Finally!

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Thankful

While it's cliche, I wanted to put out there into the blogesphere the things for which I am thankful:

1. My health, the health of my children and of my husband. Sinusitis notwithstanding, it's been a good year.

2. That I had 44 years with my mom. She was far from perfect, but loved me and provided for me the best way she could. She always put her children out front, and died having the good fortune to know that she raised 5 really good people. And dozens of really good dogs.

3. For the really cool things we've done as a family this year. Mexico, Italy, Croatia and San Francisco's pins were added to our family map this year. And it was great fun. Mostly. :)

4. My home - I adore the house we live in. While I would change some things, it is ours... it is where both of my babies came home from the hospital, where Jeff and I realized we were the grow-ups (complete with mortgage) and where we have lived, loved, cried and laughed for 14 years. While those 14 years are only a fraction of this house's life, it makes me feel warm to know that, for now, we are her keepers. And dammit, she's going to wear Pottery Barn colors.

5. My Peter - he is a bright light in my life. Silly, smart, willing to do anything to bring a smile to his parents' faces... his incessant questions about life, science, numbers and everything. Peter, I know you will change the world some day with your mind.

6. My Tenley - since the moment she was born, Tenley and I have had a very special connection. She will change the world with her creativity and style. Tenley is smart, snarky (in a funny, good way!) and sophisticated. Some day, Tenley, the others will catch up to your savoir faire and sophistication. Then again, they may not. And that's okay. I want to see my favorite places again for the first time through your eyes. Italy was amazing - mostly because you were blown away by it all.

7. My Jeff - how the hell did I get so lucky? I'm so glad you found me. Without you, none of this would mean anything. With you, it means everything. Together, we make a great team - but I secretly know the truth - it's all you. I'm just along for the ride. You're the smart one, the one who makes things happen. I love you.

8. The dog. Yeah, okay, so I'm not so thankful for her NOT REMEMBERING TO STAY OFF THE COUCH! but she brings a lot to the table in the way of insight. I'm just sayin'.

9. My job - I was very lucky to have figured out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life in my early 20's. My job allows me to see the world, work out my anal retentive tendencies and affords my family all kinds of perks.

10. The final thing I am thankful for (well, at least for the purposes of this list!) is you. The person who is reading this blog*. Likely, you are my friend or family member - I don't get a lot of walk-in traffic here. The past week has been unbelievably hard, and each and every one of my friends have reached out to me in a different, important way. Thank you all.

* If you're whomever keeps spamming me comments with Brazilian porn, I'm not thankful for you.

How Mella's getting her groove back

About three weeks ago, I made the decision to quit taking anti-depressants. I've been on them off and on since after the birth of my oldest. Yeah, Clinton was in the White House (Don't judge!).

Following good advice fom my doctor, I decided to step down from a pretty healthy dosage to a smaller one, then a smaller to my last pill on Monday morning, November 17. The morning my mother died. Nice, huh? Thanks for that one, oh chemical gods....

I have an emergency stash of atta-girl (my bff name for Ativan), but so far, I'm doing okay. My mom's death has been the absolute hardest thing I have ever experienced - but somehow, I need to FEEL it. Somehow, it's natural (perhaps the most natural thing, you may argue...). But feeling it somehow feels right.

Since departing the Happy Pill station empty handed, and moving forward in this life as an orphan, seeing things happening in the world that are really, really troubling (who did Coco Crisp piss off to get traded to KC?) ... I'm feeling like a new person. A good person. One whos selective seratonin may not need to be inhibited from uptake. One who wants to feel things via a central line into my heart. Because while life is painful, joyful, borning and sometimes just plain messy.... I want to feel it all.

All Things

Sunrise doesnt last all morning
A cloudburst doesnt last all day
Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning
Its not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
Sunset doesnt last all evening
A mind can blow those clouds away
After all this, my love is up and must be leaving
Its not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
None of lifes strings can last
So, I must be on my way
And face another day
Now the darkness only stays the night-timeI
n the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good at arriving at the right time
Its not always going to be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away
All things must pass
All things must pass away

What have you done?

