xml&coll=1
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