Cruise Journal: 12/12/2007

Ashore in Cozumel

It was raining as we docked. It rained off and on all day. The shopping center at the end of the pier was expensive, but clean. We found a shop where I could buy a diet coke, some batteries, and an elastic bandage (think Ace bandage, only white and not Ace). See, I’ve hurt my foot. Not in any dramatic accident that will at least provide me with an exciting story. Just the old complaint returning at an unexpected time. I tooled all over Glacier National Park without having any trouble, but one day walking around Progresso and Mérida, and my right foot is done in. I’ve never had this plantar fasciitis as bad as it is right now. Not only is my foot sore right in front of my heel, my arch is swollen a little, and all the inside of my foot is tender when I touch it. Advil makes it better, and slowly it seems to be mending. I really hope it doesn’t give me too much trouble on the ONE excursion I’m taking tomorrow to some Mayan ruins in Belize.

At any rate, I tried to minimize the walking in Cozumel today. In spite of the clouds and rain, Mom and I grabbed a cab down to one of the Paradise Beach Club. Here’s how the beaches work here. They’re all government owned, so they’re all free. It’s the chairs, umbrellas, restrooms, and showers that cost money. But what you do is you go to a beach club like the San Francisco or the Paradise, get a drink, and plop down in a chair. For the price of a fairly expensive but not ridiculously priced drink, or two, you can use the showers, chaises lounges, whatever. And swim in the gorgeous water, if it’s not too cold for you. With the overcast sky and the drizzle, it was a bit to cold for me. I have to be pretty warm before I want to dip myself in chilly water.

We stayed only about an hour. Then we came back into town to the shopping center. Mom was certain there was a large liquor store in the shopping center, in spite of the fact that we walked the entire center, didn’t see any large liquor stores, and where she thought it must be was closed for renovations.

“It’s right there, it must be right there.”

“That’s closed, Mom. There was the little one I saw.”

“I don’t want to go to the little one. I want to go to that big one I went to before. It’s right there, that must be it.”

“That’s closed for renovations, Mom.”

“Well the taxi driver said there was a big one here.”

“No, he said there were four little ones.”

“No, the other taxi driver.”

“The store he was talking about is the supermarket we passed. I saw it when we went by. He said it was two blocks that way.”

“Well there’s a big one right near here. It’s right there, let’s go over there.”

“MOM, that’s CLOSED.”

Dios mio.

And she kept asking everyone who looked native where she could buy liquor. Do you know what it’s like to wander around a city with a woman who insists on sounding like a lush? Many of them didn’t understand the word, “liquor” either, apparently. Or alcohol, which doesn’t make sense. You’d think it would be close enough to “alcool.” Oh well. So I’d pipe up from behind her, “Tequila, vodka. Para comprar tequila y vodka.” I figure they can’t mistake “tequila” or “vodka.”

We met up with some of our group in Carlos and Charlie’s. Surprisingly enough, this is not my kind of place. Everyone my age and most of the people twice my age were pretty wasted, and there was a periodic conga line for free tequila, squirted directly into the mouth of passing patrons. The music was loud, the lights were flashing, and all I could think was, great, there are at least five huge cruise ships in that port, and every mindlessly drunk American in town is within 300 feet of me. Yay. Made it out of there eventually, and came back to the ship to sit and rest my foot. I’m typing this now from the 9^th deck, where there’s a coffee bar, a library, the computer center, and a craft class making bandanas with beaded fringe. It’s terribly fun. If I’d brought my sister’s camera up instead of just her card, I could take a lovely photo of a parasailor with a red checkered canvas against the grey sky and grey water.

The water here is a gorgeous blue, right next to the ship. Just amazing. But with the clouds, as I look across the water right now, it’s a steely color. I suspect the shore I can see across the way is Playa del Carmen. It doesn’t look very tropical, but it does look very restful. Argh, I wish I had my camera. This parasailor is taunting me. This is what I hate about taking a camera at all. It makes me discontent to just see and absorb. I must capture digitally, and no one will ever really want to see it anyway, and I’ll never look at it again. So screw it. I’m just going to stop typing and start absorbing some more. One of the ladies beading across the table with me is from Bulverde, close to home. Small world.

Trivia

The craft class has left, and now I seem to be sitting in a trivia game. I think I’ll answer the questions and see how I do.

1. blue whale – world’s largest mammal - right

2. whale shark – world’s largest shark - right

3. sperm whale – what kind of whale was moby dick - right

4. ants – giant insects in “Them” - right

5. African – larger elephant (African or Indian) – guessed… right

6. true – male penguins care for young while females hunt for food – guessed… right

7. moose – Canada’s national animal – guessed right, but changed it! The beaver!

8. desert storm – desert shield became this in 1991 - right

9. 31 – days in months with religious importance to Caesar – guessed… right

10. wine – four letter word for fermented grape juice - right (duh)

11. Amsterdam – first European city to have street lights – guessed… wrong. Paris

12. baseball – team sport contributing most words and phrases to everyday English – right

13. pyramid at giza – only ancient 7 wonder still standing - right

14. Toronto – capital of Canada – wrong. I knew that, though. Ottowa

15. pink – color of yak’s milk – wrong. blue! Huh!

16. 12 – people fed from ostrich egg according to joy of cooking – wrong. 24!

17. Minnie Pearl - $1.98 price tag hanging from straw hat - right

18. brown – what color was coca-cola originally – green! Ew!

19. Les Miserables – longest running broadway musical – phantom of the opera. Huh.

20. California, New Mexico – largest producers of carrots – CA and TX, I was half right!

Okay, I guessed on a lot of those, but I got 12 right. The couple behind me got 13. I’d have come in second. Hah!

Impatience

I am really not a patient person. And I’m a language snob. These are not endearing qualities. I’m tired of hearing people mispronounce things. Repeatedly. And I hate to sound like a pedant and always be correcting them. And my impatience with the hard of hearing doesn’t bode well for when I start losing my own hearing. I’m going to be pretty darn grouchy about it, I imagine.

And my impatience with people who have to talk about all the things they disapprove of over and over and over. Look, I don’t want to sandwich dance in a club, EVER. My personal space envelope around strangers is humongous, and I lack so much dignity in other areas that I have to preserve what I can. But you know what, if another young woman likes it, hey, Cozumel’s Carlos and Charlie’s is as good a place as any for her to indulge, and do I really have to hear about it before dinner, and again during dinner. Yes, there was dirty dancing in the club. No, I don’t care for it. But it happens. People enjoy it. Different… er… strokes. I would have gotten up and left, if Mom had wanted. I was only waiting for her. I saw things that embarrassed me. I have not and will not recount them at the dinner table, or here. But Mom's offended sensibilities don't seem to be stopping her.

So instead of going to the show, I’ve decided to come back to the room, order a glass of wine, and just chill. I need it. I hate being so impatient, but I don’t do well with crowds, and this vacation would be a lot more relaxing if I could just be by myself a lot more. I’ve said it before, but I just don’t like seeing the world with the words “American Tourist” branded on my forehead.

I’ve got my glass of wine and ginger ale now. Don’t worry, the Riesling was the cheapest wine on the menu, and I’m not ruining it in the least. I’m going to type up some notes so I don’t have to do all this when I get back. Chilling starting now.

Night

The water here seems different somehow. I don’t know why, but it’s lighter, softer. The boat moves through it and it slides and hisses like a light silk, frothing into a dazzling foam that fizzles out almost immediately. This is very different even from the blue water we had the first full day at sea, on the way to Progresso. It’s worlds away from the heavy, turbid ship channel water. I walk to the aft deck to watch our wake. I look up into the sky, and see the stars glimmering through the clouds. It’s lonely, and for the first time, here in the dark, I feel afraid of the cold, dark water below. I walk fast back to the door into the ship, to the light and warmth of a human world, apart from the awful, unfeeling beauty of the swirling blackness that surrounds and supports us. This is the definition of the sublime.