I read this on a friend's blog, and was surprised to see how many of these things I have done (bolded). I have had a good life, so far! :) Thanks, Rachel, for making me stop and realized how blessed I am. Please copy and past this into your blog - I want to see what you have done!

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch (would cooking count?)
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Ran a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (fish count, right?)
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee

Stuff I'm thinking about.....

• I wish my dad were alive to see this day.
• My 6-year-old son didn't understand why it was such a big deal that we elected an African-American president. He sees no difference between the various colors of people's skin. He and his sister will grow up in a world where a black man is president and the Red Sox have won two World Series'. I'm so glad for that.
• I will miss Tina Fey as Sarah Palin. But not Sarah Palin.
• I wish I still lived in the DC area. I'd like to go to the innaguration.
• Would things have turned out differently if we had seen more of the John McCain we saw in the concession speech last night during the campaign?
• I'm not bitter any more, Jo-Ann. Are you? :)

One Day More!

So here we are. November 3. 11th Hour. As someone who seriously enjoys politics, and typically can't get enough of this stuff, even I'm done.

I did go digging around this morning about something that had piqued my curiosity. I heard that in Alaska, each citizen (man, woman and child) gets a stipend every year from the oil companies. This money, paid via taxes and tariffs of the companies that remove natural resources from the ground in Alaska (i.e., oil) is distributed via the Alaska State Government. There is no State income tax there, nor is there a state sales tax. It's is believed here that Alaskans own the natural resources of Alaska.

I think this is a great idea! No, I'm not being sarcastic. I seriously think that this REDISTRIBUTION OF WEALTH, that comes from the COLLECTIVE RESOURCE POOL of the citizen's resources is, frankly, a beautiful thing.

But let's call it what it is: Socialism. Redistribution of wealth.

Apparently, Alaska's governor agrees with me. Read the whole article, but savor the last paragraph: New Yorker Magazine: Like, Socialism.

Whatever you do tomorrow, please vote. If you don't, you will have no right to complain about what happens after tomorrow.

Overheard coming from our bedroom last night....

"..... did she just say NUKEELAR?"

"Answer the f'ing question, bitch!"

"Okay, now she's getting worked up!"

"Whoo-Pah. He's got her where he wants her now!"

"Don't wink at me anymore. I'm not your boyfriend."

"Did he just say 'Bosniacs'? I have to Google that...."
Ed. note: It's a word. Bosniaks are Muslim people from Bosnia/Hertzogovinia. Who knew?

"Aw, he got all choked up there!"

"Do you think she's had diarrhea for a week?"

"She's taking beta-blockers, you betcha!"

I think Joe Biden came off like a gentleman and a scholar. Sarah Palin came off like she should have been wearing a gingham dress, pigtails and carrying her butter churn. But you know what? A lot of people believed gingham-clad farm girl Mary Ann was the true heart and soul of Gilligan's Island. Wonder what kind of VP she would make?

Ya just never know with Putie Putin!

"As Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States of America, where do they go? It's Alaska. It's just right over the border. It is from Alaska that we send those out to make sure that an eye is being kept on this very powerful nation, Russia, because they are right there, they are right next to our state."

Trusting my gentle readers to know who said these words.

Italy, finally.

Boy, did time get away from me! Summer is over, we're back in school, I've already run my first fall program (orlando, yuck...) and I haven't even begun to share the fun of our trip! So, here goes.... in chapters, from my journal.

Italy, Day One - Departure from Boston

Red eye flight. 8 hours long. 6 year old boy. The math is pretty simple. However, a little benadryl helped him get a few hours of sleep on the plane. He was the only one though!

I knew this would happen... so I booked...

