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There are two beliefs that the common person holds for certain – you can’t change another person and you can travel miles away from your home but you are still who you are wherever you arrive. In O’s magazine this month is a quote that says, “People change for those they love quite often…The relationships that call forth positive change are those that provide a ground of accepting the person…Relationships can illuminate flaws in one’s approach to life by exposing one to other ways of thinking and doing things.”

I know that I left New Orleans in 1990 and reinvented myself in another land far far away. And that I met a man who changed my life. Unfortunately, I threw out the BABY with the bathwater – and I mean that figuratively and literally. I think the best changes are tweaks, not overhauls, because now at 47, I am faced with myself once again, and although I damn well like her, all the rough edges are starting to show again.

Eeyore is a fictional character from the book series Winnie-the-Pooh. Eeyore spells his name “eoR”. He is a pessimistic, gloomy, old donkey who is a friend of Winnie the Pooh. Eeyore’s name is a phonetic representation of the donkey’s bray: an (onomatopoeia), possibly derived from the baby talk name for the animal.

Last night, my dinner companion held forth a combination of Eeyore, Prince of Darkness, and Man of Mystery. Hmmm.

B and I walked across town from one appointment to the next and happened to walk through Boston Commons and wow, the trees were a blazing scarlet, umber and mustard. What a beautiful urban landscape. I have grown more fond of Boston through these years of quarterly visits – and naturally it has been helped tremendously by the love I have for B and J – possibly two of the best people I have met in my lifetime. And now J has added to my life by introducing me to S, M and A – all my gal pals from Nantucket. We are planning a Nantucket trip again for July and possible LaLa get together in October.

I caught up with H in NY late in the afternoon after a meeting close to his office on Houston. He is working on the master plan for several districts in New Orleans with Fred Schwartz (the office he works for). He was telling me that in the lower nine a lot of houses were handed down through generations so there are a lot of people who have no titles to their homes. What was more disconcerting was when he articulated what we all know here in New Orleans – that the transfer of real estate to these lower income people created a life whereby they could get by and instead of having to be industrious to afford rent, they could play music, cook, paint, and dance – they enriched and colored our lives in New Orleans and what makes me cry right now is that they will never be able to recapture that life again – and oh what a difference to all of us.

Katrina – you bitch. You ruthless whore.

I met up with one of the salemen in my company on the way to see a client and he was cranky as all get out and so I asked him why he was in such a pissy mood and he said he wasn’t. Later over drinks he told me he was mad at me because he thought I had misquoted his source – I hadn’t, because my own source had replicated the same information. But the fact that a little liquor enabled him to tell me what was honestly bugging him is why he is so endeared to me.

When I got to the LaLa this evening – K was still there and the front glass doors were up – wow – the floor guys are coming tomorrow so the place was cleared out. He said he had gone to the D-Day museum and thought of me when he read a quote by Eisenhower – Eisenhower was talking about how getting along with a lot of different people was essential to leading the troops and the war effort. He spoke of the general in London who was difficult but he said simply a smile would disarm him. K said my smile covered up a lot of sins.

At the gargoyle store in Boston, J & I learned that gargoyle is onomatopoeia – they are literally spouts that water runs through so the sound of water rushing through the opening is gargoyle. The shop was gothic and cobwebby like any gargoyle store should be and Cookie from my girls trip to Nantucket had bought one of their gargoyles for J and B when they got married years ago and she told me I had to get one for the LaLa but it is impossible to find out when the shop is open or get them on the phone. So I did what I do best – I stalked them by phone and we played phone tag over the last month and they were there and open for me. When we left, J and I were kissing B, one of the two brothers that owns the shop and I’ll never forget what J said as we were whisking out the door because we were late to meet the other gals – “I can’t believe I am standing in the doorway of a gargoyle shop kissing the shopkeeper.”

You never know.

My company is on a growth mission and the CEO has dubbed it 007 – because we intend to see results come 2007. That has inspired some nicknames around the firm. The guy in London is 008. And one of the salesmen was speculating another was going to be 009. I said I’ll be Pussy Galore!

When I arrived at the airport in New Orleans this evening a jazz band walked up and started playing by the baggage claim and everyone was soon tapping their toes. You tell me why I would not kiss the ground I walk on?

Gomez gets irritated that all of his ex’s seem to be my friends – like I gather them up faster than he can get rid of them. The other day sitting at Le Petite Grocery, he said, as he is want to say, the funniest thing. Someone brought up an ex of his – V – and he looked me dead in the eye and without blinking said, “How come you’re not friends with her?” I thought that was hysterical and told G and she laughed too. Maybe we all just happen to like the same people. Or kind of people. Maybe New Orleans is just so goddamn small that there aren’t a lot of people, so it just seems like I am now seeing all of his ex’s.

I’m not sure what the recipe is for longevity – not sure there really is one, but I was observing an elderly couple in JFK this morning and he was on the phone and everytime he said something, she’d say, “tell him ___”, and he didn’t flinch, he’d pepper his conversation with her fill-ins and what his own thoughts. I said to myself, self I said, that’s kind of nice. Beats “don’t finish my sentences,” or “do you want to talk to him?” – that kind of dick-like response that I have heard one too many times in my lifetime.

They were a funny old couple – she finished the paper and he picked it up and said, anything worth reading, and she said no, not really. So he went and threw it away.