Shokufeh is... home

Not to state the obvious...

Okay, it is stating the obvious:
That Ray Nagin is one hot dude.
I hope his good looks help him in rebuilding New Orleans.

A special visitor

Next week, if things go according to plan, our household will go from two people to three.
No, we're not inducing Bean five weeks ahead of time. My mom's coming!

One of the benefits of Katrina is that my mom got bored enough with her spare time that she put classes on hold for the semester and is coming for two months, ensuring that she'll be here for the birth of her first grandchild.

I already felt that Katrina would figure into the family lore of the start of this next generation, but now I know it will. "Tell me again, MamanJan, how you came all the way to Hawaii so you could be there when I was born...."

The pampering for me won't suck, either. My only regret is that there's not more room in my stomach (or rather, for my stomach) for the food I want my mother to cook for me.

Remember...

Just because it's okay (and even encouraged) to kiss your husband when he drops you off at work in the morning does not mean it's okay to kiss your friend when she drops you off at work in the afternoon.

The shift

This past Saturday, as we sat in a beautiful setting, enjoying a yummy meal, I was talking with Sam about the beauty of biology - how pregnancy is designed to become so increasingly uncomfortable toward the end that it makes a woman willing to go through the pain and discomfort of childbirth. At least that's my take on it, watching friends and family go through the process. Everything goes along just fine and then there's a sudden shift, when the woman just wants to be done with this whole pregnancy thing.

I almost, almost, achieved that shift this weekend. It was so hot and humid, with no trade winds. If Sam slightly touched me, I snapped at him about how it was just too hot for that. Me, a woman who, eight months ago, couldn't get enough of my hubby's body heat to warm my ice-cold hands and feet. Now my feet feel like I'm on fire.

But I avoided the shift, just barely, by sitting in the living room with my feet in a tub of cold water, eating a chocolate popsicle (calcium!), fan on me. And with a trip to the beach. And with the sweet embrace of air conditioning at Border's. It's enough to make a girl happy to come to work on Monday, to sit in the artificially cooled environment. This is why I'm working until I go into labor.

It's all relative

Remember when $2.00/gallon seemed like an expensive price for gas? Oh, the good old days... of a few years ago.
Now, we'd be happy to pay $3.00/gallon.

Two things

In the same vein as this entry...
Evacuation would be so much simpler if we had the ability to teleport humans, and weren't limited by things like roads (queue Back to the Future: Part II) and gas.

Go here and here for some great tunes. It's what I've been listening to for the past few weeks.

A question for my fellow LOST fans

I was just examining a photograph in an MSNBC/Newsweek article about LOST and my eye was drawn to the woman on the far right. Who is she? At first I thought her to be Kate, but she's in the left half of the picture. Doesn't look quite like the crazy French woman. Or Michelle Rodriguez, who is joining the cast.

So my OCD self had to compare the picture to the cast listed on the LOST website. It, like the picture, has thirteen people. But Walt is missing from the Banyan tree group photo. And the cast bio page has only four women, not five.

A hint of what is to come? A tickler to make us wonder? A cast member I've forgotten? Random tourist who got too close to the photo shoot? What do you think?

How can it be?

Fifty days until my due date. In some ways, the months have zoomed by. But at the same time, it's hard to remember not being pregnant.

Things I never wrote about from last weekend

Since we’re entering another weekend (yay!), I thought I’d make note of the notable things of last weekend:
Last Friday marked three years in this office. I never thought I’d see the day. Not a reflection on this office, but on me.
Last Sunday, after a particularly anxious and uncomfortable few moments, I retired my wedding ring until November. While my finger looks bare, it feels free. The side effects of having 50% more blood.
This past Monday was a Food Network evening with dinner inspired by Rachel Ray and the baking of an Alton Brown snack. Dinner was garlic smashed potatoes, a sauce of tomatoes, onions, and bell pepper, and portabellos. I marinated the portabellos in a mix of garlic, Worcestershire sauce, balsamic vinegar, pomegranate syrup, and sesame oil. Yum!

The real reason I see the doctor every 336 hours

As of last month, the frequency of my obstetrician visits has picked up. We tend to take the first appointment of the morning, so there's no significant wait. I walk in, I pee in a cup, they take my blood pressure, I stand on a scale, Sam and I wait in the examination room, the doctor comes in and asks if I've had any problems or if we have any questions, she gels up my belly, we listen to Bean's heartbeat (with Sam recording it for posterity), I clean my belly, we make our next appointment, have our parking ticket validated, leave. We're generally in and out in a half hour's time, if that. If the hospital was far away (it's not - it's a seven minute drive from our house, just one exit away on the H-1), or if our appointments were in the middle of the day, I might think them a waste of time.

