I have seriously neglected posting anything anywhere of late. Since moving back into the city it’s been a constant stream of projects. Most of the interior painting is done. The patio is looking less like the set of Sanford and Son.
I went through a period of injuring myself with home improvement projects. My back was screaming at me. It seems that my back doesn’t like being up on ladders while painting. Probably because I was so tense as I am terrified of ladders. That’s not true, what terrifies me is falling off. Anyway, the hot tub and a large jug of Ibuprofen kept me from laying on the railroad tracks.
The dining room is a sort of non-color color. There’s a lot more to be done to the room and the non-color is just a backdrop. The best thing to happen in there was changing the butt-ugly ceiling fan to a much nicer chandelier. I still have to stencil the walls and paint a trompe l’oeil panel over the bar. I’ll get that done as soon as my Beloved scares me 
The main thing that has been taking up my time is glass. We don’t like how the front door dumps you into a massive, almost overwhelming space. We decided to make a three paneled room divider with a steel frame that would mimic the aquarium stand. But what to fill the panels with? We decided on stained glass. After browsing the internet for ideas, we came up with our own design since nothing we found was exactly what we were looking for. It’s been many a year since I did any glass work and need to bring my skill (and confidence) level up. I made a bunch of small projects and when I was sure I could make something large and outstanding, we went shopping for glass. A LOT of glass.
I know I complain about service in New Orleans way too much. Bad service is the norm here and you can always tell who isn’t from here – they’re the ones balking. We looked online for glass at first. The glass seemed cheap at first but then when you added shipping and all the other miscellaneous fees, it wasn’t such a bargain. Plus I have no faith in the mail service either. We’d most likely end up with big boxes of broken glass. I found a store in Metairie and drove over to look around. Not only did they have everything we were looking for, the service is absolutely outstanding! Truly fabulous people and a such a pleasure to do business with. So if you are in the New Orleans area and looking for stained glass, I highly recommend The Stained Glass Studio. Tell ‘em Miss Purple and Red sent you.
If you couldn’t already guess, I’m a huge Alice in Wonderland fan. And Johnny Depp fan. And Tim Burton, what can I say. If he’s involved, I’m there. I simply cannot wait for this movie to be released. But if it weren’t enough that all my Wonderland dreams are being born into reality, I just read that Johnny is going to play Barnabas Collins. Holy Cow! This is too much excitement for an old woman!
We spent the night in the new house last night. I woke up at the usual time but had oodles of time for myself. I made coffee and got to have a cup. Before it was grab coffee, hope to get a few sips before rushing out the door chanting "I'm late." I took more than 2 seconds to pick out clothes for the day. I flattened my bangs even though with this humidity, it's an exercise in futility. I made notes for myself in my journal. Then I left for work. It took me a whole two and a half minutes to get to work. Holy cow. I can certainly deal with that!
While at work today, I received a very nice compliment. A couple of regulars are moving to North Carolina this week. One of them told me the other said the only thing he would miss about New Orleans was "the really nice lady who always wears black." I said I was glad to know someone would miss me and I would miss seeing them around too.
The exchange tickled me but made me kind of sad at the same time. I have a bunch of Thank You cards given to me by customers. In my eyes, I didn't do anything special. Just being nice. Just being a decent person. In their eyes, it was such a rarity, special enough to take the time to write a message in a card and send it to me. Whatever happened to being nice? Most people here are so rude. The bad part is they aren't aware that their behavior wouldn't be acceptable in the rest of the civilized world. Hold the door for others, help the person in the wheelchair by getting things from they can't reach, greet people with sincerity, make eye contact when they are speaking, and for chrissake - SMILE!! Your face won't break, I promise.
In our new home, the room that is to be my new crafting space was wallpapered in something you just had to be on acid to have said, "Oh yes! That's what I want on my walls!" The horrific shade of teal painted under the chair rail was pretty ugly too. The room is now white above the chair rail and purple below it. When I get the black and white striped stuff in there it will be my own twisted slice of heaven. I love the tub in the master bath and looking up at the chandelier while soaking is silly fun!
But I have to get going and stop rambling. Load the truck and make another trip to our new house.
It’s been awhile since I posted anything, lots of stuff going on. I have wanted to move back into the city for quite some time for many reasons. The absurd amount I was spending on gas every week, the lost 2 hours a day in commute time, and lack of a social life topped the list. Beloved was less than thrilled at the prospect of moving back into the city. Where we live is quiet and the crime rate is zero. We discussed moving back many times and he said it would have to be perfect. I thought perfect was something we’d never find. Form a mental picture of me sitting at the table, bib around my neck, knife and fork in hand with a large plate of crow.
Needless to say, we signed the lease are in the process of moving. We are so excited. Since the new place is less than a mile from my work, my commute time and gas bill are negligible now. My friends can actually visit me now. Beloved has a place to grill even if it’s raining. We have sunny garden space. This is going to be so good!
I have some friends, well more like acquaintances since we don’t actually “hang out” (and I’d probably end up smacking a few of them if we did), who have gone all out about Earth Day and being green. Please don’t lecture me. I made it all these long years just fine without a bunch of idealist minded twenty-somethings explaining life to me.