Day Two - Rome (sort of)

We landed in Rome right on time at 8am on Friday morning. We had to wait nearly 40 minutes for our luggage, then customs, an immigration... but then there was our trusty driver, Luigi, waiting for us outside of customs. 4 bottles of water and 20 minutes later, we were checked in to our hotel (Marriott Rome Park - not anywhere near the city, but a nice pool, a comfy beds) and crashed. Yes, I have always given the advice to get out in the sunlight.... get the seratonin levels going... beat that jet lag! But having not slept even ONE minute on the plane, we were all ready to sleep. And sleep we did!

Peter was first to make Italian friends - two boys who were the sons of the (so VERY hot) lifeguard at the pool were the only ones swimming. They spoke NO English, and Peter can say Grazie and Bun-Journo.... but play is the international language and they got on just fine.

Dinner, a little television and bed finished day one.

Day Two - Civitavecchia

The Royal Caribbean Legend of the Seas is a really nice, mid-sized ship. We had sailed to Bermuda last year on the Grandeur (twin sister), but I found the Legend to be nicer. The rooms are a little bigger, the storage a little better and the public space much nicer. The ship guests were 90% Brits - which made it feel very international, yet with the comforts of home (i.e., chicken nuggets at dinner). The first night was lovely, a beautiful Mediterranean sunset, a cool breeze and the promise of great adventure lay ahead.

Day Three - Portofino

I've long said that if I eat my vegetables, hold back on the potty words and behave myself, heaven will look like Portofino. It was as I remembered - a fairy tale town of villas on steep hills tumbling down to the blue waters of the Med. T has decided she wants to live there, and plans to open a branch of a friend's boutique, even. Sounds like a good plan to me!

After wondering around a bit,

shopping, climbing one to many hills


then relaxing for a cold drink, we were back on the ship ready for our next adventure.

Head Like a Lump of Unbaked Bread Dough

Can't. Stop. Laughing.

See what happens when we leave the country?

I know it's time for a full summary of the fun stuff we did it Italy and Croatia, but I have to get this in before the chance disappears....

Seriously, what is McCain thinking? Who is this woman from Alaska? I know who she is, she is McCain's willingness to pander to the very far, conservative right. I am willing to bet 100 Kunas to anyone who is willing that she will not be on the ticket by Saturday of this week. Faster than you can say Thomas Eagleton (the 18-day running mate of McGovern in '72 - now there's some good reading!), she will be off "spending more time with her family" in Alaska, and we will be considering Lieberman or some other of his ilk as the man "a heartbeat away" from the Republican Nominaton.

So before my opportunity to weigh in on this is gone, I have to say my piece. Personally, I don't care if her daughter is pregnant. I don't care if her husband had a DUI 20 years ago (I mean, what the hell else is there to do in Alaska but drink?). What I do care about is that she is an anti-choice, gun toting, opposed to same-sex partners getting benefits, hard-assed Republican who wants to push her hyper-conservative agenda on my country.

On CNN the other night:

"Before, they were excited about her, with the Down syndrome baby,” conservative, anti-tax activist Grover Norquist said. “But now with this, they are over the moon. It reinforces the fact that this family lives its pro-life values.”

Over the moon. Because the best time to move across the country and take on one of the most demanding jobs in the world is six months after you have given birth to an infant with special needs? Is that what they mean by focus on the family? Or maybe because seventeen is the ideal age for motherhood and has no effect on the lifelong earnings and opportunities for women who reproduce at that age? Or is it because the success rates for teen marriages is high?

Oh? None of the above? So what exactly are they “over the moon” about? I guess I’m part of the “liberal left” who doesn’t get it.

Arrividerchi, Baby!

After months of planning, 3 checklists, 4 large suitcases and 2 carry ons, 21 shopping trips, checking and rechecking the passports, "Italy Day" has finally arrived. At 2:30 this afternoon, the car will come pick us up and begin the adventure that we have all been waiting for since May.

