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A couple moved in across the hall at the Can between H&J and H&T, they left a note on all of our doors inviting us tomorrow night to a 3rd Floor Happy Hour to say hello. A meet and greet. You gotta love it. Children in California are not raised to entertain but here in New Orleans it is what we do best and it is a lauded tradition handed down generations to generations.

Uplifting New Orleans message of the day:
Go to www.katrinafilm.com
and click on “JAZZ IN HEAVEN”

G said she told B that she doesn’t want to be in a long term relationship – but I don’t think that’s true. It reminds me of what I told T the other night when I said my last marriage, I mean my third and final marriage, and then spelled it out for him – F I N A L – what does that say about a person. It starts to classify you as this or that and I kind of prefer the response E gave me when we were driving home from the Northshore some months back and I asked him if he would consider having another child and he said he had three kids and didn’t have to have any more children but he “would be open to the possibility if the situation was right” and then he said the same thing about a relationship “I don’t need to be in one, but I’m open to one if it was right.” I told G she should think about this as her tagline rather than saying – NO – especially when NO belies what she truly wants.

Last night we watched the Saints game and then ended up at Feelings for a nightcap. I ordered my toasted almond but it didn’t come frozen, it was a shadow of its former self.

I did my Sunday ritual and went for a two-hour bike ride – I need a longer lakefront to ride because most times I just don’t want to get off my bike. I left early enough but ended up getting a little bit of a sunburn. But the best part of the ride were the six raccoons that were huddled in a group, the saucer sized butterflies, and the Great White Heron taking flight across the bayou this morning.

R sent me an email this morning – with this message:

YOUR GUT IS YOUR INNER COMPASS
WHENEVER YOU HAVE TO CONSULT WITH
OTHER PEOPLE FOR AN ANSWER
YOU ARE HEADED IN THE WRONG DIRECTION (O.W.)

I was listening to Peggy Lee’s Is That All There Is? – it’s funny because it starts with a fire and she says, is that all there is to a fire? And so we say here, is that all there is to a hurricane? Pish posh.

I took the week off from work and it seemed like all I did was what I normally do – work and take care of the LaLa – you can run but you cannot hide. Friday night I went to meet G at Sip. She had seen B that morning and asked him to meet us at Sip – this is a guy she’s been birddogging in the neighborhood. A&R showed up early in the evening and it was good to see them because I wanted to tell them about the Katrina commemoration. Then J came by to get wine because he was having a poker game at his house – I walked up and grabbed the pen he was tapping and without turning he said – I swear I’m not avoiding you – been trying to get him to do some pro bono work for New Orleans and he’s been busy – so he says. J came over to the table and said hi to G and introduced himself to B (meanwhile the mayor of the neighborhood came in B, with his wife M – both good looking and according to G, they have beautiful children) – we were talking about this and that when G burst out that she woke that morning utterly depressed and crying because of the state of affairs and Katrina – J said, well you’re out now, so you’re doing what all New Orleanians do, you grieve and then you seek out people to socialize. Is that all there is to a hurricane? So let’s keep dancing……

B, G, and I chatted and it turns out B used to teach my first husband at Rummel – good grief – and while we were in the window seat watching the comings and goings, I saw the BSF walking across the street, but he was headed away from us. I turned to watch him and he looked back and smiled. We found out B’s history and then he insisted we go to his house to have the best cosmopolitans ever – so we went – and hey, they were pretty damn good cosmopolitans. His house which he bought after his divorce two and half years ago cost $225K – he and his wife sold their freestanding house in the Quarter and he was able to pay cash for the house. He then mortgaged $80K to fix it up. It was a charming house with a 200 year old magnolia on the side. There were fireplaces in each room and gorgeous woodwork everywhere. It made me sigh considering the money I have sunk into the LaLa – at a $310K purchase price and already $260K cash, I am still no where near completion – one realtor estimated I was $100K from finishing, but sadly I think it will take more than that. Big sigh! So much for moving back to New Orleans to lower my cost of living.

The cosmo went straight to my head after the wine so I made my getaway at B’s leaving G there, and on the way home stopped at L’s, man of mystery, house where he was having a little party. I stayed to the end and he walked me to Big Blue and gave me a very delicious kiss goodnight – damn him – made me dream about him all night. Still I see danger there.

