who loves you, baby? November 30, 2006
I’m sitting outside on the patio at the law school, where I can smell the cooking from Dunbar’s. I keep hearing that we are in for a big rain and a cold front. It’s cloudy out here, but no rain and certainly no signs of a cold front yet. It’s downright balmy today.
I have not had internet access at my house since the other day when I had my cable TV shut off. Coinky-dink? Who knows? I have called Cox every day, most recently about 10 minutes ago. First, they said there was an outage in my area. I called back yesterday just to make sure they hadn’t turned off my internet as well as my TV. Today, they said I have to “reset my I.P.” or something like that. I have to call them back when I get home so they can walk me through it. Just unplugging the modem, waiting, then plugging it back in, which is the solution for so many modem issues, is apparently not going to be enough in this case. I guess I really broke the internet this time.
Here is a nice, warm, fuzzy law student story. I know, don’t faint. The guy who sits next to me in Real Estate Transactions is a very smart ubergeek, Brian Adelstein. He went to California recently for a job interview at Warner Brothers (he got the job) and I e-mailed him my notes for the days he was gone. Of course, I expected him to shun and ignore me since I did something nice for him, but he broke the mold. Yesterday, he asked me how my outline was going. Law students make an outline for every class and use it as a frame-work for answering essay questions on the exam. I said, “um, I made a beautiful garden for my best friend.”
“So, you haven’t made an outline?”
“Uh, no. I was just going to use Emmanuals.” Emmanuals is a series of study-aid books that are like detailed outlines. They are OK, but they usually have a lot of stuff you don’t need because no class can cover everything and if it wasn’t covered in class it won’t be on the exam.
“Well, I’m very proud of my outline. Would you like to follow me to the library after class and I’ll print out a copy for you?”
I couldn’t believe it. This was very un-law-student-like. We went to the library and Brian gave me a copy of his Real Estate Transactions outline AND an outline for Income Tax. SWEET! I would jump this guy’s bones, but his mom might have me arrested. He is definitely going to get an original Dangerblond Mardi Gras-beaded plunger.
Last night, David wanted to see Shannon’s garden. He hadn’t been there since the early stages. We went over and Shannon had all the lights plugged in. Everything is growing beautifully and it looked magical. David really couldn’t get over the transformation. It felt wonderful to be out there last night with the mild weather and few bugs.
The three of us had a pizza at Sugar Park Tavern. I had never been there. I love the way they make pizza. It’s a cracker-thin crust, my favorite. They had Pilsner Urquell on tap. The service was fast and friendly. Their kitchen is open until midnight.
I took David home and saw his apartment for the first time. He lives in a building owned by his friend, Ralph. I could not believe how beautiful it is. It’s a huge camel-back Victorian in the 4100 block of North Rampart, almost down to Poland. There is a front porch, a front yard, a side-porch and an enormous back yard with off-street parking. The apartment is not too badly renovated. The ceilings must be 18-feet. Enormous windows. I love these old New Orleans houses! The one next door is for sale, and the building on the corner, a former store, is abandoned. Other than that, it’s a fabulous Bywater block, walking distance to Vaughn’s and Bacchanal.
This is my last day of classes, and then we go into exams. I miss my grandson so much, I have been dreaming about him every night. In my dreams, he is always about a year old, the age he was last year when we moved in with them for a month as part of our hurrication. I can’t wait to see him again and see what new words he has learned. Laurence says he asks for grandma occasionally, how fantastic is that?
dangerblond unplugged November 28, 2006
I lifted something heavy the other day and pulled a muscle in my shoulder. It left me *gasp* unable to type. I really couldn’t do much else either except rest the muscle, so it’s much better now. Unfortunately, I missed the Mama Roux Pot Luck because it hurt to hold my head up on Sunday.
On Saturday, I put the lights back up in Shannon’s garden. I, um, made it kinda hard for anyone wanting to take them down again. Thierry had nothing to say except for how worried he was about the lights. Why? Because they put lights out there one time years ago and they stopped working. Well, they are not meant to last forever and the dead lights will just become trellises. I am sure most of the lights will be working a year from now. They are not meant to be left on while they are unattended, they are for an hour or two of pleasure while you are in the garden at night. I swear, you would think I am trying to burn this guy’s house down.