Maybe I'm crazy, but the idea of taking my 6 and 12 year old to Italy for a 16 night visit is the most exciting thing in the world to me right now. Seeing Europe for the first time again through T's eyes, watching both kids see the world from a very different perspective than their own ("Mom? Why don't they have Cartoon Network in Italy?") and just generally being away from our everyday lives is over-the-top great to me. Yeah, I know. Spoken as a woman who hasn't even finished packing yet.....

So wish us luck, as we venture out into the big world. Wish us sanity as we endure an 8 hour red-eye from Boston to Rome. With MotorMan. Wish me patience when my 12 year old (who's looking 16 lately) meets her first European boy. And mostly that when we get back we're all a little more grown up, a little wiser and maybe just a tad more worldly than today.

Ciao!

On Raising a Geek

There's an article in the Wall Street Journal this week that surely everyone will be talking about. It discusses the "upside" to raising a geek. You know the the kind of kid who will get good grades in school, get into a prestigious college and eventually -- one assumes -- buy his/her beloved parents a retirement condo in Hawaii.

I found it to be interesting, because many of the things the author uses to describe the "geek" kid fits my tween. But then, so do many of the things used to describe the "non-geek, too-worried-about-being-cool kid" ALSO fit my eldest.

Interestingly enough, the comments mostly derride the author of the article and the book discussed as being out of touch. Or just plain wrong. Oddly, it seems that many of the commenters say, "gee. how about a lot of things in moderation?" or "Maybe if you pay attention to your kid rather than try to mold them into a small adult, you'll do okay".

So what does that mean? Should I rush to the bookstore to buy this book about raising a geek so I can get it RIGHT? Or should I relax, listen to my kids when they talk, allow them privileges such as video games (in moderation - the little guy would play for 6 days straight if we let him!), IM on the computer with friends (with supervision of who's on the list and a frank discussion about weirdos in the world) and other things that will engage them in the current culture of the world?

The man I married and made children with says that having children is the ultimate act of ego. Perhaps, but the to raise them in a way that serves the parents agenda seems just, well, sick.

So what do you think?

Labor Day

Dear Peach:
Tomorrow you will be 12 years old. How we got here so quickly, I have no idea, but you will forever be the Buddah Baby of your infancy to me. The baby with the quick smile, the unwillingness to sleep except in my arms, the silly little girl with a Cheerio stuck to your chin, or the toddler who wouldn't go to sleep until I sang at least 5 songs to you.

You've grown up so much this year - suddenly, you're nearly as tall as I am, you've developed a social poise that I didn't know you had and you've discovered boys. You've become someone whom I would choose as a friend, someone I respect and admire. You've worked really hard in school, both at academics and friendships.

While I know you want a cell phone, makeup and a ride to the mall, just know that you will always be my baby. My firstborn. The one we made all the mistakes with, the first miracle of our marriage. The one who had enough baby clothes for 10 babies, the one who scared us more than anything we had ever encountered.

Now you're nearly a teenager! My mama-bear instincts are still just as strong, but I trust you and your newborn judgement. You're smart, savvy and not at all afraid to go out into the world and make your place in it.

I love you more than anything else in the world. I would do anything for you if I thought it would make your life better.

And sometimes I like to go in your room at night to see you sleep, sweet as the baby who came home from the hospital with the bluest eyes and the sweetest smell..... and then I think to myself "she really needs to cut those bangs....."

Love, Mom.

Music From Another Room

He's listening to The Who again. He gave up on them entirely 2 Septembers ago when he saw the show at the Garden and really didn't like it. He didn't like the new album at all, either. And so many of the Who-heads had gotten, well, impertinent.

But he's listening again. I think it comforts him. I think it speaks to the young man he once was. And that he's comfortable allowing that person to be spoken to again is very, very good.

Only love
Can make it rain
The way the beach is kissed by the sea
Only love
Can make it rain
Like the sweat of lovers
Laying in the fields.

I love you, Jeff.

10 Things I love about Paris

Sometimes, this job does have its perks. I was asked to speak at a conference of people who do what I do for a living. The hosts of the conference flew me over, put me up in one of my new favorite hotels and have basically treated me like... well... a conference attendee. This, to me, is paramount of royalty.