Cruise Journal: 12/11/2007

For Better or Worse

Today I realized, I am an American, for better or for worse. We went into Progresso and Mérida Mexico, in the Yucatan. I’m not really sure how I feel about anything. Some of the buildings were lovely, stucco over stone, painted in cheerful colors with white shutters and wrought-iron accents. But you look close and the paint is chipped, the wood rotting. The doors open into cool caverns of rooms no longer used or outfitted for anything like their original purposes. Now the walls are hung with cheap merchandize, tables are set up and loaded with more cheap merchandize, and people sit looking black against the shaded white walls, with a listless air. There’s activity and bustle out on the sidewalks, and many of the women wear straight white cotton dresses with brilliant embroidery. There are lovely parks and busy corners. And there is decay. All of these only add to my sense of dissociation and disorientation.

I’m one of a group of 10. My mom is about twice my age, and she’s the next youngest. Our group is white middle class conservative ex-military. They’re wonderful people. But they make me impatient. They know just little enough Spanish to mispronounce everything, send me off to ask the wrong questions, and make it difficult for me to understand the answers I get, because while I’m trying to ask in Spanish and understand the person I’m talking too, they’re asking in English with a few (mutilated) Spanish words, and talking louder than I’m willing to.

If I’d been by myself, I would have wandered through the markets smiling and shaking my head, meandered into bakeries and eaten one of everything, bought a necklace for way too much or way too little money, taken pictures of every little architectural detail that caught my eye, asked questions quietly and shyly, probably of the children and little old women. Instead I’m wandering along with people who are on one hand childishly proud of their ability to navigate a foreign country, and on the other wishing it were more like Disney World. Everyone is out to cheat us, so we must never pay what they ask. For all I know, this may be true. Americans are all rich, after all, and so why not make a little extra money off of their naïveté.

But the poverty I feel lurking just beyond the bright paint and impeccably clean parks tears at me. I *am* so wealthy compared to these people. They may very well live better lives than I do, for all that. But I know they lack comforts I take for granted. Free toilet paper in public restrooms, for one thing. And so, for a minute, let’s pretend they aren’t trying to cheat us. Just asking a certain price we’re well able to pay for a service they are well able to render. Like a taxi ride into town. How do we look, refusing to pay any more than a quarter what they ask? How do we look when we don’t know enough Spanish to understand what they asked in the first place, and so offer two pesos instead of the requested two dollars. And how do we look when we care so little for how we look?

I want to see these cities as something other than an American. I want to be someone they don’t expect extra profit from, and someone they don’t expect rudeness from. I want to eat their food and read their signs, attend their services, and slip quietly into shadows at the end of the day without having spent less money than I could have and more money than I should have. But for better or worse, I’m an American. With my Spanish and the improvements I would expect it to undergo after several days here, I might be able to pass for, if not a native, at least a Canadian. But my group is unmistakable American. So really getting to know the country will have to wait until some other time.

The Dinner Table

Maybe this fascinates only me, but let me tell you about the typical dinner table, and the typical cruise dinner. First, you sit down at a place setting that goes like this. From left to right: bread plate with small butter knife. Yes, everyone gets their own butter knife. It's fabulous. Salad Fork. Dinner Fork. Napkin. Dinner Knife. Um, salad knife? And above the knives, water goblet. If the wait person is standing near you, he/she will pick up your napkin and drape it over your lap. The wait person hands out the menus and puts out baskets of bread (slices, baguettes, and dinner rolls) and trays of butter packets (bowls with ice in them, with a vented cover that the butter rests on. They will bring you wine, or you can bring your own and they’ll pour it out. They fill your water goblet, and you open your menu.

The first section of the menu is appetizers. Next come soup and salad selections. On the facing page you have entrees, and below that, desserts (by far the most tantalizing part of the menu, as far as I’m concerned). From this list, you select as many as you want of whatever you want. I’m serious. Mom had two entrees from tonight’s menu (salmon and strip steak). I had two desserts (flan and chocolate soufflé with Irish cream sauce). The portions all tend to be reasonable. The appetizers and desserts are small enough that ordering two isn’t really that excessive. At least in the two standard restaurants (The Four Seasons and The Terrace). The Italian restaurant (The Trattoria) was somewhat more… abundant. And we ate there last night, which was lobster night, so the lobster lovers each had at least two tails. I had an absolutely smashing pork chop.

Basically, I’ve become addicted to butter on my rolls. They’ve got these little packets of Borden salted and whipped butter. God, it’s good stuff. I’ve also been making an absolute pig out of myself, and compensating by taking the stairs. I swear, they’re going to have to roll me off this ship. But the food is so GOOD! Everything about this whole cruise experience so far simply screams excess. I’d like to do this again some time, but I’m not sure my conscience will allow it.

Cruise Journal: 12/10/2007

Shower

There are odd advantages for both tall and short people on this cruise ship. The life jackets are tucked on top of the closet, and I can only reach them if they’re near the edge. The thermostat is reachable, but definitely mounted higher than comfortable for me. The shower, though! How on earth a tall person would get clean, I don’t know. I stretched up to scrub the shampoo out of my hair, and hit the ceiling.

But I’m amazed at how dry the bathroom stays. I’ve managed to inadvertently soak the entire floor (and my change of clothes) in a hotel bathroom that was 5x6 feet with a tub to catch the water. Here the bathroom is 4x4 feet tops, and the shower is partitioned off from the rest by a curtain and a 1 inch lip along the floor. In spite of the boat’s motion, the rest of the bathroom floor stays dry. Amazing.

The sun is up, and the water outside our port holes is foaming white over a gorgeous deep blue. It’s going to be a beautiful day at sea. Time for the breakfast buffet.

My... Hair...

I needed a hair cut, and I have a wedding to go to when I get back, so...

Mom and I both made appointments, and I decided to get my hair colored too. So I went up the beauty salon this afternoon, and told the girl (Fae) what I wanted. She did things a little differently than I'm used to. Instead of trimming the hair between her fingers straight, she sort of snipped into it with the little scissors. I guess that gives it more texture.

She used a sort of little brush to mix up the color, then paint it on to my hair. I need one of those little brushes! She didn't get any on my ears, which I'm always doing when I do this myself. I love red hair dye. It always looks like you must be coloring your hair purple. When she rinsed it out, though, I was sort of taken aback. I've never gone that red! She dried and poofed my hair out, in a way I really didn't like, so I decided I'd have to go back to my room and douse my head and comb it out before I could be sure I liked it.

I went back to the cabin to do this, and while I was in the restroom, Mom came in and called to see if I was there. She asked, "So, how is it?" I responded, "... ... ... I look like a stop sign."

But it combed out okay, and I'm sure the color will calm down with a few shampoos. If not, I can always go back later in the cruise and get them to do something about it. But maybe I'll enjoy having a head the color of hybiscus. :-P

Dinner

Dinner was much better tonight. Italian restaurant, breaded pork cutlet, brushetta with roast duck, cheese tortellini with alfredo, chocolate cake. Every one had two lobster tails, except me. Shame I don’t like lobster. :-)

It still took two hours, but with so much food, there was always something to eat or something on its way to be eaten. And the maitre d’ came over to chat with us for quite a while. His name tag showed his country of origin to be Hravatska. Which none of us had heard of. So he began to give us hints. Only, we thought he was just telling us about the place.

