It started with a post that I read on Craigslist looking for New Orleans Bloggers. A paid blogging position sounded too good to be true but sure enough, I became part of Blogging New Orleans during its early weeks. It was slow going at first, no commenters and no direction. I feel like we've really come into our own in the past few months with individual voices coming through and drawing comments from even the quietest lurkers. I'm happy to have been a part of this and grateful to Weblogs, Inc. for giving our city a platform on the AOL network.
I was blogging well before Blogging New Orleans. I had a personal site called "Yer Mom an' Dem" that I took down after Katrina. I lost my sense humor and didn't feel much like blogging at the time. I also had a pregnancy blog entitled, "Baby Mama Drama" that I stopped in early 2006. Before that I had an online journal to fulfill any exhibitionist tendencies of mine. Where to now? I intend to remain on board with Weblogs, Inc. The people that I've met are great and I'll ride it out as long as they will have me. I've toyed with the idea of another personal blog centered around the Crescent City but I'm not sure that I will be going in that direction any time soon.
The husband and I toyed with the idea of going out for our anniversary. I didn't want to do anything that would require a sitter so our choices were narrowed to an early dinner or drive-thru. We'd both been meaning to try Ye Olde College in since it reopened its new location (next to the old one). I hadn't eaten there since 2001 when a near horrific experience kept me from ever going again. However, it is a New Orleans favorite so it figured it was worth a second try.
When I first went to Ye Olde College in years ago (probably 2001), I was seated in a dated dining room which would have been fine except that I was clearly younger than any of the other patrons by a good forty years. I remember wondering if the restaurant was a favorite for senior tours. My waitress was harried and I held my breath as she dropped an entire tray of food belonging to the table next to us. She returned almost instantly with new dishes prompting this exchange:
"Wow! That was fast," said the customer. "Yeah, not all of it fell onto the ground," she replied.
I lost my appetite then and pretty much vowed never to return.
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet.]
There has been so much change in my life over the past two years and Katrtina/The Storm/The Federal Flood was only part of that upheaval. However, it's an easy marker for me in time so I reflect on those days most often. I was fortunate enough to be in the supportive hands of family those weeks that I was in exile. I look at pictures of my excursions as close as the Northshore and as far away as Tucson and I remember having some really good moments. I was consumed with caring for a newborn which took away any energy I had that would have gone to worry. I am fortunate for that. I wasn't with other New Orleanians so I didn't have panic or fear to feed off from. I was just biding my time until I could see what was left of my home; of my city.
I returned and I committed. I felt like a pioneer those early days; a brave soldier. I was in it for the long haul. I had so much hope and looked down condescendingly on people who didn't return to their undamaged apartments. Here I was brave enough to face the emptiness with a newborn, surely they could find a way to work it out. What I overlooked was the fact that I was a property owner and a landlord at that, which put me in a pretty good position. The Husband still had his job and was in high demand, working twenty-four hour shifts in a makeshift jail/courthouse that was once a bus station. I chose not to return to my job. I wanted to stay at home with my daughter all along but wasn't sure how I was going to pull it off financially. The Storm, oddly enough, gave me the opportunity to work it out.
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet.]
My last couple of walks to the Tuesday Farmer's Market almost killed me with the heat and the lightning and what not. In addition it seemed like a lot of my favorite vendors had taken the summer off or closed entirely. So, today I was looking for an activity that I could partake in that would
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet.]
One of our HVAC guys drives in from Baton Rouge every morning. "I'm afraid to work here," he said. "All of those Mexicans get paid in cash and then people rob them." I nodded thinking of the recent murder of Pablo Mejia Jr., a builder, killed in New Orleans East -- and he was local. I also thought of the couple slain in their home recently during a robbery.
"Yeah, it's rough in the lightly populated areas," I said. "But it's ok around here." Then I trailed off remembering Anthony White, killed only blocks away.
A friend chastised me the other night for not owning a gun. I told him, half jokingly, that our neighborhood crack head looks out for us. He didn't seem impressed.
Nancy Murray, like so many others, sat transfixed in front of the television during the days following Katrina. A native Floridian and hurricane survivor herself, Nancy wanted to do something for the children of New Orleans. Within days Nancy completed her touching tale of Gullah, the Nawleans Cat.
The heartwarming tale of a French Quarter kitty finding himself in the middle of a flooded wasteland carries the reader along Katrina's aftermath through the eyes of a cat. The story beams with hope as Gullah finds a fellow survivor, Kitchey-Gee Lafitte, and sings loudly over the rooftops.
The story itself is an enjoyable read with some colloquialisms and French thrown in for good measure. However, the images painted by Mississippi evacuee, Sandy Ford, bring the story to life. All sixteen illustrations were painted within her FEMA trailer.