After riding my bike uptown for pilates today, I went over to my mom’s. We were chatting about H’s sister Meg Farris on WWL and suddenly it dawned on my mother, who has met H, that their father is Dr Farris who is the first doctor she went to work for when she graduated from nursing school back in 1957. She then regaled me with tales of those heady days and the nurses and the doctors and the whole drama that went on back then. I called H in Toronto and told him. He and T are coming back Sunday afternoon and might go look at L’s, man of mystery, house because he wants to sell.

I came home and ran into V who asked me what it would take to get me out, said he didn’t want to leave a note on my truck because he felt like a stalker, and I was coy at first – but then said, you know I’m just coming out of a long marriage – my divorce was final only two weeks ago – and he said, well let’s not get married then – I laughed and said maybe a glass of wine at Sip might be okay and left it at that.

Tonight I’m again going out with G on her date with B, who is probably wondering if he bargained for two women at the same time, but G’s not ready to see him solo, so I’m the decoy. We’re going to Finn’s to watch the Saints hopefully kick the Tennessee Titans ass. G’s from Knoxville so she professes some allegiance to the Titans.

This from the senior editors of www.NOLAfugee.com = What we do believe is that New Orleans is, more than ever, the craziest place in North America.

Last night G and I went to the Ogden and got caught up in the New Orleans sentimentality that was on display via Fred LaBlanc – if you are not familiar with the song he wrote after Katrina – The Avenue – you should check it out on Itunes. By midway during the song, G and I, arms around each other, had tears running down our face. A came over and joined us. The emotions are running high as we get closer to the August 29th date. About 40 of us are convening on the footbridge with hot food, cold cocktails and guitars to commemorate Katrina.

Met with C, the tile setter at a fabulous house on First and Camp Street and he definitely passes muster, but scheduling is going to be tricky. Oh well, just hope for the best. S’s sons have been over at the house puttying the nail holes and priming. K comes back on Monday. Don’t know where Vic and his boys are.

Rode my bike uptown to Salvation and ran into T – he’s teaching only private classes but we’re going to go have a cocktail next week. L called and wants me to come over for a little party this weekend, and D and I are meeting for lunch. Abby is doing better now that they figured out what is wrong with her, but the J-man is not adjusting well – his little world changed forever. I brought them some red beans and L kept looking at me curiously, asking what’s up with me, why do I look like I’m glowing – and I said I’m just really happy right now.

I sent out a note to everyone about August 29th’s commemoration – and got some really heartfelt emails back – again I say I am lucky to live in this city and be surrounded by the friends I have known, have just met, and the ones I’ve yet to meet. What is it about the New Orleans air that makes everyone stripped of at least two to five layers of shields – I love it – I’m a fish in water here in this city.

I recently met a woman who is a therapist – she is doing some continuing ed for her license and is in the thick of a six hour set of cd’s on brain science – she writes:

…It is very interesting so far and is teaching me about how wondrous and fragile the brain is as well as how it affects behavior, thinking and personality when something goes wrong e.g. some trauma to the brain, or some area of inadequate blood flow which could be due to many factors. In looking at brain scans they have shown that women with PMS have overactive areas – causing obsessive thinking and an inability to divert attention, as well as an underactive prefrontal cortex which is an area that can inhibit the obsessions, depression and impulsivity when working properly.

As a result you have obsessing, depression and disinhibition about expressing it. This was only one small part of the training but it resonated with me as I am currently feeling hormonal fluctuations. The brain scans also show that for women who are not pre-menstrual the images go back to normal….

You ever get the feeling that there is one illness out there and we are all suffering from it – sometimes it manifests itself into mental disorder, sometimes it comes out physical, other times it is just a general overall biorhythmic inability to do jack shit.

I’m going to see Fred LeBlanc tonight at the Ogden – it’s been a spell since I’ve seen live music and I’m jonesing for it. The remainder of the tile arrived today at the LaLa – I waited all afternoon for the delivery and was miffed when the guy showed up 45 minutes past the 4 hour window – I couldn’t exercise, I was pretty much land locked until he arrived. But when I saw him all sweaty and after we carried in box after box of heavy tiles, I felt bad for him.

