Tag Archives: new orleans

I saved something from Hurricane Katrina. And I waited 10 years to share it.

Posted on August 29, 2015 | 8 comments

What was happening in the world ten years ago? The blood-sucking bestseller Twilight was introduced to teenagers (and, let’s be honest, moms) everywhere, Tom Cruise famously danced on Oprah’s sofa about his soon-to-be-scientologically-brainwashed bride and the very first video clip was uploaded to YouTube.

Oh, and my life was changed forever.

Now before you roll your eyes … know that I completely understand your frustration. It’s been ten years since Hurricane Katrina and we STILL classify past events and happenings here as “pre-Katrina” and “post-Katrina.” It’s our own sort of B.C./A.D. system. It’s crazy … but then most things in New Orleans are.

So don’t worry. I have no intention of going on and on about the details of my family’s evacuation and aftermath. I honestly probably already covered it all here, here and here. And here. I’m done for now. I just wanted to share one little memento. It’s a piece of paper I was handed through the window of my car at the police blockade on the interstate driving home to my city just two and half weeks after the storm hit. I saved it intentionally. And every time I read it, it brings me to my knees. For a while there, my city operated like a third world country.

The paper is entitled “New Orleans Safety & Security Re-Entry Information.” Following is a picture of each side of that original form. Beneath the photographs, I took the liberty of re-typing the whole thing right here in this blog post, just in case the photos are illegible on the small screen.

I keep meaning to frame it. (Remember, I said things in New Orleans are weird. And I’m one of those things.) The conditions we lived under were absolutely unthinkable. I encourage you to read it to the very end. You wouldn’t believe what some of us had to handle ourselves.

I love you, New Orleans. Even with your rising crime rate and your 100-degree scorchers. And I’m glad to have you back.


City of New Orleans

Hurricane Katrina

Safety & Security Re-Entry Information

On behalf of Mayor C. Ray Nagin and the City of New Orleans, welcome home! Please be advised that although we are slowly returning our city back to normal, there are some precautionary measures you need to know about and follow. We need your cooperation – Please read the following information carefully!

1. You are entering at your own risk. The City of New Orleans remains a hazardous site, and ongoing health and safety issues are being assessed. The City of New Orleans is still undergoing testing and recommends that you take great caution before entering the city and your premises, whether business or residential.

2. There is a curfew in place until further notice. This means you may not be outside between 6pm and 8am either in a vehicle or on foot. This will be strictly enforced. Keep personal identification with you at all times.

3. Police and fire services are limited. The 911 system is not fully functional at this time. ***For Police, fire and other emergencies, please call (504) 552-4830. ***

4. The traffic lights are out throughout the city. You are required to observe a city-wide speed limit of 35 mph, regardless of the posted limit and treat all intersections as four-way stops. Follow all street directions. Some roads may be blocked. Proceed with extreme caution, especially around downed pour lines. Report any downed power lines directly to Energy (see phone numbers on reverse).

5. You are not permitted to go beyond your designated zip code area and we recommend you travel within your zip code area only when absolutely necessary.

6. Access to medical services is extremely limited at this time. We are not prepared to handle critical care patients. You are advised to have tetanus, hepatitis-A and hepatitis-B vaccinations before entering the city.

7. The sewerage system has been compromised. With the exception of Algiers, you are advised not to drink, bathe or wash hands in water from your tap and we recommend the use of bottled water for all personal use until further notice. You may flush toilets.

8. Standing water and soil may be seriously contaminated. If you come in contact with standing water and material or supplies compromised by the flood water, you should wash with soap and clean water as soon as possible. We suggest you limit your exposure to airborne mold and use gloves, masks and other protective materials to protect yourself. You must supply your own protective equipment.

9. Food and water will not be provided to you. Bring sufficient food, water and any medical supplies required to sustain you and your family, keeping in mind curfew times and store inventories may limit access to these supplies. You must bring sufficient fuel with you before you enter the city. Gas stations are not fully operational. Fuel is limited.

10. Avoid carbon monoxide poisoning. Do not use fuel-burning devices indoors (e.g., gasoline or diesel generators or equipment, grills, etc.) Opening doors and windows or using fans will not prevent carbon monoxide build-up. Do not connect electrical power generators to the electrical panel or outlet of your home or business.