In addition to introducing a character to children to relate to as they recover from Katrina, Nancy Murray has been donating the proceeds from Gullah to charities along the Gulf Coast including Habitat for Humanity.
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet. ]
Some days my head begins to hurt just looking at all of the national stories about New Orleans. On one hand, I am happy to see that we are not entirely forgotten. On the other hand, it's tough being under such strict scrutiny. While I was in Homestead, Florida for nearly a month, one of the biggest local stories was the backlog of passports at the Miami office. Basically Congress passed a bill without first making sure that the country's agencies could handle the sudden demand for passports across the country -- especially in states near the Mexican and Canadian borders. It only makes sense that New Orleans' office, the third largest in the country, is having trouble with the backlog. And yet, the story makes national news and Katrina -- not congress -- gets blamed for it. Then there are the stories picked up by national outlets days and weeks after they've been hashed out in the local newspaper and blogs; stories detailing crime and government shortcomings; stories that only make us look like a pack of wild monkeys.
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet. This week we the column continues covering the ongoing quest to convert a shotgun double to a camelback.]
Don't think that it hasn't occurred to me that while many in New Orleans had their homes torn apart involuntarily, I am paying people to make my life miserable. "Misery" might be a little strong. I am still excited about the project but I just wish that my kitchen ceiling would stop coming down in chunks. First it was one misplaced foot, then another. Over the weekend a tarp blew loose and water came through the ceiling effectively destroying the remaining plaster. Now if you walk into my kitchen there is more rafter visible than drywall and the dirt! Oy. I don't even know where to begin. Every time The Baby walks into the kitchen she says, "uh oh, flashlight," which is a misunderstanding because I specifically taught her to say "skylight" but what can you do?
There is an upside to having the entire kitchen ceiling come down and that is that the previous owner did a shoddy tape job that desperately cried for repair. Now the cracks and poor craftsmanship are non-existent and we get a new ceiling for free!
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet.]
OK, it's been a long couple of weeks. Even when I was out of town for several weeks I knew of a struggle happening at the DA's office as to whether or not to drop the charges against Michael Anderson. The problem was that the DA's office took the case with little evidence hoping that the NOPD would produce more as time went on; they didn't. Then the witness fell off the radar and the the NOPD offered no help in finding her until after the charges were dismissed (the feds even lost track of her even though she was in protective custody for a time). Yes, Jordan should have picked up the phone but that's not to say that the assistant DA's on the case didn't do all that they could from talking to jailhouse snitches to attempting to speak with anyone related to the witness. The case against Michael Anderson is crappy and an attorney cannot ethically keep someone in jail when they have no case. In addition, Anderson was never released from OPP because of pending federal charges which gives the NOPD investigators more time to firm up the case before presenting it to a Grand Jury.
All that being said, should Jordan resign? I don't know. Probably not but I don't care much about this issue anymore. It doesn't make any sense as his term is almost up. In addition, the moral over that the DA's office is so low that a change in leadership could actually do more harm than good. Jordan is very bad at dealing with the media and possibly his own employees. Is that recall worthy? I'm not sure but as far as local politicians go, I'd rather recall Nagin first as his shiny head is obviously not on the job.
I had an early flight out of DC this morning to return to New Orleans. I was half asleep as my kind sister-in-law drove me and The Baby to Reagan International. I was awake enough to catch the news blurb about Vitter's indiscretions and couldn't help but to laugh out loud -- especially when he referred to sex with a prostitute as a "very serious sin." In calling his solicitations a "sin" he somehow skirts the issue that he broke the law. Everyone knows that the history of prostitution runs deep in New Orleans. We've even had a bad TV movie made about one contemporary madame. From Storyville to the Canal Street Brothel to the women who have come here to assist with the "relief efforts" , prostitution is alive and well in NOLA.
I picked up a copy of The Last Madame at Louis Armstrong International a few years ago -- back while I could leisurely read on a plane ride rather than subdue a wiggly baby. The book chronicled the life of Norma Wallace and her brothels in New Orleans which she ran for forty years starting in the early 1920's. I don't remember the book being particularly well-written but it succeeded in giving a view of what The Quarter was like decades ago before Hand Grenades and Hustler moved in. Although prostitution was illegal while Wallace's brothel was open, she credits the NOPD with the longevity of her business. She had a lot of friends in town.
Happy 4th of July! I am writing from afar once again during Operation Get the Hell Out of the House. No, there is still no construction being done but we have a permit as of yesterday and the contractors are scheduled to start demolition the day before I return. Hoorah. I know I haven't been posting much but I've really been enjoying my vacation and slacking off. In order to get a wireless connection I have to drive down to the corner store and pirate off from from nice guy named "joel."
