Cold Spaghetti

We thought it tasted like tough, dry chicken.  But we’re no great-shakes with meat identification, so really, don’t take it on our word.

Regardless of how they taste, they sure do look cute in dresses!

See the full slide-show of the Guinea Pig festival here.

During a weekend late in June, some friends hosted a pool party at a hidden neighborhood pool.  Among his friends, Will was by no means the only kid swimming around — but he was the only one doing so without any flotation aid and one of the only ones jumping fearlessly off the diving board.  People remarked on his comfort in the water and pressed us for the secrets of our little swimmer’s success… secrets which amounted to: “um…. I started dunking him in the water when he was a few months old?”

We’ve known for a long time that Will has some pretty amazing physical skills.  His balance, athleticism, and coordination have stood out to us and to others since before he could walk.  But what in the world were we to do about it?

The pool incident made me feel guilty about not more actively looking for ways for Will to hone these natural gifts.  So I quickly found open swimming classes at Elmwood Fitness Center.  Elmwood is a beautiful, state-of-the-art, fully equipped facility located in Harahan, which in the terms of someone living in Uptown New Orleans, means that one requires both speciality immunizations and a passport to get there.  For the past two weeks, Paul or I have been picking up Will at 3:30 and RUSHING him to the dark side of the moon FOUR times a week for 4:00 lessons.  Fighting traffic (traffic?  I live in the city because I hate traffic!) running in, changing in the locker room, rushing to the pool, waiting through a 40-minute lesson, changing again, rushing out, fighting traffic, picking up Kate at school, and then getting home to prepare dinner for kids to complain over.  IT SUCKED.  Thank goodness it all ended last Thursday.

Just so we could start it all again this week.

We did this because of Will’s very first lesson two weeks ago; when in the time it took me put him in the pool with his teacher, walk 50 feet to write a check for the class, and walk back, Will was swimming freestyle across the pool.  Eight classes later and Will was swimming freestyle, butterfly, and starting backstroke and breaststroke.  Now, I’m not saying he’s a master of any of the strokes, but he easily does them as well as any of the other kids in his swimming class… who are all age 7 and older and have had 2-3 years of swimming lessons.  In other words, the kids in his class have been swimming for as long or longer than Will has been walking.

Of course I am filled with pride to see my tiny guy — all 38.8 pounds of him — bouncing around boys twice his age and more than twice his size in the shallow water.  But I can’t help but feel a little freaked out.  I’m starting to see my life unfold as a chlorine-scented taxi driver who is pegged to leave the house at 4:30am five times a week for morning practices.  What the heck happened to my Billy Elliot??

The real bummer is that we were excited (and he was excited) about trying gymnastics and possibly a dance or music class in the fall.  Isn’t it too early to be sticking him in ONE thing?  And how can we possibly manage to balance everything??  Plus, there is Kate.  She’ll be starting down this road soon.  These are logistics well beyond the scope of what I considered before signing up for this parenting gig.

Part of it, too, is that I know the window of fostering Will’s creative sides is closing quickly.  Soon, everything in his life will be pulling him to sports and nothing else.  If I do anything as his Mother, I want to instill in him that he is smart, creative, expressive, musical, and artistic: and that there is nothing about being any of those things that make him less of a man or less of an athlete.  I worry that if I don’t lay that foundation firmly enough, it will get washed away by the wave of balls, bats, and cleats that are building on the horizon.

Perhaps because I feel all of these things, or perhaps because I just have needed something to do with the kids while Paul works all weekends and evenings, Will and I have been working some creative projects together.

Tonight, we drew some crayon pictures and made earrings.  Then Will asked if we could give some of his earrings away.  He dictated the letters, drew pictures, and packed away the goods in envelopes.  Everything was sealed before it occured to me to photograph them.  It touched me that my very sweet, sensitive, thoughtful and caring guy wanted to create something original and share it with others.

It was a reminder that although he may have an athleticism that makes him so different from me on the outside, in the inside, he is totally My Guy.

When we arrived home from our Streetcar ride this afternoon, Will checked the mailbox and pulled out letters from Blue Cross and Blue Shield.  Seeing those letters was as exciting and nerve-wracking as waiting for a college acceptance letter, and the fact that there were TWO letters… one address to me and one addressed to Paul… made my stomach sink.  I tried to mentally prepare myself for bad news.

But surprise!  It wasn’t the bad news I was anticipating!

We haven’t been denied anything, yet.  We just have to track down 70 physicians, pull them away from their incredibly busy demands of trying to save to world, and get each of them to write down why they did a silly thing like write us a prescription.  The folks at BCBS found out that we had some scripts filled over the course of the last 30 years and want a separate form filled out for each script by the doctor who prescribed it.  The forms have the icy-official tone similar to those of warrants and audits, subtly letting you know that they have more information about you than you might have expected: “We understand that you have (fill in the blank) ACNE.  Please answer the following questions below about your (fill in the blank) ACNE.”   Others are specific to a prescribed drug.  “We understand the you have been prescribed the drug (fill in the blank) MEFLOQUINE.  Please answer the following questions about your (fill in the blank) MALARIA.”  What? When did Paul have malaria?  (Do they not know that the same drugs that treat some forms of malaria are also the same ones you take to prevent getting it?)

The good news is that they couldn’t find any medical reason to deny us flat out, so the new strategy is to bankrupt us out of being able to afford the policy by taking so much darn time to complete the process that we get fired from our jobs.  That, and with the timing of the letters, there is little chance of the policy being approved by the August 1st start-date we requested.  One more month of COBRA?  Ouch.

In the meantime, I continue to lose hair.

