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We drove to remote St. Bernard Parish to the sheriff’s office to get fingerprints for our adoption study. As we came over the Green Bridge, even though it is not Green, we saw evidence that the world is flat — there was nothing in front or to the right or to the left except flat, flat land, with water filling up all available space.

At the Sheriff’s office, there was a motley crew of folk waiting. There was the woman waiting to get her purse which was confiscated, although when the officer brought it, she said that was the purse they had taken a while back when she was arrested another time. Then there was a guy, who wanted to know why I needed fingerprints. Then a woman walked in that barely spoke English and inquired if they had some guy, whose name she rattled off, inside. And there were others with unknown missions sitting and waiting.

The entire fingerprinting was handled by Larry, Curly, and Moe and was truly an event to behold as the officers bantered about who would get the hamburgers, who was defter at capturing the finger images, my last name (which one officer said he wanted to change his name to), and strict adherence to seemingly innocuous rules and regulations like walk here, stand there, all the way to how they handled the $15 in cash required to get said fingerprints.

We left this remote corner of the world and I thanked my lucky stars that any reason I had to be there had been taken care of even though as T said, there was something interesting about the area and the birds along the waterways leading into Bayou Bienvenue were graceful and rare.

There was something otherworldly about the inauguration yesterday. I left my desk at 10:30 to watch the hour long swearing in. The rest of the day I was zooming with work and wasn’t thinking about the activities for the night. Then night was upon us and T was teaching, Arlene needed pills, Wolfie needed to be set up in the laundry room and the thought of going out and celebrating was daunting.

I missed the first event at Swirl and made my way into a nice hot bubble bath and repeated the mantra – Calgon Take Me Away – and by the time T returned, I was still on the fence about going anywhere or doing any sort of celebrating.

But we rallied – stopping first at the party in the neighborhood and receiving great Obama buttons as party favors and then we made our way over to the “Inaugural Ball” at another friends’ house where we danced to We Are The World, gave testimony and witness to Obama’s presidency, and drank champagne.

Nice day.

Circuit City is going out of business. Wouldn’t you think Best Buy would be gleeful about this?

Yesterday, I was at Best Buy trying to get my stereo to accommodate my IPOD. Mind you, last time I was there and spoke with a sales rep he pointed me to a Kenwood that was low cost and said this is what you need. Only they didn’t have one in stock. So yesterday, I went back and this other guy tells me you don’t want the Kenwood, you want Alpine. And I said look, I’m replacing a factory installed stereo only to get my IPOD to play through it because all of the radio devices DO NOT WORK. I’m not upgrading speakers or anything else, so why should I have a high falutin stereo installed without the rest of it being upgraded.

He got another sales clerk to work with me.

And so I asked the new sales clerk while he was writing up my Kenwood what he thought about Circuit City going out of business and whether that is a good or bad thing for Best Buy. He said, “I just feel for those people who will lose their jobs.”

Hey, a sales clerk with a heart.

Wolfie is in the yard. That would be the German Shepherd dog we rescued yesterday. Actually Wolfie is in T’s office now – or Volfie as T calls her. She’s named after Wolfie’s in Miami – one of the old time Jewish delis that is now closed I hear but which we always visited when we went.

Wolfie is here only on loan. We’re going to get her squared away with her shots and take some Xrays and make sure she is spayed and in better shape than we found her and then we’re going to find her a home. She’s such a sweetie.

A friend emailed T and said “poor dog, but lucky to have found y’all.” In the meantime, we’ve found so many who are willing to help us along the way, lucky us too.

At 10:00 AM, I turned on CNN while I was in front of my computer working and watched the arrivals to the front of the White House. Sometime after 10:30 AM Obama walked outside to a sea of flags waving in the air and resounding cheers, then Dianne Feinstein took to the podium. I remember in San Francisco, when she came into Fleur de Lys in the middle of Steve’s special birthday dinner and stole his thunder for her own birthday and entourage. But I digress.

Then Dr. Rick Warren from the Saddleback Church in Lake Forest, California came to the podium. T walked away. I wanted to hear what he had to say because there had to be a reason Obama picked him, I thought. But I listened to him and his words and everything that came out of his mouth fell flat for me, and the notion that he backed Proposition 8 lay square in front of me and him, and I thought, bad choice.