In all fairness, I haven't had much to do with the internet for many days now. I've been going through slight withdrawals but for the most part it's best that I unplug every once in a while. Especially since that last time I read through my favorite NOLA blogs I became very angry with New Orleans law enforcement.
Paris Parker Salon & Spa 4900 Prytania Street New Orleans, LA (504) 891-8874
I'm not much of a spa person. My first pedicure was two days before I got married nearly four years ago. I've had a few since but I indulge in spa treatments most often when a gift certificate is involved. Fortunately for me I was the recipient of a very generous gift card to Paris Parker last Christmas. It took me until last Saturday to actually use it but I figured that if I didn't do it then, I'd never get around to it. Though there are a few Paris Parker salons in the metro area, I preferred to stay in New Orleans proper which brought me to Prytania Street.
I selected two services; a facial, because I'd never had one before and pregnancy hormones combined with the humidity are taking a toll on my skin and a haircut because, well, it had been a while.
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet.]
I arrived back in New Orleans from Florida last week. There was no hole in my ceiling and permits haven't even been granted yet but it's all good. I'll continue to be patient until baby #2 is born. If our camelback construction isn't near completion by then, I'll probably go into hysterical meltdown mode. On the other hand, the fact that construction has not started gives me the opportunity to take detailed "before" pictures of our roof line and interior. Besides, The Baby and I will be leaving town again soon enough for what I've been referring to as our "East Coast Tour" including Virginia, DC, New Jersey and Vermont. I'm looking forward to making my way back to New England as there is more Yankee blood in this body than Southern Belle.
This fact is never more apparent to me than when I've been out of town for a while. I am an introvert and grew up in Vermont which makes me generally quiet around strangers. So, when the woman next to me on the plane started yapping on our way to New Orleans, I knew that it was going to be a long difficult flight since my only goal was to keep The Baby from going ballistic due to the lack of her afternoon nap. I might have succeeded had said seat neighbor not decided to grab her infant grandson from the row behind us to sit on her lap. I just want to say that I know how much it sucks to be stuck next to a lap baby on a plane but imagine how much more annoying it is to try and constrain your own toddler while getting kicked in the head by someone else's. Meanwhile, Grandma is trying to chat amiably about Florida and Disney World and I just want to tell her to shut the hell up so I can get The Baby to sleep. The baby did go to sleep eventually -- both babies did -- and I didn't have to beat anyone up.
["Life on the Isle" chronicles life in Uptown New Orleans as the city struggles to get back on its feet. This week I am writing from afar.]
I've sought refuge from my home construction at my parent's house in Homestead, Florida; a city who's newspaper recently boasted a modest comeback after hurricane Andrew fifteen years ago. Fifteen years? I don't know if New Orleans can wait that long. There are blue roofs from here to Miami from several hurricanes over the years. I don't know if even the residents could tell you what is what in a region where named hurricanes are discussed like shared experiences with the same horrible house guest. There was so much wind damage to this city that housing codes have changed significantly. You can't flip through a Home Depot flier without seeing a sale on hurricane shutters and there is a tax exemption this week for all purchases made in the name of hurricane preparedness. Now would be the time to buy that generator you've been putting off.
This is my parents' first hurricane season. They have water, shutters, a generator and pretty much everything else on anyone's hurricane list. Like a couple of good scouts, they have spent the spring readying their home for anything that may come with summer storms. When I mentioned to my dad that I had never boarded up our house for a hurricane, he told me that one piece of ripened fruit could fly off a tree and torpedo my house. Fortunately my neighbors don't have fruit trees but I know what he's getting at. The fact is that most people in my neighborhood don't shutter. Maybe we should. It wouldn't take much for torrential rain to come pouring into my house. On the other hand, I hate the idea of screwing plywood into the siding and I am certainly not in a position to invest in heavy permanent solutions and frankly, it's not the wind that scares me.
Nola.com had a brief write-up the other day on the Mint Julep, a popular drink south of the Mason Dixon and around town. I stopped by Pat O'Brien's several years ago to try one but alas, I was not a fan. However, the article got me thinking though about other summer cocktails to help combat the heat.
When making the perfect cocktail, it's best to take the time to make your own simple syrup (one part water, two parts sugar; boil until sugar dissolves). It is also important to select fresh, ripe produce to make even the basic recipe a hit.
