Cold Spaghetti

I’m going to start tracking packages. After unnecessarily stressing over where the heck the package went… it finally arrived! I drew another portrait; this one of my adorable nephew, Brayden, and was so worried that the mail had devoured it…
Based on some parent feedback and other positive comments, I am considering doing some “real” photography and artistic work on the side. While it would be great to have extra cash to pay off some lingering bills, build back our savings and pay for the work we’re doing on the house, the bottom line is that we are fine. I would rather do a fundraiser to put money in Abeona House, where it is really needed.

With that in mind, I wonder if anyone would have thoughts on what would be a fair price for me spending an hour with you, your family, or your kids taking pictures and providing a CD of all the images for you to use however you’d like in exchange for a set minimum (or more) donation (tax-deductible) to Abeona. For an added fee, I could take one of the photos and turn it into a portrait drawing. Taking into account the value of the time put into these (especially the drawings, which take a seriously decent chunk of time) what would be a fair minimum donation to request for providing these services as a fundraiser?

The kids and I cleared out Saturday afternoon to give Paul the remainder of the weekend to work ’round the clock undisturbed. On Sunday, my parents got a praline birthday cake (it read: Holly – 29 again) and we had a little impromptu party. Will gave me a solo rendition of “Happy Birthday Mommy.” It was excellent. The best birthday present ever! (Unfortunately, it now exists only in memory. Paul had the video camera at home, doh!)
Will also counted my candles. After counting to 20, he paused and said “4”! What a guy.

My birthday was also remembered by friends and family — fun PJs from Gwen, soaps and earrings from Steph, funky fun necklace from Amy and family, and a great package from Paul’s Mom that Will opened enthusiastically with his Christmas presents before any of us realized what it was! Thank you, everyone!

Kate, in her adorable overalls from Aunt Amy and Uncle Kevin. The t-shirt usually goes under the long sleeve top, but Daddy is trying to start a new trend in baby-wear.

The last conversation I had with Helen Hill was a friendly hello at Abeona — we both wanted to say more but were overwhelmed with our kids at the time. I had hoped to send the images from Oak Street Cafe to her over the break and we had talked about getting together for New Years, neither of which happened. So, it may sound silly, but it was very important to me to get the images to her family directly. We dropped them off in a sturdy folder with the flowers and cards at their front door. Soon after, Emmy and Renee (friends and Abeona instructors) visited the memorial. They saw the folder and recognized it; wanting to keep it safe, they gave it directly to a family member and showed the photos I took. They were very well received, and were brought directly inside the house to Helen’s family. Media swarmed. Emmy felt they all were piranha-ish… with the exception of one British man who she felt was very respectful and caring. She gave him my phone number.

… And this is how I met Charlie Varley. When we first spoke, I had no idea who he was and acted very suspicious. Photography is a funny medium. It can easily be exploitative and I am very sensitive to this. I consider it a privilege to photograph people and feel that, particularly where children are involved, a photographer needs to be very careful with their work. So at first, I was very unsure how to handle Charlie Varley, who wanted to send some of my work to several news sources that were preparing memorial articles for Helen. By the end of our conversation, I was assured and agreed to send him some images. Then I googled him and realized who he was… when I sent him the photos, I wrote that I felt like I was sending a crayon sketch I made at age 10 to Picasso.

I was surprised to receive a wonderful email response from him. For one, he encouraged me to protect my work by adding a photo credit to the images and made some suggestions in that regard. Before sending them on, he embedded my credit into the image file for me. Second, he said wonderful and encouraging things about what I had done: “very professional and not at all amateur if you ask me.” He went on to say some personal things about being a parent and covering this story. It was, in every regard, a kind and thoughtful message.

Quickly following on the heels of Charlie’s message, came a phone call and email from Schroeder. Another uplifting and friendly bit of light coming unexpectedly.

Yesterday was my birthday. These little pieces of kindness and thoughtfulness were wonderful presents!