On a great suggestion, I called up a local acupuncturist who is also a Medical Doctor.  She listened to my symptoms and agreed it sounded a lot like an under-active thyroid, but will not touch me until I’ve had appropriate blood work.  Because she is only practicing Chinese medicine currently, she will not write any orders for tests — I have to find these elsewhere.  I called my primary care doctor, whom I went to last March because I thought I was bleeding myself anemic, to inquire about the possibility of going over my previous tests and getting orders for another.  The nurse explained that she is not allowed to discuss my record and that the doctor will not discuss any procedure, test, or exam (previous or otherwise) without an appointment.

A back-up plan came up out of the blue: offers from an out-of-state friend to FAX in a script for the blood work.  Unfortunately, the fax didn’t completely come through, so we’re working on getting this right.

Other ideas include: a certain doctor at the Tulane Student Health Center Downtown who has a reputation for “working” with students with insurance issues, and/or, going and standing in line at 6am for the Free Health Clinic.  This is the kind of service I’m more accustomed to working for or referring to — and now I may be a client?!  It makes me feel very guilty, as someone who can (and is trying to) pay for health care.

If our family, which is supported by a good income and run by competent, well-educated adults, with contacts in and around the health professions, cannot manage to secure a quality health care package… then how do others in more trying circumstances fair?

Guess what is installed?  And usable?  And properly functioning?  AND involves plumbing??

There were some issues with having to chisel out tiles, re-drill holes for the tub faucet, and re-plumb parts of the faucet water supply.  We had some help with grinding down the sharp edges of the tiles on the tub deck (a surprise for Paul while he was in New Hampshire).  And then there was Paul realizing he forgot to install a trap when we were pondering over why the echo of the water was so loud when we ran the Master Bathroom sink faucet.  BUT NOW… we have a tub!  An AIR TUB!  Ever heard of an air tub?  This is how it works: the backrest heats up (you set the temperature) as hot air (again, you set the temp) shoots out from the bottom sides of the tub and up channels behind your back and neck.  It’s the best bath experience you can have, by yourself, in my opinion.

Thanks, Hal, for helping us with this great tub!

It’s been years since we had bikes, but our gear still comes in handy.

You know people are good when the kids take to them in seconds.  Such is the case with Miss Shell (known to others as Michelle) who helped us make our schedules work by helping with childcare after the storm.  It was Miss Shell’s oyster po-boy that Kate picked up and devoured at 8 months.  It was Michelle that we called when Will tried to fly and burst open his forehead.  And it was Michelle who spent the night while I rushed Paul to the hospital with appendicitis.  It’s fair to say that she has stuck with us for better and for worse, which is about the most anyone can ask from another person.  This city is hard on young talent and Telemundo wooed her away, back to her home town of Miami.  When she is not being wined and dined by Miami’s most eligible bachelors, she is an undercover reporter, so if you’re pulling a scam in south Florida, watch out!  She was back in town for fun and relaxation, hitting her indie music scene between lunch dates.   Will tried to hide in her purse as a stow-away, but the crack-down on luggage weight foiled his plan.

(quietly): “Will, do you want to play a game?”

(answering in a whisper): “Yes.”

“Okay.  The game is, we are going to close our eyes for nine hours.  I bet I can keep my eyes closed longer than you.”

“No, I bet I can keep my eyes closed longer than you!”

“Longer than 9 hours?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Will.  Game on.”

I’m not quite done with this one, but I thought I’d try out that one. Needs work. Learning curve still rising ahead. But liking the possibilities.

Whaddya think?

One of the unique architectural pieces of New Orleans are street tiles that line city corners. Entergy has been tearing up these corners during maintenance of city services and in many places, is destroying or paving over these tiles. In April, the Vice President of Gas Operations for Entergy wrote to the local paper to say that they were being replaced, but nothing has happened. Please write to Entergy — even those who aren’t in New Orleans! — and ask them to repair or replace the historic street tiles they destroy and/or damage through careless street work. This is my letter, mailed to the corporate headquarters in New Orleans (I’d have sent via email, too, but can’t find contact email addresses.) Please help protect and preserve New Orleans’ heritage!

****

Entergy Corporation
639 Loyola Avenue
New Orleans, LA 70113

ATTN: Mr. Rusty Burroughs
Vice President
Gas Operations
Entergy New Orleans, Inc.

Dear Mr. Burroughs,

I was so thrilled to read your April 25th, 2008 response to the Times-Picayune editorial written by Chris Rose addressing the destruction of historic tile letters that uniquely mark the streets of New Orleans. In your letter, you specifically addressed the destroyed tiles at the corner of Pine and Birch and wrote that, “those tiles will be replaced, and were in the process of being replaced before the article was written by Mr. Rose.”

As you know, more than a month has passed since that editorial and your published response. To date, there has been no change to this corner. I am writing you to implore you to keep to your word and see that those tiles are restored or if given no other option, replaced. It is a shame that your subcontractors left you with the responsibility of fixing their mistakes, but your letter gave me confidence that you had the leadership and character required to make it right.

Now, more than ever, it is the responsibility of the citizens and businesses of New Orleans to work together to keep the heritage and history of our city alive. This letter is fulfilling my duty as a citizen to see that our unique legacies are protected. I look forward to seeing your obligations to our city and citizens carried out and your word fulfilled.

Respectfully,

H

CC: Rod West, President & CEO, Entergy New Orleans, Inc.
E. Renae Conley – President & CEO, Entergy Louisiana, LLC
J. Wayne Leonard, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer, Entergy Corporation
Mark T. Savoff, Executive Vice President, Operations