Inducing Labor
Okay so sex doesn’t induce but semen contains some prostaglandin, and having an orgasm may stimulate a few contractions. What the hell, sometimes myths are true. Like the myth of finding a place to call home. Back in New Orleans we are active in the find a restaurant game – one that doesn’t close before 8 PM and one that is possibly open – but is it for lunch or just dinner? – no one seems to know. What I do know is that driving back from the gym today – yes it is open – hallelujah – the lights were all out and I forgot my cell phone and there are nails and stuff in the street so I was just waiting to have a flat on a dark corner without a phone – lovely. In New Orleans that would be a bad night but post-Katrina it could be a terrible night.
The city is clawing it’s way back. N installed an electric water heater so baths were taken. Hair will get washed one of these days. Meanwhile, the hood is a mess – trash everywhere and the buildings seem to keep regurgitating it. But no coffee or sandwiches in sight. Hoping soon to get some kind of food operational around here particularly since the gas isn’t on and so cooking is an issue too. But baby steps right?
Tomorrow is cut up the tree that fell in the backyard day. We got a chainsaw after we heard the guys wanted $2700 to cut it up – what goes on I ask you? – some kind of insane gouging. How we are ever going to get our house finished with workers running amuck charging outrageous amounts of money for stupid things like cutting up a tree is beyond me.
S was in town with D, her husband, and they were going to take the Mercedes but decided it was too old and had too many miles and was basically fucked up. Uh duh. Meanwhile on the way to Uncle D’s funeral, Mom took a wrong left turn and nipped a truck of which the guys spilled out and started demanding cash. Turns out it was a commercial truck owned by someone in Texas (of course) and Mom gave them her Geico card and they called and told the agent that Mom tried to bribe them with cash. The usual fiasco that has no real way of knowing what really went down. But thank goodness she didn’t give them my insurance card because I would have had a fit. That is the beginning of having now to deal with my mother and her propensity to find trouble and make it more trouble.
Meanwhile L was going to go dinner with us tonight but said instead he couldn’t go out and talk because given the circumstances with K, he needed to sit home and contemplate the fact that his life could drastically change – he could be getting married and having children. Earlier today I was bemoaning something I had done which was so typical of what I do and he said it is your nature. You can’t change it. And I said your nature is to overthink things instead of just letting them be and sure enough he is sitting home right now overthinking K instead of just accepting K.
Today at dinner W made me laugh so hard I almost cried. His face is changing into his adult face. He laughs out loud at jokes and understands adult humor almost. His knock knock joke was off the wall – who is there? – Lou – what goes on? I ask. This kid is like the best person I’ve met in my life – just pulling together the discordant notes and making harmony. What will I do? When I asked him how I was going to face not waking up to him every morning he said – oh, you’re going to suffer – and he’s right. I suffer his absence.
Meanwhile the bayou is low – like Katrina gave all the water we might have needed for a few years and now the air, used to water, is sucking everything out of the land and crevices looking for moisture. The wind is rattling all the loose roof shingles, doors, and windows that were loosened by Katrina. The air is still choked with a weird smell that when you do smell something nice like Jasmine or otherwise you stop and go, what was that, that nice smell? Katrina sucks.
The Muse is dancing on another planet again – away, hard to reach, hard to harness any energy from – and I want to write so bad. I want to get to it – git r done – but I can’t. I want to beat my head on the wall to just let it all come spilling out – to stand on Big Blue and holler like a demon but I can’t. And I try to figure out what are all the things that are keeping me from doing that and they are too fucking many to list – as L is want to say with his list of Reasons to be with K – too fucking many. Reasons not to be with K – too fucking many. I have too many fucking reasons to not stand on Big Blue and yell at the top of my lungs or to beat my head on the wall and let all the words just keep running out of me like the levees coming down and the wind howling at all hours.
These days it’s best to sleep and perchance to dream.