But I’m not; quite the opposite. It looks beautiful back there now, day and night. I picked up four mismatched chairs from the flea market on Jefferson Highway, and I brought a hurricane lamp from my extensive stash. On the way to Shannon’s, I saw an enormous boiling pot that someone had poked holes in the bottom of and used to light a fire in it. I pulled over and grabbed it. It smelled like urine and smoke. I brought it to Shannon’s and started another fire. I burned most of the rest of the debris, although I could get together another good one if we have another cold night. The neighbors on both sides were out and I asked them if the smoke was bothering them. They said they liked it, and it was keeping the mosquitos down.
Shannon is loving the garden and her dog, Birdie, is literally digging it. We found a few more herbs and everything we planted is perking up nicely. She has some areas that are practically sunlight-free. We are going to try some cast iron plants and some ferns in those super-shady spots. It’s going to look like the winter camp for traveling gypsies.
Now I’ve got Meredith and Brian all excited about their garden. They also have banana plant issues. The weather has been fantastic for gardening. I think I like gardening for my friends, it’s a Christmas present that keeps on giving.
Meredith has big news - she is leaving her law firm where the men go out to lunch together and don’t invite her. She’s going to be an Orleans Parish Assistant District Attorney. This is good news for Dangerblond. I can always use more people around to get me out of trouble, what with my driving, stick-burning, and such.
I went to see my psychiatrist yesterday to change my antidepressant. I’m going to be taking the same thing Chris Rose is taking, so I’ve got that going for me. He asked me how the rest of my life is going.
“Well, I’m feeling very cynical.”
“Is that because of law school?”
“Yes, partly. Also living here. Also because men are so weird.”
“Yes, they are.”
“They are immature, selfish and they lie like fucking rugs.”
“Some of them are worse than that. I have patients who are in a world of pain because of things men have done.”
“I might be better off without a man in my life. I don’t want to have to swallow a bunch of bullshit just to have peace in the family.”
“People do it.”
“I’ve done it. But I was never very good at it. I want to be a bitch on wheels.”
“Why?”
“Because when you treat people badly and act like a bitch, all of a sudden they are all over you, trying to make you like them. If you are good to them and treat them right, they kick you to the curb. If you intimidate people, they give you what you want. If you are sweet to them, they send you to the back of the line.”
“I can’t really argue with you. But I don’t think that’s you.”
“No, I really want to be nice to people. Life is hard enough without more bitches in the world. I just want to be able to play the bitch card when I need it. And I want an improved bullshit-detector for Christmas.”
“Ha! Don’t we all?”
Before I went to the shrink, I went to Cox Cable’s new office on Elysian Fields and dropped off my converter box and had the cable TV shut off. While I was there waiting (being nice and being last), I watched more television on their four huge screens than I have in a month. I am not going to miss the commercials for over-priced and under-whelming Christmas junk.
Later, Josh and Brian asked, “but how are you going to watch football?”
I don’t watch football unless it’s the Saints, so I am hoping my friends will invite me over on football days. Of course, anyone is welcome to come over to the Mansion and watch my European historical costume dramas from Netflix. Those old-fashioned stories are full of such incredible men.
photo | dangerblond November 24, 2006
self
Originally uploaded by dangerblond.
Here I am on the way to the track, trying out my betting face.
photo | new orleans fairgrounds, thanksgiving day, 2006
horses
Originally uploaded by dangerblond.
photo | liz, katherine and corbin
liz, katherine and corbin
Originally uploaded by dangerblond.
photo | the fairgrounds - chris’ girlfriend’s hat
chris’ girlfriend’s hat
Originally uploaded by dangerblond.
I am drawing a blank on this woman’s name, but she is chris’ girlfriend from Bacchanal. She looked great in a vintage suit, gloves and hat. Here she is posing with Katherine and Shannon in the paddock area
southeast of eden
I went over to Shannon’s on Wednesday, while she was cooking at Michelle Solomon’s, and Thierry was at work, to check on the drainage in the garden. I had told Shannon to water the hell out of everything. It took me a while to realize what was missing, but then it dawned on me that Thierry had taken down all the lighting I had spent hours putting up. Hmmm. Enter Serpent, stage right.
I went over to Michelle’s and Shannon told me that Thierry had inexplicably gone completely French over the garden. She had already nuked him for tearing down the lights. We had a very nice time at Michelle’s house with her Cuban-American family. Her uncle Abe cut green bananas off the plants in the back yard, peeled them, smashed them and then deep fried them. He called them “burro bananas,” only fit for burros to eat. They tasted like French fries. We started calling them “Boudreaux bananas,” and we said, hell, we’ll eat them, we’re Boudreauxs.
