Dammit, Gustav

Talking to my mother yesterday:

Me: What about if a tornado hits, do you know where in the house to go?
Mom: Probably in the closet.  Where do you think is the best place to be if one hits?
Me: Florida!

My parents are staying for Gustav.  I am massively worried.  I don’t like being on this side of things.  Not that it isn’t a luxury to have moved away from a hurricane area, but when you left everyone you love there . . . this is worse.  This powerlessness, this unending worry and helplessness.

I don’t like the fact that they’re staying.  I have made this point time and again in the last 2 days but I’m just their kid, what do I know?  I don’t like the fact that this time they’re on a different side of the storm than in Katrina.  This time they will be on the north and east sides where the worst weather is, the tornadoes and everything else.  And I am worried to no end.  I would be happier if I were home and dealing with this directly.  Instead, I’m in Austin, doing nothing.  This sucks.

3 years

I realized with a start that today is the Katrina anniversary. Among hearing the plans of my friends and family for Gustav, I had forgotten. Last year it was quite vivid that it was THAT day. I had gotten my tattoo about 7 weeks before that and it was the first day of grad school. But it was still very clear to me that 2 years prior was the day the world seemed to end. Or my world, anyway. I have never experienced such upheaval, emotional or otherwise. And I can’t believe it was 3 years ago. It at once seems forever ago and just yesterday. It’s a strange feeling.

It’s true that I’m homesick and I don’t mind admitting it, but I really did have to get the hell out of town. Moving was the best thing that could have happened for me. I felt like I was getting pulled down into the emotional miasma that hovered over the cities. That level of despair, even small and under the surface, it was choking me.

And yet, I quite perversely miss worrying about the storms. Even as bad as the storms got or could have been, I never outgrew that little bit of excitement at an approaching storm. Even with remembering all the cleanup and inconvenience (Isisdore and Lily? Back to back? At my parents’ waterfront condo? Horrible!) I still felt a little giddy. Maybe I would feel differently if I were back home facing Gustav. Maybe the spectre of Katrina would have erased that. I don’t know.

Now, being in Austin, I’m one of the potential places for people to evacuate to. That’s a new feeling. I feel a little bad that our place is ill-equipped for this. We have 2 cats, one of which is on death’s door. This is not a place for dogs (every friend AND my parents seem to own at least one). So when I’m asked to put someone up (and I’ve gotten a few tentative requests), I have to say what we can and cannot handle. Never having been on this end of things, I’m not quite sure of the protocol.

What a weird anniversary to keep track of. Especially in light of the fact that on Monday, C and I will be celebrating our 9-year anniversary. That’s right, we celebrated our 6th while on the road from N. Louisiana to Florida in the most winding, gas-deprived trip of our life following Katrina.

Anyway, happy (or not) Katrina day, everybody.

I really like this

My dad scanned a picture from the Times Picayune and sent it to me this morning.  Gotta love hurricane humor.

What I call him

Are we all familiar with the term cougar? Yes? Hot older woman who consistently dates younger men?

I have a friend, R, who consistently dates older women. A few months ago I was talking to him and I’m like “She’s 38? And you’re, what, 23 now? What’s the opposite of a cougar? Dude, you’re like a gazelle with a limp.”

And that is the story of why I refer to R as “Gimpy Gazelle.”

Thank you, Mr. Scanner

I was emailed some old pictures that my parents found and yay! I was so cute. First, we have the fateful Smurf meeting . . .

Oh yeah, I can see by my face that I am about to freak out. That little half smile says to whichever parent is taking the picture, “I am putting up with this for about 2 more seconds, but I would like you to know that there is something extremely wrong. Save me now, or I will destroy everything around me in my efforts to escape.”

Next up, me getting into my mother’s makeup! According to her, I was about 3 here. I really did it up right.

At least I got the lipstick on the mouth, though I can’t say if the rest of it is mascara or eyeliner and I don’t know why I decided to make a cat nose or put it along my jawbone. And that expression? I think I’m about to be in the biggest trouble ever ever ever. According to my mother, she thought I was super cute and wanted a picture of me. I thought she was gathering evidence of my wrongdoing to justify the giant vat of punished waiting for me. Also, don’t ask about the hat. I remember the hat, but I don’t understand the hat. It’s horrible.

The next picture I’m looking for is one of me with a towel clipped to my head. Common practice, I’m told, for little girls with short hair who wish they had long hair. There are legions of girls running around looking like tiny nuns.

Separation Anxiety

It’s 2:45 in the morning.  I’m waiting around to take C to the airport for her VERY early flight.  It was originally scheduled for 10, but they bumped it up in order to try and avoid landing in Tropical Storm Fay.  Hahahaha.

I always get nervous when C leaves town, I can’t help it.  What if something happens?  Have I said everything I ever wanted to say to her?  Does she know I love her?  What if, what if.  I’m not a paranoid person, generally, but it’s easy to NOT be paranoid when I can keep an eye on the people I might worry about.  Having that person fly into a tropical storm, gosh, that just makes it more exciting!!

Ugh.  I know full well that I’ll be sad all day today.  It’s just too quiet when she’s out of town, and this will be for 5 days.  Thankfully, G and K have invited me over for a late breakfast and I think I might see a movie with M either this afternoon or tonight.

That doesn’t make coming home to an empty apartment any easier.

