random bits from yesterday that lead me to NOLA



Yesterday we had to renew our car registration (which we had to do in person, because we'd lost the letter that had the pin number - I'm blaming my mid-school-year throw out recycle ALL the papers spring cleaning). It was surprisingly unobnoxious. We stood in a relatively short line (two people ahead of us), got up to the front and easy-peasy-lemon-squeasy, it was done. And then we got our car inspected (in California we call this "getting smogged" but here it is a whole car check and they do it for free, which is mind boggling). And then we went to lunch at one of our favorite breakfast/ brunch/ lunch places where I had a mindboggling yummy meal.

The topic of conversation at lunch ranged from the seriously depressing (me, ranting about climate change) to the sublimely silly: the elder gentleman insisting to this neighborhood local organic food making restaurant owner that Chipotle was "not fast food." I quickly added myself to their conversation, because - well, everybody else in the tiny place was in on it and it was way less depressing to talk about than my fears about the end of the species.

When we got home, I put my headphones on and beat the crap out of rearranged and cleaned out the guest bedroom. It looks ah-maze-ing now, even if I did have to put the vacuum back in the corner (because I'm not sure where else it will fit... none of the closets are deep enough to fit it, since they all have shelves!). Next up: the basement.

I got a little hot and sweaty and cranky, after cleaning. M saved the day by making up Olympic events for Remy to compete in:  "run up the stairs, twice, then back to the sun-room, jump ten times and then run back here. Go!" Times a billion. Afterwords, Remy demanded we "talk" about his gold medal, while he shoved a pretend microphone in our face. Olympic fever, we have it!

(I haven't even seen a single post-medal interview this go round. I also haven't seen an award ceremony yet. Show me the game. Show me the winning score. And then I'll go do something else, mmmkay?)

Then after we put our little athlete to bed, my love and I watched an amazingly strange and awesome movie on netflix called Attenberg. It's Greek, but the lead actress is French-Greek, so there's some French in it (and I suspect her accent may be slightly French, but I don't know Greek, so I can't say that for sure. It just sounded French to me). It's slice of life with the theme of dying parent, but it didn't really get to me the way the next thing we started to watch did: the NOLA episode of No Reservations. I literally could not stop crying, so half way through I walked out and did the dishes instead. New Orleans is too near to my heart, even here. Even here.

Even here.

I don't miss Mobile the way I miss New Orleans. We never lived there. We only visited (as often as we could) while we lived in Mobile. But I miss being there, blurry nightlife and all.

Not that I got to be much involved in that blurry nightlife, aside from a few photographs. Too tired, too middle aged, too much being woken up in the middle of the night repeatedly by my kid.

But it stole my heart and soul, NOLA and I know I'll get back there, eventually.

And if I don't, sprinkle some of my ashes there, too.