Le jardin

Marty and I ate our way through the French Quarter Festival today and after sampling 6 different restaurants we proceded to search for obnoxious T- shirts for our up-coming cruise in December. There is no challenge in satisfying Marty's good taste, within 5 minutes we found: " If it's true beer damages brain cells, I must have been a freakin' genious". No, the challenge today would be finding something for me. As we continued to search, we found Zues the perfect t-shirt for the dog park: "It's not gonna lick itself". An hour passes and then another one and I whined to Marty that there isn't anything here for me. Sadly, we agreed to head to the car and as we walked through the French Market pushing through piles of tourists and thousands of beads, I saw a hand towell that read " silence of the Labs". And then there it was, my perfect t-shirt, the one that only I could wear, the one that BELONGED to me. It has a big sprig of rosemary and a tiny sprig of rosemary on the front. In soft pretty letters it says" Rosemary's Baby".

Mrs. Butterworth or Anything for baby....

The grandchildren are here for the weekend. Faith is in charge of everything! Where we sit, what we eat, what we watch on TV, bed times, rising times, good times, bad times, the weather and the latest bills sent to congress. This morning she wanted my chair. Of course, I GAVE IT TO HER. Then she wanted pancakes and Marty whipped them up and placed them in front of her. She then muttered meanly "BACON' so he made her some bacon. "Juice" was delivered and " FORK" was retrieved over and over and maple syrup was reapplied multiple times on her pancakes. I was relieved of duty long enough to get ready for work ( and believe me, I sloooowly got ready for work). As I reached for my purse and suit coat (official work jacket of the de la Monnaie) I realized they were both on the back of my chair, the chair the baby had demanded at gunpoint.
My jacket collar is stuck to the back of my sweater and my purse zippers are all glued up

Fleurs de lis

I met Suzanne when I was 15. We were both volunteers working on West Carthage's first Teen Center in a church basement on Main street. I was from the Catholic school and she was from the public school. She chose a name for the kitchen area and I made the sign. " The Slop Shop"! A few days later I ran into Suzanne with her little dog, Pansy. She was really upset and told me what her stepfather had done to her, that she couldn't go home and she was leaving town. I dragged her to St. James rectory to talk to someone. I remember asking Father Spinard if she could just sleep at the church until we could come up with a plan. He said, very catholicly,"no". I then went home, pinched a five dollar bill from my mother's purse, returned to Suzanne who was waiting for me at the abandoned train car and said I'd go with her.( I was an experienced hitch-hiker at 15) We went to Virginia. We wound up in a half way house for teens called Bumpy Oak Counseling Center. When interviewed after the cops took us there, it was determined that I was as fucked up as a soup sandwich and Suzanne, the rape victim of her stepfather, was fine. Parents were notified and my parents called her parents to arrange transport and were told that they wouldn't be bringing her back. My Dad showed up 12 hours later in his Sunday suit and top coat. Doctors approached him to recommend institutions for me! When I learned that nobody came for Suzanne, I actually did go nuts, "I'm not leaving if she's not leaving". My father took temporary custody of my new best friend and we slept in the back seat for most of the 12 hour ride home. Over the next few years we would take many trips (some road and some right there at the abandoned train car) She thought I was courageous and creative and I thought she was grounded and determined. I thought she was the real Suzanne and she thought I was.

I found out today that she died.

If I only had a name....

When we replace items at the hotel they are raffled off to the employees!
I won the fax machine this week. Ernestine is now in my livingroom.
You all know my affection for the telephone... My land line, homey, and my cel , Matey, as well as her charger, bat food, are concerned about their rightful places on the table in the living room.
I tripped over Mr. Toasty ,my heater, yesterday and knocked over Jason, my new food processer. My wine rack, bubbles,endured quite a shake as I sturdied myself on my potrack, vincent.I am now taking out an accident insurance policy. I'm gonna call it my stimulous package.

Waltzing Matilda

Saturday, I was packing dishes in my kitchen with the TV on for company when aTom Hanks movie crept in like a subtle melody ( Castaway) and I ended up exploring what the movie might mean (to me). I had never heard anyone tell me it was a good movie, only disappointed fans chimed in over the years to say it sucked but, I am glad I gave it a chance. I was particularly moved by Wilson. For 2 days I wondered why Wilson touched me so deeply. I was packing more dishes today when a real old song crept into my head like a subtle movie.....You'll go a waltzin' Matilda with me"

Old Years Revelations

Here are a few of the light bulbs that when on in 2008.
New Orleans is some how connected to the Catholic Church.
I am watching the severe weather warnings on the bottom of my TV screen and I notice all of the affected "PARISHES" have Saint's names.
Our football team should have been a clue....
The first King cake of the mardi gras season is served on Three Kings day(or 12th night)
There is a BABY in the king cake.
The entire city abstains from meat on all the Fridays in lent. Imagine the people we get out of purgatory by eating massive amounts of shrimp, oysters, crabs and redfish every Friday.
(sorry Dad, but if you were expecting me to get ya a get out of purgatory ticket, I'll need to reside somewhere else during lent)
There are as many churches in this city as there are bars - you think driving and texting is dangerous? Try drinks to go , driving , shifting into third while blessing yourself every three blocks. I'll take texting teens in stolen cars any day.
Some befuddled tourists asked me why, in this city of sin, are there so many churches?
I thought about this and then told them non sinners do not need salvation. I went on to say that if they wanted more places of worship in their city, they need to invest more in sin.