I was raised by my grandparents, two people who were seriously scarred by the Great Depression. They recycled EVERYTHING. Nothing was ever thrown away until every last drop of its usefulness was exhausted. We lived in a modest house built by my grandparents. We grew our own fruit and vegetables. We had bees for honey. Our food scraps went to the compost heap. We tore down old houses and barns to recycle the wood. Some of my best loved treasures came from the dump. We’d haul off our garbage and end up dragging someone else’s home. Being wasteful was a serious sin.
When I was 12 I got my first glimpse into our family’s finances. My grandparents were pretty much rolling in it. Filthy Stinking Rich. Their lifestyle was choice not necessity. Our life wasn’t all frugality. We never wanted for a thing. Christmas morning at our house was a jaw dropping experience. I got a full sized rail dune buggy for my 11th birthday. And I was certainly the only 16 year old riding around town on a new Harley Davidson.
My grandparent’s frugal ways became permanently etched into my being. I look at everything and ask myself how I could use it before passing it over or tossing it out. Even at work, my boss will ask me if I want an item before he takes it to the dumpster. My dress form (homemade at that) rolls around thanks to a recycled store display. A few of my mates, Beloved included, were initially horrified by my penchant for dumpster diving. Once they learn that I can make something really cool with whatever I drag home they come around. And it was FREE! That’s the best part! I save and repurpose everything.
Since my boss creeped into this rambling tale, I have to mention something amusing. Everyone is always asking me why my boss is so unfriendly and hardly ever talks. He’s just standoffish if he doesn’t know you very well. But if he likes you, he likes you. He tripped me out a bit this last week with my friend Teresa. He bullshits with her, laughs with us. When some of my other friends come in, he asks me questions about what’s going on with them after they leave. He doesn’t speak to them directly. For some reason, Teresa is different. He talks to her. She loves our ice cream and was let down when the machine locked up on me one afternoon. As soon as he got the machine fixed, he asked me to call her and let her know it was back on. Crazy.
Sam, my former co-worker got back from Algeria last Friday and came to hang out with us yesterday. He brought me back a darling hanging incense burner. Last time he went, he brought me back an awesome Moroccan lamp. My boss looked at the incense burner and said I needed the charcoal tablets to burn the incense on. I said I had plenty. He got all happy and asked where I got them. The voodoo shop. He laughed and said “The voodoo shop! You would say that.” Yup. Got the incense there too.
I watched one of the most astounding programs on TV last night. Stories of women who gave birth without knowing they were pregnant in the first place. Some of the women had given birth before, some not. Most of the women were overweight but a couple were skinny. One of the doctors on the show kept reiterating that every pregnancy is different, even with the same woman. Yeah, I get that. Been there, done that. But still . . . it’s hard to believe that you wouldn’t know.
I understand that some babies move a lot, others not so much. We joked that my eldest would make a great soccer player since all she did was kick – visibly! My third child wouldn’t move for weeks sometimes. She was even two weeks overdue. It’s no great surprise to us that she turned out to be very lazy. I didn’t get very big with the first child until the 8th month. I wore regular clothes until I was 7 months pregnant. But still, the round little potbelly was a dead giveaway. With the second, I went from a size 4 to a size 12 by the time I was 5 months pregnant. I was huge! I waddled!
I’d heard comments most of my life about the “glowing” pregnant woman. I was never that woman. I was the miserable woman with the green face who looked like she was going to puke at any moment. I should have named my youngest daughter Mylanta because that’s all I could keep down for 5 months.
My first pregnancy was the easiest, probably due to a complete lack of stress. Labor lasted 24 hours but never became more painful than a bad case of gas. I even fell asleep. The doctor woke me up to tell me it was time to push. The second one was the exact opposite. I screamed, kicked, and bit. The pain was so intense I really started to believe I was going to die.
All of the thoughts on pregnancy and birth takes me back to Friday. That’s the day all the anti-abortion idiots descend on St. Charles Avenue. Most of the time they steer clear of us since their run in with my boss. They must have forgotten because they started coming in last Friday. I was less charitable than my boss was to them. I have one of their pamphlets around here. I need to scan it and post it. The only thing they left off was alien abduction. It’s such far-fetched conspiracy crap you just scratch your head and say “What?”
One of the protesting men tried to label me as feminist and insinuated that I was a lesbian. Feminist, maybe. Lesbian, not even a little. No, my bitch is that YOU – a MAN – have no place in the discussion. You cannot get pregnant. It’s not your CHOICE! He said something I didn’t catch all of but apparently he thought I didn’t have any kids. Whatever. I have a slew of kids. None of them were planned and I didn’t abort any of them – because it was my CHOICE! That’s the issue you retard – CHOICE!
A female police officer assigned to guard the protesters gave me a little tidbit about some of the protesters. Many of the males have recently been released from prison, two of them for RAPE! They were recruited through a “Christian” outreach program while in prison. WTF? Don’t even get me started about the Bible beating freaks in the South. Somewhere around here I have a cartoon I clipped out of an Arabic newspaper of Bin-Laden sitting in a cave reading the Holy Quran upside down. Southern fringe Christians are no different.