He finally said, okay, what is this, and pointed to one of the men’s necktie. “A tie.” And what is it in French? Of course I couldn’t remember. “Cravate.” And what does cravate sound like in English… So the table starts tossing out words. I say, well, it sounds like Hravatska. He nods, and says yes, what else. More words. And it clicks. “Croatia.” And he points to me and says “Yes!” He told us about how when Croatian ambassadors visited the court of Napolean, they wore cravats around their neck which attracted attention, and the name was coined.

So dinner was excellent and I learned something new. I think we can call the evening a success!

Photos

As promised, here are links to my on-line photo albums. You'll have to have a free Snapfish account, sorry.

The Sea, The Sky - Random pictures of wind and water.

Progresso y Merida - First stop, a coastal town in the Yucatan, then a taxi trip inland.

Cozumel - Too touristy for me, and it was raining, but still lovely.

Belize - My favorite stop of the whole cruise. I could see myself retiring here. :-P

Norwegian Dream - Me being a tourist and crawling all over the ship.

Christmas On Board - Trees, garland, the decks were... decked out.

Chocolate Buffet - Nuf said.

Fog in the Ship Channel - Made coming home tricky. And eerie.

Cruise Journal: 12/9/2007

As promised! It's a little rough. It's sort of just whatever I wrote, and not much editing. And not nearly as fun as my Glacier journal (you should go back and read that if you haven't, it was in July). Oh, and I'm not quite done with my web albums, but I promise I'll post picture links soon.

Boarding

Definitely low on patience, and needing a vacation. Eager to be underway, out on the water. Happy to see Bud and Pat, meet their friends, see my mom, but ready to be alone. The room is warm. I’ve just gotten on the boat, with Moon River playing in the background. I’ve come to the cabin to put out bags down. It’s quiet here. Just a television playing safety drills. The people in the dramatizations are all much younger than most of the people I’ve seen here. I’m also a lot younger than most of the people I see.

Our cabin has portholes with rose colored curtains, about 20 feet above the water. It’s calming to be here by myself finally, but I need to go back up to the group, I guess.

Life Boat Drill

We are muster station H, life boat 12, and the emergency number to call is 21. I know all this because I just stood out on the deck in the cold and yelled it at the top of my lungs. The emergency signal is seven short blasts of the horn followed by one long blast. But the short blasts don’t seem very short. And if that horn starts blasting, I’m likely to just run to my muster station without counting. Brooke just called Mom for the last time. Bud and Pat have two big bottles of Crown, so Mom’s fixing a drink. I could buy the bottomless soda gun package for $40.25, but I refuse to believe I drink 6 sodas a day.

If I hear much more about how the Celebrity cruise my godparents went on is so much better than this, I might just scream. I can feel the vibration of the motors now in my seat. We must be about to leave.

Leaving Harbor

The sound of the wind rushing by is almost all I hear on the forward-most deck, up above the prow, as the banks slide by. I think I see the open ocean ahead, but we won't reach Galveston for three hours, so I could be wrong. The sun is setting off the starboard side, which is west, of course, so we’re headed south. Good. We’re going the right way, and I remember which is port and which is starboard. The smoke and the stacks of the refineries are behind us, drifting away. Off on the last bit of shore to my left, a gull cries, but it sounds muffled. Even the voices of people near me seem to fall into a dampening silence. The sounds are clear and sharp, but they don’t seam to spread or ring in the stillness.

A flatbed barge passing by has a flock of sea gulls circling over its wake. Dozens of them were perched on the deck as well, like ferry passengers huddled in their warm gray coats, puffed against the wind. I wonder if the gulls are flying in our wake, and on that thought I hurry to the aft deck.

If the front of the boat is windblown and peaceful, with only a few passengers standing against the rails, enthralled like me by the rush of the wind and the sliding shores, the aft is where I feel the real power of the ship. The engines are chugging and churning up billows and maelstroms of thick brown and green water. The gulls scream and swoop and swirl above, diving down into the foam after small fish, for yards and yards behind us. When one is lucky enough to catch something, he gulps it down immediately if he can. If he can’t, he flies up out of the fray, with the others clamoring after him. I watch one gull flying level with me holding what must be a small eel. He drops it as I watch, and one of the gulls chasing him catches it as it falls, and dodges off, pursued in his turn. Every so often a pelican glides sedately through and past this unruly mob, and I feel like he’s looking sideways at them in disdain as his wide wings carry him yards along with each swoop.

One of my fellow passengers walks by and asks if I’m getting inspired. I smile, but the spell is broken. Don’t people know better than break into the dreams of an artist at work? :-P

The side and aft decks are much warmer than the prow. The sun is setting in flames and I’d take a picture, but it would never come out with just those colors. I’ve lost my group, so it might be about time to go looking for them.

Dinner and a Movie

So, 7pm we started dinner in The Terraces. You order appetizers, soup, salad, entrée, and dessert, all at once. Every thing looks great on the menu. We sit and talk, appetizers and soup come. We sit and talk, soup comes for people who also had appetizers. We sit and talk, and talk, and get our water glasses filled, and talk. And realize the dinner is taking quite a long time.

Finally it comes. My strip steak is very flavorful, and very tough. Hmmm. The potato wedges were yummy. The chorizo on a skewer between a halved jalapeno was… atomic. Ow. One little bite and I felt like my head was exploding. Ow. Chew chew chew ow ow ow. Swallow ow. Lemon wedge helped. Water. Bread and butter. NOT touching one of those ever again.

The entrée is cleared away. The maitre d’ asks how everything was. Why do you always smile and say yes, even when it isn’t? In spite of the almost constant complaining through out the entire meal, no one has anything to say. So we sit and talk (complain) and wait for dessert. Which is the BEST part of the meal. I got the chocolate pecan cake. If it had been normal cake consistency, the slice would have been the size of my head. Instead, all that cake was compacted into about 5 cubic inches of extra-dense, extra-rich, extra-dark extra-FABULOUS chocolate cake. Wow.

Well, and dinner took 2 hours. I have to say, I actually would have enjoyed the relaxed pace, if it weren’t for the CONSTANT comparing of how this cruise isn’t as good as other cruises and how it was unbearable to be waiting so long for each course. Sigh. And if my steak hadn’t been so chewy. We’ll see how next time goes.

So then we went and watched a show. There was a little jazz combo. They were okay. They weren’t as good as the Rice jazz band. :-P The cruise director came out and tried to liven up the audience. But we were all pretty tired. There was a singer who played piano. She wasn’t really all that good. Hmm. There was a comedy magician with a raccoon puppet who was pretty funny. Then another comedian who had some pretty funny material about learning to ski and being mystified by body-builders who take pride in giving themselves hernias lifting incredible amounts of weight.

Of course, I almost fell asleep during the show. Really tired. Can feel the motion of the ship as we sail. Wonder how sleeping will be in this. Finding Nemo is on the TV. Mom’s actually never watched it. So I guess we’ll be doing this until I fall asleep. Night!

Finally Moved In!

But... Laura... you moved to your new apartment MONTHS ago.

I know. But I wasn't really moved in. There was one *tiny* detail that really kept me unsettled. That nagged at the back of my brain. Wouldn't let me really feel at peace in my lovely new apartment. Something I rarely fully, consciously contemplated, but that tortured my psyche in little ways. A demon I could not exorcise. A ghost I could not lay to rest. Until today.

I FINALLY FOUND MY FRIGGIN' ***PLACEMATS***!!!

So, it pays to go the extra mile for Mom. I decided to really wrap her Christmas presents, not just tape them into the nice little store bag, pretty though it was. So I pulled down my bag'o'bags to find a nice Christmasy one. I know I'm late, but I was sick! She and Kid are coming into town tomorrow, so tonight I'm cleaning up, wrapping presents, and listening to my favorite Christmas CDs. (These are, incidentally, Indigo Christmas, which is jazz, Winterlude, which is contemporary contemplative something or other with guitar, percussion, and synth, sound cheesy, but I like it, and Benjamin Britten's Ceremony of Carols, yes, I'm a nerd).