Paris is such a beautiful city. It has been a while since I was here, but it always feels, smells and sounds the same. Some of the sights have changed (there are too many Starbucks here, and okay, I like the sparkling Eiffel Tower) but Paris remains the same as it was the first time I came here in 1979.

Ten things I love about Paris (in random order):

1. The Pharmacies. A remarkable thing about Paris - it is filled with hypochondriacs. No, not really.... it is filled with people who have very, very good health care. People in France go to the doctor more than any other civilized country in the world. These doctors write prescriptions (okay, the French do have a penchant for pills). So there are pharmacies on every street. I'm not kidding, if you can find a pharmacy in Paris from which you cannot see another, I'll buy you a crepe and a glass of wine! With the pharmacy comes the pharmacist. (S)He is everything from Nurse Practitioner to Jewish Mother. Advice (which always comes with the package), encouragement, guilt for overdoing it and taking 2 very long flights in 24 hours and not sleeping at all) and finally, medicines.

2. Scooters. I don't remember this as much about Paris as I do about other European cities, but EVERYONE drives a scooter! Those not on a scooter are on a motorcycle or bicycle. Is it the cost of gasoline or just that Europeans are greener than we are? It's fun to see a business man dressed to the nines popping along on his vespa.

3. The Louvre. I spent the WHOLE day there today. I did not get distracted by Musee d'Orsee, or any other attraction. I did what I said I would love to do for many years and spent the whole day there. I still only was able to enjoy about half of it.

4. The Eiffel Tower. Duh. Yeah, I know, it's obvious. But when I arrived at my hotel after a long flight, I swung open the windows of my hotel to see "where I was". There she was, in all her glory. La Tour Eiffel. And she took my breath away again. And I love the sparkles. I don't want to love the sparkles, but I do. So, okay, Mme Tour, you win. I like your bling.

5. Monoprix - think Parisian SuperTarget. But at about 1/10 the size. My new favorite place to "dine".

6. The Hotel Ambassador - I had never even heard of this hotel until this trip. It's a Concorde hotel, which is typically a very good choice, and it is delightful. From my windows (that open!) I can see the Opera House (the old one... there's a new, very modern one near Garde Norde. Ew.) and the Eiffel Tower. Within walking distance is Galleries Lafayette, Palace Vendome and the Louvre (Jardin Tuilieries, etc.), one Monoprix and 213 pharmacies. But only one with Bertrand, who was so supportive with my headache situation.

7. The Sacre Coeur. It peeked at me today when I was riding in a cab from the conference to my hotel. It said "hello! I am still here! Just like the first night ever when you were in Paris as a girl of 15, and you walked all the steps to greet me! I look the same as then, you do not!" So yeah, the Sacre Coeur is a little bitchy, but what French woman isn't?

8. The dogs. They're everywhere trotting faithfully aside their owners, waiting patiently outside of shops and cafes, and otherwise looking very happy. I have greeted more furbabies this week than in a month of Sundays.

9. The kitsch - there is a kitsch about Paris that no other European city has. The fringe, the sparkles, the ruffles.... it has it all. Strangely, though, French people lack the ability to laugh at themselves. Why is that?

10. Going home. After several days in Paris, it's always fun to go home to the safe comfort of my nest. Paris is such a busy, stylish, bustling city. I constantly feel that I need to be more stylish, do more, see more.... Plus, I miss my peeps in Plymouth! I'll be home tomorrow night! xoxo

San Francisco, with kids

The last time the Man and I were in San Francisco together, we were on our honemoon. April, 1989. Long time, and two lifetimes ago. This would be our triumphant return, if not a little hesitant one. Hesitation due to the fact that we had decided to bring our two lifetimes with us this time.

On the way to the airport, I picked up a copy of Frommer's San Francisco with Kids. I cannot recommend this book enough. Seriously. From places to go for great ice cream, to places NOT to go, because they're overrated, or just can't work with kids, this guide has proven to be a gem.