It started with a post that I read on Craigslist looking for New Orleans Bloggers. A paid blogging position sounded too good to be true but sure enough, I became part of Blogging New Orleans during its early weeks. It was slow going at first, no commenters and no direction. I feel like we've really come into our own in the past few months with individual voices coming through and drawing comments from even the quietest lurkers. I'm happy to have been a part of this and grateful to Weblogs, Inc. for giving our city a platform on the AOL network.
The husband and I toyed with the idea of going out for our anniversary. I didn't want to do anything that would require a sitter so our choices were narrowed to an early dinner or drive-thru. We'd both been meaning to try Ye Olde College in since it reopened its new location (next to the old one). I hadn't eaten there since 2001 when a near horrific experience kept me from ever going again. However, it is a New Orleans favorite so it figured it was worth a second try.
There has been so much change in my life over the past two years and Katrtina/The Storm/The Federal Flood was only part of that upheaval. However, it's an easy marker for me in time so I reflect on those days most often. I was fortunate enough to be in the supportive hands of family those weeks that I was in exile. I look at pictures of my excursions as close as the Northshore and as far away as Tucson and I remember having some really good moments. I was consumed with caring for a newborn which took away any energy I had that would have gone to worry. I am fortunate for that. I wasn't with other New Orleanians so I didn't have panic or fear to feed off from. I was just biding my time until I could see what was left of my home; of my city.
My last couple of walks to the Tuesday Farmer's Market almost killed me with the heat and the lightning and what not. In addition it seemed like a lot of my favorite vendors had taken the summer off or closed 
One of our HVAC guys drives in from Baton Rouge every morning. "I'm afraid to work here," he said. "All of those Mexicans get paid in cash and then people rob them." I nodded thinking of the recent murder of 
Nancy Murray, like so many others, sat transfixed in front of the television during the days following Katrina. A native Floridian and hurricane survivor herself, Nancy wanted to do something for the children of New Orleans. Within days Nancy completed her touching tale of Gullah, the Nawleans Cat.
Some days my head begins to hurt just looking at all of the national stories about New Orleans. On one hand, I am happy to see that we are not entirely forgotten. On the other hand, it's tough being under such strict scrutiny. While I was in Homestead, Florida for nearly a month, one of the biggest local stories was the backlog of passports at the Miami office. Basically Congress passed a bill without first making sure that the country's agencies could handle the sudden demand for passports across the country -- especially in states near the Mexican and Canadian borders. It only makes sense that New Orleans' office, the third largest in the country, is having trouble with the 
Don't think that it hasn't occurred to me that while many in New Orleans had their homes torn apart involuntarily, I am paying people to make my life miserable. "Misery" might be a little strong. I am still excited about the project but I just wish that my kitchen ceiling would stop coming down in chunks. First it was one misplaced foot, then another. Over the weekend a tarp blew loose and water came through the ceiling effectively destroying the remaining plaster. Now if you walk into my kitchen there is more rafter visible than drywall and the dirt! Oy. I don't even know where to begin. Every time The Baby walks into the kitchen she says, "uh oh, flashlight," which is a misunderstanding because I specifically taught her to say "skylight" but what can you do?
OK, it's been a long couple of weeks. Even when I was out of town for several weeks I knew of a struggle happening at the DA's office as to whether or not to drop the charges against 
I had an early flight out of DC this morning to return to New Orleans. I was half asleep as my kind sister-in-law drove me and The Baby to Reagan International. I was awake enough to catch the news blurb about Vitter's 
Happy 4th of July! I am writing from afar once again during Operation Get the Hell Out of the House. No, there is still no construction being done but we have a permit as of yesterday and the contractors are scheduled to start demolition the day before I return. Hoorah. I know I haven't been posting much but I've really been enjoying my vacation and slacking off. In order to get a wireless connection I have to drive down to the corner store and pirate off from from nice guy named "joel."
Paris Parker Salon & Spa
I arrived back in New Orleans from Florida last week. There was no hole in my ceiling and permits haven't even been granted yet but it's all good. I'll continue to be patient until baby #2 is born. If our camelback construction isn't near completion by then, I'll probably go into hysterical meltdown mode. On the other hand, the fact that construction has not started gives me the opportunity to take detailed "before" pictures of our roof line and interior. Besides, The Baby and I will be leaving town again soon enough for what I've been referring to as our "East Coast Tour" including Virginia, DC, New Jersey and Vermont. I'm looking forward to making my way back to New England as there is more Yankee blood in this body than Southern Belle.
I've sought refuge from my home construction at my parent's house in 
Nola.com had a brief write-up the other day on the Mint Julep, a popular drink south of the Mason Dixon and around town. I stopped by Pat O'Brien's several years ago to try one but alas, I was not a fan. However, the article got me thinking though about other summer cocktails to help combat the heat. 