In late summer 2000, Paul’s cousin, Julie, held a commitment ceremony with her partner, Annie, in rural Vermont. Annie and Julie lived in Ann Arbor, where we had just moved, and were the first ones to welcome us to the city. We would have attended the ceremony, but my father’s retirement and Change of Command was the same day in Virginia.

Had we gone, we would have met Helen Hill and Paul Gailiunas, 6 years earlier than fate would finally have it. Helen is Annie’s cousin.

In a world of senseless horror, aches of sadness leave me apathetic, weary, and weepy. We are finding our footing and working to get a sense of where and how to put these feelings into positive actions. The touching memories, flowers, and cards lovingly placed on Paul and Helen’s doorstop are one way the community is responding to the tragedy and incredible losses that have occurred. Other responses — memories, memorials, films, meetings — are also happening. A wonderful website has been made: www.helenhill.org — and is updated regularly.In our two trips to the Hill-Gailiunas home yesterday, we spoke to neighbors, roamed the streets, and commented on how much we liked this part of the Marigny. Artsy cafes, B&Bs, corner stores. Couples on the porch, waving hello, stopping to talk about their sadness, concerns for their community, and questioning the future of our city.I cannot imagine abandoning this city. We decided that we were not ready to leave and cannot even think of where we go. On Thursday, there is a March and Rally to City Hall. It starts at 11am at the Aquarium and will go downtown to City Hall from there. It is being organized (permits and legalities handled) by the Marigny/Bywater community — the NOLA forums (http://www.nola.com/forums/marigny/) have more information (look for the posts by Ken Foster). Additional information is at http://nolaagainstcrime.com/. Paul and I are doing our best to attend.

After taking photos at the Abeona Winter Formal two weeks ago, Paul and I went to Oak Street Cafe, our favorite local spot. While there, we visited with Helen Hill and her son, Francis. Francis attends Abeona; we got to know him and his parents (mom Helen and Dad, Paul Gailiunas) in the kids’ Sunday music class. Over breakfast at Oak Street, Helen gave me a photograph that she took of Will and Kate during a Music Together session. We talked about local photography resources, growing up in South Carolina, getting together for a “family” New Year’s Eve party with other Abeona parents, and laughed as Francis pointed to the Cafe counter, requesting donuts. When Charlie (the Oak Street pianist) sat down to play, Helen and Francis went over to the piano — and I took pictures of them.

We are just getting to know Helen and Paul. Paul is a physician and co-founder of a community clinic; Helen is an artist who grew up in Columbia, S.C. They are also musicians and involved in social activism efforts. Like the other families that make up our Abeona family, Helen, Paul, and Francis represent the kind of people that make us want to live in New Orleans. They are, like us, a family that has chosen to be here because they believe in the importance of making the world a better place and are willing to do the work that is required to see that happen.

The phone calls and emails reached us late this afternoon. From the Times-Picayune:

In the sixth New Orleans murder in less than 24 hours, a woman was killed and her husband shot in their home at about 5:30 a.m. Thursday, said New Orleans police, who found the bleeding husband kneeling at the door of the couple’s Faubourg Marigny home, holding their two-year-old son.

The toddler was not hurt; the husband, 35, underwent surgery at Elmwood/Charity Trauma Center, police said. The woman, 36, was pronounced dead at the scene. But friends identified the Marigny couple as Helen Hill, an animator and filmmaker, and Paul Gailiunas, a doctor.

We are feeling and thinking many things right now. But there is one thing that is important for us to get across.

Before you dismiss this grand tragedy and tremendous loss as a causality of living in New Orleans; before you blame the citizens, the local ‘leaders’, the corruption; before you resolve to forget this city and recommend its decay and elimination — remember that THIS IS OUR HOME. And it is important, vitality important, to all of us. New Orleans and its rebuilding should be a symbol of what our country stands for — that the suffering among us matter, that resources should not be saved for the needs of a privileged upper-class, that the incredible contributions of this city be celebrated.

