An Orb of Good Luck?

This morning on my walk with Gretchen, we were greeted by wispy bands of clouds and in the East, a sun circumscribed by a rainbow. No kidding, it was a halo of Roy G. Biv and you could practically see the full circle even though the sun had risen only a half hour prior to our walk. In most cultures, the rainbow is good luck. But when I got home, and found that my leaving the garage door open served as an open invitation to the mangy snickerdoodle labrapoodles from across the street who helped themselves to breakfast from the Recycle Bin: newspapers, mayo jars, and peanut butter jar remnants. A sampler platter! They even brought it all to the front yard and had themselves a picnic. I spent the next 20 minutes shooing away muddy dogs and picking up trash. On my way back inside, I let a tiny crab in the house. They're sweet, but not in my house. Keep in mind, I've been in business attire and nice sandals for my morning class. I was going to be early. After catching Mr. Crab with a lint brush, dropping him in a tupperware, and releasing him outside, I was just barely going to be on time. I didn't want to kill him, but I might have accidentally set him up to be someone else's crustacean breakfast as he was walking kinda slow and in a circle.

So that's two things. Being that things happen in threes, I thought the third was when a poor butterfly flew in front of my windshield while I was on the highway (Sorry, Lil Butterfly). It was actually huge and yellow and black. I just couldn't avoid it. But that was before I talked to my mom on the phone and heard Auntie (of 90 years) wasn't doing well. She's been the epitome of independence for the last 89 years and for the first time, has been showing her age in the form of two consecutive strokes. She's in the hospital now. She's the Auntie who made all the Barbie outfits featured in my Bayou Barbie portfolio. She would take us to movies when we were little and Christmas shopping to see the decorated windows. I had my first Big Mac with Auntie. I must have been seven. She would yell at us for touching our hair at the table or for slouching. She took care of her mom, my Grandma Lena, who lived to be 102. She yelled at her too. "Like this, Ma! Oh, lemmee do it." Oh, Godd-deh. God had two syllables when spoken by my Grandma Lena. Grandma Lena would roll her eyes up and then look at us as if to say, "See what I have to put up with" and we'd do our best not to laugh. It was lyrical comedy at its finest, if lyrical comedy was a genre. A stylish Bachelorette, Auntie traveled everywhere. She took my mom and my aunt on individual trips to Europe when they were teenagers. She plays cards with The Girls on Fridays. She takes trips with the bowling team and meets up with the Railroad Ladies for annual conferences. Last month, she was with them in Roanoke, VA or was it Charlotte, NC? She's been such a jet setter, it's hard to keep track! She used to work for the railroad company. I got some scholarship money from them. Auntie was the treasurer, but I never put those two things together until now. I don't think they happened at the same time, but now, I'm not so sure.

Ey, fuhgettabout it.

Auntie didn't make it to our wedding, but Brian and I drove afterwards to see her. C'mon, I had to show her my dress.

Hold on, Auntie.

On second thought, she's worked her whole life and has been independent her whole life. Auntie, you do whatever the hell you want. No sense changing your style now.

In other news, more oil.

I heard on the radio that many of the fishermen did business on mostly a cash basis. So they reported no income, and so they have no income statements and no tax returns to prove their salary to file any claims with BP. That sucks. Moral of the story, always pay your taxes. It always catches up to you, one way or another. Having been audited for not filing some of my freelance income from a $2000 1099, I know firsthand. They find you. It might take a while, but they find you. I went to one of the closed boat launches near our house tonight on my way home from class to see what it was looking like now that Hurricane Alex is raising the tides. I honestly didn't see anything outside the normal sludge. Saw some beer cans and some bottle rocket refuse. Which reminds me, I actually measured the mileage, just out of curiosity, between me and the trifecta of firework vendors: 3 miles away. That's how far I have to go to get some crazy ass fireworks that compete with Navy Pier's bi-weekly show. One of them is across from the middle school. Love it. That's why, as I've come to realize, there's three seasons here: Hot; Fireworks; and Christmas. They sell fireworks then, too, for New Year's so I guess it's just Hot and Fireworks. 

That's all I got. Take care y'all.

Coming soon... my compilation of stories from the teaching trenches... aka "The Edumacation of Mrs. B."

