Dangermond.org

Graham knows many things
By far the greatest is love
Not far behind joy

I sent some pics of the house and the colors to my friend L in California and she wrote back that the guest room, the red room, will go perfect with her complection. Ha! K calls it my warm up room – although he wouldn’t say that to my face – he told Peg instead, who painted it. The room is her creation with my color and I love it!

I saw a bunch of construction workers headed to their truck this morning each carrying a bottle of Coke and a honey bun. Who starts their day this way? Having been diagnosed in 1998 with hypoglycemia – the thought of starting my day with sugar is tantamount to a death sentence. Recently on a trip to NY when I was experiencing a system crash and trying to keep a good face around my traveling companion – L, man of mystery – he tried to give me a turkey wrap at the airport and I wouldn’t eat it because as I told him later – one of the symptoms of the crash is poor judgment.

**Hypoglycemia is a medical term referring to a pathologic state produced by a lower than normal amount of sugar (glucose) in the blood. The term hypoglycemia literally means “under-sweet blood”. Hypoglycemia can produce a variety of symptoms and effects but the principal problems arise from an inadequate supply of glucose as fuel to the brain, resulting in impairment of function. Derangements of function can range from vaguely “feeling bad” to coma, and (rarely) permanent brain damage or death. Hypoglycemia can arise from many causes and can occur at any age.**

Sugar is a funny thing – I saw my great niece, Rylee, (2.5 yrs old) spinning out of control from too much sugar the other night at the baby naming. Her mother asked her if she had had cookies and she said, “I did, I did, I did, I did, I did, I did…” Like I said, sugar does nutty things to some people, the least of which is spinning out of control.

G has decided to write a haiku a day for a year. She started with two about me – how cool is that?:

Rachel

Funny, sexy, cool
The smartest person I know
Beautiful also

My Friend

Rachel is my friend
She is beautiful and smart
Never needs caffeine

Haiku is, today, a 17-syllable verse form consisting of three metrical units of 5, 7, and 5 syllables.

I was reading blogs today on media and search and hopped to the huffingtonpost for a news fix. There is a YouTube clip of John Roberts saying the situation in Iraq is worse than you can imagine. It reminds me of the press coverage of Katrina and the aftermath – yes, you can show carnage and devastation, but until you see it in person, you can’t know carnage and devastation.

It’s a fine mess we’re in there – how are we going to get out?

I later watched a news show on Turkey and how the backlash and anti-American sentiment is growing stronger every day.

I set up a meeting for late Friday afternoon to meet with the photographer about a book idea that has been germinating since early this year. We decided to meet on Magazine Street and in my last email, I said, btw: I’m a redhead. He wrote back and said “I pictured you as a redhead – all of the Rachels I know have red hair.” On Saturday, when I stopped in U Dwell on Magazine, the proprietor, Mary, said the same thing – when I told her my name, she said I knew your name was Rachel – all the Rachels I know have red hair.

I know few Rachels – and none of them are redheads. But I think I am becoming my own stereotype by the sounds of it.

Meanwhile, I sent an email to the pachyderm people about the elephant book. Hoping to be able to start on that early next year.

it is not for sissies – so you faint of heart stand back – I did Pilates this morning – ate no carbs, low fat – went for a fast run on the bayou – and was so bored with my food selection by the time dinner came around I just decided against it and drank a cup of hot tea instead. These 7 lbs are coming off – come hell or high water. I hate to say that around here but seeings as we are past the hurricane season, I feel safe.

I’m not a philistine – really – I believe in technology and actually love it – my IPOD, my cell phone, my blackberry, TIVO – all if it I love. BUT for some reason the automation of tasks within my company has made me want to jump off the highest bridge. I’m still whining about the move from Word to Excel with the grids we use – now it is on the Portal – good grief, all of this was supposed to make things easier. Now compliance is saying we can’t use our own emails accounts, but need to use the company email accounts, which have to be accessed separately. These are the things in life that suck the very soul out of people. Automation is killing my rock star reporters.

The WSJ will no longer be delivered to my door at the Can, instead it will be left at the security desk. The note says that “due in part to the returning population of New Orleans, it is no longer feasible to deliver door to door at apartments.” That’s got to be a good sign?

The days have been so beautiful here as of late – in the high 60s and low 70s – such a joy to have these wonderful days and nights. Last night, G and I went to Bacchanal to have a big hearted Red wine and some stinky cheese and to listen to some music – the weather was so pleasant.

The TP says they are thinking of converting the naval station right across from Bacchanal, where street that parallels the levee dead ends to a dock for cruise ships – we thought about how the crowd would definitely change at Bacchanal – from the bohemian eclectic to the gadzooks variety. Good for Chris, not good for us. The Bean was with us and as usual she got plenty of attention there, which is just the way she likes it.

On this most beautiful day, fantabulous day, I got on my bike and headed to the Lakefront – ran into Beth on her new bike and took her inside for a tour of the LaLa. Again, she said, it will be awesome. Thanks Beth! From there I road toward the lake feeling on top of the world. I rode the entire lakefront, except for two minor hills, hands free. And then I didn’t want to come home. It was so beautiful out there – and so I came back and took a bunch of photographs of the house. My neighbor across the bayou marched up and down his side of the bayou playing his bagpipes. He usually plays from his second story gallery. I then went inside and laid down on the floor of my living room. Then I laid on the floor of my dining room. Then my bedroom. Then the den. Then the guest bedroom. I went out and the bagpipes were still playing and I still didn’t want to come back to the Can so I rode to CC’s and saw M&R having coffee outside and reading the paper. I got an iced coffee and a bran muffin and read some paper. There was an excellent review from the NYT in the Picayune about Thomas Pynchon’s new book – I threw Mason Dixon across the room in my hotel in Cuba after barely halfway into it – it was such pretentious nonsense. Apparently this one is too. I then got back on my bike and rode around the bayou a few times, stopping on the other side from my house where I sat in the concrete niche and watched the pelican nose dive for fish – it starts with an elegant flight and then plunges like a bomb slapping the water. I took photographs of the LaLa.

My friend, J, who I adore to her core, in Boston, writes me all the time – is it just surreal there? she always asks.

Yes.