PLEASE BE ACTIVE. GET ACTIVE. Make New Orleans matter in your life, because it does. HELP US. Help us build back a beautiful, strong, safe home.

Even before I became a parent I’d heard the advice: “Don’t push potty training. Wait until they are ready and it will happen overnight.” I devoted myself to this advice and allowed it to paint my parenting toilet-training fantasy… In it, Will gently, softly enters our room in the soft glow of morning light (ie: after 8am) and pleasantly announces: “Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Father. I would like to tell you that as of today, in this very moment, I no longer require a diaper. I will use the toilet without fail each and every time from now on. And I will never forget to wash my hands afterwards.” It’s really a great dream, especially because he makes this wonderful announcement while serving us breakfast in bed. (When I dream, I dream BIG.)

Will is now three and ready for potty training. And I’m learning that it is not so easy.Will has been telling us he’s ready for underwear for weeks. He’s asked for underwear. Dug undies out of his drawer and undressed himself to put on underwear. Sat on the toilet for half an hour waiting to do something so that he could show he was ready for underwear. Begged and pleaded for those cute little underpants! Will could not have cared less about saying goodbye to Pampers… Paul and I were the ones freaking out. It was a great surprise to realize how important an absorbent core was to our daily lives. We couldn’t say goodbye, just taking it away was too much, too soon. We needed time, we weren’t ready. We rationalized it in so many ways: he was still wetting the diaper; it was the holidays; what if he has an accident on my Mom’s rug(!); we have to take a ride in the car today… and more. There are so many excuses.

Finally, after some advice and support from our knowledgeable Abeona teachers, we gained the courage to try. So, for the past three weeks, we’ve tried a variety of suggested strategies… Will running around nude, Will wearing underwear for short time frames, Will wearing both underwear with a diaper or pull-up over (to reduce mess), and finally, Will sporting nothing but the undies.

It has not been that bad… so far. Will is very good at identifying when he has to make a bowel movement. We’ve had two accidents of this type. The other stuff, “tinkle” in our household lingo, is still a challenge for The Little Man.
Yesterday was the Big Day. As of yesterday, we’ve got an undies-only 3-year old. This was a really big day for Will. In addition to wearing his pirate underwear (could there be any other kind?), this was also his first time staying a full day at school (until 3ish). He did pretty well. Three accidents at school… but zero at home. Today was much improved. One accident before leaving for school this morning (possibly two, but Will claims he spilled some milk from his cereal), one accident at school, and one accident in the waiting room at the doctor’s office this afternoon. Pretty decent. He still sleeps with a diaper at night, I figure we’ll keep the night pull-up or diaper for awhile… this is a tough one for little guys from what I understand.

So goes our first foray into potty training. I would LOVE suggestions and insight from anyone reading who has successfully potty trained a child… especially a boy!

Remember all those posts about the pocket doors we’ve been restoring on and off since before Katrina? There’s been another development to the saga.

Paul was set to finish them last summer while I was in Mobile awaiting Kate’s arrival. He took apart the wall, repaired the brackets, and hung the doors (after having them all dipped to remove the paint that coated them). Once hung, it was obvious that one of the doors was seriously warped… so much so that the wall would have had to open a foot or more to accommodate the curve in that 100-year old beautifully carved 9′ cypress giant. Progress on the doors came to a halt.

We tried several months of pressure with water cooler bottles (10 or more for a good 8 weeks), nothing. It was clear that the door would need to be steam pressed, a process where the wood is soaked, bent, and dried into an appropriate shape. Unfortunately, the place that used to do that kind of delicate and difficult work does not exist post-Katrina. So…. we hung the door and have let it sit while we looked into other options.

Out of nowhere, I found a post on Craigslist about a local woodworker who mentioned specializing in old doors and facades. I emailed him and Bingo! He can do it! Ready for the price? $650 — includes stain and poly. A bargain considering that the estimate to rebuild a similar door was $2,025.