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My mother came home today.

June 1

In one week and one day it will be June 1. I get tense and anxious thinking about it. I am not ready for June 1. My community is not ready for June 1.

Repairs to the 17th Street Canal are not complete. The design is flawed, so even if the repairs were complete, it still wouldn't be "fixed."

100,000 people are still living in trailers. Trailers will not withstand winds higher than 50 mph. That's a tropical storm. Tropical storms are common down here.

I try not to "buy trouble." The weather is just one of those things nobody can do anything about. All I can do is be prepared. We bought water last week. We will take inventory of our non-perishables and make our two-scenario plan (evacuate or stay). We're in better shape than many (most) of the people who live here.

And I'll try not to think about it.

Zoo

I had a good day yesterday.

In the morning I went to water aerobics; the exercise of choice for obese, poor-condition women over 40. It was my first time. It was fun. I worked pretty hard for almost an hour; I got nice and winded. I was surprised at how my legs felt when I got out of the water - they felt like I had weights attached. It took a few minutes for them to normalize.

I can't really go to the weekday morning classes, because they start too late. But they have two evening sessions I could go to. Exercising three days a week is certainly better than I've been doing the last two years, which is not at all, not even a little bit.

In the afternoon, DH, little boy and I went to the zoo. That was also a good time. The weather was really nice for southeast Louisiana in May; temps in the 80's, but with relatively low humidity. We enjoyed looking at the animals. Little boy rode the carousel. He especially liked the big cats. No pictures, unfortunately; the camera batteries died.

Afterwards, we went out to dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant in the city - reasonable prices and good food. They re-opened back in January, but we haven't been there since way before the hurricane. I had a chicken taco salad; it grows as you eat it.

I loved driving up Magazine St. and seeing all the shoppers and the little creole cottages; some of them are businesses, others are residences. If we are still here in ten years when little boy is done with school, we would both like to move there. I love the activity and pedestrian quality of residential urban life. Plus, there wouldn't be any yardwork. It would cost more, but we could downsize. And it's on the sliver by the river, so flooding isn't so much of a concern.

My Mom's Mother's Day

Yesterday, my dad called me mid-afternoon, so I could wish Mom a happy Mother's Day. "Guess where we are?" he asked.

"Where, Dad?"

His voice broke. "We're home. She got to come home for the day. She's been looking around at things and...this is the best day of my life."

It was just for a day visit. She went back to rehab last evening. But she may be home to stay as soon as Friday.

Website Plug I

I'm enjoying I Blame the Patriarchy, the "radical feminist views of Twisty Faster, a gentleman farmer and spinster aunt eating dinner in Austin, Texas."

I wish I could write like this. An example, from today's entry about Oprah:

I happened to hear Oprah’s dulcet tones on the TV in the next room. She was still Fat Oprah back then, not yet the Voice of God, so she was sensibly advising some woman “Dump him, girl!” rather than menacing her with old-tyme religion. Her audience erupted in supportive sisterly applause as Anne Wilson Schaef’s Co-Dependence smashed through my window.

Whereupon a celestial choir began singing “aahh” and a brilliant light shone down and lo I did say unto myself, “Dump him? Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?”

So I called the cops, and that was the end of that a******.

Twisty has a concept, summarized neatly in her description, and she pretty much sticks with it. I have enjoyed her recent series, "Public Cans of Austin," where she has managed to mix patriarchy-blaming and eating out. She has posted pictures of the niece that renders her a spinster aunt. She discusses at length her dog's art projects. Aside from those conceptually acceptable asides, though, the focus on patriarchy blaming is relentless, angry and funny and true. The woman is a genius.

Not for the politically conservative. Be sure to read all the FAQs; they're a hoot.

Normal

I'm starting to get back to normal after my trip to Ohio. Spending a week in the office, and staying with the parentals (minus one, 'cause she's in the rehab hospital) is a very different way of life. I have lots of coworkers to interface with and customers to keep happy and software to install all day, then off to the hospital to see Mom and then home to have dinner out with Dad. Surf the web for an hour/talk to DH and Little Boy (order varies) then go to bed.

Once I got home, it was a challenge to get back into the normal routine, especially since the first two days home were very not-normal - Jazzfest on Day Back Home One, and then drive to Baton Rouge to get my car on Day Back Home Two. It was Wednesday before I planned meals, and then Thursday lunch before I went grocery shopping. I've cooked two whole days in a row now, though, and I'm starting to get back into life's normal rhythm.

In other news, I'm occasionally blogging on Mormon stuff now at Viva Ned Flanders! Ned is a great guy and I'm honored that he's willing to share his space with me.

Sunday Jazzfest

Sunday, I went to Jazzfest. Bruce Springsteen was there.

On NOLA.COM Friday, they had an article about their plan to show pictures of Jazzfest at 4:30 on 4/30. The quote was, "We can't all be at the Acura stage, watching Alain Toussaint and Elvis Costello and waiting for Bruce to come on."

Yes, we could. There were easily several thousand people there.

My friend Debbie and I arrived early, but not early enough. We were able to secure a couple square yards of grass for our chairs. It was lightly cloudy; a good thing at mid-day on the last day of April in New Orleans.

I had a couple of moments when I thought to myself, "Self, what the heck are you doing here?" Because, as I said, there were several thousand people there, and they all seemed to be trying to squish through in front of me. I was mighty fearful of having beer dumped on my head.

But Alain Toussaint was great, so I tried to stay patient. Then, Bruce came on, and I forgot how annoyed I had been. I'm always amazed by what a great show he does; the man has incredible charisma. Most of the songs in the show were from his new album. Great band, with a nice fat horn section and some unusual additions - a pedal steel guitar? Bruce? Not all of the songs were my cup of tea; Old Dan Tucker was kind of drawn out, and too twangy for my taste. Some of them, though, were just terrific.

Highlights of the day:

• The plane flying overhead, trailing a banner that said "Impeach Bush."
• Mary, Don't You Weep No More
• We Shall Overcome
• When the Saints Go Marching In, sung like a hymn
• Alain Toussaint's chant, "Everybody come home..."
• Crawfish Pies
• Chatting with the guy behind me, who saw his first Springsteen concert in 1975 (the Darkness tour)

The single best thing that happened, though, was Bruce's first encore. He sang his anthem for a destroyed city, "My City of Ruins." Everybody cried. Everybody. We wept and raised our hands and cried and sang the chorus: "Come on rise up."

I have literally (no, not figuratively) dreamed of Bruce singing that song here. I had thought it would be inspiring and healing. It was. Oh, it was.