11. You are at your own risk to determine whether your home or business is structurally sound to enter. Use extra care when navigating upper floors and attic space.

12. No temporary housing is currently available within the city for returning evacuees. Such temporary housing may not be available within the city for 6 months. Returning residents whose homes are not habitable must leave the city by 6pm each day.

Debris & Refuse Removal

1. Please exercise caution in removing debris when entering your business or home to minimize the risk of injury. Steel-toed boots, work gloves and goggles/safety glasses are recommended around debris.

2. Open all windows when entering a building. If you smell gas or hear the sound of escaping gas, leave the premises and contact Energy immediately at the number below. Avoid creating any source of ignition. If you start to feel sick, dizzy or weak, get to fresh air right away.

3. To greatly improve the speed of our trash and debris collection, we ask residents to separate debris into piles at the curbside for collection using the following categories:

  • household garbage (dispose as usual)
  • tree debris and clean wood
  • carpet, sheet rock, insulation, flooring and furniture
  • roofing materials
  • appliances: refrigerators (empty of contents), stoves, air conditioners

4. We are working on a program to handle household hazardous waste (pesticides, paint, solvents, automotive fluids, cleaning products) which will be available at a later time. In the meantime, store these items in a safe place.

Standing Water, Mold & Bacteria

1. Contaminated floodwater contains micro-organisms that penetrate deep into soaked, porous material and later can be released into air or water. Remove standing water as quickly as possible while minimizing direct contact.

2. Every effort should be made to limit your contact with flood water, including breathing water vapor or mist coming from pumps or dehumidifiers.

3. To reduce the risk of mold and bacteria, remove wet materials (e.g., wood, paper, clothing) and discard those that cannot be thoroughly cleaned or dried, ideally within 48 hours.

4. Illness can result from contact with an open cut or wound. Clean cuts and abrasions thoroughly with soap and drinkable water and apply antibiotic ointment. Always wash your hands and body with soap and warm, clean, drinkable water.

5. Pay special attention to not putting your hands in your mouth or on objects that could go into your mouth such as cigarettes or water bottles.

6. If you know you are immuno-compromised, have underlying respiratory problems, such as asthma or allergies, you should consider not returning until further environmental and health assessments are complete.

General Tips & Important Phone Numbers

Apply mosquito repellent and sunscreen. The use of waterless, alcohol-based sanitizing rubs is recommended. Bring plenty of fresh water.

  • Police, Fire & Emergency: 1-504-552-4830
  • Red Cross: 1-800-435-7669
  • Remains Management: 1-225-763-5480, 1-225-763-5760
  • Entergy (Gas & Electric): 1-800-368-3749, 1-800-968-8243
  • FEMA Assistance Register: 1-800-631-FEMA (3362), TTY 1-800-462-7585

“Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans
When that’s where you left your heart?”

– Eddie DeLange and Louis Alter

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A Mother’s Confession (Spoiler: It involves cake.)

Posted on January 12, 2015 | 9 comments

I went to the grocery store yesterday. I ran there alone to grab a few items to restock a household that has been existing on stocking stuffer food, Christmas presents from places like Harry & David and Hickory Farms and, if I’m being completely honest, canned goods that have probably been here since before we moved in seven years ago. It was time for some fresh produce … and foods that don’t taste like peppermint, gingerbread or pumpkin. (Not that I’m knocking that delicious trinity.) So I popped into the neighborhood store intent on grabbing fruit, vegetables, milk, a rotisserie chicken and, of course, a king cake.

I’m just going to assume you know what a king cake is.

Fine. (rolling eyes) It’s a “sweet, sugary and iced Danish type dough that is braided with cinnamon inside and a plastic doll underneath. King Cakes are made of a cinnamon filled dough in the shape of a hollow circle. They have a glazed topping and are sprinkled with colored sugar. Hundreds of thousands of King Cakes are eaten in New Orleans during the Carnival season.” (Thanks, Wikipedia.)