Here is a status report on the LaLa – Ken the carpenter is due back in this coming Monday, the 14th. He is going to be working on the rubber flooring for the terrace and then laying the composite decking. Then he will finish the cypress siding outside the porch part of the addition – we’re using concrete board on the box of the addition – there are also spots around the house that need the cypress board, then he has to install doors, and restring all the window sash chords and then cut and install trim throughout the mainhouse. The entire main house has been taped and floated except for a few spots. The insulation is staged and ready to go in the addition and then these sheet rockers will come in and finish out the addition.

Once the rocking and trim is finished, we can get the inside primed and painted and then the floors refinished. And then, we can set the cabinets in so that we can measure for the slab countertops which have a backorder of 5 months. I’m still waiting on the measurement of the three large windows in the addition so that I can fax it to the glazer to get a price on glass. Then I’m also waiting on the two wood awning windows ordered to replace the windows in the master bathroom.

It’s probably six months before LaLa is ready for inhabitants. Again, whatyagonnado? I was speaking with Holly here at the Can – she said that a lot of people are moving out because their houses are ready – I put my fingers in my ears and said lalalalalalalalalala – these are people who gutted their entire house and redid it in the space of 7 months. I think I’ve made a lot of misinformed and poor decisions about the people I have hired along the way but thankfully it got me to Dave Trahan and Steve Kohls.

Edwin Edwards told Bill Clinton that he should have responded to the whole Jennifer Flowers affair scandal when she declared she and Bill had had a torrid affair for twelve years that “that’s a lie in and of itself because no affair is ‘torrid’ after 12 years.” Ha, where was Edwards when the levees broke? We could have used humor along with competence.

Boating on the Tangipahoa I marvelled at the graceful beauty of the Great Blue Heron and Great Whites that live on the banks of Louisiana waterways. Such gorgeous creatures. I found a petrified grasshopper that is almost model like and can’t wait to show it to H when he gets back from Toronto. We also saw turtles and snakes and every sunset we took a chilled bottle of Rose and motored over to stalk the alligator that came out to feed in Dead Lake. I swam a lot but didn’t get much fishing done but I helped set tile in the addition. Back breaking work but at least I understand how it is done now.

Arlene swam a lot too, going all the way to the middle of the river, to get to B when the thunder was cracking – seeking that male voice to protect her.

I met TM last year at Jazz Fest but when we met again he couldn’t quite place me because I had on a pink wig then. He said, “I remember, I took a picture of you,” and I said no, you took a mental picture. I enrolled in his workshop this weekend because even though I respect and admire his jewelry, it was the model for a sculpture that drew me to enroll. Hard to believe someone as non-visual as I am would imagine being a sculptor but it has always been a thought that surfaces now and then.

One of the first Mann-ism I learned was to “saw where you are” – TM said people are always trying to saw ahead of themselves and this creates tension, and friction, and inefficiency. Phew – how many tmes do you have to hear the same thing delivered to you in many different ways – SLOW down – ahhhhhh.

TM manages to combine that odd dichotomy of business acumen and artistic talent – and he’s enjoying a renaissance right now in New Orleans. One of the first artists back, he collected items from Katrina and has made shadow boxes themed out of his collection – these are on display at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. I went last night, dressed in white and ruffles, and the collection was impressive. Unfortunately, I wandered into the room beside his exhibit to the Times Picayune photography from Katrina – I say unfortunately because I should have passed in reverse – the photographs were so unbelievable, I found myself again, in tears in front of a photograph of water water water everywhere.

The Ogden was filled with the beautiful people in their white all decked out for White Linen night when the galleries in the warehouse district open their doors to city. In front of the Ogden was the “ModGun” – the shotgun model an architect had designed as a prototype for rebuilding New Orleans. It was actually nice. You walked through it to enter the museum – good idea.

