Experiencing an intense wave of New Orleans nostalgia after reading Poppy Z. Brite’s recent post about Cajun eggnog daiquiris. I have such wonderful (if hazy) memories of cruising through City Park during the annual Christmas lights display while sipping an eggnog daiquiri. (By the way, if you’re in any way surprised or offended by the idea of someone driving around with a to-go cup full of alcohol in one hand, you have clearly not spent enough time in New Orleans). I’ve noticed that while I wear my love for Paris and New York on my sleeve, I tend to bury memories of New Orleans. For the most part, I find that they’re either too painful or too sublime to contemplate, full of the sense of manic depression that was an ongoing motif during my years there. Seems like I was always either elated or miserable. Of course it could have had something to do with all the booze. But there’s something about that city that lends itself to heartache.
More memories stirred up with the realization that my alma mater is in the process of being dissolved. Well, sort of. While I got my diploma from Tulane University (which is still, from what I’ve read, alive and kicking), I actually attended the women’s coordinate college, Sophie Newcomb. After Katrina hit, Tulane decided to get rid of Newcomb College as a separate entity and merge it with a bunch of other undergrad colleges to save money. While I suppose I was vaguely aware of this through some propaganda from the school that came my way after the storm, it has only recently taken hold in my awareness. The restructuring has inflamed a group of alumnae who contend that money hungry Tulane is just looking to grab up Newcomb’s endowment. It’s kind of like poor old Sophie’s been date raped, used up and left high and dry. The ladies are backing a descendent of Mrs. Newcomb who has filed lawsuit against the university seeking to restore Newcomb to its former glory. While I’m about the farthest thing from a Newcomb groupie and have mixed feelings about my entire college experience, I do feel a little unsettled at the idea of my alma mater vanishing from the earth. Oh well, nothing a little eggnog daiquiri wouldn’t cure, I’m sure.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
In Case You Were Wondering...
I’m delighted to report that the local library can take me off the delinquent list: my very kind NYC friend Jake had Amazon send me a copy of Ballistics. Astoundingly thoughtful, and in the midst of a pre-wedding maelstrom no less. My old roommate Eileen said that she was on the verge of doing the same thing, all of which I find very touching (not to mention encouraging since it means that a few people other than my husband are reading this blog). This, by the way, was not at all what I was going for with that post. However, in case any of the rest of you are feeling generous, I could really use a VitaMix blender and a Volvo station wagon. Have been dividing my arts and leisure time (such as it is) among Billy Collins, Julia Glass’s new novel I See You Everywhere (a library book I am enjoying but do not in the least feel the need to own), the latest VF and the final episodes (thank God) of the original Star Trek series. Billy, by the way, apparently does not have a facebook fan page. Either that or he has taken up the bass and changed his name to Bootsy.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Just figured out my next career move...
Just had a great idea for the president-elect: why not make me ambassador to France? I really do, as they say on facebook, have more foreign policy experience than Sarah Palin. Plus, it would provide job for yet another unemployed American. I think I'd be a hit over there and I'm sure I'd get along swimmingly with Carla (and her husband). So, Barack, what do you say? Maybe after you've tackled that nagging treasury appointment, we can get down to the important stuff!
Halos & Heinekens
My perfect angel is getting to be downright sassy these days. Now that she’s on the go (mostly kind of slithering on her belly), she wants to be on the ground at all times and puts up a fuss when she doesn’t get her way. Her favorite activity: picking up debris from the floor, looking right at me as she pops whatever it is into her mouth, and then crawling away as fast as she can while laughing devilishly.
She’s been down on the afternoon nap these days and turns into quite a crabapple later in the day. The window between 5 and 7 pm is usually rather hellish around here. Henry’s usually kind of surly after his nap (if I can get him to take one) and now with baby sis getting in on the act, it devolves into one of those old Calgon commercials with the screaming/whining children, the pot boiling over on the stove etc. Unfortunately, they don’t make Calgon anymore, so no chance of getting taken away... On top of that, Christian has been working in another accursed exurb about an hour away and has been getting home late, so it’s been kind of an exercise in solo parenting for the old mama. Not complaining though because it’s paying the bills…
He did get home the other day in time for me to scoot over to a tennis class I’ve been taking at our local community center (which has pretty much become the hub of my universe). Fun class, but the best part was having a couple beers with the ladies afterward. We closed down Lovetown’s new pizza joint (at 10 pm!). Didn’t know two little beers could give one a hangover, but apparently that’s all it takes anymore. (This is the same gal who once put away a magnum of Pierre Gimonnet over pork chops with one other person.) Marriage, commuting, pregnancy and, now, breastfeeding have led me to cut waaay back. But the nursing gravy train is getting ready to unload its little passenger. Will this mean a return to the drinking life? Unlikely. While it wasn’t so bad nursing a hangover in an office (you know, you can kind of hide under your desk and try to leave early), the days in the motherhood game are just too grueling to survive in a depleted state. But a couple of Heinekens with some new friends….that I can handle.
She’s been down on the afternoon nap these days and turns into quite a crabapple later in the day. The window between 5 and 7 pm is usually rather hellish around here. Henry’s usually kind of surly after his nap (if I can get him to take one) and now with baby sis getting in on the act, it devolves into one of those old Calgon commercials with the screaming/whining children, the pot boiling over on the stove etc. Unfortunately, they don’t make Calgon anymore, so no chance of getting taken away... On top of that, Christian has been working in another accursed exurb about an hour away and has been getting home late, so it’s been kind of an exercise in solo parenting for the old mama. Not complaining though because it’s paying the bills…
He did get home the other day in time for me to scoot over to a tennis class I’ve been taking at our local community center (which has pretty much become the hub of my universe). Fun class, but the best part was having a couple beers with the ladies afterward. We closed down Lovetown’s new pizza joint (at 10 pm!). Didn’t know two little beers could give one a hangover, but apparently that’s all it takes anymore. (This is the same gal who once put away a magnum of Pierre Gimonnet over pork chops with one other person.) Marriage, commuting, pregnancy and, now, breastfeeding have led me to cut waaay back. But the nursing gravy train is getting ready to unload its little passenger. Will this mean a return to the drinking life? Unlikely. While it wasn’t so bad nursing a hangover in an office (you know, you can kind of hide under your desk and try to leave early), the days in the motherhood game are just too grueling to survive in a depleted state. But a couple of Heinekens with some new friends….that I can handle.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
True Blue
You know it’s truuuuuue. We turned Virginia bluuuue.