Shannon’s brother Neal was there, having just returned from Florida and seeing his newborn grandson. I had to put up with him going on and on about his grandkid, Dylan. Of course, my kid puts his kid in the shade, but why go there? His kid isn’t mediocre, by any means. I told Neal about Susan Burke from Book Club. She has a nephew who is three and knows all the states and their capitals. I don’t know about Neal, but I am getting to work on teaching Jackson those state capitals. My son said, “mom, Jackson will probably be beating kids like that up on the playground.” Well, maybe so, but when my grandson is busting rocks on the chain gang he will damn well know his geography. I sooo wished my kid was here, but he had to put in his time with the other grandparents. Of course, I’m going to tell him that Santa Claus only comes to New Orleans.
Michelle’s mother, Carol, lives here in New Orleans. Her brother and sister came in from Miami. Michelle’s cousin, Danny, has been a friend for a long time. He now lives in Puerto Rico, and he is in town as well. He brought pastillos, Puerto Rican tamales, that were tasty and exotic. Michelle’s uncle Abe, who was born in Cuba and came to the U.S. in the early 60s, had me in stitches. He’s like a Cuban stand-up comedian, Ricky Ricardo but clever. It was his birthday and Michelle got him a cake. He blew out the candles, held his hands over his heart and said, “thank you, thank you so much. It reminds me of when my mother used to make a cake for me in Cuba. Out of rocks.”
I had a great time there, but I was bummed about Thierry being bummed about the garden. I was mainly bummed because it’s not about me and Thierry, it’s about Shannon having a nice garden. Here is a great thing about age - you learn what is important. It is important to have a beautiful garden, illuminated at night. It’s not important for me to get all involved in their business and start giving my opinions, although I did get in a few choice remarks about the French. Shannon basically made it clear what she wanted, and then spent the next two days cooking.
Today, we all met at the Fairgrounds for the Thanksgiving opening day. This was the first opening day of the racing season since the flood. The Fairgrounds looked great, and there was a huge crowd. I had never been there for a horse race, only Jazz Fest. I’m not much of a gambler, but I thought it was great fun. It’s New Orleans, so, in addition to the serious bettors, the well-dressed men and the women with stunning hats, there were some very funny and ingenious creations atop many heads. Katherine and I felt completely out-hatted and resolved never to let it happen again. We saw so many people we knew and all of the “characters” that we normally see on Mardi Gras and at Jazz Fest.
We stayed on the ground floor and watched the races from outside at the finish line, but you can also go inside the grandstand and have Thanksgiving dinner there. I have not heard anything about the food. As for the concessions downstairs, they make it tough. You have to stand in line so much that you are constantly worried about missing the race. I was completely ignorant about how to bet, etc., but by the end of the day, I started picking winners. I left up by $25. Neal won $500 and Shannon about $100. I don’t know how it is for the rest of the season, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself on opening day. I am happy to support the Fairgrounds, which is owned by Churchill Downs, they came through for New Orleans very early and in a big way. Horses are beautiful creatures, too, and it’s fun to go to the paddock and see them.
Katherine and I arrived first and then Shannon joined us. When we went outside to meet Thierry and Neal, Thierry handed me a Bloody Mary and apologized. I said that I just want him to enjoy the garden. After the Fairgrounds, we went to Michelle (Fristoe, a.k.a. Michelle the Red) and Neal’s house in Bywater for dinner. I contributed an Amaretto Pumpkin Pie, homemade instead of my usual store-bought. Katherine made broccoli casserole. Thierry cooked a really juicy turkey, Shannon made dressing, Michelle made a delicious salad with peas and on and on. The gravy was a group effort.
After all her cooking was done, and we had eated as much as we could, Shannon wanted to play cards. She has this really complicated game that she plays, Five Lives, where every time we play it there is some new rule. Well, I’m in law school now, missy, and I’m onto your rules. I cleaned her clock. I think the tension (or should I say Frenchion) about the garden is over. She wanted to make Thierry put the lights back up, but I told her that since they are already down, I’ve had some new ideas that I think are better. There will be a beautiful garden, and it will be illuminated at night.
putting the “country” back in country club November 21, 2006
A long time ago, David asked me why both of our dogs live with Don. I told him that the girls would hate it if they were separated, and I don’t really want to take care of a pet right now, much less the insane beagle, Daisy Marshall. Don is very indulgent with Daisy and Jackie, lets them lick his face, shares his food with them, never tells them “no.” If I was a dog, I would want to be Susan Hess’ dog, but next to Susan, I’d want to be Don’s.
I love little, dinky dogs. Jackie Onassis is a toy poodle. I love Malteses, too. People are surprised that I like little dogs, I think I look like the kind of woman who goes around with an Alaskan Husky or something. Can’t help it. I am amazed at all the love, intelligence and energy wrapped up in those tiny little bodies.
