Saying Good Bye to Reggie Bush of the New Orleans Saints

     Say what you want about Reggie Bush, he's always injured, he isn't all that, and then there is that whole NCAA thing, but he will always have a special place in my heart.  Reggie was there for us after Katrina.  He and the rest of the boys gave us something to live for back in 2006.

     I'll never forget the night when we realized the Saints were heading to the play-offs.  There we were in that FEMA trailer feeling like we'd never dig ourselves out of the seemingly endless debris and the boys made it into the playoffs.  The whole group of us jumped off the sofa and the next thing we knew there wasn't a dry eye in the trailer.  We all felt stupid hugging and boo hooing all over the place until someone went online and saw that people posting had fessed up that they had cried too.

     The entire region was still living in debris, mold, dirt and filth;  our boys were a shining beacon of hope.  Reggie Bush was one of those guys on the team.  Thank you Reggie.  Thank you for sticking with us at a time when there was no city left to play in, no Super Dome, and nothing left but a bunch of depressed and angry people.  You and the rest of those guys are heroes in our eyes and nothing will tarnish that.  Best wishes wherever you go; you will be missed.

My First Train Ride

     I’m headed off to Virginia to visit my sisters.   The younger one is moving back home so I'm off to help with the moving and to visit the big sis, (S).  Anyways, it may not be my first train ride if you count the little kiddie train in City Park, but it is my first time taking a train that actually goes somewhere besides the amusement park.  

Cool old train station.

     I have to say that I like the train thing, you get to see all kinds of stuff that you don’t see from a plane or from a highway.  I’m looking into people's yards, watching the woods go by, and there has even been a tunnel or two.  I opted to do the dining car thing and am a bit nervous about dining alone.  I'm wondering if I'm going to be seated alone or if I'm going to be at a table full of people I don't know.  Either way, I may never get the chance to do the dining car thing that you see in those old movies so despite being a little shy I'm going for it...

Tunnel!

     Well I never got back to finishing this post after dinner because all kinds of things happened which made it difficult to pull out the laptop.  I'll start with dinner.  I was seated with two older gentlemen, Bob and Warren, who did volunteer work for the national park service.  We had a great time together at the table.  Warren was from Brooklyn and sort of like a northern New Orleanian, he was really chatty and friendly while Bob was from Maryland and a good deal more reserved, but pleasant nonetheless.  When I got back to my seat we had a stop in Atlanta and despite having over 16 empty seats this older woman was told she had to sit with me.  

     That didn't go over too well with either of us.  She squished into the seat next to me and said, "Nothing against you, but I would rather sit over there by the window so I hope you don't get offended when I ask to move."  I laughed and said, "no offense but I'd be a whole lot more comfortable if you moved over there."  The conductor was really rude to her when she asked to move and cut her off before she even finished her sentence.  Apparently they were expecting a full train.  J and I, (J my new seat mate/buddy), well okay it was mostly me, started calling the conductor Sgt. Shultz, (the guy from Hogan's Heroes), and then it picked up momentum from there.  Apparently several others around us had heard how rude the conductor was to J and the sympathy came pouring in.  Before the lights were put out for the night people were calling the conductor, "Hitler," apparently J wasn't the only one feeling mistreated by Sgt. Shultz/Hitler.

Choo choo on a bridge.

     My pleasant experience just hours earlier turned into what felt like riding in the cattle car.  Indeed we were packed in and there wasn't an empty seat on the train.  J and I confessed to  sleeping on top of one another.  I woke up on her shoulder and she was snoring in my face.  We shared cat pictures that morning and, small world, her brother worked with the local sheriff's department after Katrina, but hubby J didn't remember him.  

     J got off two stops before me and despite being shmushed in with her, I ended up missing the company.  When I reached my stop I was greeted by big sis and a lovely bouquet of flowers.  I think I could take a train again.

