Aretha Franklin, Wynton Marsalis, Dave Matthews Band, James Taylor, Joe Cocker, Bonnie Raitt, Sugarland, Tony Bennett, Earth Wind & Fire, Erykah Badu, Irma Thomas, Etta James, Emmylou Harris, Pete Seeger, Better Than Ezra, Roy Rogers, Neville Brothers, Dr. John, Tab Benoit, Los Lobos, Cowboy Mouth, and a few hundred others….??
Holly and Paul’s Hacienda “where we really do treat you like family” is officially taking reservations! Early reservations get priority bed bookings; others should bring provisions for the floor. 6am wake-up calls are part of our friendly service. Whine is always free, but bring your own cheese.
** Mention this add and get one morning of Paul’s legendary fried egg-in-toast breakfast — without being asked to do the dishes afterward! **
Three more days until the two week holiday break. Paul and I had lofty goals. Or, rather, I had lofty goals. My dream was to surprise the kids Christmas morning with PROGRESS. In the house. My dreams included finding the Christmas tree, putting down the floor in the back room, and putting together Will’s bed.
Instead, I get home this afternoon to find this:
The boys are hard at work, all right. ON THEIR MAN PALACE.
I know, I know. Who can resist a man putting up siding? All by himself?
**Okay, honey, forget about that building that we actually live in! I support you in doing whatever you think is best!**
I’m a wuss.
But then again, look at that assistant. How can I deny him time with wooden planks and hammers? Especially when it’s 70 degrees outside.
Behold, The Man Palace. Looks a lot like it did before, huh? Progress is SLOW, people. S-L-O-W.
The good news is that Paul only has 12 more hardie boards to move from the front to the back. (Remember that pile in the snow?) Six more trips and the neighbors will start talking to us again. But the improvements to the front hasn’t stopped there! We also un-stuck the stuck shutter. We do, however, have some old college-style furniture donations on the porch for the Vets to pick up. What can I say? We can only gain so much class per day.
Not to be outdone, I went to work in the kitchen. My helper was not photogenic today. She was busy making me coffee on her stove. Coffee served in a bucket with koosh balls inside, which is really the only acceptable way to drink coffee.
Between buckets of joe, she was helpful enough come around to lick a spoon. Or three. But who can blame her? These grasshoppers are yummy. Chocolate, butterscotch, noodles, peanuts. All for teachers and staff at the kids’ school.
I even got all Martha-Stewart and put together little baskets with notes. But here is the really amazing part: THERE ARE STILL THREE DAYS BEFORE THE END OF TERM. I finished them early.
Gris-Grits tagged me and ’cause it gets me all blushy and bashful, I’m totally going to do it again. The rules are the same, but as I mentioned last time, I’m terribly unreliable when it comes to things like RULES. It’s one of many things I’m unreliable about, actually. Here are some more…
1. I cannot be trusted to put shoes away, ever. Particularly before bedtime, which means that someone who is stumbling through the dark to find the bathroom is likely to encounter shoes. Be warned.
2. Recipes are very hard for me to follow. It’s not that I CAN’T follow directions, it’s just that it is an incredible bore. Paul disagrees. He likens my meddling with recipes to a dog marking it’s scent on every passing lamp-post. Lovely man, my Paul.
3. I cannot be trusted to keep my mouth shut. Ever. About anything. It’s one of my charms.
4. I bit through my tongue when I fell off a sit-and-spin at age 5. My tongue had a hole for years from the bite and still has a visible cut. The fall happened because I wasn’t listening and was standing on the toy. I show Will the injury as a warning of what happens when Children Don’t Listen.
5. Doctors wondered if I would have a thumb nail after I slammed my left hand in a door (also at age 5). Surgeons re-attached my thumb and a few months later, a new nail grew in. Today, there is no visible evidence of any injury, so I do not have the physical evidence required to use it as cautionary tale to my children.
6. I would give it all up to tour with The Supremes.
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UPDATE: Lisa noted that I didn’t tag anyone. So I tagged her, bashfully. Anyone else new to Cold Spaghetti?? Please play and link here so I can find you!
This week’s Photohunt theme was FAVORITE. Nothing came to mind, so I flipped through Aperture looking for something that said ‘favorite’ to me. Bingo.
This is Will and one of his Special Friends, at a fall festival in October.
And here’s the public health response on this Soapbox Saturday….
From a public health perspective, fear of something is not a very effective tool to influence behavior change. But I still find this little public health message cute and informative… mostly because it reminds that condoms protect from more than HIV. Perhaps it is good campaign to direct at pharmaceuticals? It does a good job of showing how ridiculous it is that we ONLY have the condom to protect against these infections, which is pretty worthless when you consider the amount of people who choose to have sex without condoms because they want to get pregnant (or live in a pronatalist culture), or are forced to do so, whether by threat, coercion, or obligation.
If anyone says ‘abstaining’ as an option, I may just hurl, or cry. We’re not taking about American upper middle class teenagers, first of all, and second, the entirety of sexual and reproductive health doesn’t revolve around them and their perceived needs. Sexuality as a ‘choice’ exists in only a few spaces. In reality, many have very little choice on how their sexuality gets expressed: culture, tradition, expectations, power, money, obligation, and poverty are much more present factors than any individual behavior ‘choice.’ Which is why the condom, a method that must be negotiated between a couple, is so ineffective as a comprehensive tool. It’s all we’ve got and at least it works when it’s used correctly, but it’s hardly the answer we need.
Santa? Are you listening? Here is what I would like for Christmas: A viable method of protection for sexual partners to use that prevents STIs that is NOT the condom. Can you get your elves on that? Our pharmaceuticals are just not heading the message.
