Cold Spaghetti

There is a very distinct chance we will not have a Christmas tree this year.  And I am blaming it all on this:

The Man Palace that demanded attention and took away from the progress in the part of the house we actually live in.  (No, no, no bitterness here.  Just don’t get me talking about having to blow the rest of our savings on COBRA, then you’ll hear some bitterness.)

But it sure is pretty.  Paul finished installing the windows this weekend and built the headers in the front of the roof.  It’s ready for hardie.  The sides have corrugated metal sheets along the fence(s) and then will have hardie in the areas that are open to the elements.  The center section will remain open — storage will be on either side.  We’ll get walls up in the center with big doors leading into each side.  The center will be a patio-like space for grilling, etc.  Paul really wants to put in a built-in grill here, and I admit, it would be pretty cool.

See the windows in the back?  Those are to let in more natural light into the open space.  Neat, huh?

Meanwhile, Will’s bed sits in the front room where our tree should go.  His bed cannot be moved until the study is moved.  The study cannot be moved until the floor is installed in the back.  The floor can’t be installed in the back until the painting is done.  The painting can’t be done until the floor is cleaned and tools put away.  The tools can’t be put away until they can be locked in the outbuilding… and so, here we are.

We talked about putting up a leg lamp and decorating it, instead.  Maybe the titillating joy of electric sex in our window would make us feel better?  But, no, I think it would just remind me of the beautiful tree sitting safely (?) contained outside.  Next to Paul’s fermenting hockey gear.

The picture above is the backroom that needs paint and flooring.  I wasn’t kidding about the massive amount that needs to happen back here.  All that wood?  That’s SOME of the trim that still needs to be installed in the bathroom (most of the places where we could see the dirt below the house are covered, now, though.)  Paul doesn’t want to put down the floor until all the trim is done.  I’m pretty sure I threatened bodily harm with one of those trim pieces when he suggested this.  Not that I’m feeling impatient; I maintain that I am the epitome of patience!

Here is proof.

This is some of Will’s homework from last week.  Patience and great sense of humor are imperative when doing three pages of this in one evening.  (Will doesn’t usually have that much homework, it’s just that Daddy missed it on the night he was suppose to do it with Will because Mommy was in a meeting.  And I wonder why the kids love Daddy more?)

My favorite part of the homework is Will’s cake.  I also like how Will is writing his lower case “a,” with the little curly puppy tail.

In the car Saturday morning, en route to the first Holiday Season parade in New Orleans in 15 years, seemed a good enough reason to start the discussion.

“Will, do you know why we celebrate Christmas?”

(not totally ready to be engaged in conversation) “No.”

“Well, there area lot of different reasons people celebrate this time of year.  Christmas is around the time as the Winter Solstice, which is the shortest day of the year and right before winter.  People used to share food and clothes and other important things to help each other survive the winter.  That is one of the reasons we still give each other presents this time of year.”

(processing)

“Some people believe that a man named Jesus Christ was born on Christmas and they celebrate the day in church.  We don’t do this, but we have respect for others who feel this way.”

(engines starting to fire)

(Paul chimes in) “We believe that the holidays are a celebration of the everything we do through the year.  For us, it’s about being with family and remembering each other.”

(said to no one in particular) “Didja know some people go to movies and sing longsongs calledNargalitciesthatlast forhourswhileotherpeopleeatcandyandchocolatethattheir mommiesmakeandthenthey…….”

(To Paul): “Well, I guess that went well, then?”

—

Waiting for the parade:

One of the fantastic school bands.  This one was playing “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” — which we felt, based on our conversation in the car that morning, to be perfectly suited for the season.

Here’s a little primer in how to handle a throw.  All that stuff you see on Cops about flashing for beads?  Let me set the record straight: THAT IS DONE BY TOURISTS FOR TOURISTS.  Further, it only happens in one place (Bourbon Street) which locals will tell you was built by the city to keep annoying frat boys (past and present) and their hanger-ons away from the rest of the city.  (I say that with fondness, as I think it’s fine that it’s there if you want it.  But know that it does not define the city, nor does it describe our celebrations.)

What happens is that a rider singles you out, gesturing that YOU are chosen for a certain item.  Below, this special chosen one was WILL, standing right beside me.  See the guy in the middle, pointing to Will holding at bag of fancy holiday beads?

He gets ready for the throw…

And Mommy has no more pictures because she dropped her camera around her neck to help The Little Man complete the deal.   Which goes like this: you indicate readiness, keep eye contact with the item, catch it, and then give the rider a “THANK YOU” or a thumbs up, or both.  It’s a polite, friendly interaction.  And it’s fun!