Today was a highlight day. We took a tour on an antique fire engine that took us over the Golden Gate Bridge, through the Presidio, through Pacific Heights and Cow Hollow and back to the Cannery. It was 72 minutes of sheer, unadulterated (albeit a little windy!) fun. Marilyn and the Captain, a 60-something couple, are your hosts. She sings and tap dances, he mugs and drives. If you're in SFO, and have kids (or just enjoy a good fire engine), this is a must see.

We also went to Alcatraz today... it was my first time there. I have been to the Bay Area at least 20 times in the course of my career, but have never, ever been to Alcatraz. It's very cool - and the audio tour is excellent.

Tomorrow, we're off to the East Bay to see friends, and enjoy some shopping in Berkeley.

Even the very bershon 12-year-old has pronounced this trip "cool". She smiled once, too. I'm considering it a victory.

When good boys go bad....

Coco went and got all Mike Tyson/Gangsta tonight!

CzaSpring

These irises were a gift from one of my dearest "sisters". They (and she) are from Minnesota, and I wasn't sure if they would bloom the first year I planted them. Sadly, they didn't, but she (being a master gardner and all) prodded me to give them a chance. She was right - year two brought a few blooms, and this year they have really hit their mark.

Now, every single day they remind me of her friendship, when I walk out my door I think "Look at Cza's Irises!" and they bring a smile every time.

Musings from the Road

While on the road, running the most greuling incentive travel program I've ever encountered.....

Ways to Charm Me

1. Free airport Wi-Fi. Only thing good about McCarran International
2. Egg sandwiches on ciabatta bread. Okay, another good thing about LAS.
3. Chocolates on my pillow. Why is this a dying art?
4. 3pm yogurt parfaits from Danny with the beautiful eyes. One of the many good things about the Ritz-Carlton Lake Las Vegas.
5. Let the extra 3 lbs in my suitcase slip by without the extra fee.

Ways to annoy me

1. Fine. Take 15 minutes to situate your stupid carry on before security, you anal, OCD bastard.
2. Eat the whole pastrami and saurkraut sandwich as soon as we sit down on the airplane. Then fart all the way to Las Vegas from New York.
3. Dress like a cowboy (men), gangsta (white guys from Iowa) or a hooker (all women). It's Vegas, after all. Seriously. That's what you wear to Vegas. It's in the handbook.
4. NEEEED to be off the shuttle before me even though you're 7 people behind me. You smarmy, weasly little cowboy, you.
5. Question my ability to do my job, even though I've been doing it since you were in junior high, blondie.

Whew. Time to go home. Good thing there's Wi-Fi at the airport!

Gumbo Ya Ya!

It was with a good deal of trepidation I approached my first "after the storm" visit to New Orleans. Would the things I loved the most - was the French Market still standing? Did the vendors come back? What about Jackson square - would all of the azaleas still be there? And the people, the ones I hold dear to my heart - would their spirit be broken?

New Orleans is special to me for many reasons. My mom and dad lived there for a short while after they were married. My brother lived in LaFayette off and on when he was single and an off-shore oil worker. And NOLA was one of the first places I ventured on my own as a high-school student. The food, the culture, the people... they are all so very pure in their blended, but unique little outpost of civilization. They have fought hard to maintain every part of the culture they created, and take great pride in each element.

When I arrived in New Orleans a few weeks ago, many things looked the same. Whew. The azaleas were pink and perfect in Jackson Square, the shrimp and grits tasted the same (okay, better because it's been so long!) at Muriel's and yes, the French Market is still there (a little lighter for vendors, but it's coming back....). But somehow, the smiles of the locals, while very appreciative for me, the tourist, being there, were not quite as broad. Obvious sincerity rang in their "thank you for being here".