Then Aretha Franklin sang and I forgot about a nobody like Warren and thought, look how beautiful she looks and I LOVE her hat! And she is the Queen of Soul.

Then Obama delivered his speech – and he said we’ll reach out our hand if you unclench your fist, and he, for the first time in history included nonbelievers in his version of America, and he said it was a moment to recall “that all are equal, all are free and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.” And best of all he pointed out that his father wouldn’t have been served at a restaurant sixty years ago, but his son is taking the oath of the 44th president.

And I loved Elizabeth Anderson’s poem about our everyday life and the power of love, and the cadence of Reverend Dr. Joseph E. Lowery’s benediction. And I thought John Williams composition was lovely.

And all those people who were there in the freezing cold – thank you for making that a huge special occasion and braving the chill.

A day to remember.

Today, I was riding my bike back from the dentist and saw a dog limping in the grass. I thought it had been hit by a car and so I called T to come with the car and a leash and we took her into our vet. She’s a three year old Shepherd and she’s scared but sweet. She seems to have some sort of issue with one of her back legs or back and our vet said everything the dog needs would be about $500 and perhaps one of the shelters could take her and do the work for cheaper. So we brought her back home and started calling shelters around New Orleans. Everyone one of them is overwhelmed and won’t take her.

So on Loca’s birthday, she didn’t get her long walk through the park, instead she got a rescue dog in her yard. We’re going to take her into the vet and get her work done and look for a foster home for her. If you want this Shepherd – ping me!

Then I got an email from the neighborhood list serve that a lab had delivered a bunch of puppies that were brought to a shelter today. Folks – we need help – adopt a New Orleans dog and bring it home with you as part of your Katrina guilt – do something – it’s raining dogs.

While writing this two friends called saying they just rescued an emaciated dog who needs help and did I have any luck with the shelter today – OMG!

I was semi-joking with friends on Saturday that the problem with lesbians is they want to take care of cats, dogs, babies – the world – and there is nothing to stop them! T now wants to win the lottery so we can buy land and build a huge animal shelter to take all these dogs and cats.

In July of 2007, standing in Swirl, a six-month-old black lab mutt ran like a bullet into Swirl and was scooped up and deposited in my arms by Beth.

Me: “I don’t want a dog!”

Fifteen minutes later, this black lab mutt was sitting in the back of my friend, Jer’s car, while we dined at Lola’s. I kept going out to the car to check on her and she just looked at me with dark eyes that said, “Hey, look, I’m being good.”

Twenty four hours later, this mutt was sitting on my front porch and someone said, “Aren’t you scared that puppy is going to run off?”

Me: “Look at her, she’s not going anywhere.”

Twenty six hours later, after a sign was posted and an email sent to the neighborhood group, I was lying on my sofa with a 30 pound dog, all legs, on top of me nuzzling my neck and I decided the mutt’s name must be Loca, because I’d have to be loca or crazy to take in a dog when Arlene was entering her geriatric age and after entering the other side of Katrina, divorce, broken hearts, and a major remodel of the LaLa – my world had finally stopped spinning and Arlene and I had found peace in our lives.

Wrong.

A year and a half later, on Martin Luther King’s official Monday birthday, (his real birthday is January 15th), Loca Negra is having her now official birthday; she is two years old today, and I can’t imagine a day without her in my life. She has taught me patience, love, laughter, and to expect the unexpected.

Happy Birthday Loca Negra!

I have a dream that Tuesday, January 20, 2009, America will elect the first black man to be our president.

I have a dream that my black daughter will grow up in a world where racism rapidly is an anachronism.

I have a dream that blacks have the same opportunities as whites in New Orleans, the South, the United States, the World.

I have a dream that all God’s children will live in peace.

We are thankful today Dr. King for your dreams and for helping ours to come closer to being true.

Prospect 1 is closing around the city and there were many events going on – one was a second line in front of the sculpture garden in City Park. We had a bunch of kids with us, who were seeing their first second line parade. Imagine raising a child here with our rich cultural traditions – how lucky.

A friend sent this and says this is for real, the email subject line says this is what happens when city folks move to the country.

Whatever, it fits my word of the day just perfectly: