Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Hey y’all…

So yeah, been a bad girl and haven’t been posting. Again. I know I promised to be better but I at least wanted to pop in, make sure you knew I was still here and still dedicated… and that I was going to have to step out for a few more weeks. It’s for good stuff all around, but other than a few very brief posts I have auto scheduled, I’m going to be MIA for a few weeks while I’m away both physically and mentally.

Things I’ve learned during my transition period so far:

1. I have a metric crapton of pictures. I’ve kindly been invited to do a show of some of my cemetery photographs in a local cafe, which is totally flattering and wonderful, even though it’s made me face the depth of my photographic illness. I’ve discovered that I have several (like 5) thousand cemetery photos taken over the last decade, most of which haven’t been looked at in a long time, many still on film only, and oh, btw, I have no idea how one goes about putting this sort of thing together, so it’s been a really interesting process, but I think we’re getting there, finally.
2. Weird cherry picking process makes me bang my head repeatedly, which isn’t good for concentration I’m actually having to do this bizarre dance with what pics to use and what not to use, because I’m working on (shhhh, top secret! Double pinky swear not to say anything, okay?) a book that involves some of these same photos + some quasi-genealogy, complicating things. But, hey, since when do I do simple?
3. Writing writing not going so well, and drastic measures are called for. Just to be confusing, there’s also the “real” book I’m (theoretically) working on. (Not that you could tell.) I’m starting to reach the panic stage, where I can foresee myself dramatically flinging the bastard into the fireplace flames, drunkenly crying “L’chaim!”

   This sounds far fetched, perhaps and in the particulars I suppose it is- it’s New Orleans in the summer, fer godsakes. There’s no WAY I’m lighting a fire! But in practice, it’s something I’ve done it before. In fact, I have the better part of a pretty good vampiresque parody done that I tossed aside because a) I lost touch with it, and b) panic set in, although, honestly, also playing a part was c)how freaking tired can you get of vampires? They’re everywhere! They weren’t when I started, but by the time I got serious, they were deep into oversaturation territory.

4. Depression/obsession blows like the oil rig that causes it. It is so so SO easy to start reading the horrifying news stories and have a months-long freakout at the bottom of deep dark pit of despair. I’ve been trying to wean myself from the obsession, and it’s not been easy. When we were in NY for 9/11 I watched coverage for months, curled up and miserable on the couch. After Katrina I drove and drove and drove around until I ended up on a shrink’s couch. I cannot afford to do it again, so I’ve got to call for a mental moratorium, even though it sort of seems like cowardice.
5. If I don’t do something about planning this wedding, Charlie will kill me if my sister doesn’t get me first. Ummmm…. pretty self explanatory, really. Though the venue and date are now set at least…which happened just yesterday. I know, I know, I’m a bad bride, but this should not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, really. It’s hard for me to worry about those kinds of things. It’ll happen, it’ll be fine, it’ll be a party, and that’s that.





So a drastic change of scenery, both internal and external is the ticket. That’s where the stepping out comes in while I take a geographical and mental sabbatical. I’ll be back soonish and will start posting more bits of fiction and suchlike for those who care, and to hold myself accountable if nothing else.

And that’s that. I’ll leave you with one of the photos that I’m on the fence about including before saying hasta luego. I like the perspective and the white against the blue, but not sure if it’s a keeper or not- thoughts or comments welcome as always:


• 

I didn’t want to dwell very much on the situation in the Gulf earlier. Now I find that our friend Craig has done it for me and captured the feeling perfectly:

Stella Got Her Groove Back — just in time to discover she had colon cancer.

I hadn’t realized how much this damn oil situation in the Gulf had been affecting me. Not directly, mind you. But in a more general and more consuming fashion. We thought we had finally killed the loup-garou, but now he’s back — more menacing and more pervasive than ever — and for potentially a much longer while.

Check him out at BeerFoodDude, and in person with the lovely Kim cooking their asses off at the Avenue Pub.

I’m working on trying to unravel this mess. Some jackass got into the server and screwed everything up.

The site is red listed everywhere now. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to fix that, but…

Well, I’m working on it.

UPDATE: most of the database has been recovered (the posts if not the categories, keywords, etc etc), and that’s the most important thing. Time for a big drink and bed. All the other stuff will have to wait for now.

Through Best in Flock,I learned that Irene Pepperberg’s Alex Foundation has been tapped for a matching gift offer- any donation of $50 or more will be generously matched by Andy Sterner.

Back when I was doing research into whether or not to become a parrotperson I’d learned about Dr. Pepperberg’s amazing work with Alex, and now Griffin and Wort. After Alex’s death in 2007, I was shocked to learn (through her book Alex & Me) that despite being a world renowned researcher, she still has to scrape and beg for money.