Anyways, I pulled down the bag'o'bags, and stuck my hand it to root around. And then it caught my eye. That sort of southwest-y weave of red, orange, and burgundy. My long lost placemats!!! Just in time for my New Year's party! My apartment and my life are finally complete, and Christmas is coming!

Life is good.

:-)

All I want for Christmas...

Is to not be sick for Christmas. Oh well. I've been curled up watching Mythbusters for a long time now. It's fun. I'm almost done with my new Season 1 DVDs. Thanks Will. But it's not really Christmas. I am feeling better, though. I'll hopefully be up to full strength by the time I need to do actual work.

My only real problem is that eating instant rice, tortilla chips, mac-n-cheese, or anything else I have in my apartment just does NOT sound like Christmas. And I have no more caffeinated beverage. This could really be a problem.

I've also decided that I want pets. Sea monkeys to be specific. For some reason I'm fascinated by sea monkeys. Hmm....

Bowling

Well, so Rice didn't win the New Orleans Bowl. We really did not play up to the level I've seen us play this season, and you just can't win in the post-season without being at the top of your game. But I have absolute faith that this is just the beginning of our bowl experience with Todd Graham as head coach. We'll be back, and next time, with a win!

Win or lose, New Orleans was a BLAST. Morale for me was a little at ebb just because of all the travel and worry and nudging aside of Christmas traditions. But I got to see some friends I hadn't seen in years, and hang out with some of the most fun people I know in a city I'm quickly becoming entranced with.

I flew in Thursday night, and actually managed an earlier flight. I was waiting in my gate, and the flight before mine was a bit delayed, and apparently had 13 empty seats. One of the gate attendants approached me and asked if I'd like to just fly out now, and I said sure.

When I got on the plane, there were of course no window seats left, but some rather... ahem... nice-looking young men sitting in a row towards the back kept glancing at me as I walked down the aisle, so, in a what-the-hell sort of move, I made my way to them and asked if the seat between them was taken. They said I could certainly sit there, and the one on the aisle even got up and moved to the middle. Very gentlemanly, I think, since all the men I know would decidedly rather NOT sit in a middle seat.

I had apparently attracted their notice with my MOB jacket, because as I sat down, I noticed the rings. Rice rings. They were 2004 and 2005 grads, and former members of the football team! One of them had even been on the panel that had selected coach Graham. I never did get names, but I really enjoyed talking with them during the flight. Especially since it helped us keep ourselves distracted from the turbulence. The flight was a little rough, but at least the rain had stopped. New Orleans neighborhoods had apparently seen some flooding earlier in the day, but I was able to land just fine.

They apparently work in investment banking up in Dallas, and are just so excited about the changes to the football program. They also planned to get a cab the next day and drive around the city to see how places other than the French Quarter were fairing in the aftermath of Katrina. New Orleans is definitely pushing its way back up, but there's a lot to be done. And as Katy said, it really makes you want to spend your money on the street performers and the food and just being a tourist, because it's an industry that you can contribute to so easily, to help them get back on their feet. I hope we helped!

Speaking of my roomie for the trip, Katy, I called her when I got in, and she and a bunch of others were out at Pat O'Brian's tackling hurricanes of a different sort. I collected my room key from Joanna and Mark, who picked me up at the airport, and my uniform from Mike and Will's room, got everything situated in my own room, and set out with Mike for Bourbon Street and Pat O's. Which I keep wanting to call Brian O'Neill's. Bear with me.

Mike and I found a crowd out on the Pat O patio, and Katy was a little, um, tipsy. :-P I'm not sure how long they'd been there, but we didn't all stay much longer after that. Maybe an hour, and I had a Sprite. It rained a bit, so we got a little damp. In the end, the group split, and Mike took his group of very happy MOBsters back to the hotel while I agreed to get four of them over to Cafe du Monde.

Mind you, before the beginning of this week, I hadn't been to New Orleans since my junior year in college. I definitely need to learn the city a bit better. Right now I'm pretty well landmark oriented, but not at all directionally oriented, and I prefer to be both. My goal for my next visit is to pin down which way, exactly, is north. My next visit will likely be early in 2007, since work will be picking up. As it was, I got us to Cafe du Monde after only five extra blocks of walking or so, for which I felt kinda bad, because some of our party really needed the facilities. But we got there without losing anyone, and grabbed a dozen beignets for the five of us. Katy probably ate five of them herself. :-P Fortunately I had absolutely no problem finding Canal Street and our Mariott from Cafe du Monde.

The next morning Katy and I headed back to Cafe du Monde to meet my friend Ellen, who sang in Philharmonics with me. Hadn't seen her in a few years! On the way we stopped in the Jax Brewery shopping center for me to do some Christmas shopping. I was planning on having to grab a half hour somewhere to get to the Rice Village so I could buy my grandmother a gift card at Chico's, but I had noticed a Chico's there on the walk the night before. Score! We took care of that, and wandered around the shopping center checking out tourist junk for sale. It started drizzling, so we contemplated buying an umbrella, but in the end we were able to just wait it out, and when it cleared up we walked down to Cafe du Monde for our second visit.

It was amazing how many people we saw there and on the streets wearing Rice shirts! The owls were definitely out in force, and everyone was PUMPED. The trumpet player who was out on the sidewalk playing to us started up "Deep in the Heart of Texas" and a full two-thirds of the cafe patrons began to clap along. My friend Ellen showed up, and introducing her to Katy was really fun! They're both living in Michigan right now, so they had a lot of common ground to chat about. And of course there was all the gossip about ourselves and our mutual friends.

Ellen's family lives in Metairie, and their house was definitely affected by Katrina. It's been really hard on her mother, especially, and her father had to temporarily relocate to Philadelphia for work during this last year. It looks like things are starting to come back together, but it's still really hard. It reminds you that even when the tangible damage is dealt with, the scars that are left can run so much deeper. Life will never be what it would have been. It can only be... what it can be. It can only be what a person, a family, a city, and a nation can make of it. They still need our thoughts and our prayers, to say nothing of whatever tangible help we can give, to make it *good*.

Some of Ellen's other friends who were in town came to meet her, and a large group of MOBsters turned up, swelling the ranks of Rice folk, and the trumpet player cranked up Louie Louie, probably by MOB request. Katy and I were hungry, so we decided we would find Fiorella's and sample their world famous fried chicken for lunch. We grabbed Tera out of the big MOB group, and I called up Tim to see what he was up to. He and three other guys agreed to start heading down Decatur Street towards Cafe du Monde, and I agreed to call them once I'd found the place, since I'd received information that it was on Decatur.

Tera, Katy, and I wandered down towards the French Market, and caught a glimpse of our goal just past the big yellow cinderblock building that held Jimmie Buffet's Margaritaville. We went in to stake out a table, and got sent to the back of the restaurant. So I went out to wait for the boys, since there was no way they'd find us on their own at that point.

While I was standing on the sidewalk outside, a guy in a Rice sweatshirt came out of the gift shop next-door. I grinned and said, "Go Rice!" and he came over to chat. He said he had actually gone to Indiana, but his father had played football at Rice, and was a member of the 1961 team! The last Rice team to go to a bowl game! At that point, and older gentleman came out of the shop and walked over to us and said hi. I asked if he'd really played in the last Rice bowl game, and he said, yes! I told him it was an honor and a pleasure to meet him, and we talked a bit about all the program had been through over the years, and how terribly exciting it was to be in New Orleans for a bowl. They went on their way, and soon the boys showed up.

Okay, if you're ever in New Orleans, and if you like fried chicken, then Fiorella's is a place you do NOT want to miss. Ask me for directions. Oh my. Now, I've grown up in Texas, and my mom makes some pretty darn good fried chicken. Her's is different from this, but this stuff was PHENOMENAL. Crispy, piping hot, deliciously seasoned without being too spicy for me, but still with a tang that let you know this was definitely Nawlins chicken. We decided that between the seven of us, we probably ate four fried chickens and a Coke. Jake Blues would be proud.

By the time we were done eating, it was getting to be time to head back to the hotel. We wanted to stop at House of Blues for souvenir shopping, but they were unfortunately closed. So we just went on to get ready. While I was changing, Joanna called to make sure I was in and that she new my right room number, because she had something for me. She and Mark came down, and gave me a holiday gift!!! It was a GREAT tie that has a trumpet on it and says "New Orleans Jazz." Now I have *two* ties to wear for MOB that come from New Orleans and have cool stories (my other tie I bought 45 minutes before I had to be dressed and on the bus for my first ever game with the MOB, in a dollar store off Bourbon Street). Very nice present. I love it! Thanks again, you guys. :-D

For news of the game and the show, you can check out various forums. I just don't have the energy, and honestly, I wasn't at full strength for the game. Though I did do a good job of busting my chops and torching my vocal chords. Go Owls!

After the game the adventures around town began again. We were unfortunately too late to hit the Red Fish Grill, so I was disappointed in my hopes of trying the double chocolate bread pudding. A group of ten or so of us ended up in a pizza/daquiri shop down Bourbon, that was playing some really fun Latin dance mix sounding music. Paul and Chip (who moved to Chicago a while back, and we haven't seen since then) got their grooves on and were dancing to the beat. It sounds incredibly goofy, put like that. Only, the thing is, they're both *amazing* dancers. And I have to say there are few things I find more attractive/enjoyable to watch than a guy who can really dance. Those two were a blast. I even got to swing dance a little with Chip later on, which I enjoyed emmensely. Swing dancing is definitely something I need to pick up again.

From the daquiri shop we made our way back to Pat O'Brian's for another night. Roy offered to buy a round, so I agreed to have a Kir Royale, since that seems to be about the only cocktail I know of that I can actually enjoy drinking. Let me tell you. Pat O's makes a *very* nice Kir Royale. And Roy didn't even end up getting to buy. A gentleman in a Rice polo shirt saw our gear and came over to say hi. Turns out his son is a Rice player, and he just could *not* say enough about how much the support of the students and especially of the MOB means to the team and their families. He thanked us all profusely, bought our whole table two rounds, and chatted for a while about Rice football.

We also ran into some of the team. They *also* thanked us profusely. One of them in particular hung out at our table for while, toasted us, yelled "GO MOB!" a fair number of times, danced along with Chip and Paul, and after being away for a bit, started carrying over six more hurricanes for our table. There was a *lot* of liquid enjoyment running around our group. But it was *just* a blast to meet these guys, and to know that what we do really means a lot to them. That is, after all, a lot of why we do it.

I was good, and didn't even try to start the second Kir Royale that had appeared on the table. One is my limit for now. I don't think I managed to get drunk, and I didn't feel sick, so I think my tolerance is improving with very minimal effort on my part. I still prefer soft drinks. :-P After some portion of about, what, 25 hurricanes? had been consumed, along with several daquiries, some beer, and my girly drink in a champagne glass, it was closing time. We all headed out to the street, and getting Katy back to the hotel took some doing. She was *quite* sloshed. We stopped a couple of times for glasses of water to pour into her, and managed to hang together as a group pretty well, considering I was probably the only person who qualified as sober.

We decided that Katy probably wasn't going to be good for the 6:30am bus loading time, and that I as her roommate was not up to the task of getting us both down there after that much booze and only about 2 hours sleep (it was 3:30am when we left Pat O's, and it did end up taking a fair amount of time to get back to the room). So Will graciously agreed to take me, Katy, and Tera back to Houston with him. We agreed to meet downstairs at 10:30am, we all got back to our rooms, Tera helped me get Katy to bed, and we all slept happily and deeply for a few hours, at least. Which explains why I'm incredibly sleepy right now, and ready to turn in as soon as I finish telling you all my stories.

We got all checked out of the hotel on time the next day, and decided to make one last run to Cafe du Monde. We parked by the steamboat landing and got to look at the Mississippi under a gorgeous blue sky, and listen to the steam calliope play some *beautiful* Christmas carols. Hee. We grabbed our beignets to go, and ate them sitting on a bench in Jackson Square, after looking over the street artists' works on display. I bought an old slate painted with a night scene and a trumpet player. I love it!

Some time after noon we got on the road, and headed back to Houston, with some stops along the way. We hit a Burger King, and when I went across the street to the Chevron for a soda with a resealable top, I saw something pretty appalling. They had angel figurines about a foot tall with fiber-optic light up wings in shades of pastel pink and blue. Ew.

The drive back was uneventful, and now I'm home, so the adventures are over. Time to slow down a bit, and enjoy Christmas. Cruise stuff when I'm done doing that. :-)

Oh, I forgot

Another uber-cool thing about the W. The mats in the elevators.

When we first got there, at around 3:30 pm, they said "Good Afternoon" and I went, huh.

When I went downstairs for dinner at around 7 pm, they said "Good Evening" and I went, awww yeah.

When I went downstairs the next day to check out at around 7 am, they said "Good Morning" of course.

Talk about attention to detail. :-)

I <3 New Orleans

Cruise journal coming soon, I promise. As soon as I have time to think about it without forgetting all these other adventures I’m having that I want to share.

I’m in the W New Orleans. I’ve been awake since 3:45 this morning. Halfway through my meeting at Shell, I realized I’d been up for over 6 hours, and the morning wasn’t half over. It’s been a long day.

I’m so glad my coworker Danny offered to drive. He actually knows where to park at Intergalactic. We got there in good time, considering our flight took off a bit late. They had to find 11 people willing to take the later flight, cuz they’d over booked. For $300 in travel credit, I’d have done it, but I kinda had somewhere I needed to be. Like the meeting I was traveling for.

Anyway, so we board the plane. I had a window seat. And an aisle seat. At the same time. And two people had to move from the front to the back to make sure the plane was balanced okay. Fun! But I wasn’t nervous at all. Danny said he was.

So meeting good job team blah blah blah. Then they took us to lunch. At the Red Fish Grill. I had the venison patty melt, and yes I’m now fully aware that my lack of appreciation for sea food and spicy food mean I will never fully enjoy all New Orleans cuisine has to offer. It was still a dang good burger. And I’m *fully* capable of appreciating the chocolate bourbon pecan pie with caramel sauce that they put in front of me for dessert. FULLY capable. I was really full. And they recommended a good place for us to go to for dinner, and we went, and I was too full to really do it justice. But my ravioli were yummy, and the duck Danny ordered was SUPERB. There was a jazz pianist in the foyer, and wainscoting and striped wall paper and stained glass and still life paintings in heavy frames. But my favorite part of this trip by far was the walk back to the hotel.

First off, I love this city because of how much is within walking distance, and how many people walk. We walked to lunch. We walked from the office to our digs. We’ve walked everywhere. And anywhere you can walk along the street admiring the paintings in the galleries, then get pulled to the window of a club by the sound of a band with a 70 year old drummer, a 20 year old pianist, and a trumpet player who sounds as rich and smooth as Miles Davis… That’s heaven. Danny keeps talking about jazz fest, and I really want to come back here for that weekend.

I have another meeting at 7:30 tomorrow morning, so I should really go to bed. But I have to tell you all about my room. Where to start. Well, let me go over to the window and gaze through the white louvered wooden blinds. I can see the Hilton. I can see the Harrah’s. I can see the pool that has “WET” in big letters on its bottom (they like W words at the W, apparently). I can see some unmarked tall buildings, and the rest is kinda lost in the fog that’s draped the city all morning. I have a closet with an actual door, a nice roomy bathroom, and an incredibly soft, cushy, and roomy king-sized bed. It really seems excessive for one small me. And that’s just the beginning.

I have a machine on my desk/table that will sell me a handful of Hot Tamales for 5¢. I have a clock radio that plays CDs. I have a 27” TV and a DVD player. I have two cushy chairs with a glass-topped end table. And I have a mini-bar & munchie box that has, I kid you not, a teddy bear in a plastic wrapper. In case I forgot mine. Which I did. But since he costs $12, I suppose I’ll leave him for someone else. But I want him very much. Lessee. What else is in the goodie pile?

• White wine
• Red wine
• Bubbles

(WTF? Bubbles? Hold on. Okay, bubbles must mean that miniscule bottle of Champagne.)

• Bud light
• Heineken
• Corona
• W wine ($42 friggin dollars???)
• Soda
• Juice
• Large water
• Small water

(They’re all snooty, and call it H2O.)

• Energy drink
• W snickers
• W M&Ms
• W Oreos
• W cocktail jelly beans
• W Cocabon chocolates
• W Twizzlers
• W cashews
• W trail mix

(What makes them all so “W”? Oh, the fact that they’ve been additionally-packaged in a plastic box with a sticker across the lid that says “W”. I bet that’s so you can’t just replace them with, you know, stuff you bought at the gas station for less than, what, $6? Right.)

• Pringles
• Energy bars
• Mojito mints

So much for the edibles. Now things get even more fun. Besides the teddy bear, we have:

• CD
• T-Shirt
• Tote bag
• Short story book

(Huh, wonder what sort of authors? Huh. Among others, the author of Bridget Jones’ Diary and Steve Martin. Can’t see if they’re any good. It’s also wrapped. :-P)

• W candle
• Umbrella
• Corkscrew
• First aid kit
• Intimacy kit

Yes, that last is just about what you think it is. Eeenterrrresting. The coffee and tea aren’t on the list with prices, so I can only assume they’re complimentary. There’s an incredibly soft bathrobe in the closet, tempting me to take a bath and lounge around in it. There’s a little catalog where I can order W pillows and décor and jewelry and even MATRESSES. Oh, CAN I??? Yeesh.

The stationery rocks, though. You know how in the 18^th century you wrote your letter on thinner paper, and continued onto the envelope, which was just like the paper, only sturdier, maybe, then folded it all over and sealed it with a… wax seal? Looks like they’re trying to mimic that. Might have to snitch some and write someone a letter, just for kicks.

But for now I’ve described all the wonders I’ve found thus far, and it’s REALLY been a long day. I’m glad I’m going home tomorrow, but I’m glad I’m coming back for fun later this week.

Night, all!

Update on the trainwreck

Got a call from the complex this morning, just as I was about to call them.

Profuse apologies on their part. My check was received, and I do not owe for any past water bills. What happened was my check got put with the letter I'd enclosed, instead of with the other checks. So it had been remembered yesterday right after the notices had been posted, and they couldn't get my notice back.

This will not go on my record. I am instructed to shred the notice to vacate. I will not be kicked out.

All is much better in my world.

And now for the train wreck

So, I came home to a lovely surprise. I've been given unconditional notice to vacate my apartment by December 7 for non-payment of my rent.

BUT I PAYED MY RENT! EARLY! I HAVEN'T BEEN LATE WITH THE RENT SINCE I MOVED IN!!!

I put a check in an envelope in the drop box on November 30, and thought all was well. Now they're kicking me out? *whimper*

Now, it's possible that there's something else going on. In November I got a letter in my door addressed to some one NOT me, saying that i had an outstanding water bill. I kept meaning to go into the office to ask about it, but I didn't make it in by the date they said. So I called. The girl on the phone said it sounded like there was a mistake somewhere (of the two water bills I've received, only one of them has my name, and none of them have the name of the person I know lived there right before I did).

The letter said if not-me didn't pay the water bill by the date they said, they wouldn't accept the December rent check, and late fees would accrue. Yay. So with my rent check, I put a letter explaining that I had received this notice, and I had payed the bills I'd received, but if I was owing, I would be happy to pay if they'd just address me by name and let me know how much I owed.

So now I have no idea what's going on. All I know is that I'm scared and angry, and so confused, and I can't do anything about anything until the office opens tomorrow morning. At 9AM. And I have to be at work tomorrow morning because Danny's out, and Shell people will be calling for me.

Why does this crap always happen just when I'd thought I was doing okay?

Contentment

I have a new DVD player, and I'm watching Fellowship of the Rings. I have a glass of sweet wine I'm sipping on. The dryer is humming, and my apartment is toasty warm.

In less than a week I'll be on a cruise ship down to Cozumel and Belize. This coming week, and the week after I get back will be decidedly insane, but for that week, I'll have nothing to do but eat, sleep, and relax.

I might have even decided on some reading material. Father Justin spoke this morning about a publication from Rome called Compendium Of The Social Doctrine Of The Church that sounds very much like something I want to read. Not very relaxing reading, I suppose. But I feel called.

I had a very good dinner today, and on the way home, I was able to share it with someone who needed it more than me. To be honest, once the light turned green, and I pulled around the corner and out of sight of the woman in her wheel chair, I began to sob almost uncontrollably. I have so much, and I do so little for people who don't. This needs to change. Even if it's just in the little things.

But today I did help a little, I hope. And the concert I had went really well. I had some solos, and I did NOT screw them up. In fact, I got some compliments that mean a lot to me, from musicians I have a LOT of respect for.

The bits I played weren't really all that hard, and the church we had the concert in did some very nice things for my sound, but I've been working hard to gain the confidence to play a solo with more than just the right notes in the right places. I want to play musically, with good tone, but also like myself, to make the solo mine some how. I think it must be like trying to find your voice as an author. You can only do it by... well... doing it. So I played around with it a bit. It's easier, I guess, when it's a song you know well, and for me it helps that it's a song that has words. I just play it like I'd sing it to myself.

Apparently jazz band is paying off. :-) Not to mention listening to some CDs a friend lent me over and over and over again, like he insisted I should. I'm learning, I'm growing, and I'm playing sooooo much. I'm really happy with how today went. I hope I don't slide too far back over the next month, when I won't be playing quite as much. I wonder if I can take my trumpet on the cruise... :-P

So, DVD player, wine, a full stomach, satisfaction with my music, and the sense of having helped someone. It's been a good day. I am grateful and content.

Pearls before Swine

Lately one particular biblical passage keeps coming into my mind: “Do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.” (Matthew 7:6)

These words and the spirit of giving that permeates (but is not limited to!) the holiday season have got me thinking about gifts. Gifts tangible, gifts immaterial, gifts acknowledged, and gifts given only in the quiet of our own hearts. And the value of gifts. A gift has value in the eyes of the giver, and in the eyes of the gifted. If these don’t match, is there any absolute, objective value for a gift?

If you’re raised a Christian like I’ve been, you’ve heard the parable of the master who gave talents to his servants in proportion to their desserts, and rejoiced in the servants that cultivated and multiplied his gifts, but was angry with the servant, who for fear of losing the one talent he was given, went and hid it, and had no more to show than the one talent when his master came back. God, I believe, has an absolute value that He places on the gifts He gives us, and that value is not changed by how other people feel about them, or by how we feel about them. If we don’t like them, we might not use them well, and might derive no more blessing from them, but still they have that value in His eyes.

