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When people ask me what I do I say I spot trends and that is because as soon as something arouses my curiosity I start seeing connections. Or they start coming my way. I flew home from NY as the snow was gently starting to fall there and it was 65 degrees in New Orleans with the full moon over the bayou and I was thinking about how odd it is to be older.

I was in the bathroom putting away my things and Tin walked in and turned off the light.

Now THAT was amazing. He couldn’t reach the light switch before I left for NY three days ago.

While in the lobby waiting to go up and see a client, I couldn’t help but look at this giant painting on the wall that was a swarm of people entitled Redes – Spanish for groups or crowds – and it was painted by an artist who was 90 years old. Quite amazing.

A friend sent this link to me about Donald Hall and aging. I hope at 83 I too, would still delight in sitting down to write and write and write.

I must be the only person who is flying to New Orleans to detox.

Yesterday in a cafe two women sat talking and I sat eavesdropping – my absolute favorite pastime when traveling – the best quote was, “My hourly rates are ridiculously high.”

Today I was having a yummy gyro at Neptune’s – a landmark in Astoria which is home to those in their early 20s and Greek immigrants. With me was an ex colleague and fab friend and we talked about how we are hardwired for the work we do.

I was in NY seeing clients with another fab friend and now once again colleague and was reminded that who you work with matters as much as the work you do.

The energy level in NY is off the charts and I met with people who are so plugged in they are conduits. NY at the surface seems like a hive with everyone doing myriad things simultaneously but for some reason and maybe because I have been traveling to NY for years alone there is a great amount of thinking space that exists within the context of this action.

But having plugged into the scene for three days, I am ready for home and rest and all the splendor that is home.

My mother used to say this but until you live it you don’t really understand what it is like to be in a group of people who are thirty years your junior and not realize you have aged at all until the bartender asks if you are their mother.

The things we take with us are varied. A friend was describing a statue he got in Cuba that is a rasta in the Thinker position. This is what would be saved in a fire. Another friend was lusting after home furnishings in ABC but said her fear of floods kept her from turning desire into a purchase.

I have my Yemaya statue that I light a candle by every morning. I have a fear of forgetting my mother much as nearly 30 years have dimmed my memories of my father.

On Saturday Tatjana and I were watching Tin climb the monkey bars at the pocket park off Esplanade. He climbed to the top and made his way across and down the other side with no fear of falling.

I went to meet a friend for coffee and catch up on work and later headed to meet my NOLA peeps for drinks in the village and then to Ten Bells which reeked of a Euro dive – I have to say that being here has made me yet more appreciative of the abundance that life offers and the vacuum I live in in NOLA – god bless us – the great unwashed.

Last night we stayed at the Roosevelt in a lovely suite to celebrate our fourth anniversary – in four years many lifetimes have occurred so we had reason to step out of the world and check in on what brought us together to begin with – hint: it wasn’t one toddler two dogs and two cats!

I got on the plane to New York this morning and felt like I was setting off to a faraway land – everything familiar now seems mysterious and unknown.

These are the times when you have to reassure yourself you are entering unknown terrain and that is the best part about the adventure – it’s just beginning.

So now to polish this apple before I take a bite.

Krewe du Vieux rolled tonight in between thunderstorms; the first parade, one of my favorites, went unseen as Tin started coughing early this morning and pretty much went to bed this evening coughing. There are other parades, I told him. Other marching bands, I promised.

Thank god is all I thought. We go to a handful of parades, so they carry more import than they possibly should, but whatyagonnado? We live in New Orleans where we live for a parade.

We were able to catch up on the last episode of Downton Abbey online and are waiting anxiously for tomorrow’s episode. The writing, the acting, the entire everything about Downton Abbey is so compelling, I always feel as if an hour has gone by in a minute.

On the other hand, we received our last year of Big Love and have watched two episodes and feel as if any magic this series had is gone unless something is going to happen. The Wire took me to the wire before I was able to let go and I only did so because Omar was killed. But Downton Abbey is so damn good – makes me lust for more.

New Orleans, What’s Your Story?
Share it at www.bookbyauthors.org

Book by Authors seeks written works and visual art inspired by New
Orleans. Selected works will be published in the book “New Orleans by New
Orleans” this spring.

Send in your personal essays, short fiction, poetry, neighborhood
histories, heirloom recipes, song lyrics, tall tales and more.
Photography, painting, drawing, screen printing, and all forms of
two-dimensional visual art are invited.

Open to all ages and all levels. Enter as many times as you wish.

Hurry! Deadline is February 14, 2012

Enter at www.bookbyauthors.org

I feel suspended on the high wire having let go of the bars behind me and not yet fully gripping the ones in front. I’ve gotten my hands into six pods – three revenue producing, three community projects – all worthwhile.

I’m getting ready to head to New York next week and see clients. I’m writing out the narrative of a video I want to work on. I’m organizing a few events for my community projects.

And yet, I feel like I’m sitting here in limbo and strange as it may sound, that’s just okay with me.

A few years ago someone told me they had read an article from BlogHer which said you should post at least five times a day to maintain a healthy blog. I’m not sure if a) Blogher said it, b) it was actually five times a day, or c) why I have tried to adhere to this tenet for as long as forever.

Today, I was watching a video interview with Lisa Stone, the cofounder of BlogHer, who was advocating blogging about life, and I have to ask myself why I feel validated by someone I don’t know telling me that showing up for nine years to write about my life is beyond me.

But such is life and the slippery slope of validation.

And I wondered if there aren’t weird patterns going on in my life because I have been reading how Chrysler is going to have this Superbowl commercial dissing Ford and that has riled me and Lisa Stone was talking about how some bloggers write about what they like or use, and she just happened to mention Ford, and I just happened to have pulled off the internet four Ford badges just this morning so what better time to post them and for those who ilke to say FORD stands for Found On Road Dead, I say read my lips Follow Our Real Destiny (America) – to be the greatest car builders in the world.