(Must give credit for that charming little couplet to my old pal Libby from my days as a reporterette at a local rag.)
Oh man, it’s delicious! And the Old Dominion electing a second Democratic senator: icing. Haven’t actually done a cartwheel yet. Too exhausted from staying up all night crying tears of joy. And fighting with the old man. He was all hot under the collar because BO said we could “perfect our union”. Doesn’t take too kindly to anyone trying to one-up the founding fathers…
Don’t know if I’m gonna be able to contain myself when Barack winds up meeting Carla. Is it legal to have that much cool in one room?
(Must give credit for that charming little couplet to my old pal Libby from my days as a reporterette at a local rag.)
Oh man, it’s delicious! And the Old Dominion electing a second Democratic senator: icing. Haven’t actually done a cartwheel yet. Too exhausted from staying up all night crying tears of joy. And fighting with the old man. He was all hot under the collar because BO said we could “perfect our union”. Doesn’t take too kindly to anyone trying to one-up the founding fathers…
Don’t know if I’m gonna be able to contain myself when Barack winds up meeting Carla. Is it legal to have that much cool in one room?
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Mixed Marriage Update #2
Well, the ever lovin’ is in a bit of a funk today as it looks like his team’s going down. I can’t help feeling sorry for him, even though I’ll be doing cartwheels if things turn out the way they’re projecting. Christian was still at it at three this morning, trying to convince me not to vote for Obama. I don’t think he was in any way expecting me to pull the lever for the other side, but was perhaps holding out hope that I might get a wild hare and go for Nader or some such. I have been known to vote third party, but there’s no way in hell I’d have done it this time.
My darling thinks my candidate is a socialist and a demagogue. I’m one of those lefties who’s convinced we could use a little more socialism-- in our health care system for sure. I’m well acquainted with the frustrations of being self-insured. And while I don’t mind coughing up a little cash for health care, I’d like just a little bit to show for the thousands I’m shelling out to insurance companies. I want a decent, comprehensive policy for a reasonable price, and it’s something I don’t think I’m ever gonna get without some kind of government intervention.
As for the demagogue part, I don’t think there’s any need to apologize for a guy who has a way with the English language and uses it to inspire people. Au contraire, electing an orator will be such a breath of fresh air after eight years of being inundated with twangy cliches and malapropisms. Just don’t think I could handle four years of Miss Wasilla’s nasal whine and bitchy platitudes. I don’t want somebody in the White House who’s just like me or my neighbors because frankly we’re not all that smart. I don’t want the rest of the world to laugh at us. I want somebody cosmopolitan and sophisticated. Plus I just found out BO’s a Leo which makes him even more appealing. Definitely one of my love signs…
On the subject of love signs…There are times I wonder how I could have fallen in love with a person with such differing views. My husband is an intelligent, creative, well-traveled, compassionate guy. He gravitates toward liberals in his personal relationships. But he’s as conservative as they come, a tough talking nationalist who thinks government is the problem. We make it work, though it does get intense around election time, and I have to protest when he comes home for lunch and tries to turn Limbaugh on. Being a tolerant liberal, I pretty much avoid any efforts to bring him around, but he just keeps on swinging away, hoping I’ll see the light. I’m always looking for common ground, but there isn’t much, at least as far as politics go. I only hope we’re blessed to live a long life together, canceling each other out every November.
My darling thinks my candidate is a socialist and a demagogue. I’m one of those lefties who’s convinced we could use a little more socialism-- in our health care system for sure. I’m well acquainted with the frustrations of being self-insured. And while I don’t mind coughing up a little cash for health care, I’d like just a little bit to show for the thousands I’m shelling out to insurance companies. I want a decent, comprehensive policy for a reasonable price, and it’s something I don’t think I’m ever gonna get without some kind of government intervention.
As for the demagogue part, I don’t think there’s any need to apologize for a guy who has a way with the English language and uses it to inspire people. Au contraire, electing an orator will be such a breath of fresh air after eight years of being inundated with twangy cliches and malapropisms. Just don’t think I could handle four years of Miss Wasilla’s nasal whine and bitchy platitudes. I don’t want somebody in the White House who’s just like me or my neighbors because frankly we’re not all that smart. I don’t want the rest of the world to laugh at us. I want somebody cosmopolitan and sophisticated. Plus I just found out BO’s a Leo which makes him even more appealing. Definitely one of my love signs…
On the subject of love signs…There are times I wonder how I could have fallen in love with a person with such differing views. My husband is an intelligent, creative, well-traveled, compassionate guy. He gravitates toward liberals in his personal relationships. But he’s as conservative as they come, a tough talking nationalist who thinks government is the problem. We make it work, though it does get intense around election time, and I have to protest when he comes home for lunch and tries to turn Limbaugh on. Being a tolerant liberal, I pretty much avoid any efforts to bring him around, but he just keeps on swinging away, hoping I’ll see the light. I’m always looking for common ground, but there isn’t much, at least as far as politics go. I only hope we’re blessed to live a long life together, canceling each other out every November.
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