     

Little Trip to Vicksburg For the 4th

     After a month or more of stress, we decided to take a little weekend trip to Vicksburg for the fourth.  I don't know what I thought I was going to see, but if you had told me the place was going to be like driving about in the mountains or San Francisco, I would have thought you were crazy.  I hate feeling like the car is going to fall backwards or go over the edge, so I spent the weekend clinging to what I like to call (pardon the language) the, "Oh shit bar."

I so did not expect Vicksburg to be so high up!

J wanted this pic because he thought it had
that traveling gambler look.

     We love anything cheesy so we dove right in starting with the hotel.  It was a throwback to 1978, and was probably the thing in its day, what with the attached bar and restaurant.  We were given poker chips to use to get breakfast and tickets to get free drinks in the lobby.  The restaurant was great, the food was good and the cheesy organ music brought me back to the old A&G Cafeteria days.  We were the youngest couple in the room; awesome.  Night two led us to explore the joys of a hotel/sports/karaoke bar.  We spent the night predicting what genre music each person was going to pick and hung out with a nice local couple who could both sing like pros.  Apparently the place is a draw for many native Vicksburgites.

The USS Cairo was salvaged out of the river.

Cool old bridge overgrown with weeds.

     We toured the museums went through a few antique shops, and of course toured the battlefield, (where the Union Army fired cannon at our car EEK).  I'm not sure which was my favorite, the USS Cairo ironclad or the Old Courthouse Museum.  I'll say the Old Courthouse did have a huge fat black and white cat so that probably tips it over for me.  I purchased a couple of books on the Vicksburg siege; I was fascinated with how the citizens of Vicksburg lived for forty-seven days in caves.

Geez

I've started several posts in the past week, but I've been so busy I have yet to finish a one of them.  Just a basic run down...  We spent the fourth in Vicksburg.  I've been prepping to head off to Virginia for a few weeks.  And now J's big brother is in the hospital and it doesn't look good as of today.  I've put my VA trip off once already and now it looks like I'm putting it off again, (I wonder how many times Amtrack is going to let me push back the dates).

J's big bro has a raging infection and is not responding to the antibiotics.  He's intabated because he stopped breathing on his own this morning.  The guy is forty-nine years old, so I'm going to be a Pollyanna and figure he's going to take a turn for the better tomorrow.  It's like I told J, the odds are in favor of a otherwise healthy forty-nine year old to pull through this.  I'm hoping so anyways...

The DIY Gravestone

     I know I married into a family that is slightly off kilter; it works because my family is a bit off kilter too.  Sometimes we take it too far, thus we have the DIY Gravestone story...

     Our beloved Paw, (FIL), passed away back in Dec. and we put in for the military marker to be placed between his parents' grave in Mississippi.  The marker is designed to rest on a slab of marble or some other pretty stone which of course we would have to purchase.  The thing is, one, there was no burial insurance, and two, certain members of the group are DIY junkies.  Perhaps it was the fudge cake at the repast back in Dec.  Maybe it was the Mississippi air.  Whatever got to us that day got us good because we came up with this notion that we could provide a stone leftover from the granite countertop or perhaps do something in cement.  Actually it was my BIL, God bless him, who saw this as an opportunity to put his new cement mixer to use and so proposed the cement project.

     It was decided that BIL would build the mold, pour the cement, and paint it to look like marble.  SIL wanted me to do the painting, because she knows BIL's skill level and has no faith in his painting abilities, but BIL insisted.  Frankly I had my doubts about the faux painting plan and was more than willing to leave it to BIL.  Months go by and a week before the placing the marker ceremony I got a phone call from SIL.  She wants to see if I can fix BIL's paint job.  BIL is sounding pretty sheepish in the background so I knew it was bad.  BIL is never sheepish.

     I get there and am led to a chunk of cement that had been spray painted what was supposed to be hunter green and I am speechless.  Speechless!  BIL if you stumble across this blog, sorry buddy, but we both know that was just... well... bad.  It looked like I took out a chunk of my front porch and spray painted it green.  I just stood there and thought, "I am NOT going on Saturday; both cars will break down, I'll get sick, or break an ankle.  There is no way I'm going to be there when that big chunk of ugly is laid out for all Paw's siblings to see."