EXCEPT, the visits make me really realize that Bean is arriving soon, and that makes me hop to action. The true benefit of the appointments at this time is the stuff I get done in between them. I've stopped putting off the things I've been needing to do, and actually doing them:

Not bad for a few week's work. Still left?

Indications of the phoenix

"The Hibernia Corp., Louisiana’s oldest bank, whose landmark building was once the city’s tallest, turned on its lights at sunset Wednesday. The bank is well-known for the colors that light up the building’s cupola during the holidays."

As a child, I was always excited to see the lit cupola, usually on our way home from the Baha'i Center, downtown. Reading that it's lit again makes me feel that my past was not washed away. Which I guess is how I've been feeling.

I was a little premature in thinking that my dreams of water had passed. But I think that last night dreams involved rebuilding as well. As Martha would say, a good thing. Of course, these days she's also talking about making apple juice by straining mushed appled through a pillowcase, and making friends with women for their cinnamon, so maybe not the best person to quote.

My parents were able to go see the house today. Earlier this week, we were saved a broken door by a friend who drove by just as the search and rescue teams were coming through - he was able to tell them my parents had safely evacuated, and they did their spraypainting on the door and moved on, without having to break down the door to check for themselves. Thankfully, our second floor, which is actually our main living area, stayed dry - the floodwaters rose just to the top of our first floor. And our windows stayed intact. So most of my family's belongings, including all of the photographs I'd been mourning the loss of, are fine. When will I learn not to assume the worst? At this point, I'm feeling more sad for my husband. Most of our stuff was stored downstairs, so he's lost a lot of things, including some of sentimental value.

LOST at the Beach

Further evidence that I am a crazy pregnant woman? Last night I stood in the rain for 1.5 hours. Evidence that my craziness is not due to my hormones? The hundreds of other people who also weathered (ha ha) the inclement conditions. Our mission? Watching the season premiere of LOST, on the beach in Waikiki, a week before the rest of the nation watches it in the comfort of their homes.

Truth be known, I intend to watch it next week too. The rain and other distractions, including my inability to get comfortable, meant that I spent much of our time there wandering around and watching people rather than the screen. I got the general gist of things, but not the details that make the show so captivating. Sam had better focus than me, so I think he got a little more stoked by the experience.

The cast was there, too. We saw Matthew Fox directly from a distance, and a few others projected on the screen. But, don't be too jealous, George and Anis, Evangeline Lilly was filming late and didn't make it.

I keep doing this to myself, but I think last night I really learned my lesson: next time we go to Sunset on the Beach, I will plan accordingly and take a good meal and a beach chair. Freshly made mini-donuts, as delicious as they are, do not a meal make. Especially when you're eating for two. I was so exhausted that by the time we got home, I just lay down on the living room floor and stuck a nearby shoebox under my head. Sam insisted that this was not an appropriate way to spend the night, so he cleaned the sand off of my feet and coaxed me into bed. Where I stayed until this morning, when I woke up sore and ravenous.

The irony is not lost on me

During my first trimester, when all my body wanted was food, I was about as far from the office kitchen as you can get. The bathroom, however, was a few quick steps away.
Now in my third trimester, when all my body wants is bladder relief, I'm close to the kitchen, but so far from the bathroom that I'm sometimes afraid that the walk will be too much for my thighs to handle.
Such is the plight of a woman who changes job positions more frequently than she changes her purse.

No longer drowning

I think last night was the first night since August 27 that my dreams did not involve large quantities of water.

While on August 27, the hurricane had not yet the Gulf Coast and the levees had not yet broken, that night I stayed up late obessively watching the news. Late enough to watch Mayor Nagin issue a mandatory evacation at 10:00 am on August 28, New Orleans time. Only then did I go to sleep in bed, rather than on the couch.

4 / 2 = 2

This morning we went to my every-336-hour visit to the OB. I peed in a cup (somehow more successfully than last time - maybe I've adjusted to my ever increasing mass), had my blood pressure taken (still on the low side), and stepped on to the scale.

In the examining room, as Sam and I waited for the doctor, I told him with some surprise in my voice, "I've gained only two pounds!" Much different from the usual four to six pounds I've usually gained. But I figured that it does seem like I've been eating a little less, given that the growing Bean makes it hard for me to cram too much in.

And then it hit me: instead of four weeks since our last visit, it had been only two weeks. No wonder it was only two pounds.

Breathing easier

I have met respiratory therapy and it is called a nursing bra.
More later.

And now for something totally different

Okay, not really different. Just different from the past week, and a return to what was going on before.

Nine weeks to go - we've hit the single digits!
Single digit until 20 little digits!

What you can do

You all are a pretty resourceful bunch - I'm sure you've checked out the various agencies to which you can donate to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Now that the rescue efforts are underway, and maybe even nearing completion, I ask you to look to the future. Invest in the idea that New Orleans will get back on its feet: make plans to come for Mardi Gras.

