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What happens on the girl’s trip stays with the girl’s trip – from telling a singer to stop smoking and comparing that to stepping on a prima ballerina’s toes to where’s the plastic bag? to putting air quotes on “air quotes” and a seafood platter that leads to a turkey neck, to a neighbor who makes daiquiris out of fresh pears and hides dark chocolate in them, to lots of talk of mother and a brush with an American Idol wantabe with dollar bills pinned to his chest, a painter in red, dancing up a storm at the LaLa, MiMis, Circle Bar – shopping, dancing, falling, talking, laughing, TIBing, Commander’s, Bayona, Brigtsen’s, Stanley’s, a lesbian pool party and wrapping the whole thing up with a Tennessee Williams bow and the best quote of the weekend came from a young mother-to-be who said about the writer, “I didn’t know he was gay!”

And the winner of the best outfit of the weekend was this little Cereal Killer:

Another eel came into the world today – Welcome Nina!!! We will teach you the way of the eel.

I just heard that people in Iceland were salivating to get flatscreen TVs last year and now they are all out fishing. I guess there is a silver lining to the economy tanking.

I envisioned what would happen to us if we lost our jobs – about us getting an Airstream and pulling it behind the truck and I thought about the dogs, the cat, and the baby and us all just wandering through the country working as short order cooks or cocktail waitresses to get by.

I thought about being fearful of the future and how it erodes today.

Then I thought of myself in yoga today when I was able for the first time to support myself in pigeon pose because I told myself I could fly. I looked up and Michele was smiling and I was smiling and I felt like I had broken new ground.

In my last entry I wrote abortion instead of adoption and two people caught me on it – it was because I had received an email from a friend who wrote: “I’m sorry about the aborted adoption” – which I thought was an interesting way to phrase it. It actually felt like a miscarriage since we were two months away from her being born – but today I decided to think of it this way: seven months pregnant is the closest I have gotten to having a baby in almost 50 years, so s/he must be just around the corner.

Michele in yoga said that she was at a wedding and heard this quote: The best decisions make themselves. Isn’t that the truth! Tatjana, no brainer. Stay in New Orleans after Katrina, no brainer. Go after another adoption after losing $14,000 and emotional, psychological and physical time, no brainer.

The best decisions make themselves.

A hard rain fell last night, thunder and lightening and a deluge that washed over the whole city. It was a break that was needed. I was at Swirl the other day picking up some crackers and a bottle of wine for my neighbor when a bottle fell off the counter and shattered. They were about to begin their tasting and I said good, got the breakage over early and so the tension is gone. I drove to my mom’s the next day and saw a car nail another car in a bad accident. Then was on the phone with S and witnessed my neighbor backing out into another car – smacking it.

There has been a lot of bang, pow, boom the past few days – easing the tension that is in the air. Obama is under siege for not doing this fast enough or that good enough. The global economy is in the worst shape it has been in for decades. People are losing jobs and tension is mounting.

The breaks are moments to pull your awareness center. I read about a bill being passed called 3 feet away in Louisiana brought about after a young cyclist training for a triathlon was hit by a truck. The truck driver said he turned his eyes away for a moment, now he lives with the blood of this young, promising doctor on his soul.

Helmets need to be worn. Cellphones need to be off. Money needs to be saved. These are all the warnings that are telling us we were living too fast, too much, too soon.

The world is taking a collective deep breath and it needs to hold it in for a while and exhale slowly, very slowly, before we can get ourselves center again.

I taped and watched Oprah’s segment of Women Who Leave Men for Women. But I would have given it a different title like – Women have different sexual expressions – GET OVER IT.

For years, because it applied to the rules, women have been having sex with men that was based on the single pursuit of the orgasm. Oh, and women like to come too for godsakes, it’s not that, but there is so much more to sex and intimacy that honestly I think men need to be introduced to it because there’s a lot to it that men would like as well.

I remember a moment in the act of sex with a man where I thought, I’m bored with man sex. I don’t even know where that came from – it bubbled up from deep down in my mind. I thought about it and decided it was because I had been thinking the men of my generation are being trained by porn on how to have sex. It’s such a shame because it objectifies bodies instead of personalizes. To explore your own body and your partner’s in a cascade of sensual and sexual approaches is SO MUCH MORE REWARDING than reenacting the vacancy of porn rituals. In, out, in, out, in, out, pow.

I think older men get it – those twenty years older than me who went through the 60s revolution and and the younger ones seem more enlightened, but like the women of my generation who did not learn how to do their hair from their mothers, so a lot of men in my generation have made porn their sex ed instead of having explored the art of sensuality along the way.

There is a reason that women are leaving men for women by the way; frankly, it’s not about sex though, it’s about unfettered intimacy that is downright frightening let me tell you, but beyond rewarding.

Remain the same? Do you think New Orleans is the same as it was pre-Katrina – no. Do you think the global economy will be the same after this downturn – no. So who said this nonsense – yes you can find archetypes past present and future but things change, morph, flip back and forth, we are not inert.

Come home to me, nomad and we’ll dance like gypsies in the streets, drink Stella from chilled glasses, and trip the light fantastic. The world is standing still outside – one dog barks, another pines. A cat treads lightly on the tippy top of the fence. An old dog slumbers as her teeth are polished. The gulf winds whip the irises against the banks of the bayou where white caps have formed. Grass grows. Love waits.

My neighbor was telling me some more nuns are moving here and are looking for a house. I said, fine, but I’ll look for a house for you but you keep your ears open for a baby for me since I can’t register with your Catholic Charity seeing how they aren’t gay friendly. She said “Deal.”