The holes were for the bolts to attach the marker.
Doesn't even look green does it?

     The back up plan for using the leftover granite piece was put into play.  The only problem with that is no one wanted to cut it to proper size for less than two hundred dollars or before Saturday.  After driving all over town looking for a guy with the appropriate wet saw, (a regular ole tile saw won't do), we gave up.  All I can say is thank Gawd I suggested we head over to the funeral home to see if they had a suggestion.  Who knew they had spare stones sitting there waiting for someone like us, (last minute dunder heads)?  Bless the director's heart, he gave us one that was slightly off kilter for free.  One twelve dollar drill bit later and we had ourselves a nice stone for our marker.

Names have been erased to protect the innocent.

     Moral of the story: There are some things that just shouldn't be DIY.  Geez what were we thinking?!

Kitten Rescue

     Saturday after we buried my FIL's ashes we rescued a kitten from being mushed on a rural two lane highway in Mississippi.   He, (at least I think it's a he), was very weak and lithargic the first day and a half, but after a few meals he seems to be on his way to becoming an active normal kitten, crying ,playing, and knocking over the water dish and throwing kitty litter everywhere.

     I didn't make the best first impression when I introduced myself to Kitten.  Essentially, I chased him down in a field next to a Family Dollar Store which was in the middle of nowhere.  When I finally caught him he greeted me with a most painful series of bites to which I responded with screaming and jumping about.  I bet the two women in the parking lot were having a hard time figuring that one out.  A woman dressed up in funeral attire and heels running about in a field and screaming like she had found a snake.  J wouldn't get out the car, he didn't want to look like he knew me.

     As with any neighboring state situation, there is a rivalry so if these women ever suspected Louisiana people were nuts, I confirmed it Saturday.  The best part of the ride was the odor.  Kitten smelled like he rolled around in something that had been dead for a week.  The two hour ride home in the 98 degree heat was spent with the windows cracked and the A/C on full blast, me nursing my bleeding hands and the memory of Grams having to receive shots in the stomach due to being bitten by a stray with rabies.

     The ride home was not a comfortable one what with the lectures on how most men wouldn't have pulled over, on diseases from stray animals, and a few grumbles about the smell coming from the back seat.  Anyways we made it home and so far I'm not foaming at the mouth and the swelling in my right index finger has gone down.  Kitten has found a forever home with my sister who will be moving back home next month so he'll be visiting with his Aunt Jude and Uncle J until then.  Kitten is winning J over, (he can't resist the tiny), and I am hoping he will win over one of the girls, (my cats), so that he finds a foster cat mom for companionship.  I'm gonna be sad when he has to go to his new home, but I know sis will take good care of him.

Iconic Songs

     Driving down the highway with the radio blaring, "ABC, Easy as, 123, or simple as, do re mi..."  The memories came flooding back.  I'm in kindergarden at Prytania Private, the class is in an old bungalow home at the lakefront and it's the last day of school.  Ms. Armstrong has allowed one of the cool girls to bring in a few records, Jackson 5, Donny Osmond, and the Monkees.  We had a blast; a class full of dancing five and six year olds moving about from kitchen to bedroom to living room.

     Other memories came.  The big wild thunderstorms that came off the lake.  Watching the sky turn green and the street lights come on in the middle of the day and thinking there was nothing more wonderful.  The neighbor who would open up the fire hydrant and we would play dare to see who could get the closest to the hydrant.  Sunday snowballs after sweeping up grass after Dad mowed the lawn.  The street sweeper on Franklin Ave.  Ha, running away to Grams' house, (she lived down the block).  The memory of just being a kid.

     People say smells can bring back a flood of memories and they do, but I find that certain songs just bring back certain memories that an odor just can't do.  I call these iconic songs, not because they are important to the music world, but to me.  There are just certain songs that represent a particular era in my life.  I'll bet you have them too.