This may seem like a really strange request - people have died, the city is in disarray. But Mardi Gras is an integral part of what makes New Orleans New Orleans. It's the biggest party you can experience and all you need to get in is a plane ticket and a place to sleep. Some of you, who've never experienced it, may think it's all about getting drunk and getting naked. For some, that's true. But, as someone who's never drunk a drop of alcohol and never exposed herself in public, I can honestly say that I love Mardi Gras. It's a day when thousands come together to celebrate the energy and vibrancy of life, in a way that only New Orleans can provide.

And now that Blaine Kern has said that there will be a Mardi Gras celebration and that he'll do everything he can to ensure that, I feel confident that I'm inviting you to a party that will happen. So, clear your calendar for February 28, 2006 and the weekend before. Not willing to trust me and Blaine? Aim for February 20, 2007.

People I'd give gold stars to this week - multiple and huge gold stars:
Blaine Kern
Harry Connick, Jr.
Mayor Ray Nagin
Lt. Gen. Russel Honore

Thanks for believing!

The new normal

It’s hard to believe how much things have changed in the past week. Ten days ago, I was oblivious to the possibility that a hurricane was headed toward New Orleans. A week ago, I thought that, while there was damage, we’d come through relatively okay and that my parents would be back home within a couple of days. They’d be faced with the daunting task of putting order to the things tossed about by the wind and water, but life as they’ve known it was relatively intact. It was about this time a week ago that preliminary reports started showing up in the newscasts – that the levee had been breached. It’s startling to realize that it was just a week ago our lives were turned upside down.

But I recognize that my family is amazingly lucky. My parents, who in all their years in New Orleans (40+ for my mom, 30+ for my dad) have never evacuated, left with Naysan last Saturday night, in anticipation of the mandatory evacuation. Traffic was light and they reached their destination of Baker (outside of Baton Rouge) within a couple of hours. The friend they’re staying with has the space for them to stay until they can return to New Orleans. My father’s company has a branch nearby, so he’s been able to return to work. My mother will be resuming classes at LSU this week – instead of connecting with her teachers via video conference, as she’d been doing in New Orleans, she’ll be in the classroom with them. Naysan will fly back to Minnesota on Wednesday for his senior year of college, having rerouted his ticket. I just hope we’ll see him again, considering how this three week visit of his turned out. In the big scheme of Katrina’s influence, my family’s life is relatively normal – they’ve been able to resume their regular activities, even if in modified fashion.

All of my extended family who lived in the area have been accounted for. One uncle and his family stayed behind, and there were a few days when worry was high, especially given that they lived in an area that is low-lying and was swamp as recently as 30 or so years ago. But they waded and swam the 8+ miles to UNO, where they spent a few days before being airlifted to San Antonio. My mother’s other siblings in New Orleans evacuated to Hattiesburg, where they did without electricity for a while. My parents tried to visit them earlier this weekend, but were stymied by the lack of gas in the Baton Rouge area. While it’s horrible to be in a situation where you need to account for your family members, it’s wonderful to be able to do so successfully. I recognize that not everyone is so lucky.

There are hours when I’m relatively okay with all that’s going on. There are others when I’m sobbing, at the loss of life, at the conditions people have had to endure, at the lack of assistance, at the perceived lack of caring, at the likely destruction of many childhood mementos and photographs, at the state of my beloved New Orleans. I feel like a family member has died. And I guess that is true, since we're all related.

I am heartened by the news I receive from people who indicate that they plan to return, to rebuild. But my heart also crumbles a little knowing that there are just as many people who will not return. I don’t blame them – they’re in a position where they have to reestablish lives elsewhere and can’t just pick up again in a few months, only to return to what is likely nothing. This three month hiatus away from New Orleans will turn into a lifetime away for many.

It does seem that there is good coming out of this – the world is rallying together to help. Even those countries considered “foe” are offering assistance. And maybe, just maybe, some of the dialogue that has already started will lead to the healing of some of the wounds caused by centuries of racism. Hopefully the new normal of six months from now will be better than the new normal of today, and even better than the normal of ten days ago.

Looking toward the phoenix

When I first moved to Chicago five years ago, one of the things that struck me about Chicagoans was how proud they tend to be of the precise grid that make up the city's streets. But, of course, like most older cities, Chicago was not always so organized - what exists today is partly the result of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. The destruction of the city provided a clean slate for urban planners.

I've been focusing on that for the past 24 hours or so. I don't want New Orleans to be a precise grid (because isn't there something charming to have two streets parallel in one place and perpendicular in another?), but I'm looking to the future. I won't be around, but I like to think that 100 or so years from now, New Orleanians will refer with pride to some aspect of the city that arose as a result of the rebuilding after Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

The phoenix of Chicago arose from the ashes. Ours will arise from the water.