But I’ve been thinking about things on a more human level.

Back to the pearls before swine. I try every day to be myself, completely and unconditionally. And yes, I’m arrogant enough to see this as a gift I give to the world in general. I mean, I feel like who I am and what I have was certainly a gift given to me, so sharing that with others has an incredible value, at least in my eyes. I want to multiply my talents, instead of hiding them. I’m afraid I’ve done too much hiding them in the past, because I had hoped for different gifts. But I’ve come to value the gifts He’s given me much more. More every day. I’m not always as grateful as I should be, but I try to be, and I try to share. So the pearls, such as they are, pretty much end up flying off of me in all directions. It’s a constant barrage of pearls, some admittedly of greater price than others. But it’s me. I feel like I’m constantly shedding bits of myself wherever I go, and stopping to look around for swine is not normally part of the equation.

Maybe it’s a large component of my innocence that I pretty much fail to recognize the existence of swine in my world. I just assume that people are caring, are conscientious, are compassionate. That they give me the benefit of the doubt, that they want to know me, and knowing me, will of course care about me. I really can’t imagine the person that would have absolutely no value for me as a person, and would trample me under their feet, and turn and tear me to pieces.

But, realistically speaking, these people must be out there. Maybe they’re even people I know, but just don’t know well enough to know that I don’t know them. Or something. Right. So, I would like to firmly believe that giving of myself to people who don’t see the value does absolutely nothing to lessen that value. I am worth just as much with them in my life as without them. And in the immortal (if paraphrased) words of my buddy Tim, “If they don’t care about you, f*ck’em.” (Incidentally, Tim, to find this quote, I searched my e-mail and chats for the F word, and the vast majority of the entries are attributable to you. :-P)

But here’s an interesting question. What if I know someone has a lower value than I do for something I want to share? What if, knowing this, I decide to share it with them anyway, because I’d rather do that than completely shut myself off, and because I’m sure they must have some value for it, even if it’s not equal to my own? Does what I give become cheapened by my willingness to share it where it isn’t wanted, or isn’t valued as highly?

I guess giving advice is a good example. Advice is almost always of more value to the person giving it than the person getting it. That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be given, necessarily. It’s just a tricky situation that has to be judged on its own individual merits. I guess that’s the only real answer to my questions above: it depends.

But, to mix biblical metaphors, do gifts cheapen when cast before swine? In some ways, I do think they might. Maybe. The pearls get muddy and broken. But the one talent was no less at the end of the tale than at the beginning. Except in that it was no more. And will the swine really turn around and attack me? I can’t really believe it. I probably never will, unless it happens. I pray to God it never does. But these thoughts keep coming to mind, and I continue to chew them over, if only to keep myself from getting complacent and stagnant and even more arrogant. :-P

Anyone else have any insight on this? I’d be happy to hear it.

Mixed Emotions

Okay, first off...

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLL
LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For the first time since 1961, Rice is going to a bowl game. No idea which one yet, but I WILL be there. No missing this. Amazing game, too. We went ahead 17-0 in the first quarter. The second quarter, not so good. Went down 24-17. Tied it up, then went down 27-24, but twice kept SMU from scoring from about the 3 yard line. Finally made a touchdown with several minutes left, and managed to hold them for as long as it took.

Ridiculously exciting, and very very happy for the team and my school and my band and my friends. Incredibly amazing, with this being Coach Todd Graham's first season.

Then I got bad news. A friend of mine lost her grandfather Thanksgiving night. I've lost so many of my own family, and it's just a terrible feeling. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and my heart goes out to her and her family. What a rough, rough way to spend the holidays. On the one hand, there's the feeling thankful for the fact that a special person was a part of your life, and that you could share part of their journey with them. But you've lost something, too. Something that will never come back. And she was already planning to visit an ailing grandmother, and had to cancel that trip. Who knows if she'll get another chance to see *her* in time. Just, no words. Concern, sympathy, care, love, support, helplessness, humility in the face of a power that can't be gainsaid.

So my earlier jubilation is fairly tempered. I'm thankful for the win and the wonderful opportunity, of course. But more than that, I pray for my friend and her family in their loss. What a day.

Giving Thanks

Pining to turn in right now. My metabolism has retreated into its cave to gnaw on Thanksgiving supper, so I'm cold, and my eyes definitely want a restraining order against my contacts. But I really need to post this before a good night's sleep turns today into yesterday. And today was Thanksgiving.

I'm thankful for so many things.

• The fact that I will soon curl up in soft PJ's in my nice warm bed in my beautiful and comfortable apartment.
• The gorgeous weather today that allowed me to enjoy playing at the Uptown Lighting Festival, instead of making it the miserable trial by shivering that it normally is.
• The adoption referral Jim and Reb got that means they might soon be parents, YAY!
• Joe and Amy's engagement.
• Getting paid to do something I really enjoy, and am REALLY good at.
• Having time in my life for the people I care about and the things I love to do, like reading and music.
• Feeling the grace of God, and the movement of His Spirit in my life, even when I have no idea where I'm going.
• The fact that Rice football actually has a shot at post-season play.
• A wonderful, loving, supportive family, that I really missed spending time with today.
• A life fully worth living and fully lived, loved, and laughed at, even though it hurts sometimes.
• Going out to lunch with wonderful friends, and eating a fabulous pork chop, then helping make dinner for other wonderful friends, who all loved my cheesy chicken casserole.
• ALL of my wonderful friends who have loved me and supported me and put up with me through so much. And that means, of course, that I'm so very thankful for...
• YOU!

God bless, I love you all, and hope you had a peaceful, restful, and thanks-full Thanksgiving!

Good night!

The good news...

Very brief update, for those keeping score. Lab work came back. I’m roughly as healthy as your average clydesdale. :-P

Cell counts all great, cholesterol low. Oh, and I'm O+ just like my mother.

The bad news? The only thing doc can tell me to do about getting sick is to get more sleep, take vitamin C, and have my flu shot every year. And a pneumonia vaccine every 5 years.

Okay, back to life!

New Game: You tool!

Do you want to play a game?

Thanks to OOKaty (or her friend Josh) for the idea. I don't think this is as cool as the rhetorical question thing, but it has potential. It has a *lot* of potential to go south very fast, too, but think the ride will be fun. So here's the question.

If you were a tool, what would you be, and why?

Laura's answer: An eyeglasses screwdriver, because I'm small, meticulous, not very helpful for the heavy jobs, but good for just about any detailed work.

BIG BOX!!!

I got a BIG BOX!!! from FedEx today! I got the FedEx tag on my door, and my eyes grew wide in instant and delighted comprehension. It came it came it came!!! It's here it's here it's here!!!

I scurried down to the leasing office, and as they started glancing over the little shelves where they would have put a little box, I said, "I'm pretty sure it's the BIG one!"

And it was! It's about 4' tall and a little over 2' wide and about 8" deep. Just too big for me to carry comfortably, of course. And being as I scurried right back down after going up to my apartment, I was still in heels and slacks. But I didn't care! IT WAS HERE!

Oh. What was here? Well, just my new strap, stand, gig bag and tuner for my dad's guitar, that's all! :-D

Laura is happy!

Telling myself I'm being irrational isn't helping

Okay. If you don't remember the tests the doctor said he would run, here's the rundown: allergies, infections, thyroid, kidneys, anemia, diabetes...

and leukemia.

I know, I know. He's just running every test he can think of. Dave G. patted me on the shoulder Monday and said he was only doing it because the other doctors would laugh at him if it turned out to be that and he hadn't tested for it. But every time I think of getting my test results back, I keep coming back to this, no matter what, and I'm trying not to be stupid. But I'm scared.