The personality of cats is more like my own - independent, don’t care what people think - but I am just a dog person. Ellis, for instance, couldn’t care less when we get home, but a dog comes running and greets you when you walk in the door. Ellis wouldn’t mind if he never gets any attention, but Jackie and Daisy would die without it. I was thinking today that I miss having a dog, and I dreamed about them last night, but I am going to hang on a little while longer. I do enjoy not having anyone depending on me.
Tonight I was cleaning the back room and the patio, and I had all the lights on outside. I was making quite a bit of noise, moving furniture around and sweeping. Through the glass door, I saw an animal walking at a leisurely pace on the patio, and at first I thought it was Ellis. Then I realized it was bigger than Ellis. Then I realized it had a bushy, striped tail. And, wait, cats’ heads aren’t shaped like that. It was a very big racoon, cat-burgler mask and all. I can’t tell you how surprised I was to see a racoon walking around on my patio, investigating all my plants and taking his time about it.
I lived across the lake on and off for many years, and I have never seen a racoon so close to my back door. I haven’t seen very many that big, either. I can’t believe my closest-ever look at a racoon was tonight in the middle of New Orleans.
The racoon finished his explorations, not seeming to notice me when I moved or made noise. He calmly walked behind the back wall and disappeared. I minute later, I heard Ellis coming in through his kitty door. The racoon’s presence had obviously been noted. Ellis hung out close to me for a long time, then he sat by the glass door watching. Heh Heh. What do you want to bet he is in for the night? I worried that the racoon would come in through the kitty door, but I honestly think it’s too big to fit through the opening.
While I have been gardening in my yard and at Shannon’s, I noticed that I haven’t come across a single ant. When I worked in this yard a few years ago, there were ants everywhere. There are never any ants in the week-old garbage. There were no ants at Shannon’s. I am now actively looking for ants, and I haven’t seen any. Note to the Intelligent Designer: rolling up into giant, floating balls of ants during a flood does not work as a survival strategy. Back to the drawing board on that one.
Shannon keeps a revolving menagerie of three or four cats at all times. Her cats were very interested in all the gardening I was doing over there. They pawed the plant leaves and then ran off when the leaves bounced back up. At one point on Sunday, I was there alone and I moved a chair into the middle of the garden. I sat there drinking lemonade and thinking about one corner. Something moved, and I saw a mouse creep in through the fence from the neighbors’ yard. I thought, “oh, little mouse, you are so dead if you come over here.”
It crept in about two feet, then jumped, turned around and ran back through the fence. The cats weren’t around, but I think the mouse felt the vibe.
This is the first cold snap we’ve had since I was in Houston. I wonder if all the wildlife have been living in gutted houses, and now they are out seeking warmth. I wonder if that racoon is going to go up and down the street vandalizing everyone’s garbage. I wonder if the racoon is a female, if it has any relatives, where they are hanging out. I wonder if they will kill the snakes. I wonder if Ellis is smart enough to stay away from them.
I never could decide whether I like country life or city life better. I enjoy both, disliking only the driving between the two. Here in Country Club Gardens, I seem to have found the total package.
the sunken gardens of shannon November 20, 2006
I have been meaning for a long time to do some gardening for Shannon. For years, Thierry fought a losing battle with the out-of-control banana plants they inherited. He tried chopping, poisoning, digging and everything else, but as soon as they turned their backs, the banana leaves were back, all over the back yard. Last summer, he ripped them out again. Thanks to the flood and the subsequent two or three weeks of no rain and scorching heat, this time they stayed ripped out.
The nasty flood water brought old junk from under the house and from who knows where into the yard. They pressure-washed the main brick patio, but there is another brick patio in the back which was badly installed originally, then flood damaged, and is too fragile for pressure-washing. The ugly weeds that are all over town had taken it over. It’s the only sunny spot in the yard, and there are old beds on either side of it that had washed away, leaving only a lemon tree. It’s producing beautiful lemons, but leaning over so far it was practically lying down.
Shannon’s former contractor had left a bunch of junk back there, including some old cabinet drawers and the old, funky bathtub. There is a nice-sized waterproof shed, but it was hard to get to it because of the tangle of weeds. When I was over there last Thursday, I looked out the back door and instead of seeing a bunch of mess I suddenly saw a completely blank canvas. I called Shannon Friday and told her I have a gardening jones and I have boxed myself in over here at Dangerblond Gardens until I see how things are growing.
