The Circus Tent

Come one! Come all! It's the big top!

When we first moved to the city, I noticed that houses turned into 3 ring circuses randomly. I thought, wow! I want to get in on that awesome elephant action! Except, I very quickly learned that these tents have less to do with elephant circuses and more to do with flea circuses.

This house is being bombed for termites, actually. I'm not exactly sure why the companies use stripes for the covers on the house, but it's kind of cheery considering the massive amounts of chemicals that are pumped into every inch of the dwelling.

*cough* *ack* *blegh*

But alas, if you let the termites have your house, you will be left with a pile of toothpicks. Scary, hungry termites.

Back in Texas, we saw a lot of bugs. I don't like bugs but I was aware that there are crazy bugs everywhere. Moving to the swamp lands, I quickly learned that the bugs are bigger and badder here. Like something out of a crazy science fiction novel, the bugs down here don't play around.

So I suppose you could say, not everything is bigger in Texas. Sorry, Texas. Louisiana has you beat in the pest category.

Happy Thursday!
xoxo

The Fog on Cat's Feet

Fog
By Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting to feel so down, so downtrodden, so sad. I'm sad and I have retreated into myself. Kind of like the fog that comes in on little cat feet, I am currently in a fog of depression. I know this too shall pass. It has to pass because life is ever changing and new opportunities will come about in my lifetime. This isn't it for me, but the past couple of weeks have kind of felt like the end.

I am depressed. I finally admitted it to myself the other night and then to Kev and my mom. Sad. I'm sad. That's why I haven't been around...haven't been talking about alligators and fishes and kitties and all things fabulous about our New Orleans. I could go and say to you all, "Oh, I have been soooooooo busy with my life and adventures, I simply haven't had a chance to sit down and write it all down." Except, that would be a lie.

I haven't written because I haven't had anything but sadness and despair to share, and I didn't want to bring you all down, too. Not fair, I say. Because depression is kind of like a virus, you can catch it from someone. And I didn't want to pass on my germs.

I go through my days and I smile. I smile because, well, my parents spent a lot of money on braces and I better show off those chompers while I still have them in my head. But if you look at my eyes, you can tell.

Kind of like the picture above. Fake smile. Why would I smile in front of a building that sits untouched for 5 years now after Katrina's wrath?

Ironic, I think. And maybe even a little disrespectful. Hey, look at me! I'm standing in front of a dilapidated building where people shared lives and happiness and joy and sorrow. Now, just sorrow.

Lots of things have changed for me in the past month. I lost someone whom I thought was a best friend. Not anymore. Not besties, not important. Just life. I have been down this road before with said former best friend and I have come to the realization that I am exhausted with caring. But care, I do. I do care about this person and it is upsetting that this person does not return the same love and admiration that I have for them. Age. I'm chalking it up to age and maturity and said individuals need to go and explore life and have adventures on their own. C'est la vie!

I will get past this, this fog of depression. It's more than just losing a friend. It's life. It's not getting to sleep next to my husband for two weeks out of the month. It's being on his crazy schedule and my schedule at the same time. I feel like I am going 24/7 and something big has to change. I love my life here in the city, but to live here is a completely different experience than just visiting.

So, here I stand. Putting on a fake smile in front of a dilapidated building and foraging on. Moving on and working very hard to be happy. Good things come to good people and I don't think the Universe intends depression to be a state of existence forever.

So, thank you dear Scott for calling me on my b.s. and wanting more Monkey Heart writings. You touched me with your comment today and I am going to try and be better about writing. Writing is therapeutic and if you guys can put up with a little sadness, I will continue to write. I'll get past this, one word at a time.

xoxo

Gators and Trash Men

Hey everybody!

I hope you have been well. Things here are an ever changing scene. At the same time, everything stays the same.

It's 5 a.m. and the trash men are outside yelling. I was awoken this morning to some dude down the street treating his car horn like his personal panic button. Let me say he was panicking quite loudly at 3:30 a.m. I wonder if the children that surround us were woken up. I hope not.

Things are moving slowly around here. We are working on major changes and change is hard. But I wonder, does change make you hard?

On a lighter note, my parents are coming to visit the first week in October. I'm hoping to get them on a pontoon boat in a swamp. I'm not sure if that will happen, but please keep your fingers crossed that Mom and Dad are willing to hang with some gators - perhaps a gator farm instead...

Have a fabulous Tuesday!

The Snake and The Bird

I had a dream about a snake and a bird last night. They were fighting, fighting, fighting. You know, kind of like Rikki Tikki Tavi but with a bird and not a mongoose.

It's interesting how life turns out and how appreciative you can be for your current situation by simply taking a look back. Or, more looking back and into the present.

A snake, a snake, a snake!

Paired with a snake, a snake, a snake!

Good match, honestly. Good for Mr. and Mrs. Snake.

Slither, slither, slither.

It makes me appreciate that I'm a bird and I never married a snake. I suppose you could say I married a bird or perhaps a mongoose. Bird + Non-Snake = Soaring Possibilities

Snakes just get all tangled up with their own deceit, conceit, and slithering ways. Fake and stifling.

So, Mr. Bird Mongoose Man, thank you for not being a snake. And for providing us with soaring possibilities.

I love you very much.

Huzzah!

I picked Kevin up from work yesterday morning and as we were driving to come home, we saw this crazy man dancing along the road.

He was twirling and whirling and throwing his hands in the air! It was quite exciting to see - this crazy man doing the crazy dance on River Road.

So, as we passed him, I decided to join in his excitement for life and I threw my arm out the window and shouted "Huzzah!" at our crazy dancing friend.

He smiled in approval.

I hope you all have a fabulous week!

Huzzah!

P.S. The crazy man kind of sort of looked like the dude pictured above. But, not really. But kinda.

Second Lining in the Lower 9th

In honor of Katrina V, we went to the Second Line Parade in the Lower 9th on Sunday. I am really glad we went out and participated in this event.

Welcome.

What remains in some places.

What has been rebuilt in other places. This is one of Brad Pitt's Make It Right homes. Very pretty, Brad!

Lining up for the parade.

Love her umbrella!

The tuba. Seriously, an under-appreciated instrument. Bom Bom Bom Bom

Sno-Balls and Indians. I can't think of a better combination.

Baby Indian!

Here we go!

Even the puppies came out to Second Line!

The Original Big Nine.

Love the Sons of Jazz!

A group of "crazy" protesters! Get 'em ladies!

We made it down to the end of the street and stopped. A gentleman climbed the ladder next to this tree and announced this was where his daughter and granddaughter died five years ago. You could have heard a pin drop.

Even the doggy was paying his respects.

Sunday was a quiet day. Like I said before, I'm glad we made it down for that parade. It felt good to be a part of that experience. Afterward, we honored the day by sharing a meal with our fabulous friends in the city and drinking hurricanes.

Hurricanes aren't anything to mess with.