But the emotion is not limited to sadness. I’m also so very thankful, to be a part of this city, and to have it as a part of me. Even with all of its shortcomings, I love it to my core. Despite this great love, I think if it weren’t for the storm, I wouldn’t have come home 4-1/2 years ago. There are things about life here that frustrate me, and I sometimes focus on all still left to be addressed in the rebuilding effort. But when I think back to the early days of my return and the constant dust clouds and grit in the air (and water) and the lack of people and life, I can see how far we’ve come. I’m grateful to have been here then, and that circumstances led to our still being here.

I love that I live in the “crazy old lady’s house,” five blocks from my parents. I love that I can go to an interfaith service for the five year anniversary and hear about the gospel of Brees. I love that our wall has a cardboard fleur-de-lis custom painted and glittered by MrMan. I love that the deep potholes are marked with palm fronds. I love that, late at night, I can hear ships blowing their horns on the river. I love that even our mediocre food tastes good. This is the place that holds my history.

Five years ago today, I thought New Orleans was virtually untouched. In some of the ways that matter, I was right.

One year later
Two years later
Three years later

We try to reassure him that manhood is in the distant future and that he should focus on the present. He does seem to enjoy being a boy, but I can’t figure out what seems so unappealing about being a man.  I guess I should ask, next time it comes up.

Yesterday, he crafted a solution in that noggin of his.  He and I were on the shuttle bus, almost to the gym*.  He suddenly shifted from greeting the approaching gym, to his common refrain of, “I don’t want to be a man.” Which he then followed with, “When I turn five, I want to drink caffeine, so I can stop growing.”

I’m glad you’ve been paying attention, MrMan, but I regret to inform you that, 1) I will not give you caffeine, and 2) I’ve exaggerated its effects. Nice try!

*My new trick to get myself there is to get MrMan after work and get us on the shuttle bus, straight to the gym. I’m accountable to MrMan, who enjoys the babysitting services there, and I’ve already committed to meeting Sam at the gym instead of at work.

• I love a seersucker suit. Seeing three men walking on a downtown street in varying hues of this summer classic almost make me cry in love for this city and the south.
• I am on the verge of buying a fanny hip pack. The appeal of hands-free-carrying of essentials, even on days when I lack pockets, is alluring. I think it’s the logical next trend if we combine the trends of the 80s and minimalism.
• I’m over this idea of blaming corporations without facing up to the fact that we all have had a role to play in their financial success and unethical practices.
• The stench in the air is concerning. Sometimes it smells like a big barbecue about to happen (petroleum). Sometimes it smells like urine or perfume (I assume it’s dispersant). Either way I find it hard not to cry about the loss of our natural bounties, like wetlands and seafood, and worry about our future – as a family, as a city and state, as a humanity constantly being reminded that we can’t keep treating each other and the planet with no regard for the repercussions.
• I’m so jealous of Anis, leaving for South Africa on Sunday.

Thanks for this, Delara!

I’m so glad I didn’t think it through further, and just went ahead and signed him up.  He’s so happy to be in the pool and his swimming is getting much better.  Our new routine (because of the location of Sam’s new job) involves me picking up MrMan an hour before normal and taking the shuttle bus with him to the uptown campus. He loves it! And I enjoy the time, as brief as it is (as distances are quick in New Orleans), just sitting next to him, watching his delight as we drive past everything from a higher perspective. Last week even involved a “Whee!” from him as we went up the overpass.

Because of the shuttle schedule, we get to the gym well ahead of class time, allowing a leisurely wardrobe change for Mrman. It’s nice not to feel rushed. Except by MrMan’s enthusiasm, as we wait at the pool and he wonders aloud where his teacher and swim friends are. They finally arrive.  Then the dude puts on his goggles and swaggers to the side of the pool. I love it!  He points his arms above his head and kicks through the water, and delights in swimming toward the bottom. He doesn’t always touch the bottom with his hands, as he’s so buoyant, but the fact that he wants to makes me so happy that I just went with signing up for this session, instead of analyzing whether it would be convenient.

I think this summer should include some time at the beach, so that he may become not just pool type, but ocean type. (A reference to a dear friend from our time in Honolulu, who described himself as such.)

Now I’m in my second day of the fast. Which I always want to write as the Fast, because it’s so much more than abstaining from food and drink. It’s reconnecting with my essential self. Or at least trying to. And striving to be a better version of me when I go to bed at night than when I woke up in the (way too early for my normal self) morning.

Randomness of the week: Monday afternoon, we pulled up in front of our house, in the pouring. rain. Pouring. I look out the car window and realize our grass has been cut. It had been looking ragged, but I wasn’t that worried, because most everybody’s does this time of year. The green grass just started poking out a couple of weeks ago, so I was thinking we’d cut the grass this coming weekend. But there it was – cut, and edged. Through the rain, I could see a sign stuck into the grass. Or maybe I should call it lawn, since it was suddenly looking much nicer. The sign read Y@rd D@wgs: M@rking our terr!tory, one y@rd at a time. So the mystery has been solved as to who cut it. Still a mystery: who paid for it?

I thought the weather might be an issue. It’s been cold of late. Not just New Orleans cold (anything under 65 F qualifies), but normal cold. Hard freeze cold. And sure, Iwanted to snuggle down in bed, but I was at the car by 6:15. Faced with a car with iced over windows. And no ice scraper (see: definition of New Orleans cold). I put on my determined-not-to-be-deterred face and started the car. Looked around for some other means of cleaning off the windows. Newspaper doesn’t cut it apparently.

Which is why I’m typing about my gym plans rather than living them. Tomorrow morning promises to be warmer. And if the car is iced again, maybe I should plan on getting my workout in the form of rubbing down the car with newspaper.

This PSA, along with my morning thoughts (about my love of Mardi Gras) could trigger enough thoughts and feelings in me to circumvent my annual grinch-iness.

The utterance of God is a lamp, whose light is these words: Ye are the fruits of one tree, and the leaves of one branch. Deal ye one with another with the utmost love and harmony, with friendliness and fellowship. He Who is the Day Star of Truth beareth Me witness! So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth. The one true God, He Who knoweth all things, Himself testifieth to the truth of these words.