I'm scared that the fevers and the respiratory infections and the strange feelings I've been ignoring because I can't explain them might add up to something big, even though they seem small enough in themselves.

I'm scared because for the next two weeks, no one can tell me I do have anything really bad and scary, but nobody can tell me for sure that I don't.

I'm scared because I'm not in control. There's nothing I can do. I am not okay with this. I know I'm supposed to accept God's plan for me with grace and serenity. But I'm terrible at grace and serenity. I'm much better at fighting and fixing. And right now I can't do anything.

I tried to reassure myself by looking up the symptoms on WebMD. If you ever want to try that, don't. It's never reassuring. There are lots of symptoms listed that I don't have, sure. But some of the ones listed sound hauntingly like some of the things I've bee telling myself were nothing, couldn't be anything.

Fevers and night sweats. I've always been so cold natured, but a couple of times over the past year I've woken up and found myself drenched. And I've had the sore throat things, but I've also run fever at times with no other symptoms other than the achy weariness of the fever.

Frequent or unusual infections. See above about sore throats. Depends on how you define frequent. Every month? Every three months? It's been at least that for the past two years.

Weakness and fatigue. I won't go there. I'm always tired. I think it has more to do with my lifestyle at the moment than my blood. Some other iffy ones like loss of appetite, which I've noticed lately, but then, I do still eat just fine, so that's probably just occasional stress. I'm not exactly easy going. And like I said, a lot of symptoms that I don't have.

And okay, so WebMD does say some reassuring things. I don't really fit any of the higher risk categories. I don't smoke, I've never had chemotherapy, and I have no family history.

Okay, so you'd think I'd be able to reason myself out of this. Yes, I realize I'm being incredibly doomsday about this. Yes I realize that I'm a worrier, and a worst case scenario sort of person. I'm melodramatic and hyperemotional and prone to all sorts of terrors once I let my imagination loose. I'm trying to keep things under control.

But I'm scared. I try not to think about it, but I'm scared.

All I can do is wait and pray and enjoy myself the way I always do. There isn't much else for it. I've given over this space of time to my witless little worryings and whinings. I don't intend to let them spill over into my productivity or ebullience over the next 13 days. I'll be better tomorrow, and I'll do my best not to be a wet blanket. Things always look better in the morning, and no sense not having my usual Wednesday fun.

Curse, WebMD, though. It's going to be a long two weeks.

Monday Morning Adventures

Warning, my morning was a tiny bit on the gory side.

So today I went in to the doctor's office so they could take some blood and run some tests. My bout with strep throat exactly a month ago was really the culmination of several months of on and off respiratory woes. The day I moved into my new apartment I ran a fever, and I really haven't felt completely up to speed since then. I'm still coughing from the strep, and the doctor says I can expect a couple more weeks of that. Fun. So today I went in because we want to know why I keep getting sick, and to make sure this isn't just a symptom of some larger problem. Or even just allergies.

My appointment was for 9 AM, and I got there exactly on time. I walked in, and saw something I'd never seen in my entire life. A completely empty waiting room. Seriously, have you ever gone to a general practitioner's office and been the only person there? It was surreal! I walked over to the window to sign in, and asked the receptionist, "Where is everybody?" She replied, "I know! We've all been wondering if our watches were wrong!" So I got checked in immediately, put on the scale (152 lbs and holding, which is good considering the crap I eat :-P), then shown to an examination room. They took my blood pressure. (100 over 73, should I be worried that it's lower every time they take it, and it's not like I do any sort of cardio work out? Then again, I hadn't had my morning caffeine yet.)

One nurse put me in a chair, propped my arm on the extendable part of the examination table while the other collected the necessary supplies. When she tossed about five or six empty vials down on the table, my eyes got a little wide, and the other nurse said, "Wow, he's running everything on you!" I guess I'm a wimp, but some of the vials looked huge to me. Only one was the size I was used to seeing. The first lady said, "You got good veins, honey?" I laughed nervously and said, "Not at all." I don't. I have terrible veins. Me having blood taken is rarely anything less than a miserable experience.

She looked over and prodded my right arm. Then pulled up the sleeve on my left and looked and prodded some more. She pulled out the elastic band and tied of my left arm and had me make a tight fist (this is when I realized I really should have cut my finger nails), and looked and prodded. The other nurse came over and looked. They went back to my right arm, banded it, I made a fist, more looking and prodding, hemming and hawing. You can see the veins. But you can't feel them, and one suspects you cannot find them with the needle. So the nurse said she was not going to stick me, and we'd wait for Victor to get in. Victor the vampire. Heeehee! Brilliant.

I thanked her profusely for looking first, before sticking me. Can't tell you how many times they've gone prospecting for veins by just jabbing the needle in a likely spot, only to come up dry. The best was the time they went from right to left to right to left, and ended up bruising both my arms. So I was perfectly okay with waiting for Victor the vampire. Besides, it gave me time to clip my finger nails. :-)

So I asked where the bathroom was, so I could clip my nails over the sink, and the nurse said while I was in there, I may as well pee in a cup. Hey, it never hurts. And it would suck to use the restroom and then find out they needed a sample. I've done that. And I've also sat in a doctor's office for over an hour because I couldn't manage a large enough sample for my employment screening drug test. But that's another story...

So by the time I got back to my room, Victor had arrived. He took my right arm, banded it, and ran his finger over the crook of my elbow. He raised my hand and massaged the blood back towards my elbow, and ran his finger over the veins again. He found a fairly promising one pretty far back on my arm, so I had to keep my arm twisted pretty severely. I finally ended up with my arm on the extendable part of the table, and my head and shoulder resting on the other part, so that this didn't hurt. (He did ask first off if I had any joint pain. I don't, but this is the arm I slept on funny Saturday night, and it's been a little sore since then. Oh well!)

So he bands off my arm even tighter, I make a fist, and he slides the needle in and pops the vial into the holder. Eureka! He found it! Thank God. First try and everything. It didn't even hurt! Victor is my new favorite person.

With my head resting on the table, all I can really see is what he's doing to my arm, so it's a good think I'm not too scared of needles, and I'm not bothered too much by blood. But watching the vials fill up one after the other was kind of disturbing. For one thing, blood doesn't flow. It... well... it spurts. So the level in the vial rises rhythmically following my heartbeats. This was kinda nasty, but also kind of fascinating to watch.

I've never had them take that much blood from me. I mean, we're not talking pints, but still. It seemed to take forever, but really it was probably record time. Still, I'm feeling kind of tired, even now, just a little dizzy, and I really want a steak. Can you get those delivered? :-P

Anyways, the doctor came in and talked with me a little about my cough and what sort of tests they'd be running. They'll check for diabetes, leukemia, thyroid problems, anemia, all sorts of stuff, including allergies. They'll go ahead and check my cholesterol (been meaning to have that done) and at my request (and insurance might not cover it) they'll check my blood type. It's something I feel like I should know, and don't. The doctor agrees it's good information to have. My money's on O+ like my mother, though O-, A+, and A- are also possibilities. If a B shows up, we have problems. ;-)

At any rate, I now have another 9 AM appointment for Monday, November 20, to see if my cough is any better, and to get my test results. I kind of suspect I'm a little anemic. My coworker says she was anemic in high school, and she was always cold, and didn't heal very fast, and those both go for me as well. And I do have other allergies. Maybe I have some that I don't know about that make me predisposed to all this respiratory junk. But when he started saying things like leukemia and diabetes, I got a little scared. I mean, I don't have any family history, which is reassuring, but still... Well, I guess I'll find out in a few weeks.

In the mean time, seriously, does anyone know of a steak place that delivers?