But along with the sincerity came a sadness. It was tiny, but very much there. This is not a people who wear their sadness on their sleeves! But these people saw all the levels of Hell, many right in their own homes. Many at the Super Dome or the Convention Center. Yes, these places have been repaired, cleaned, scrubbed of the filth that the storm left.... but the memories are still very much there.

When we drove down Canal St. out of the quarter, you find homes that have been completely rebuilt standing next to those who still bear the marks left by emergency officials telling the number of bodies found inside. Water marks on houses stand tall - up the roofline on many. Whole "neutral grounds" (or median strips, as we call them) down the middle of the roads are flat, dusty and brown now. No trees, only the scrape marks of the front-end loaders that moved the debris (people's lives!) from the neighborhoods to this central location for diposal.

Scratching deeper beneath the surface with my friends who lived through the storm and are still there, I learn that the standard greeting among locals after the storm was "How are you?" followed quickly by "How'd you do?". The second question would be answered by how many friends or family members you had lost in the storm, then a summary of your losses. This still goes on today.

So while Bourbon St. goes on (with a new street cleaning service that makes the French Quarter smell GOOD), and the music continues to play, the spirit is a little bent. Not broken, no, not hardly. Because as long as there's ground to stand on, even if it's soggy, there will be the boucherie, the fay do do and the traditional po-boy, and the purest, most unique corner of culture this country has will survive.

The Dude

One of the perks of my job is sometimes, in the strangest of places, you see famous people. My experience with famous faces is that they seldom look like you think they will. For instance, Steven Tyler is not as hot in person... he's much thinner than I expected, and older (but ridiculously nice!). Tom Cruise is SHORT.

This morning, I was working at the Peabody in Memphis and one of the VPs from my client company had just left the area where we were working. I realized I had neglected to ask him an important question, ran to the elevator he had just gotten on and stuck my arm in the door to stop it from closing. There were 4-5 other people, and while I'm never one to be willing to inconvenience others, it would only take a second. When I looked at my client, he was giving me a look of incredulousness - "what are you thinking???" he seemed to be trying to say.

He quickly answered my question, giving me the eye to look to his right which i did... into the very handsome face of Jeff Bridges. Startled, the only thing that popped into my head (and straight out of my mouth) was "heh heh heh Dooooode".

Fortunately, Mr. Bridges appreciated my recollection of his character in one of my favorite all time comedies, The Big Lebowski and flashed his famous grin. Everyone in the elevator began laughing and door slowly closed, mercifully separating me from my embarrassment.

Memphis

I've been to Memphis many times before - my maternal grandmother was born and raised here, and was even the "most beautiful debutante of Memphis" in 1924. My parents were married in Memphis and spent their wedding night at the Peabody Hotel.

I find myself today in the same hotel, having spent the last few days here on business. Memphis is a city that has always intrigued me. There's so much history here - real, modern American history. From the cotton boom of the 1800's, to the riverboats of the early 20th Century right through Elvis, Stax, Martin Luther King at the Lorraine Motel and to the doorstep of the 21st Century.

Sadly, Memphis has not kept up with the world. When you walk through the city, instead of gracious southern facades, you see drug deals. In broad daylight, outside of the most expensive hotel in the city. The people here are poor. The schools are in decay. The people, while friendly enough, seem to look at those who are clearly not local with a suspicious eye.

It makes me sad that this city - that once was a booming place, a place where black people and white people made great music together, where so many things began, where so many great things ended - is now reduced to a distressed version of itself. A caricature of what it once was.

I leave here tomorrow with trepedation. While leaving Memphis is not what worries me, it's what lies ahead. I'm going to New Orleans tomorrow. NO is another city near my heart - I have had family there, and it was another city that played a significant role in my family. I haven't been back since Katrina, and while I've been told that the Quarter is back to itself, the Garden District is nearly what it once was... but the Lower Ninth will never come back.

Next week is Vegas, baby! No surprises there.... it always disappoints.

Where I finally make a decision.