I’ve got one, and I want to give it away. With it’s lens. To you, if you’re up for it.
Here’s the catch: my original DSLR, the 300D Rebel, died from secondary mirror failure a year and a half ago. We did some mirror DIY stuff, problem solved, talked to Canon, and eventually just put it to the side. It will cost $175-200 to repair and I kept thinking I would do this, or grow the confidence to take it all apart and try to fix it myself. It’s not going to happen. I don’t want to risk breaking it if someone else out there is interested in fixing it, particularly if it means they will then get to have a digital SLR.
DSLRs still start at over $300. For used models. $200 is a good price for a used 300D with lens. This particular camera kit sells used for $350-500. The lens sells for about $100; it is most common bought and sold as the “kit” lens for Rebels. (Note that now they sell the “II” version of this lens, but it is essentially the same — see details about it here: http://photo.net/equipment/canon/efs18-55/ )
Or, maybe you’ve got a kid who is into taking apart electronics? Mine aren’t old enough for this sort of experimentation, but if you’ve got one who is…? I’m okay with that, too.
I’ve put it up on craigslist, listing it for sale because my experience in giving things away via craigslist and freecycle is that there are a ton of responses and very few follow-throughs. So now I tie a price to the item — only serious people bother. Although what typically happens is that when the person shows up for the item, we end up giving it to them when they turn out to be nice, regular folks. Because it’s just the right thing to do.
I’d like to give it to you, if you’d like it. I’ll pay for any shipping costs.
Just leave me a comment. No need for fancy writing or a ton of links or whatever. This is just about trying to find a home for this camera… before it gets sent off for parts via craigslist. If no one responds, I’ll stick with craigslist. Otherwise, I’ll choose someone here.
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Okay, okay. I admit it. I am trying to find yet another way to say I’ve filched something from Magpie. Technically, allsorts of peoplegiveaway stuff on their blogs, too, but it was actually trying for one that made me feel like I should do it, too. Plus, I just love that cleansing, complete, satisfying feel that the word filch leaves in my mouth. Because there aren’t enough sentences in a day that need the word filch.
UPDATE: A friend of a friend without a blog emailed me. It’s gone to a good cause!
We heard that there might be snow, so while feeding the kids breakfast I turned on the TV. Quickly, I rushed the kids to the set — LOOK, I said, it’s SNOWING not far from here! Will was the most excited, “when will the snow be here?”
“Oh, Will, we live in New Orleans. We don’t get snow here.”
I was wrong! Paul called home right between Will walking into his class and driving Kate to her building. Heavy, heavy snow. Kate asked for the phone and banged on her window, screaming “SNOW, MOMMY! SNOW!”
And it stuck. For a few hours, at least. Paul took these pictures around 10am.
Here’s our little house. Can you believe we still haven’t unstuck the shutter on the right? I’m so embarrassed.
I’m also a little bummed we hadn’t put up any Christmas decorations yet. Our house is ADORABLE dressed up for the holidays. (The orange caution tape in front is to protect the hardie, which Paul is working to carry to the back — it is so heavy and unwieldy that he builds a special gig to hold the long boards for the trip to the backyard and can only bring 50 or so back per session.)
Here’s our street:
Holly in the snow…
Hmm, the azaleas were looking a little leggy anyway.
Poor pansies. I have no idea if these are the winter variety.
Our little house.
Remember these? It’s one of the three skylights Paul installed in the renovated area in the roof he built. Check out that frozen snow on the glass — the sign of a darn good job insulating to keep the heat inside!
Around 11:30, we left to get our friend Carmen to take her to a nice lunch before she moves next week. On the way, we stopped to get a quick picture of a little snowman on top of the streetcar sculpture at Audubon Park. By the time we were done with lunch, everything had melted.
Here’s video of it coming down, taken by Paul this morning:
Now that the frozen variety are washed away, snow stories are flying around the city. Is it true that a snow in New Orleans signals a bad hurricane to come the following spring? Or is this just because the last snow, Christmas Day 2004, was the year before Katrina?  There are conflicting reports regarding the winter before Betsy. Anyone have insight into this?
Kate, the 30-month old talking flow chart, on the topic of Santa Claus.
“Where’s Santa Claus?”
“He’s at the North Pole.”
“Why?”
“It’s where he lives.”
“He’s in his house.”
“Yes, he’s in his house.”
“He’s not in my house.”
“No, he’s not in our house.”
“He’s not in my bed.” *
“No, he’s not in your bed.”
“He’s not in my closet.” **
“No, he’s not in your closet.”
“He’s at his house.”
“Yes, at his house, at the North Pole.”
“At the North Pole.”
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* I wonder if us singing “You Better Watch Out” and the whole thing about ‘he sees you when you’re sleeping’ helped develop this line of possibility?
** This also has been brought up in our household before. When we first told Will about Santa, he used to cry out at night because Santa was in his closet.
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Here is more from Kate on the subject of Santa, speaking during dinner (Shepherd’s Pie and Tomato & Edamame Salad*) last night.
Regular dishes on life in New Orleans, historic home renovation, raising kids, completing a PhD, travel near and far, global concerns, and health issues.
You know the story, right? International health... work all over the place... drag my kids around in sacks through villages in Central America... yadda yadda. I decided to go for another degree, so in 2004 we moved to New Orleans with no intention of staying.
Then Katrina.
And then *blink*blink* New Orleans is a completely different place and we just can't leave. Suddenly I'm on TV talking about immigrants and health and Paul is starting a company. Or two. His side is high-tech, mine is community health and our lives are yearly evacuation, regular celebrations, and nonstop work here, there, and everywhere. Our door is always open. I only ask that if you decide to go ahead and make yourself that mint julep, you make one for me, too.