I joke around with C, asking her to help me come up with some ideas of trouble to get into.  But really, I get mopey when she’s gone.  I turn on the TV to keep some noise going, and play with the cats.  But I realize after a couple of days that unless I make a point to call someone on the phone, I can go without speaking for quite a while.  That in itself is just sad, right?  It make me have conversations with the cats that are more inane and in-depth than usual.  I mean usually it’s just like:

Me: Me-oh Maya!
Maya: Meow meow!
Me: I know! Where’s your string?
Maya: Meow meow!
Me: That’s so clever of you, you’re a sweet kitty.

But when I’m alone for too long and getting desperate it turns into something else entirely.

Me: Maya, I feel as though we’re not connecting like we used to.  You were napping on my leg and seemed perfectly content until that moth flew by and now it’s like you’ve forgotten our time together.
Maya: (hunting what is apparently the demon moth that will steal her food and toys and maybe upend her litter box if she doesn’t kill it soon) MEOW!!!!
Me: I know, I hear what you’re saying.  But what I’m trying to express is that I think you’re fickle sometimes.  And I’m saying this with love.  And that hurts my feelings, you know?
Maya: meow?

I’ve learned that when I try too hard to relate to the cat, she either eats my hair or manages to claw me.  I should probably stop that.

Okay, it’s time to take my girlfriend to her plane that will be flying into a maelstrom of death.  Yippee.

Thinking about it

Last night was yet another brilliant dinner with M. I had recently sent her a slew of recipes from my copies of Everyday Food and was rewarded by being invited to dinner.

Check it out: Sage and Pancetta Encrusted Pork Loin served alongside Salad with Roasted Vegetables and Goat Cheese.

It was awesome and kind of mind-blowing. We tweaked the recipes a bit, making a lemon vinaigrette instead of balsamic and agreeing that the pork needed to be salted underneath the sage. All in all, though, it was a stupendous meal. There are some pictures below, courtesy of M. She takes much better pictures than I do.

Which brings me to my next point. We were vaguely kicking around the idea of starting a new collaborative cooking blog. We love to cook, always talk about cooking, and like to cook new things. Also, M is always taking pictures of food anyway. This is my question: Any ideas for names? Something catchy like Two Fat Ladies—which might have worked except 1) it’s taken already 2) M isn’t fat and 3) I’m no lady. Maybe Fancy Cookin’ on a Budget! or Stop Eating Out and Make This Instead! Anyway, if you have a suggestion, send it my way via the comments page. If we use your suggestion, well, there’s no prize I guess. Just the knowledge that you are cool.

Prepped pork loin, ready to cook

Pork and Salad pretty on a plate

Tales from retail

God, C comes home with the weirdest stories.  For your reading pleasure, here is a bizarre conversation that she was involved in at work tonight:

Woman in her fifties talking to a cashier: Excuse me, the phone outside stole my money. (notices C)  Oh! You’re a manager! I should talk to you. The phone outside ate my money.
C: I’m sorry ma’am, I can’t do anything about the phone.  The phone company rents the space.
Woman: Oh no, it’s not that, I tried to get a credit from the phone company and they wouldn’t give it to me.  I was talking to my oldest child when the phone cut off a couple minutes into the conversation.  I think it has something to do with the chip that was put in my ear when I was younger.
C:   . . .
Woman: You see, I was one of 8 children and my parents wanted to keep track of us.  So they put the chips in.  And now when I talk to my children, the phone always dies.  I’ve also been picking up other people’s conversations and I do not like them.  I’ve spoken to doctors about getting it removed and the police about having it turned off, and they can’t help me.  What would you recommend?
C:  . . . Well, um, you could maybe talk to a pharmacist, or um . . .
Cashier also present: What about a spy shop?  They have all those gadgets, maybe they would know how to turn it off!

As they continue talking, C runs away (walks quickly, same thing) into the office so she can finally laugh.

She also kicked a woman out of the store for, well, being rude and loud and yelling a lot and being a bitch.  At one point, the woman told C that “in New Orleans they don’t treat their customers like this!!”  C responded by saying, “Yes, they do.”

New words

When I was a kid, I apparently thought a lot of myself.  Case in point, when I heard someone use a word I wasn’t familiar with, instead of wondering what it was or asking, I just thought they were really stupid.

Example 1
I’m 5 years old at girl scout camp and hear some mother say that it’s drizzling.  I’ve never heard this word.  I think she’s too stupid to know that it’s sprinkling.

Example 2
Age 6, I hear some friend refer to crayons as Crayolas.  I think she’s too stupid to know how to pronounce the word crayon.  Turns out, I had been using generic crayons (i.e. Prang, the worst crayons on the earth) since preschool.

I still have a massive yen for a giant box of Crayola, you know, with the endless colors and the sharpener in the side, because I was SO jealous of the kids that had them.  I’m an adult now, and I think I should probably just go and buy myself some crayons.  And a coloring book.

Finally

We finally have good weather!  And by that I mean it’s storming like crazy.  In honor of this, I’ve opened a couple of windows and the back porch door.  It’s gray and humid and has that great rain smell.  There is a constant shhhhhhhhhhhh noise punctuated by low thunder rumbles.  I’m curling up to watch a movie and eat a piece of pizza.  I might make a cup of coffee after that.  I am so freaking content right now, and all it took was a little rain.