TM was standing outside the exhibit as I exited the photography, still wiping tears from my eyes. He said in his charming way, “You look fabulous!” – and I said good show, everything came together well. And he said, “They didn’t hang my statements,” and I said, no? I thought it was curated well, but I’m sure your statements would have been great too. But then I realize that he missed the metaphor himself – saw where you are – was he enjoying his success, his show? Or had this slip up cost him his own moment? I hope he did realize that as an artist he had managed to collect the detritus of a tragedy and reorganize it so that we, the audience, could see it again, but see it new. Because if not, he had missed where he was at the moment.

I ran into C who was part of the show himself – TM having dedicated an entire box to him. He too missed the moment, disgruntled that his own art had wound up in someone else’s art, who perhaps might be profiting from it, he could only see what he had lost, not what he had gained.

And then there was P – I walked downstairs and saw him standing in the lobby, looking very handsome, standing out amongst the crowd and he said, “Oh Rachel, just go ahead and kill me now, today I turned 50.” I hugged him tightly and said, you’re young P, enjoy. TM had come down to the lobby and I called him over – he had just celebrated his 59th three days earlier – and I said P thinks he’s old. Poor thing.

It’s back to my saw this morning – I’m making a brooch – at the center are W’s eyes from a Valentine’s Card N made for his school last year. He’s at the heart of my Katrina brooch of loss. The “eye” of my storm.

Living hell is the best revenge.
– Adrienne E. Gusoff

Big announcement: Abby Elizabeth was born yesterday and she is a doll! Buying girl’s clothes is far superior to baby boy’s clothes as evidenced by the Pink Safari layette I found right when I walked in the store. Six pounds and six ounces and a delight to hold even if she hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to eat yet.

Small announcement: Paris Hilton has sworn off sex for one year. That would be Paris, not me.

G went to dinner with L while I was in Nantucket, she said she wanted to mend fences, it resulted in more complications than before for everyone involved. My feeling, I hate who I have become in my interactions with L, so I continue to lay low until I have more control over my outbursts and my buttons are not able to be pushed so blatantly.

Had dinner with mom last night – she is hoarding stuff like a squirrel in fall – her pantry door barely closes, and boxes and jars fall off the shelves, the refrigerator can’t accommodate a small tin of anything since the shelves are jammed so tightly, there are boxes of melba toast in the oven, and big bags of rice and pasta on the counter and a jar of Cuban crackers on the burner – the hoarding and hoarding, what does it all mean? My sister was on the phone when I arrived and my mother promptly handed me the phone and here is how the conversation went:

Me: I’m going to be in Atlanta in a few weeks I can help you move if you need my truck.
Sis: Mom can’t get any money for the car because it is totalled and she didn’t have insurance (that would be the car I gave her when hers broke down during Katrina) so you can take the parts and sell them on Ebay – you can sell the engine, the doorknobs, the seats.
Me: Uh, I don’t have time to sell my underwear on Ebay.
Sis: Let me talk to mom!
Sis to Mom: (mom turns speakerphone on accidentally) Rachel can’t be bothered to help you out.
[Perfect example of why people flee their families and then simulate the bond with strangers)

S was in town to check out an architectural project – he didn’t visit me or the Bean, but he did go check out the LaLa.

I broke my code the other night with E and started grousing about the LaLa – I don’t want to do that – I need to revert back to referring to it as my Taj Majal. I was bitching to Sandee that if I didn’t have the LaLa strapping me down I could be shopping and traveling and doing all sorts of exotic things with my money, but the truth is that I am building my home and one day, all of this heavy lifting will deliver me a palace to live out the rest of my long life in. So stop grousing Rachel and look at the positive. One day, the LaLa will grant you succor and if it doesn’t, you can sell and run off to Mexico, which is always the flight pattern of choice when faced with the overwhelming. But Mexico – why not Turk and Caicos or somewhere further further away – I need to broaden my flight fantasy to something less familiar – Cuba? Fidel dead? New Beginnings? Oh right, we have that all here in New Orleans post Katrina – no reason to run – the starting over begins and ends here in our own backyard.

Two more babies are lined up in the chute – it’s going to be raining kids very shortly. And last night I dreamed of W, we were in a restaurant giggling, miss miss miss – some kids, like people, are not interchangeable.