She said, “Girlfriend, get over here and knock yourself out!”
This was a perfect time to do it for her because she just had surgery. She literally can’t bend over or lift, so she didn’t have any problem just leaving me to it. She knew that I knew she couldn’t help and I didn’t expect her to. On Friday, I was just going to clean up a little, but I ended up revamping the whole place and getting into a sort of funky look with all the stuff I kept finding. I started a little fire and burned up most of the weeds, sticks and debris, which kept me from having to fill up umpteen garbage bags and put them out. I even tossed a few cabinet drawers on the barbie. I admit I’m a bit of a pyro, but we used to make fires when we lived in the woods and I love to feel the heat of an open fire and listen to the crackling.
David was impressed that I was doing all this work and not getting paid, so he volunteered to come over and help me move the old bathtub. It was upside-down. He moved it into a sunny spot and we tilted it up for drainage. I put in rocks, organic matter, soil and pine mulch to make it ready for an herb garden. This isn’t really the season for herbs, but I got some trailing rosemary and planted one at each end of the tub. It looks like a person with green curly hair and green furry feet is submerged in a bath of mulch.
I planted some irises in front of it so it doesn’t look so much like a bathtub, and there is plenty of room in the bed under it to plant more things around the tub and totally disguise it. I placed her old shutters up against the chain-link fence to screen out the neighbors. When poking around looking at the drainage, etc., I saw that Shannon’s other neighbors have placed a wire containment barrier below the wooden fence and filled it with drainage rocks. It’s over a foot of rocks. So their yard is probably draining right into Shannon’s. No wonder the bananas were so happy.
On Saturday night, I gave up my rollergirls tickets so I could work on lighting the garden. On Sunday, I put in climbing vines, roses, a camellia, some monkey grass, a gardenia and un-killable aspidistra, called the cast-iron plant for a reason. I made a chandelier out of Christmas lights and a Kentwood bottle. I made her a little compost pile and mulched the rest of the garden.
I gotta tell you, because of the old house, the playful yard full of junk to recycle (and burn up), the badly-laid patio, the leaning lemon tree (which I braced up with a board), and the funky Bywater location, I actually like Shannon’s garden better than mine. I hated to leave it. When I came home sore and filthy on Sunday, I thought, “this must be what mid-wives feel like. You do all that work to birth the baby, then you have to leave it and go home when everyone is saying how beautiful it is.”
There is plenty of room for Shannon and Thierry to put in more plants, and in the spring they can go bananas. Well, maybe not bananas.
babes in bookland
We had Book Club at Shannon’s on Thursday night, and no one but Shannon finished the book, Fanny Hill. No one liked it, although certain of us admitted being partial to parts of it. It’s porn after all, and after the lustful feelings porn excites have abated, who continues reading or watching it all the way to the end? Shannon was listening to it on her Ipod and since she chose it she felt like she ought to slog through it. She said she kept thinking, “Oh, yawn. Another sex scene.”
The language of the book was very comical, like a sleazy and single-minded Mark Twain. It’s written from Fanny’s perspective. She’s a farm girl who gets lured to London and becomes a prostitute. You can tell Fanny’s thoughts are written by a man instantly. For example, she hides in her mistresses closet and watches while she has sex with a customer. She describes the woman’s anatomy as a “slit” and the man’s as a “machine” tearing into it. Does this frighten her? Heck no, she can’t wait to try it!
Shannon made an incredible meal of fish with onion confit, couscous, lentil salad, eggplant and tomatoes. It was soooo good. She had a great time cooking. Now that the gall bladder is out, she feels like eating again.
We had a mini-baby-shower for Heather. Little Jake is head-down, in the lock-and-load position. We did a pool and took bets on the birthday. His due date is Dec. 10. I took Dec. 7, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes an appearance sooner. This is Heather’s fourth child and it’s not customary for everyone to make a huge deal over one’s fourth child. However, in her situation, it couldn’t be more needed. Her youngest child is nine and every baby item she managed to keep for that long was swept away last summer. It’s funny how you get when you’re past your first baby, though. For the first several weeks, all you need is a bassinet because you want the baby right there. There is time enough to get all the other things like a crib. So, Heather has a bassinet, and she’s good to go.
Shannon’s brother, Neal, and sister-in-law Michelle joined the wonderful world of grandparenthood last week. Neal’s son Jesse, and his wife Charlotte welcomed Dylan Cash Fristoe. The poor little thing weighed a puny 8 lbs 5 oz, at birth, but let’s hope he can overcome this disadvantage. Heh.
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