King cake season starts right as the Christmas season ends (January 6) and runs through Mardi Gras Day. And here it was … January 11th, 5 whole days into the season … and my poor children STILL hadn’t had any king cake yet this year.* By New Orleans standards, this oversight puts me only a few clicks above Joan Crawford. (Please get that reference.)

To preserve my reputation as a loving mother, I went to the bakery section of the store to find the king cakes. There were two kinds. Which meant I had a decision to make. And this was an IMPORTANT one. Because it was about cake. To help me decide, I opened the boxes to examine the cellophane-wrapped cakes inside. Even though they were marketed as the same size, one was clearly bigger and more icing-laden than the other. “Well, THAT was easy,” I thought, placing the cake into my basket.

Then I saw something new on the shelf.

The store was actually selling individually-wrapped slices of that same delicious king cake. For years, I’ve been wishing stores, bakeries and coffee shops would package them this way (for the closet king cake eater on the go). “Finally!” I said aloud in the grocery store, probably to the dismay of several confused passersby.

I reached down to grab two that I could put into my kids’ lunches this week. “They’re gonna LOVE this,” I thought, praising myself for being an innovative genius. But in the middle of the applause in my head, I heard the familiar sound of a needle scratching across a record. (Please get THAT reference, too.)

“There’s only one left?!!?” I said, resuming my public conversation with myself. But then I smiled. If I was a cartoon character, a lightbulb would have appeared over my head. I picked up the single piece of cake and tossed it into the basket next to the full cake. I didn’t think about it again until I was in the check out line and I overheard the cashier talking to the bagger. “We still have some of these?” she asked.

I looked up from my phone to see her holding the individually-wrapped slice of cake. Then I interrupted them, “Well, you DID. That’s the last one. Of course, I have TWO kids so I really wish you had one more.”

“So what are you going to do with this one? Just let them fight it out?” the bagger asked, laughing and giving the cashier a why-is-this-woman-even-talking-to-us kind of look.

“No,” I explained very matter-of-factly. “That one is now for ME. Problem solved. But I need to eat it in the car on the way home.”

The two young female employees both looked at each other like *I* was the crazy one. “Why??” one of them finally asked.

I sighed before answering. “Because …” I spoon-fed the young fools, “if no one knows that I already had a piece, I can guiltlessly partake of the big cake with everyone else.” (And yes. I did say partake.)

I got it. I know YOU get it. The two mothers behind me got it. They even commended my efforts and decided to buy themselves Snickers bars for their own ride home. But I don’t think the two employees got it.

Of course, I could have mothered either one of these young girls. They’ve never had to give away their own food because a child is looking at it in a yours-looks-SO-much-better-than-mine-and-I’m-going-to-have-a-meltdown-if-you-don’t-let-me-have-it kind of way. They’ve never had to deny their children seconds while they secretly shove another helping/slice/scoop/hunk into their own mouths in the kitchen. And they’ve probably never had to pretend that one piece is “plenty” because they’re such ladies that they “couldn’t eat another bite!”

Please. It’s cake.

Who doesn’t want seconds?

So there. I confessed. Now, everyone knows about the extra slice of king cake I ate yesterday. Well, except my family.

Can YOU keep a secret?

* * * * * * * * * *

*Correction: After this post went “to press,” my daughter assured me that, prior to the cake purchased in this story, she had already had king cake once before this year. Further, she informed me that she had gotten the much-sought-after plastic baby within it. Guess we’re buying the next cake.

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You are Cordially Invited to the 2nd Annual #FootballForWomen Twitter Party

Posted on February 2, 2013 | 5 comments

Curtain up! Light the lights!
You’ve got nothing to hit but the heights!

(Noticing that all of your eyes just rolled in unison) What? I know that’s a theater reference. Duh, it’s from Gypsy. What am I … an idiot? (pregnant pause, as in third trimester) Well, actually, I kind of am. At least when it comes to football. But we’ll just keep that between us. That’s why I had a little fun last year on Superbowl Sunday while at a friend’s football viewing party by hosting my own private #FootballForWomen party on Twitter. Actually, it was how I first got to know my friend Mel that I’m always writing about here at ODNT. Plus a whole mess of other certifiably crazy delightfully funny people, too. It was a small group but we laughed our asses off that day.

So I’m doing it again … this time with Mel as my co-host! (‘Cause she’s way better at making those fancy napkin sculptures.)

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This  year, we rented extra chairs and I’m doubling our hot wings order. Plus, I heard Mel’s bringing a chocolate fountain. So we’re hoping to see lots of new faces at the party. Anyone and everyone is invited. Even the boys. It’s the one place you can be this Sunday where you can make fun of a player’s haircut or the way he puts his hand on his hip every time he stands on the sidelines.

So, like I said last February, “If you’re on Twitter and you’re sitting around Sunday confused … or bored … or just seeking a laugh between plays, look for us on #FootballForWomen. It’s sort of like #shitgirlssay, football-style. And don’t be afraid to put in your (Kick it through the thing!! Kick it through the thing!!) two cents.”

GOOOOOO, FOOTBALL GUYS!

* * * * * Got five seconds? * * * * *

Please click that FANCY PANTS PINK BALL (above) to visit the Circle of Moms site and vote for ODNT for Top 25 Funny Moms.

I need this, people! I just outed myself as a total football spaz.

vote daily ’til February 13. Thanks!

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My Class Reunion was Last Night. I went as myself.

Posted on May 20, 2012 | 6 comments

If you’ve been paying attention at all around here lately, you know that last night was my high school reunion. Class of Nineteen Numbery-Something. I went to an amazing high school. Attending there was easily one of the best decisions I have ever made. And you guys know that decisions & I? Well, we just don’t get along at all.

My old alma mater ranks consistently as one of the Top Public High Schools in the Nation by U.S. News and World Report. Honestly, I wouldn’t think our state would even be acknowledged in a list of this kind.

But anyway, last night was great. I went with an old friend who lives nearby who, as it turned out, was also dateless for the evening. (Eat your hearts out, Alec Baldwin, Andrew McCarthy, Steve Martin, Jim Gaffigan, John Stamos, Jimmy Fallon, Howard Stern, Neil Patrick Harris, Zach Braff AND Ellen DeGeneres. You were ALL invited … and YOU chose not to come with me. But it was YOUR loss ’cause we all got t-shirts and koozies. Plus, the fish was killer.)

The event itself was only three hours. And yet I somehow managed to make my evening nearly ten hours long. My feet have never hurt as much as they did when I got home last night. Can I really say night though? In homage to my carefree high school days, I drove through McDonald’s on the way home for a little late-night snack. Imagine my surprise when … as I tried to order a chicken sandwich … the voice over the loudspeaker said, “Ma’am, we’re only serving breakfast right now.” I think I paused only about three seconds. “Okay, fine. Hash brown, egg & cheese biscuit, Diet Coke …”

I want to thank most sincerely the fellow classmate who planned the whole evening, more or less singlehandedly. You know who you are and I won’t embarrass you by listing your name in a blog with the word ‘tits’ in it without your permission. You and your hardworking minions threw a helluva party. Thanks for all of your efforts.

Here’s my only suggestion to improve upon our next reunion. The spouses need to have different nametags than the graduates. Please! I walked up to at least three people last night, greeted them with a big smile and blathered on about how good it was to see them again. I guess the blank stare and the “Um, dude. I don’t know you. I’m married to so-and so” should have stopped me the first time. Will I ever learn? Sigh. So, let’s help the stupid people like me next time, okay?

Oh, and I also want to thank my uterus for cooperating with my whole all-white ensemble thing I went with for the evening. I lucked out. Plus, there were no buckets of pig blood anywhere at our event so I was good to go with the white. I guess that’s only cool to do at your prom. In the 70s. On the big screen. Whatever.

Before I go, I want to send my gratitude, a love letter really, to the institution where it all started a few (cough, sputter) years back in New Orleans.

Dear Ben Franklin High School,

It’s been a lot of years now since I checked you off as my first choice on that all-important high school preference form in eighth grade. I was attending a (very) Catholic grade school at the time and all but one other student from my class (it was great seeing you last night, C) was continuing on with a Catholic high school experience. I had no idea of the big changes that lay ahead for me. My own mother was my eighth grade teacher, for Pete’s sake.

I can remember entering the school that first day, a very old and very dilapidated structure in a prime New Orleans location near the corner of Carrollton and St. Charles. The building was more than a hundred years old and had once served as a city courthouse. There was NO AIR CONDITIONING. That was quite an adjustment. And, for the first time in nine years, I did not have a uniform on. I had a little money in my pocket of my hopefully at least somewhat stylish attire for lunch time, when we all got to leave campus on foot to eat at Burger King, Eat’s, Flame ‘N’ Burger or one of the many other fattening-but-who-cares-because-I-was-only-fourteen options around the school.

And then there were the students. Kids with all kinds of chains … and piercings … and frightening, twelve-inch, hot glue mohawks threatening to impale me as I walked through the halls. The school even had its own smoking section. (Yes, I AM serious.) To this day, I still cannot smell the scent of a clove cigarette without thinking about high school. Not that that particular odor permeates my day-to-day life anymore.

The chasm between the sheltered existence of my grade school and the freedom and colorful experience that was Franklin was enormous. And it was a lot for me to absorb initially. I can remember my mother suggesting that we “just try it for a month” and, if I still didn’t like it, we could try somewhere else. A pretty generous offer that I’m not sure I’ll be making to my kids. She knew I just needed to push myself a little. Still, she left the safety net in place. Just in case. Thank you, Mom, for that.

As you can imagine, when the month passed, I was all in. I’d already made many new friends who would go on to become my college roommates, wedding party, lifetime confidants and really just some of the finest men and women I know today. I still can’t believe I even managed to get into let alone stay in a school of this caliber.

I love it. I miss it. And I credit it immensely for shaping me to be the person I am today. I’m pretty sure that, without it, I wouldn’t be the same sometimes-unusual, often-unfiltered, enigmatically-extroverted person writing a blog about her own boobs, the Alec Baldwin stalking incident and even the occasional bout of depression. Thanks for everything you’ve given me, especially the fond memories I am still making with the great group of people with whom I just spent my entire evening.

I’m already excited about the next one, y’all,

Michele

One more thing … I’m including one of my favorite pictures from last night. It’s of me and my old friend, our Junior Class President. He’s now a Rabbi. Oh, and he’s 6’5” so, naturally, I was standing on a chair. (Yes, I have his permission to post it. He is hands down the coolest Rabbi I know.)

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I saw a movie today but I’m not reviewing it, so why even read this post?

Posted on March 23, 2012 | 14 comments

I did something I NEVER do today. I saw a movie (a BIG one, I might add) on its opening day. I’d give you three guesses as to the movie but, the way I’ve been carrying on lately, I’m sure you know it was Hunger Games. No, I did not stand in line with a bunch of teenagers at midnight. I went with a group of friends, the same ones I mentioned in my second prequel post.

We are adults. So, we did it in a very civilized way. We purchased our tickets in advance for a very upscale, modern theater in New Orleans, where you have to be 18 to enter. Their tagline is Gourmet Food. Full Bar. Luxury Seating.  I took advantage of all three.

We settled into our oversized comfy chairs (akin to the quality of first class air travel) and pressed a button for the waitress. Jen and I split the cheese plate, described as a selection of four cheeses served with breads and fig mostarda, assorted flatbread and crackers.  I also ordered the Angelo Brocato’s Italian Cookie Plate because I’m a sucker for fig cookies. And, for my beverage, I wanted The Dawn Patrol (house-made fig brandy, Patron Citronage Orange Liqueur, sour mix, splash of house-made vanilla cinnamon brown sugar simple syrup and satsuma twist) to complete my Trifecta of fig cuisine. But, alas, they were out of the necessary brandy so I opted for a Trivento Malbec and sat back to wait for the movie.

The food arrived for most of us almost immediately so we began eating (a difficult task, considering it was knife and fork fare and we were in near darkness) over the movie trailers.  I saw one for Dark Shadows, a Tim Burton movie featuring none other than Johnny Depp, that I filed away for my summer wish list. Then, I saw another, the most unusual today, for something called Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Let me just say … I SO wish I had thought of this movie title. It would also be a great name for a band, wouldn’t it?

Anyway … jumping ahead majorly … I really enjoyed the movie, for which I sat on the edge of my seat the majority of the time.  Even though, unlike (almost) ever before in my lifetime, I had actually read the book first and thus knew what was going to happen. Except, of course, when the screenplay strayed from the original story.

The question … Was it as good as the book?  The answer … Is it ever?

There’s always far too much that needs to be omitted when something is culled down from the page to the screen.  Much must be sacrificed. But, then again, the movie affords you the delight of seeing some of the fictional characters come to life through real people like Stanley Tucci, Woody Harrelson and Lenny Kravitz. I so loved all of them in this movie.

Am I going to tell you anything else about the movie? 

Absolutely not. This story is one that no one wants spoiled for them.  I’ve literally shushed and been shushed by total strangers when discussing the book in public. It’s a cult. And I’m a kool-aid drinking, tambourine-beating, bald girl selling flowers at the airport.  I’m all in.

One last thing though … to the women in the ladies room after the show, the main character’s name is KATNISS EVERDEEN, not Candace Aberdeen.  If you read the book, you’d know that. (Look at me … getting all uppity about book learnin’.)

Haven’t seen it yet? Let me tempt you …

Thanks, Ashley, Vanessa, Jen, Melissa and Mignon, for bringing me today.

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And another (more grievous) entry for the weekend challenge

Posted on March 9, 2012 | 22 comments

Like last weekend, I had to write just one more, diametrically opposed entry for Trifextra’s Weekend Challenge. The only rules here are that the submission needs to be 33 words exactly and it should best demonstrate (of all entries) the proper use for an exclamation point. So, without further ado, I give you entry two for the weekend … entitled A Bullet Not Dodged.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the morning after the storm.  The hotel had already started handing out champagne when he entered and tried to speak over the revelry. Fighting inevitable tears, he bellowed, “The levees broke!”

* * * * * * * * * *

A special NOTE from ODNT … I think I might have bent the rules a little with this submission.  I’m new to the challenge but I believe all of the writers are submitting works of fiction, which this one is not. My family of four (along with my extended family and all of our friends) were pushed out of New Orleans almost seven years ago by Hurricane Katrina.  Our home was located in one of the many neighborhoods completely destroyed by the storm.  I am lucky that my kids were babies at the time, 5 and 3, and thus have little memory of everything.  I wish I could say the same, though I usually remember everything as though it was someone else’s story.  My family is just fine now, living in a new home (never before flooded) only 2.96 miles from my old front door. I have written about the experience a bit over the years (even had some of it published) but have never mentioned much here on the blog.  One day, I’m sure I will.

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A weekend of Mardi Gras Revelry before a big (Griswold-ian) family trip

Posted on February 20, 2012 | 3 comments

When you’re born and raised in New Orleans, you love Mardi Gras. You appreciate Mardi Gras. You anxiously anticipate its arrival each year. But sometimes you just don’t make it to every parade anymore.

My family and I had a great last few days. Until this weekend, things like dance classes, talent shows, homework assignments, unseasonably cold weather snaps and torrential downpours (usually only situated within the city’s six month hurricane season) kept us away from the festivities. But, since we’ll be flying to Disney tomorrow for my kids to participate in a behind-the-scenes program there, we decided we needed to make the most of our Mardi Gras weekend before we left.

There were three days of great parades available to us, only two of which didn’t involve excessive rain. Friday night, we joined friends who along with many others in their circle had rented an apartment for the entirety of the season on St. Charles Avenue, the main drag of nearly every major parade in the city. It’s crazy really. It’s an apartment occupied the other eleven months of the year by, no doubt, a Tulane or Loyola student. It’s modest – one “great” room (a term used very loosely), one bedroom, a kitchenette and a bathroom. And the individuals that rent them for the year know full well that they’ll pay twice the annual rent unless they’re willing to vacate (and, by that, I mean 100% of their belongings) the premises for the month of Mardi Gras. The apartment owners are then able to rent the space out that one month for as much as they’re getting for the other eleven. Usually to a group of families willing to split the high cost for the beauty of having the storage area each night for the many ladders, ice chests, chairs, throws and other assorted crap we all find a must for our parade set-ups. Oh, and let’s not forget the invaluable asset of a bathroom located only steps away from your viewing area on the avenue. These days, I think people would pay that high one-month-rental price for that perk alone.

Every year, I find myself paying a buck-a-pee at various restaurants all over the city or, better yet, befriending people along the route who so kindly offer up their bathrooms only after they’ve determined I’m not a serial killer. (One of these days I’m going to live up to that urban legend and pay the high price of one of my kidneys for peeing in a stranger’s bathroom.)

Anyway, we had a great time Friday, horning in on the well-executed plans of our friends. We’re not part of their Carnival Commune but have certainly considered joining it from year to year. A case of beer and lots of snacks were our ticket in this year. And we all had a blast as we watched one (Krewe of Hermes) … two (Krewe of D’Etat) … three (Krewe of Morpheus) parades pass us by, loading my kids up with beads, stuffed animals (because we SO need more in my house) and all kinds of light-up “jewelry” which has become a coveted staple at these nighttime parades.

By the time we got home, it was just after midnight. And both of my kids (even my son who feels admitting to fatigue is a sign of weakness) begged to go to bed. Dave & I were more than happy to oblige. We all slept like the dead that night.

Saturday was easy. Not easy to decide. But easy as far as parade endurance. The weather was horrid. And, after going back and forth about it for literally hours, we decided to let our kids simply enjoy their rainy day playdates and forego the parade that day. It – was – a – mess. My most sincere apologies to our good friends who throw an incredible party for this parade (Krewe of Endymion) every year. We’ll be there next year. And Dave will make his homemade king cake. Man, was it good.

Yesterday was a beautiful day. With the excessive rain behind us, the sun was out and the weather was actually a little cold. Of course, the grounds were still a soggy mess so a very wise choice was made by me to wear my knee length rubber boots as there were times my entire foot was fully submerged in the swampy muck. I felt sorry for my other family members who were all in sneakers. But there’s always next year, right?

It took us forever to find a parking spot but we finally did … in a little church lot for $20 about 10 or 12 blocks from where we were headed. Par for the course for Mardi Gras I explained to my somewhat whiny kids. “The walk is half the fun!” I lied. It’s only a half-lie really. I honestly don’t mind the walk. You get in a lot of great people-watching when you walk the parade route. I saw a 300-pound woman dancing in a purple wig, tube top, tutu and roller skates to Sir Mix-A-Lot on my way there. And she’s one in a million this time of year. “Drink it in, kids. This is YOUR city.”

We found our spot and joined our friends who’d been out there since 5am to reserve their space on the neutral ground. (That’s what the median is called around here. The term goes back more than a century literally meaning the ‘neutral ground’ in the middle of the street where two different ethnic groups could meet in peace.)

We caught the Krewe of Thoth and, after a short break to eat and regroup a bit, Krewe of Bacchus, one of the biggest Carnival organizations in the city. This year, the parade’s king (referred to simply as Bacchus 2012) was funny man, Will Ferrell. He’s in town filming a movie (with Zack Galifianakis … and I spelled that name without looking it up … Go, me!) and has been busy doing everything from visiting the local Children’s Hospital to emceeing at the New Orleans Hornets Basketball game. From what I’ve seen, he’s having a ball and it looks like New Orleans has welcomed him with bit, fat, easy open arms. That doesn’t always happens with some of the Grand Marshals of years gone by.

Click here see a clip of New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu introducing Ferrell and toasting him as Bacchus XLIV.

My family had a wonderful time. My daughter and I each only got smacked once with beads. We caught lots of stuffed animals and footballs, so both kids were happy. We had more than enough food and drink. And I introduced my boy to the art of public urination.

Don’t judge me. He’s a boy. My girl used a ‘proper potty’ every time. And, if it makes you feel any better, I explained to him that his days of this convenient method are numbered … as it’s a punishable offense when he’s grown. I honestly don’t think he had another drink for the rest of the night. Poor kid.

And now, completely exhausted and totally behind in our planning, we need to get organized for Disney. As we are leaving … ugh … tomorrow morning. I’ll try to check in again soon from “The Happiest Place on Earth.’

Happy Mardi Gras!

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Now taking ideas for what’s acceptable to hurl off a Mardi Gras float

Posted on February 3, 2012 | 3 comments

Today’s Weight … 121.7

I ate cheese, damn it! In pizza form! TWO deliciously-evil, triangular-shaped pizza forms!

Don’t get it? Check this post.

My kids are riding in a parade this weekend. This is New Orleans, remember? It’s their first experience and, needless to say, they are totally pumped. As such, I’ve spent the last few weeks scouring our closets, cabinets, drawers, pantry, pockets, shed, yard, cat box and sofa cushions for trinkets or anything that would be appropriate for chucking off a float. If you’re not from NOLA, know that I’ve caught everything from large leafy vegetables to five-foot Tweety Bird plushes to real, non-novelty underwear … so everything in this house is fair game. I’ve also badgered everyone within driving distance offering to pick up their household sludge. Plus, I visited the nearest Mardi Gras supply store (they abound here) to purchase a few choice items that my kids specifically requested for their stash. The boy’s number one throw request? Moon pies. And the girl’s? Stuffed animals.

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Holy crap. Someone call ‘Hoarders.’ (God, I hope we have enough …)

My girl’s so excited about riding that she used it as the theme for her English assignment yesterday to create a cinquain (don’t feel bad – I totally had to look it up, too) which is a class of poetic forms that employ a 5-line pattern. She showed me her creation while she was doing her homework today.

Very cute. She’s got the crown, the masks, all the Carnival colors … it seems right on, yes?

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Until I zoomed in a little …

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“Fighting, Acting, Yelling??” Well … now she makes us sound like a bunch of uncivilized, redneck hillbillies!

Of course, I guess I’m doing my job right selling it to her as a mom (a New Orleans mom) because she followed up that colorfully violent description with “A Great Experience for Everyone” and “Incredible.”

I guess we are what we are down here. And my kids are riding with their dad anyway. So, if there’s going to be any “fighting” over airborne crap thrown in my direction, I will be the one doing it. Cross your fingers my kids don’t see me.

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A letter to the New Orleans Saints before today’s big game

Posted on January 14, 2012 | 6 comments

Dear Saints,

Today, I am attending a party in your honor. I will be watching the game, cheering you on with a great group of friends. I am ordering a party tray of food. And, in addition to the rest of the city, I will actually be wearing clothing inspired by your team.

We all know this stuff doesn’t happen every day with me. And I take a lot of ribbing about my spazzy (What? Well, then it should be a word! Are we all still using ‘explevatory?’) knowledge of football and whatever it is you guys are doing out there. The entire city is really counting on you. My sweet, moon-hanging son is counting on you. Ellen DeGeneres is counting on you. And, damn it, I am counting on you.

So, please don’t let me down.

Plain and simple. Not while I’m sitting there wearing a Saints jersey and everything. People in these parts were already pretty let down by the performance of another home favorite earlier this week. And they could really use something to lift them out of that funk. And me? Well, I could use seeing that unbridled glee I remember seeing on my son’s face two years ago. Not to mention on the faces of everyone else I know. Including mine.

You guys have what it takes to go all the way again. And every point you score, every yard you gain, every pass you complete and just about every move you make gets us all one step closer to that big game on Sunday. Just think. You could get a trip to Indianapolis and score yourselves another nice, new piece of jewelry for your collection. Yes, I said collection. ‘Cause I’m hoping there’s lots more to follow.

You’ve done so much for my hometown, at a time when we needed it most. No matter what happens, thanks for that. Of course, I’d rather be thanking you late on February 5. That rush was incredible two years ago, wasn’t it? So, allow me to give you a little pre-game advice.

Please listen today whenever the coach is talking to you. Have a good breakfast and make sure to empty your bladders before you head out on the field. Keep your cleats laced up tightly at all times and don’t fidget with your uniforms. If you don’t know where to go or you get lost today, ask someone for help. And always remember to have fun.

What? I never said I was Knute Rockne. I’m a mom … with a heart very much in the right place. Which I think for most of the city means in our throats right about now.

See you on the other side of today’s game, guys. When that heart of mine is bursting with pride back in my chest where it belongs.

Michele

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