mother's ruin

Day Two of my challenge, and my energy is already flagging.

So let’s talk about happy hour.

I really like gin. I was 32 years old when I recognized that I don’t hate gin; I hate tonic. I blessedly got to stop being the girl who ordered vodka or fretted over whether a champagne or a sipping tequila was high quality enough to prevent a terrible hangover.

I drink gin and soda now. Approximately 1 out of 3 times I order this standard (Bombay and soda), I get Bombay Sapphire and/or tonic.

This is my plea to you tonic fanatics: try gin with soda.

This is my plea to you gin haters: try gin with soda.

And to the rest of you: stop ordering martinis if you’re not going to drink them with gin. Chilled Hendricks with a twist (because olives are the one food I will not eat) is glorious. Also, if you mix Hendricks with anything resembling tonic, they should take away your drinking card.

My favorite gins, in no particular order: Death’s Door, St. George’s, Citadelle, Bulldog. They all pair perfectly with soda.

And invite me to happy hour(s), anytime. I find them to be reinvigorating.

essentials

I was asked to apply for an incubator-type group to further develop my ideas on education reform that could potentially build a non- or for-profit entity. They call the program "The Essentials." The incubators are super out-of-the-box thinkers (as you can see from their questions); I think it will be a really dynamic, interesting place to see what happens.

It does not, by any means, allow my job search to end... but it is a sizeable step forward.

Thanks to all who have been a part of this ongoing (and continuing!) process with their time, talent, support, and love.

And, above all, I am grateful to those who have made sure I kept my perspective enough that I could laugh... sometimes at myself, but always out loud.

What is the last article or book you read that totally rocked your world. Tell us about
it!

I've been trying to lose weight, in varying degrees of effort/seriousness, for the past year. I've done Weight Watchers, yoga, Couch to 5K running plan. I bought a bike. I try to cook healthfully, limit carbs, and meditate. But for every two steps forward, there's one step back (plantar fasciitis is the latest, but living in a food- and drink-centric town is the penultimate barrier)... and that makes my scale fickle and unfriendly.

All of my motivation and effort changed two weeks ago after I read an article about a study from New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Columbia that found women with waistlines greater than 35 inches are at greatly increased risk of heart disease.

Heart disease?! But I need my heart to work! If there is anything in my life I need to function, it is my giant, giving, wide open heart. I need to be able to love strangers. I need to be able to hold friends' hands when their parents are diagnosed with terminal diseases; I need to be able to hug my boyfriend's little girl. Oh. And to hug him, too.

I need to make a difference! And I can't do that if I don't have a healthy heart!

So. I have begun a practice of clean eating. I make sure that I get 150 minutes of cardiovascular exercise each week. I bike instead of drive whenever possible. I stretch my feet (which is really painful!) so that I can continue to stretch and move my body in ways that will help it heal.

And I will get my waistline to below 35 inches, one day at a time. It turns out that I just needed a number that represented much more than a scale or a dress size.

What is something you’re curious about that is not related to your profession? *

Why doesn't the NFL invest in breast cancer research instead of purchasing hot pink everything during the month of October?

Please share a "How might we" question that you've been asking or would like to begin wrestling with. *

How might we inform students and their families about post-secondary educational and career options?

Open Wikipedia. On the left hand side of the page click on the “random article”
selection. With the question you stated above in mind use the completely random
word and definition that pops up and make associations that help you redefine the
problem. Be creative on this one, we’d love to hear your thought process! (And please make sure to tell us what the 'random article' title was!)

Random article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Achel_Brewery

1. BEER!

2. KEG PARTIES!!! Oh. Wait. They're kids, so, hmmm... I mean, it is New Orleans, but...

3. KEG PARTIES FOR PARENTS! Hmmm... while turnout may be great, it's not exactly the marketing message I want to send.

4. Fine. I'll read the article and see how I can tweak this into something legal for those under 21 and meaningful for all ages.

5. Smallest of eight Trappist breweries. Beer made by monks. I like this brand of religion.

7. The abbey was destroyed during the French Revolution. The Germans dismantled the brewery in order to salvage copper during WWI. What needs to be destroyed about "college and career readiness" so that we can rebuild? What can we salvage from the current systems? Will it require a major war, and, if so, who will be the soldiers? Who will be the rebuilders?

8. After an 84-year dormancy, the monks decided in 1998 to start brewing again. Proceeds support the monastery and charities. Well. In the past 84 years, we've largely been successful at keeping low-income and minority children from completing college. We've largely kept people born into poverty in poverty. What can we make or sell that would change this? What charities should or could be involved?

9. And can we drink delicious Belgian beer while we do it?

Please attach a picture of something you have made/built/created, even if you’re not incredibly proud of it. Feel free to add a caption to your photo in the space below.

Photo credit: Anne Berry

Food is one of my love languages. Since Thanksgiving 2010, I have opened my home in New Orleans to other "orphans" (those of us who cannot afford financially or emotionally to visit our families at Thanksgiving *and* Christmas and those who like having an excuse to avoid their families here). This is a picture from last year's Thanksgiving, before we served food to nine people I had spent at least three days cooking/prepping. I am incredibly grateful for my ability to feed others (physically, emotionally, and spiritually) and for the community/family I have created/belong to in New Orleans. 

chardonnay

It's summertime, which means white or pink wine season for me.

And people around me these past few days have been drinking chardonnay.

*

     chardonnay

"do you prefer red or white?"

he asked politely

genuinely inquisitive

"either, as long as its light"

was my honest response

the waiter brought

an unfamiliar bottle

to our table

and as I swallowed

the thick, buttery tones

with hints of grapefruit

I guessed he knew his wines

about as well as he would know

my bed.

5 June 2003

recovery

On Friday night, I had just come home from a 60-minute walk/jog interval set with my brother. In houses built in the early part of the 20th century, two showers can't function at the same time, so I let Andrew go first.

I called my friend Kyle back. Kyle and I have been friends since college. This means that, for better or worse, we've known each other for approximately one decade. We've watched the other make atrocious academic, professional, and romantic choices. And we still love each other.

(I'm pretty sure he's the only guy besides my brother who does not, nor ever has, misinterpreted "I love you" to mean anything other than "Thank you. I mean it.")

The only time in the history of my life I have ever left a bar tab open?
Walked right out of a bar, to my car, and left my credit card behind?
The night Kyle called and told me his mother had died.

That's the kind of friends we are.

So. Friday. I call Kyle to chat. He asks about my recent attempt to regain healthiness, and I describe my workouts/menus/failure at sobriety.

He tells me that he's been Paleo for 18 months, which automatically makes me question my loyalty, since I'm pretty sure that a life without dairy is a life not worth living.

And then he tells me: "However you recover from your last workout affects your next workout. So eat, even if you're not hungry."

*

"However you recover from your last ______ affects your next ______."

Heartbreak. Confession. Credit card bill. Job loss. Meditative session. Failure. Lie. Workout.

Eat. Even if you're not hungry.
Date. Even if you feel like being alone is the best solution.
Spend time with whatever God can or does or will mean to you. Even if you can't trust or don't know how to have faith.
Pick yourself up and move along. Even when you're sure it will kill you.

*

I love you. Thank you. I mean it.

diary

8/19

went for a jog along the main drag of palm springs
realizing that i'm in much better shape in the desert
where it's hot, but the air is dry enough
that you can breathe.

brunch: huevos rancheros + bellini
at a five-star diner
because life should be delicious

headed to the grocery store with my mother
upon our return, my father had entered the beginning stages
of anaphylactic shock
and asked that we take him to the emergency room

(my father is a physician.) (he is never ill.)

immediately upon checking in, he was admitted.
my mother and i sat in the ER waiting room
fearing the worst
("really, God? i come to vacation in california and my father dies of an allergic reaction to something we cannot identify? before he's 60?!")

we were called back
just as his veins were filled with benadryl and pepcid

mom and i sat and read
once we realized that he was out of it
he was tired of being fussed over
and his monitor had stabilized

our neighbor
on the other side of the curtain
was an elderly gentleman who had fallen and broken his hip and arm
his partner read an article to him about julia child
in the kind of loving voice
that you want to have in your life always
but especially in the twilight of your life
because it means you hopefully spent forever
with someone who loves you

four hours later
we went to the pharmacy
and then home for a simple dinner of grilled meats and roasted broccoli

i skinny dipped in the jacuzzi
and a star shot

8/20

jogged to the house clark gable shared with carole lombard
drove around on a self-guided architectural tour
drank a martini before dinner
at a restaurant that hasn't changed its menu since 1975

8/21

PSP --> LAX --> MSY
fixed leaky tires at the tire store.
therapy: focused on relaxation techniques.
yoga.

8/22

breakfast at a place that used to be ours

school site visit to the first school i ever visited here
sept 2008: metal detectors
aug 2012: AP classes

social media presentation
po'boys
a conference call with a woman who believes in my work as much as i do
drowned in email

happy hour: sat a a girlfriend's new house
she and her fiance found together
drank veuve. snacked on crudites.
celebrated her birthday and her engagement
and laughed honestly

8/23

work.
work meeting at starbucks.
sushi.
more work.
pelvic exam.
impromptu overnight visit to baton rouge.

8/24

meetings in the capitol
trying to support a state whose policies are inconsistent with practice
where the flagship university has a 58% six-year graduation rate
but at least they can proudly boast:

LSU is proud to have the highest graduation rate of any public university in Louisiana.

congratulations?
(also, really? that's the picture of graduation rates you want to use for your students' profile?!)

the bank.
the DMV.

my bed, for a glorious two-hour nap.

to the house a girlfriend is sitting
long talks about relationships, work, transgressions
and why not to give up

and i realized that the past five days epitomize
why to keep fighting
what justice looks like in my world
how to love.

wake

Tonight, I had a lovely girl date: first to a fundraiser to benefit local farmers, and then, when they ran out of food and things became too crowded (which is always, always a thing at any of the tasting events in New Orleans), we picked up a bottle of wine and go cups and headed to The Fly.

The sun had already set, but the sky was still several shades of deep corals and blues. Venus appeared. We watched tugboats; my date noted they should be called towboats, because they push, not pull.

Then I started to think of currents, tides, how the Mississippi is somehow as close as my life gets to waves these days. How last May, we'd almost flooded, and we would have, if the government hadn't flooded a portion of Louisiana further (farther? I can never remember) upstream.

We talked about weddings. Specifically, how we envision our next ones. I want fewer than 100 people in a wee chapel. I want a very formal 7:30pm ceremony, with champagne, dessert, and dancing afterwards. On a Friday night, so that for the rest of the weekend, y'all can explore the destination. Because we've all been to too many destination weddings where you never get to destine or vacate.

Then we talked of evacuation plans, with the eminent hurricane season, and how it's really the worst time to be alone, not because you can't do it, but because you want someone to talk through plans with, share responsibility for, protect you.

And I listened to the "waves," reminded myself that I lived through more hurricanes growing up on the coast of North Carolina than my ex, who was raised here, and I exhaled to the universe: let it be.

Let me enjoy one of the last evenings to be outdoors until September;
let me be grateful I can push against currents, pull moonbeams across my bed, tug this load;
let me relinquish, for a bit, my need to plan out every detail;
let me relish this moment, this friendship, this love.

chardonnay

Last night, my beau took me to MiLa for dinner. I had previously had their tasting menu with my mother when she visited earlier this month, and I was pretty excited about tasting the menu again. We ordered our 6 courses to be paired with wines; I really enjoyed everything. The final course came with Abita root beer sorbet, which I hope I can talk my friend Lindsay into recreating.

The third course was a seared scallop, and it was paired with a “French-style” chardonnay. Beau looked quizzically at the bottle, which was entirely en francais, and asked the waiter what “French-style” meant. I responded, “not buttery and oaky and gross.”

It reminded me of another date I had, several lifetimes ago.

*

chardonnay

"do you prefer red or white?"

he asked politely

genuinely inquisitive

"either, as long as its light"

was my honest response

the waiter brought

an unfamiliar bottle

to our table

and as I swallowed

the thick, buttery tones

with hints of grapefruit

I guessed he knew his wines

about as well as he would know

my bed.

5 June 2003