I walked by my property on Mardi Gras day, after going by the Backstreet Cultural and St. Augustine Church. They are threatening to shut St. Aug. The diocese doesn't want to commit the money. There were reporters from Sweden interviewing Father LeDoux. I took some photos of him being interviewed. I love that church, as do all Tremeans. It was a little depressing if you think I was supposed be staying there by Mardi Gras. It's all too depressing if you think about it too much at all. None of my immediate friends are in my place, that's making it a little hard at this immediate moment too. They try. But these are the cards in your hand. How ya gonna play em? You can throw down anytime. Or maybe throw away one at time.
If you recall, I had two clawfoot tubs I had refinished way back in mid-August.
August 3rd Post Well, over the last couple months I called them, waited a couple weeks, they had a death in the family. A couple weeks later they called me back to say the tubs are ready. That was a couple weeks ago and it's my turn to call them back. Keeps poppin back into my head, gotta take care of it. I have to find a place for them. The pod is full. I open it, stare at it. Shake something around. Close the door, walk away. I think I have decided that I have to empty the pod and get a bigger pod. The pod people can come on St. Pat's day, the 17th. The lady over the Southern Refinishers on the Westbank was super sweet. She knows how hard these things are to DO. They are holding them for me and she assured me not to rush and compromise the finish of my tubs. How 'bout that.
I am working on that and calling contractors for estimates. HA ! I actually had a couple call me back and they are so tired. You can tell over the phone. I am very fortunate because my architect gave me four numbers of local guys who know and love old buildings. And they are calling me! The principal calls me, not some secretary and they are just beggin me to be patient that it will be at least a couple weeks. "Call me back and remind me and I'll keep you on the list", they say. I say, "Ok, Will do, Please keep me mind".
So yesterday, I go pull the weedeater off the property for a couple friends who need to use it and discover that there is this pile of debris from the neighbor's house on N. Villere in my freakin yard. I am pissed.
This morning I go over there and I am trying to straighten out the tarps and drain water off them. Two seconds goes by and my hands are bleeding already (cuz as someone would yell at me for not puttin on my gloves). Some white lady is coming over to talk to me. It's Mette Skou, she's spends part of the year in Sweden and part in Treme. She gets just inside the fence when I start tellin her that I am in a rancid mood and not fit for human consumption. You know, mental health professionals encourage us to just say how we feel. So, I admit it straight away, Look, I'm a raging maniac, stay 500 ft. back and be ready to run at that. I tell Mette Skou, sorry and that I tried not to get out of bed at all today . . . but I always fail at that promise to myself. It's her debris. She's going to pick it up. So, now we will be having that banal chit-chat I wasn't in the mood for today.
Magically, this nice black dude that is not at all cracked up stops to give me a hand. He doesn't say a word. He hops off his bike and jumps up on the foundation with me. I know he'll want a bit o'money and I'll offer it before he even brings it up, save his dignity, because he kicked ass and we had a very good chemistry, like we'd been tuggin at that tarp together for a week. We had that zen thing going on that I could use more of lately. I hope I see him again. Leonard.
The dog is at the vet, she's not too well. The CD player in the van is broke. That means a trip to the dealer on the Westbank. And I am tired of tinkering with the spaces between sentences on this blogware. Mardi Gras was five days off for me but now I need five days off to recover.