Paul helps Will put on an extra long set of beads.  (I think he’s teasing him here with ‘what’s that on your jacket?’)

So I’m still obsessed with paning and creative use of the shutter.  This got the effect I was looking for… blurry background paned on the moving object.  That’s the New Orleans Hornet, coming in for a high-five!

Here’s another… hey Mr. Hornet!

McD 35 puts on a show!!  EVERYONE dances through the whole parade.  I was trying to capture how they ALL are moving, without it looking like a bunch of blurry bodies.  The two carrying the sign — even they are dancing back and forth, bouncing the sign around to a choreographed routine.  No ordinary marching by a NOLA group!  Heaven help you if you can’t find the beat to one of these bands!

Kate, however, was very serious about the whole thing.  Although she did keep in time to the music by bouncing her hand on Paul’s head.

Cool winter sky.

My favorite, penguins.  Kate was into the action from a top my shoulders for this part of the parade.  I can hardly believe I’m in a picture…

Will took the high seat.

Will, post-parade, with his favorite throw: a paddle and ball set.

Happy Holidays from New Orleans!

Full grown female Looziana Alligator comin’ out to chop on a marshmallow breakfast.  A few hours past dawn, Bayou Segnette, Louisiana.

Edison said “Invention is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration,” which has been one of my favorite quotations for years because it absolutely puts those talkers into their place.  Yeah yeah, I’ve heard the talk, but honestly, what have you done lately?

You could say much the same about me and my writing, both the blog and otherwise, where I have all of these great ideas of things I want to say but just can’t get around to getting it down.  Writing about Love Your Body Day (on November 1st) was one of them.  My mind was full with thoughts of the cathartic spilling of the ridiculous things I allow myself to think about my body and ultimately myself.  I daydreamed about the post, what I’d say, fretting about how personal to make it, wondering how honest I could be.  I spent so much time mulling it about it in my head that I never did it.  The whole idea was to strike while the iron was hot and I let it freeze over.  So I moved on.

And then, via Kate Harding, I read this post about a recent interview with Ani DiFranco.  Ani, of course, being The Voice of My Feminist Generation — 30-something women who, 15 years ago, were listening to Not a Pretty Girl while reading deBeauvoir and making signs for the next demonstration.

Okay, I have to be honest here.  While that may have been going on in some circles, my mainstream appearance was a little much for that crowd and after attending a meeting and being insulted for shaving my legs I didn’t return.  Incidentally, though, in terms of my feminist studies and activism — I was the one selected to co-teach in women’s studies while still an undergrad; I was the one the Department approached about tutoring members of the football team in women’s studies in the aftermath of Bronzkala and VAWA; and I was also the one photographed going head-to-head with the Dean of Student Affairs over the issue of how the school handles sexual assault charges among students.  So ‘feminist’ appearances don’t mean much.  Ugh.  Did I really just write all that?  My glory days are more like gory days.

Enough.

The point here is that although I look all peaches and cream and home baked pie with my blonde hair and occasionally shaved legs, for years I’ve harbored the secret desire to be Ani DiFranco.  To Just Be That Cool.  To have it all out there so plainly.  I hadn’t thought much about Ani’s music lately, being subjected as I am to constant requests for “Elmo” and “Imagination Movers” (occasionally veering into Young MC, as my kids are HipHop fiends).  Then I read about her new album and this song.

Everything I wanted to say about Love Your Body day?  All that stuff I was thinking about?  It’s right here.

lately i’ve been glaring into mirrors
picking myself apart
you’d think at my age i’d have thought
of something better to do
than making insecurity into a full-time job
making insecurity into art
and i fear my life will be over
and i will have never lived unfettered
always glaring into mirrors
mad i don’t look better

but now here is this tiny baby
and they say she looks just like me
and she is smiling at me
with that present infant glee
and yes i will defend
to the ends of the earth
her perfect right to be

so i’m beginning to see some problems
with the ongoing work of my mind
and i’ve got myself a new mantra
it says: “don’t forget to have a good time”
don’t let the sellers of stuff power enough
to rob you of your grace
love is all over the place

there’s nothing wrong with your face
love is all over the place
there’s nothing wrong with your face

lately i’ve been glaring into mirrors
picking myself apart

… okay, I know.  I KNOW.  But it’s only 6 days more.  And it starts with “Holly” and ends on my birthday.  How could I not?