Sitting outside in E’s beach shack in his backyard uptown drinking a sweetish Reisling, we talked about how we are living through interesting times – just think of this decade so far – 9/11, the Tsunami, Katrina, not to mention that we will soon see a power shift in Cuba, and all the lessons learned here will only be known as they are recollected in tranquility – so it will take another decade for us to digest what all this turmoil has created. So since we are still in the eye of the storm – what do you add to these incredible times – will you be a recorder of them, will you be an activist seizing the opportunity for change, will you huddle in the fetal position and pray for it all to be over with soon?

Today my friend with the mordant tongue (when she’s bad, she’s horrid – but when she’s good, she’s very very good) is on her way home after a sojourn to Western Europe – we welcome her and the Snake back but she may find her street still has heaps of trash and her step son has maybe not cleaned up the inside any better, but her cat and dog are fine.

An old colleague from San Francisco left a comment the other day – I saw the name of his firm in a line up working on developing ideas for bringing back neighborhoods – but I flinch at architects coming from New York to rebuild New Orleans – years of living in and amongst architects I fear most are out of touch with how people want to live. They want to build stiff enclosures with hard surfaces and twist and contort to force houses into entities they have not wanted to become – home dwellers seek soft wood and soft light and soft focus, they seek sanctuary most of all. Steve understood this with his quiet architecture. Should a home challenge you? Architects want so badly to make an art piece they often times forget humans are the art and the structure that encloses them might take a back seat and just be.

Of course, this notion also harkens to a discussion E and I had last night about writing? For instance, if you are writing for the masses do you spoonfeed them what makes them comfortable or do you speak the truth and the truth just happens to have some shock to it? As it is with architecture, what is its role in society – should architecture shock you, make you think outside what is comfortable? Or should it provide sanctuary?

This coming weekend is another symbol of the abundance we have here in New Orleans – there is the Thomas Mann workshop which I will be attending, the Satchmo festival in the Quarter, White Linen night in the warehouse district, and another wine tasting at the Pitot House – no “what to do?” for New Orleanians.

Read an interesting article about who will succeed Fidel, and interestingly enough news of the day is Fidel went under the knife – the article had a photo of Raul beside Fidel’s on the front page. Cuba – what will become of her?

What will become of New Orleans? Inquiring minds want to know – I envision climbing out of the morass and a better day ahead. Let’s just get through this hurricane season. Was at the dentist this morning – he’s a cheerful man with a staff of good looking cheerful assistants – such a contrast to going to a dentist in California. My dentist Dr. Huey in San Francisco is terrific, but nary a word was exchanged when I sat in the chair. In Dr. M’s office, I learned the assistant’s daughter was off to a water park in Baton Rouge but the son didn’t go because he didn’t want to wear a bathing suit in front of the 14 year old girl who will be there, and that the dentist’s wife is going to lunch with her mother and sisters today but she always gets stressed when she’s around them. Who knew all the personal details one could glean while laying between two people engrossed in conversation and your mouth at the same time – typical New Orleans experience.

Great meeting with E last night – I’ve graduated to only twice a month – woo hoo! She said I tied N up in a knot and was able to circle back around to find closure with S. So she gave me an A plus and pushed me into therapy graduate school.

My favorite E saying is: Nirvana is loving who you are in a relationship.

Also I never realized how different the married world is from the single world. Cookie told me she doesn’t like dating newly divorced men because they want to act like they’re married – they have married habits – it was an interesting field observation. Last night, G said about a man she is interested in that she is glad he is one to two years out of his marriage and cited the same reasons. Hmmm.

Arlene had to stay at the vet last night because as he said “she’s a cheap date” and wasn’t coming out of her anesthesia fast enough. I couldn’t wait to get her this morning and I also picked up a prescription of doggie Xanax so she can have something for the thunderstorms. I almost came home with a kitten as well, but at the last minute decided not to – too much away time coming up to have a new kitten to adjust to us and our zany way of living amongst cardboard boxes.

Thought for the day:
And now let us believe in a long year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been, full of work that has never been done, full of tasks, claims, and demands; and let us see that we learn to take it without letting fall too much of what it has to bestow upon those who demand of it necessary, serious and great things. Rainer Maria Rilke.