Partially, that’s because there’s never enough money to go around, but it’s also because many scientists don’t consider her work important enough to be taken seriously, which makes me a little insane, honestly. How many millions of hours have been spent trying to understand how animals’ brains work, and here we have one that can actually communicate and because it’s in a form they’re not accoustomed to (ie, not a primate) it doesn’t count? Talk about hubris.

Anyway, end editorial. If you don’t know about Alex, check it out. I think you’ll be surprised.

Exerpt from Pepperberg’s book here.

Donate to the Foundation here.

And another great, but unembedable video here.

So we got through last night.

The girls were all gorgeous, naturally, and looking like not a few of them had been crying before going out; over the years I’ve noticed that this is where graduation suddenly starts being real to them, which strange, given that their lockers are already cleared out, and exams taken.

The Sophomores put on a skit for the Seniors, using all kinds of inside jokes that you’d have to be a student to get and making fun of their teachers. This year’s was video-game themed, and the title aptly chosen (sigh):

In the end I managed to not bawl, or even get (overly) misty during the actual ceremony. It was all the lead up stuff that got to me, don’t ask me why. Watching, from outside the fence, as the girls turned after their portrait, heading back into the building, using the stairs that are off limit to all but seniors when they’re barely still seniors at all…

What can I say? I’m a sucker for symbolism…

The only point at which I got emotional was when the girls started filing in, and someone had chosen Coldplay’s Viva La Vida, which was, you know…odd.

In case Coldplay’s not your cup of tea, the song is one of mourning and regret, of a life of power and importance lost. It’s melancholy yet bombastic, and though quite beautiful, uh, what’s the message here?

(Link to the video here.)

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own
…
One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand
…
For some reason I can’t explain
Once you know there was never, never an honest word
That was when I ruled the world

As if watching your child graduate wasn’t emotional enough, right? Now we have to consider the times we each thought we were masters of all we surveyed, only to watch it crash and burn…and now we get to re-realize that our kids are going to have to fall down those same damned holes and drag themselves out, all while wondering if their best days are behind them? Argh!

Thanks for the uplifting message, guys!

Anyway, as a dry-run for graduation, everybody did okay. No promises for the real thing.

I never written anything about my lovely neighbor, Miss Margaret, even though I’ve thought about it often enough.

Thought? Fumed. Ranted, more like.

But in the end I haven’t said anything to anyone who isn’t from here, because… well, because there are already enough people who believe New Orleanians in general are on the take. Unsubstantiated rumors about FEMA checks going to strip clubs aside, it’s been my experience that the opposite is the case- there are thousands of people who really needed the aid and couldn’t get it.

And then there’s Margaret. The exception that proves the rule.

Before the storm I’d never spoken to her except to wave and smile a little uneasily when she passed by, walking toward her decrepit house with her ancient Walkman, screaming to herself in a bizarre singsong. When I moved in I was warned by another neighbor to “Stay away from that crazy voodoo bitch- she’s nasty.”

I don’t know about the voodoo part, but it does turn out she’s crazy like a fox. Read the rest of this entry »

At great risk of loss of limb we began training Zulu this week. In the same packet that held his beloved caterpillars (only 3 left!) was my secret weapon- a clicker and training book!

Very dutifully I read it cover-to-not-very-distant-cover and felt fairly confident at trying this.

It came with a handy-dandy lucite stick to start with, and it was clear from the outset that he was a pro. Somebody, somewhere, has started this program with him. The first step is to get him to gently nip the end of the rod, click the clicker and give him a treat.

Well, clearly, he belongs in this household. He’s a praise whore who already knew all about grabbing the stick. But the food can disappear for all he cares, just sweet talk him (“Who’s a good boy? A very very smart boy?? Well, YOU are, of course!”) and he’s all yours.

All of this comes, however, at a point where his clipped feather wings are growing in, sparking great debate within the household. There are resources that say birds are happier, calmer, being in their natural state and able to fly.

Then, naturally, there are those who say the first group are crazy, and it’s far far better to keep them calm and clip their wings.

So we’re at an impasse on that one, and at the same time ready to move on to our hands being much closer on an ongoing basis. I have bandages and peroxide at the ready.

I know I cannot show fear.

I am firm and resolute.

Perhaps a small glass of wine before we begin…

So our vet suggested this site to keep the lad occupied. I wasn’t sure at first, but put in an order that just had to include the toy they swore every Grey loved.

Sure enough, here he goes, one second after it was put in the cage:

Somebody better tell him to be careful extending his neck with Thanksgiving around the corner.

And THEN he found the caterpillars. Read the rest of this entry »