weeks 8 and 9

Let’s call week 8 a bye. I had business to take care of and it superseded everything else.

Week 9. A purportedly short week at work (3 days) with of course 5 days of meetings crammed in.

I took myself for long walks in the morning chill, stopping in at District Donuts for pumpkin cheesecake and lemon meringue donuts. On a whim I stopped by Loretta’s even though the website said they were closed, and a sidewalk sign out front proclaimed “Yes we’re open!” So I popped in for a pecan tartlet and a pumpkin tartlet.

Tuesday ran long so I took a quick break to call a friend, walk to Frenchmen Street, grab an Abita at the Spotted Cat, and hear a band play “St. James Infirmary.” It was 20 minutes but it was enough. I wanted to stay for Meschiya Lake and her band but I had a competing Zoom.

Wednesday work ran even longer (8am to 8pm) and when I took a break around 2pm to dash to the café around the corner for food, the café was closed, the streets clogged with camping chairs and families, and a brass band tootled on the corner in 70 degree warmth. Wonderful, but I was still hungry.

My Thanksgiving Day invitation evaporated and work remained horrific so I spent the holiday doing tedious, tedious tasks, but I have a lot of free time on my hands and hopefully the tediousness will pay off in the end. I cooked up some pasta with Cajun tomato sauce and vegetarian meatballs and a ton of Parmesan and after a family Zoom I settled in with tartlets and a nip of whiskey.

Friday I was signed up to volunteer for a couple of hours, but the venue was closed so I hopped back on the bus and went back to the tedious work.

Saturday:You guessed it. More tedious work! But I went for an early run before a storm rolls in, picked up Evan Williams nog and some breakfast and nearly got run down by a fleet of school buses. Walking back along Elysian I saw a girl in a spangled outfit. Then a marching band. And another. And horse trailers. It was the staging ground for the Bayou Classic. I watched for awhile as the bands tried to drown each other out, warming up, girls doing high kicks, parents and coaches looking stressed and excited. 3 cowboys rode up and down Elysian Fields as they waited. It was surreal and wonderful.

week 7: TCOB

After another no-internet weekend, getting back to work Monday felt almost like a relief. 

I said almost.

*
On my walk to the work space I pre-emptively grabbed 2 paperbacks from Little Libraries, then downloaded 6 books to Libby, and installed Hulu on my phone.
Just in case.
Monday and Tuesday were killer work days. Back to back meetings for 5 and 6 hours in a row, including one really stressful one where a co-worker lost their shit on me, telling me I have been going behind their back and undermining them for a long time now. I'd known things weren't perfect
but this was a blow. Shaken, I asked for time to reflect, and went to my next Zoom.
I didn't sleep much these two nights. Between ending my lease with the shitty landlord, and this interaction, I was feeling shaky.
During a brief break on Wednesday I ran over to the museum to see Charmaine Neville perform with her band. The room was packed so I had to sit in the lobby for a few minutes, waiting for people to leave. When I got the wave, I ran in. What an entertainer! She had the normally staid room doing
call-and-response, the piano player busted out an accordion, and by the end everyone was cheering and laughing. Her music truly restored me.
On Thursday I had a long talk with my supervisor about the co-worker situation. It went OK but I don't know what the outcome will be. My sibling advised documenting everything and going on record with HR. The internet was going down at the co-working space (of course!) so I packed up and got myself
over to the Sneaky Pickle for their tofu and buffalo cauliflower salad. The salad was good but the service was weird.
Friday, a day off for Veteran's Day! Both the New Orleanians I'd hoped to meet up with ghosted me, so I got myself up early, went over to the WWII Museum for a commemorative event, picked up takeout eggs, grits and a biscuit from Willa Jean, then jumped on a Zoom with a dear friend to catch up
for an hour. On my way back from Willa Jean I heard the silkiest clarinet of my life playing on Royal Street. I stopped to watch a 4-piece band playing on the corner outside Rouse's. The woman playing clarinet and singing was confident and just so so good. Doreen Ketchens. She's played the
Kennedy Center. Why she was outside a grocery store with a sousaphone player, a bassist and a drummer is anyone's guess but it was magical. Even the Rouse's security guard was dancing, his pistol banging against his thigh.

*
A quiet afternoon of cleaning, reading and writing, and preparing for what may be a tough week. Note to self, the Willa Jean's biscuit was not great. The grits though! And the coconut cake. Mmm.

week 6 setting myself free

It’s been a week of credits and debits, death marches and weird phone calls. And trying to let go.

Monday was Halloween, and the city was even more festive than usual. As I walked to my work space I passed an older man dressed as a wizard, carrying a sceptre topped with a skull. I’d hoped to have friends here to enjoy the holiday with but it was not to be, so I worked, walked the neighborhood checking out costumes and festivity, and then took myself home.

Tuesday: All Saint’s Day, and an unsettling one. I found out my landlord let himself into my house without permission (he insists it was a “miscommunication” but it cemented my feeling that it’s time to go, so I’m working on it). I started the day with a long run to check out a grocery store on Esplanade. Halfway there I came upon a car accident, two smashed, smoking vehicles, a trio of kids sitting on a curb shaken and crying, adults around making calls and looking anxious. I felt so helpless, bought juice at the store but by the time I made it back an ambulance was pulling away, and everyone had vanished.

Wednesday I volunteered at a local thrift store, took the bus both ways and hung up signs and cleaned and met some characters, including a Navy vet who proclaimed, “If you love New Orleans, New Orleans will love you back.” I hope so.

Thursday I had a rare quiet afternoon so I headed over to the New Orleans Jazz Museum, slipping in late and enjoying 30 minutes of a jazz pianist singing her heart out.

Friday -- knowing thunderstorms loomed on Saturday -- I took a long lunch break and hotfooted it to the Backstreet Cultural Museum, a compact but vibrant space in the Treme where the founder’s daughter gave a history of masking and Mardi Gras Indians. I lingered over the beautifully beaded creations, the photos of Allen Toussaint and Troy Andrews and Treme Brass Band members. Then picked up lunch from I-Tal Garden (a delicious mushroom po-boy and seasoned fries), walked through Congo Square where TanzaFest was setting up, and headed back to work.

Storms and wind moved in overnight Friday so Saturday is a writing day, coffee from the hipsters at Petite Clouet Cafe, hello to a new friend who teaches CPR, and settling in.