I am faced with the challenge that many bleeding-heart tree-huggers are dealing with these days..... which one? First, let me say that blessedly, we are not trying to decide which is the lesser of two evils. For most of my voting history (which began with Mondale/Ferraro - don't get me started on that crazy old bat!) there has been a clear choice. Not always who I would have chosen, but a clear choice nonetheless.

I was listening to the morning "blah-blah" this morning, and Chris Matthews informed me that Democratic voter registration is "off the charts" this year. More young people, women and minorities are registering to vote than at any time in history. Wow. For an election that the pundits promised to be polarizing, that sounds pretty unified to me. Could it be that it took a woman and an African-American to finally bring this crazy, chaotic party together? From a completely textbook level, it makes sense. Something other than the old white guy. Yeah!

But then..... which one? Let me say on record that I do not like Hillary Clinton. I like the Clinton part, which I realize makes me a minority, but I just don't like the woman. She's brash, calculating and hard. I do like Barack. There's an intelligence in his eyes, something that says to me "I've got your back". I like that.

But hold the phone! Wasn't I the one who berated people for voting for the Shrub TWICE because they'd like to have him over for barbecue? Yup. Didn't I say that you can't vote for someone because they have good hair or a nice smile? Guilty. Didn't your author say that intelligence, coupled with a willingness to make the tough decisions and be unpopular because of them make a good leader? Strike three.

So in the end, I have to say I am putting my energy behind Hillary Clinton. I can't stand the woman personally, but I have to say she'll hit the ground running. She's witnessed what the Republican machine can do and says "bring it!". And you've gotta figure Bill will be around to advise, right?

Management reserves the right to change endorsement at any time between now and November. Prices subject to change and are based on double occupancy.

The one other moment when they got along

One of the few moments they were getting along

Street Talk

A little background.... The man and I have just recently discovered the fabulousness of The Wire. We have purchased the first 4 seasons on DVD and are proceeding to watch at least one episode a night - and we haven't missed too many nights.

Add to this the fact that I work from home, and don't get a lot of adult conversation during the day.... and you'll understand the following story.

Yesterday, I had to drive up to my company's office to work on a project. In a meeting with my boss, her boss and three of our web developers, I was emphatically agreeing with a point that one of the developers was making. While nodding and using my college-educated words that I have in my arsenal of vocabulary and generally working and playing well with others in a professional setting, suddenly, the phrase "True-dat" came out of my mouth. In Omar Little's voice.

My boss, her boss and the web developers were all speechless. One of them started to giggle and said "Did you just say "True dat"?"

In my embarassment, all I could do was answer honestly. I said "word!".

Places....

This month, I'm thinking about the Italian Riviera. While the French Riviera gets the press, my mind goes to Alassio. Not on the trendy Cinque Terre, boasting no Relais and Chateau hotels, nor any royalty, Alassio is the perfect Italian Coastal town.

I was "lucky" enough to be on a bus from Nice to Genoa in 1980 that broke down in Alassio. With no urgent need to be in Genoa, my Sorbonne roommate, her (hunky French - another story entirely) brother and I found a place to stay for the night. It cost us the equivalent of about $18 (total, not each) and included breakfast... and I fell in love with this little corner of paradise.

Now, when I go back to Italy, I will make time to go to Alassio. While Theirry (the hunky brother) is not there (married with children in the 7th arrondissement! Quel Horreur!), the spectacular natural beauty is, as are the quaint places to shop, dine and soak in the sunshine and the wonderful climate. The hotel of choice there now is the Hotel Diana - right on the beach!

I'm pretty sure that heaven looks like Alassio.

Pets or Meat?

Overheard in our kitchen:

Him: "You really set a high level of expectation for yourself this weekend what with cleaning Mighty Man's room and whipping up the all-day lasagne."

Me (sitting at kitchen table in a heap of exhaustion): "Next weekend, I'm going to build a bunny hutch."

Him: "Pets or meat?"

How is it that he gets me so well?

Since I've gotten older....

..... I've found that love handles really do turn me on.