Part III Supreme Summer Closes the Books on June

Did I mention Brian bought a boat last year? Not just the canoe, but a real, Key West, 23 ft. T-top walk-around outboard engine BIG boat with a little sleeping chamber and a “head” which hasn’t quite been figured out yet. Yeah, eat your heart out, Skipper!

We took it out once, then became super busy, then I had to ruin everything by getting a full-time job. And now this oily mess. But we took a chance, and last Saturday, June 26, Brian and I rode out to Ship Island, one of the islands that makes up the Gulf Islands National Seashore. The reason the Mississippi Sound is so calm and so good for shrimping is because these islands intercept the surf 12 miles from the shoreline.

Click here to view these pictures larger

Ship Island is also home to Fort Massachusetts, a fort that was built from 1859 to 1866 to protect the deep water harbor and major shipping route into Port New Orleans. Confederate secessionists seized the fort in 1861 and forced workers off. Union soldiers aboard the USS Massachusetts came within range of Ship Island, and an exchange of cannon shots endured until the steamship reached safer waters. Though tagged by the confederates as a victory, they left Ship Island the following Fall. When the Union won, construction resumed with many of the materials coming from New England. Confederate POWs and Union convicts were kept there. Now, only 4-5 people actually live on Ship Island, and they are with the park services.

Boats pull up on the North side of the island, dock, and then beach combers have their fun in the surf and sun on the South side of the island. It justified the existence of a Surf City on Hwy 90, something that had befuddled me for months. We spotted a dolphin on our way to the island, and on our way back, clusters of resting pelicans perched like sentinels on every other channel marker. I love pelicans.

It was a gorgeous day. I didn’t realize how WARM the water was. The girls and I had gone swimming once before, but we only went knee-deep. Brian and I had to swim from the boat to the Ship Island and the temperature was that of a lukewarm bath! Correction: Brian waded back because he could touch the sandy bottom. I swam. We talked to the park rangers about any oil washing ashore. Clusters of tar balls here and there, they said, and a clean-up crew had been there in the morning.

The next day, oil clumps were lapping at island shores and along the Biloxi and Ocean Springs beaches. General help for clean up is discouraged without proper HAZMAT training and gear. Sort of the same message from the Audubon with whom I volunteered making calls to Florida volunteer prospects last Thursday. At that point, oil was not yet depositing on MS shoreline. It was the most rewarding cold calling experience I’ve ever had. We’re just recruiting help to stand by for specific projects: either roping off bird nests or posting signs or being a trained steward to patrol nesting sites, identify birds, and educate beach goers aka keep them away from nests. I spoke with several people who “weren’t from here” or who just moved to the area. The general attitude is that doing something gets you out of the house and away from the depressing news. The funniest response was when a lady thought I was calling about a race in Germany. No, M’am, no connection to the Autobahn. We do birds, not Benz’s.

I’ve also learned that hair donations from animals are not acceptable because “it’s not clean.” It has to be clean to soak up oil? Sorry Gretchen, we tried. Our Governor has been down playing the spill since May, and now, although it’s in the “sweet crude state,” he’s stating that we are underprepared and ill-equipped. Do you think so? How’d that happen? Granted oil was never pouring over the beaches, but it’s been hitting LA and AL and FL for the past month. Don’t want to lose those tourism dollars, but let’s get real. Whoever thought it was going to miss MS completely may as well have been whistling Dixie. Ha ha. I made a funny. Not funny. Sad. Let's not talk about it anymore.

What else is new in our Hood: we hosted Brian’s residents’ graduation bbq party this Sunday. All very nice people, got to meet the next class of endo residents as well. Had the girls spend the past week with us while their mom was in Boston. That was fun! Watched a lot of movies, made a lot of pink elephants (sprite and raspberry sherbet), and had a day of paper mache and painting projects, like personalizing Rachel’s MSU wooden letters for her dorm room. Danielle made a monkey. I never had so much fun blowing off homework, not since Seattle anyway. I’m so glad to have such a nice relationship with them. They’ve both promised to give a full report on tonight’s midnight viewing of the Twilight Saga’s “Eclipse.”

A Supreme Start to Summer Part II

June 9 through the 14, Brian and I spent a glorious time in Seattle. Another round of perfect weather accompanied us to a normally rainy place. Brian had CE and I played stowaway, just like the old days when I used to be a stay at home mom with no kids. While Brian was in class, I pounded the concrete to Pike’s Market, the Experience the Music Museum, the Olympia Sculpture Garden, the Seattle Aquarium, and some shops. We celebrated the Blackhawks’ Stanley Cup victory with our newly adopted family of Hawk fans, and it was probably the most like-minded fans I was going to find outside of Chicago: three times as many fans as in Anchorage and six times as many as Ocean Springs (counting me as the fan base; Brian came along as cheer support and protection… from myself).
More pix: http://mmwbpicturepostcards.shutterfly.com/247

I ate some tasty doughnuts per Theresa’s suggestion at Top Pot. Sat behind a guy having a doughnut and a beer (sold by Top Pot). That's what I call, "having it your way." We had an AMAZING dinner per Jack Miniotis’ suggestion at Serafina. Now, I can finally join my sister in saying things like “This Barbera would be really good with rabbit and pork sausage atop risotto with fresh arugula and figs.” And smile, like I know what I’m talking about. My eyes turn in to the back of my head just thinking about that meal. But some of our best meals were the cheapest and impromptu al fresco. Our last night, Brian and I shared a pizza and a mini box of wine near Bell Pier after going up on the Space Needle to enjoy the pristine and cloudless view. After dinner, we went back to the Needle for the nighttime view. Yeah, I bought the two-fer. It was only a few dollars more. The daytime was my favorite because you could see the mountains including Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens. At night, it looked like a big city at night, but instead of being surrounded by suburbs, it was surrounded by darkness.

Another good meal was at the Ipanema Brazilian Steak-house, kiddy corner from the SAM (Seattle Art Museum). When Brian got out of class, we cleaned up and checked out the SAM, taking advantage of the extended Thursday hours and the free military museum admission special this summer. Then, we discussed all the pieces that Brian said he could do just as well if not better over a bountiful salad bar and skewered meat, the pace of dinner dictated by the flipping of the classic coin: red on one side, green on the other. If only more activities were governed by such a coin. Yes, I’m in the mood to chit-chat. No, please go away.

One of my favorite Seattle moments was touring the Experience the Music and their latest exhibit, the Supreme’s gown collection provided by Mary Wilson. Wouldn’t you know it, while I was there the next day getting last minute souvenirs, an announcement was made that Mary Wilson would be giving an oral history starting at 2 p.m. Of course, I didn't have my camera, and my cell phone memory was full. I was in running clothes, and back in college, going to events in my work-out clothes and rollerblades, because I was a spaz. And how could I NOT go see Drew Barrymore speak. Well, I wasn’t about to miss Mary Wilson, only original Supreme member from the group’s beginning to end. She was so cute and classy, in her 60s and looking great. For two hours and in the format of an interview in front of a very intimate audience, she told stories about the group, sang a few ballads to show how her range has increased since The Supremes, and guided us through a few slides of the gowns and when they were worn. She clarified for us, “We didn’t get the sequins until we made some money.”

She told us how Mo’Town Records had its own finishing school led by Miss Powell, so they could be taught how to behave properly like ladies, such as how to get in and out of a limo. She commented how some young singers and actresses today might benefit from a little lesson from Miss Powell on how to get in and out of a limo. For the three young women from Detroit, though, their first thought was, “What’s a limo?” Mary Wilson along with Diane Ross (she later changed her name to Diana) and Florence Ballard first won attention and wooed hearts as the Primettes (all female bands had to end with a feminine –ettes or -ells) and it wasn’t until they signed with Mo’Town that they became The Supremes. She talked about Flo and how they both got the short end of the recording stick when the song writers had them only singing back-up on all their biggest hits, but there was never any animosity between the girls. The girls first all met at their school's talent show. Mary was singing a song by Frankie and the Teenagers. Flo belted Ave Maria. They knew Diane from their neighborhood and knew she could sing. "We were from the same project. We grew up together. We loved each other!" She shared her thoughts on the other girls "... We all knew Diane would go on and be successful... What happened to Flo was just tragic. Flo was abused when she was 13. She was always very strong, but she never trusted people. She couldn't deal with success and couldn't fight the pain so she drank it away and had to be put out of the group." I learned that during one of their tours in the South, shots were fired at their bus. During that tour, the Whites would be on one side and the Blacks would all have to stay on the other side. But once the music started, people started dancing, and moving around, and it didn't matter who you were or where you were standing. Everyone was just enjoying the music.

I learned that the girls made their own dresses in the beginning. They all bought their own pearls for $5 at Woolworth's and the little gloves, because they were always "girly girls" and liked all that stuff. She said about Dream Girls, the movie, that it was a good movie. "I guess it was loosely based on our story, but they never came to me. I never saw any money from it." Mary also explained how Mo'Town owned the name, The Supremes, and how much she's had to fight to get the rights to their own name. "We didn't know back then. We just wanted to make records with Mo'Town."

When Mary first greeted the crowd, she received a standing ovation. When no one would stop clapping, she sang out “Stop! In the name of love, before you break my heart, think it ohw-ohw-ver…” complete with the choreography and all. She also pointed out the “ohw-ohw-ver” part was hers and Flo’s.

I really could go on, but let’s just say it was as entertaining as it was inspiring. It was just great.oving on, Brian “graduated” from the CE program on Saturday, so Sunday we took off for the Mt. Rainier National Park. Great weather, but I’m glad I brought layers as the temperature dropped incrementally as our elevation increased. You could only drive so far into the park, and the town called Paradise was the farthest point at this time of the season. We stayed at this quaint lodge cleverly called “Almost Paradise.” As far as I was concerned, it was. Especially, since all the time leading up to our trip, Brian had repeatedly said we’d be staying at the Ho-Jo, which would have been fine… but it wouldn’t have been like this place! We had a super lunch and the best fries at the Copper Creek Inn.

Mt. Rainier wildlife spottings included 3 fox, 1 marmot which looks like a giant hamster with a fluffy tail, 2 deer, and a chipmunk! We drove around the park and toured the visitor’s center, even caught the last 20 minute documentary, which was very informative: “Mt. Rainier is but a single bead on the great necklace of volcanoes that mark the Pacific Ring of Fire.” I know, it was a really good movie. Included on this “necklace” is Mt. Redoubt which we saw two weeks before on our drive to Homer, AK. You can still see Redoubt smoking since its eruption in March of 2009, over a year and two months later. Mt. Rainier weighs in with 25 glaciers and at 14,000 feet or so. Mt. McKinley sort of kicks its butt being almost another 10,000 ft. higher and I had just seen 26 glaciers, so whatever. Interestingly, unlike Mt. McKinley, you saw a lot more people coming down and going up the mountain paths. This one weathered woman was coming down from somewhere, and impressed, I asked, “Did you summit?” “Noo, I only climbed such-and-such a peak, it’s only 7000 ft.” Oh, well if that’s all… I didn’t climb much more than the toilet seat that day, so she had me beat! And she must have been 80. No joke.

More Mt. Rainier pix: http://mmwbpicturepostcards.shutterfly.com/247

Click here to view these pictures larger

Walking around Seattle reminded me how much I missed about my former city life in Chicago: having sidewalks, finding great happy hour specials like oysters in the half-shell for 50 cents each starting at 3 pm at Elliott's (but get there early, because the price per oyster goes up a quarter each half hour). I had 2 dozen oysters on Thursday from Puget Sound and another dozen that I shared with Jack the next day. I intentionally loaded up knowing my hook-up back home was gone. But I’m good on oysters now for at least the next 6 months.

It was great seeing wide-spread recycling and a mailbox on every other corner. A bounty of fresh fruit, vegetables, artisan olive oils and vinegars, orchestras, museums, and H & M and bookstores and countless other fun places to spend money. They don’t seem like big deal things, but I don’t have them now, and I miss them. But I have saved a lot of money.

However, I have yet to see a sunset or moonrise that’s prettier than the ones here. I came home refreshed and reflective, and ready to pay the price for procrastinating on a week’s worth of grad-school homework (really ought to start that paper now).

A Supreme Start to Summer Part I

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

There Will be Stupidity

See caption under "S. Nooks" to the rght

Forget seeing Russia from Alaska. You can see walruses from here! Eat your heart out, Sarah P. Naww, I’m just messing. But Gulf Oil Spill Disaster Plans all included “walruses” on the list of wildlife affected. Maybe they meant manatees. Not everybody grew up reading Ranger Rick like we did. Nope, the plans said “walruses” because the drafting committee cut and paste the Valdez Exxon Oil Spill Disaster Plan into their own Gulf plan. Boy, I hope they remembered to change the name of the university when sending in their college applications and cover letters. But's it's done with now.

To clarify, I haven’t seen the tar balls and oil scuzz washing up on the beaches here. A lot is being caught by the Gulf Barrier Islands and LA and AL are both being hit. But the $5 deal for a dozen half-shell oysters at Mikey’s is gone!! The whole thing... I just get so mad. It breaks my heart to hear Bobby J. (La-Gov) speak of the damaged marshes that continue to soak up oil remnants every day. You can hear the heartbreak in every fisherman’s voice. There was so much easy to take for granted charm here, and I didn't appreciate "birding" and "shrimping" or "crabbing" until I lived here. Throughout generations, we’ve all had our hand in destroying the planet a little at a time. But this is a historic moment! Those poor blue-collar working stiffs of BP whose job wasn’t to reason why… how do they face their kids knowing, “Yes, my company killed Flipper, Nemo, Ariel and Sebastian, all their families and friends, and single-handedly ruined Earth.” Give me a Homer Simpson “Douhh!”

Ohh, the avarice. The humanity. At least Mother Nature just punched you in the gut and then it's over. It hurts, but eventually you can catch your breath and move on. This oil spill is like having your finger nails ripped out one at a time. And it’s still not over because oil is still oozing from the Earth’s aorta. And yes, everyone realizes that hurricane season is going to have a whole new layer of crude complexity and anxiety.

I really can’t stand people who are frustrated with the federal response. There will be complainers no matter how speedy the response is. No one likes spending money or extra work. Everyone likes a paycheck… I heard a story about how little influence or oversight Gulf fisherman had in off-shore drilling, and that if this were Alaska, Native groups collective voice would have been all over the oil rigs. They would have had a much bigger presence and pull in oversight, production regulations, and disaster response. Then, I heard another story about how Louisiana Politics and Oil have been bosom buddies since the 1800s. But facts are important, so I just did a little research myself (thanks Google) and found this article from a reliable liberal voice, Mr. Anderson Cooper. It’s the Energy Plan that was released at the end of March, three weeks before the Deep Horizons explosion. http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2010/03/31/obama-energy-plan-would-open-atlantic-and-gulf/

Based on my presumptuous and limited deductive reasoning, there is a high correlation in the lower 48 between states with a high concentration of affluent areas and areas marked “lack of support or low resource potential.” In the case of Alaska, the Aleutian Islands are the only area marked “protected” but there are still relatively small pockets that are even open to exploration compared to the potential of the whole Alaskan coastline. And that’s a big coastline. But too many groups care about preserving the land and sea. Those party-poopers. Plus, they managed to get money from the oil profits as part of the deal! No one in Mississippi or Louisiana or Alabama or Texas thought to collect a PFD check. From what I’ve learned, there was already a historical precedent of raping the land and people… oil rigs were just another link in the chain. But I still wonder if any of the Gulf communities, besides Florida, resisted off-shore drilling. Were they bought out? Could they not afford to say no to the financial gains and jobs? Natives didn't sell out the Earth for money (until we forced them to). First Peoples in the Northwest have a long-term perspective that's always been more mature than ours. We made the weather for this perfect storm of pollution, and now people are standing around wailing, “It’s raining! It’s raining!” (One of my favorite lines from a really good movie, Cold Mountain). To the “Drill Baby Drill” down the street, I want to punch you in your facebook.

Please note: I put gas in the car. I know it's important. If we're going to pillage the Earth, we must be gentle and smart. Not enough people cared to make sure BP was doing right by Mamma Nature.

How am I helping? First, Gretchen and I are going to shave off all our hair and donate it to the oil booms. Gretchen has plenty to spare. Next, I’m helping the Audubon Society next Tuesday make calls to more volunteers. It turns out, you can’t help wash off the birds (which is what I really wanted to do) until you go through a $200 training program which you pay for yourself. What gives? I thought all you needed was a bottle of Dawn and some Joe Purdy on the iPod. Lastly, a foreshadowing of sorts: Brian spilled some gas in the car last time he filled up the gas can for the lawnmower. This was in the beginning of May. So for the rest of the month, I drove to and from work and errands, listening to the news, and smelling gas--- quite a visceral experience, and yes, it does make you nauseous and cause wicked headaches, especially when the car and gas-smell are heated to 105’F. The smell is just starting to let up a little. However, I feel qualified enough to tell the Audubon, you can keep your $200 program, I’ve already paid my dues. Now, gimmie some pelicans!