Make the time
A friend called earlier to check and see how we were doing, and to ask how our holidays had gone. We had a good time catching up with one another. This friend is one of the casualties of Hurricane Katrina, as she and her husband and children moved, never to return again, for fear of having to go through another storm and possible evacuation of a hospital. I miss her.

I think about how many friends like this I have lost, through this storm, or just over the years by distance and circumstances.

Pat and I are somewhat of an abnormality by many's standards. See, we are both professionals, working in the medical system, but between an age difference that we never seem to notice between ourselves (Pat is 18 1/2 years older than I am, though you would believe it)and add to that the fact that we have raised two of our grandchildren for close to 4 years, it kinda put us on the outs with some of our friends who are similar in age, because we were always having to deal with childcare issues. Now, however, for the past year, we have been groping with finding ourselves in a rather peculiar empty nest syndrome, because the children are back with their parent, and doing a great job. Still, it leaves us with looking at each other rather oddly, when you catch yourself leaning over to cut up the other one's meat.

Then, you top it off with the fact that my position has often required us to get dressed in a more formal manner for events, that Pat, in the past, has not been too warm and fuzzy over, but through the years, he has actually found himself enjoying, even the part of getting dressed up.

There is the other side of us, that ride Harley-Davidsons, wearing our jeans, t-shirts, and yes, in cooler weather...even our leathers. We are members of the "Red Knights", an organization made up of Firefighters, both active and retired, and their significant others that have a commonality of the joy of riding motorcycles. We have also been active, though not too much since the storm, in "ABATE of GNO", which is an advocate of education for bikers. Neighbors see this side of us probably more often than they get to glimpse us dressed to kill, so many of them think we are "just bikers" and all the that go along with that stigma. Others, however, like Matt and Mandy, that live across the street from us, or Vanessa, that lives next door, have a somewhat better overall picture of us, though I doubt they really have too much more than that. See, Matt and Mandy are busy in "the next generation", and are raising a beautiful baby boy, named Henry, and having to tackle all the decisions and guesswork that comes along with trying to turn a beautiful child into a responsible adult...something both Pat and I suffered along on our own, as single parents. And Vanessa, let's just say that she has her own trials and tribulations. We adore her, as well as how well she seems to master these.

Pat and I find ourselves in a position of having quite a few acquantances, but very few friends, as we have become quite selective over the years. This was something that he and I had in common when we met. We had several other things in common, but we also have some differences, but they only seem to make for us to have more to talk about when we come together.

For instance, I used to think I could cook. I can't. This became blatantly clear to me the first week that Pat and I were together, and he cooked with his Irish/Slovonian/Cajun background. I was an amateur, not to mention, that I used to cook healthy foods only. Need I say more?

I, on the other hand, prefer art, painting, the joy of creating for asestic purposes, whereas my loving and doting husband, prefers to create something that works, be it a motorcycle, a motor, etc.

We are both scuba instructors (that is actually how we met), but both of us have found little time in the past couple of years to even dive, but even then, I think I prefered to be under the water, while he would have enjoyed being above it, catching the fish of a lifetime.

He is a retired New Orleans Firefighter, and now working as an EMT. I got into nursing rather by accident, and was a Director of Nursing for a newly opened hospital in New Orleans' east, before the storm, and now find myself working a weekend special, and STILL wondering how I got into nursing instead of art to begin with.

We both enjoy hunting, but that is also something that we have never done together, though we talk about it often enough. It isn't that we don't try, you understand, it is that, unlike when I was growing up in New Mexico, and had the ability to just drive outside city limits to go hunting, here, in New Orleans, one must make special arrangements with someone to hunt on their property, or join a club, or you may even have to drive to Mississippi to try your hand there. It never seems like we have the time to put the effort into this.

We both like to read, and long before I moved to New Orleans, I was a fan of Anne Rice books, something that I seem to have turned my husband onto. She wrote so vividly and descriptive about the city I love. I felt I was actually here, even before I could move here.

We both enjoy travel, but it seems work restrictions, even more so than the money, keep us from doing this more often.

Most of our friends are in an age bracket where their children have all grown up and they may even be grandparents themselves. At times, however, one of my co-workers, who may be in their 20's wants us to go and do something with them, and they seem to find it extraordinary that we, a generation (or two) ahead of them, can "get down and get it on" with the best of them. We actually become hip in those moments. (Something that I am sure that my daughter cringes over) But we get asked to join them over and over, so we do when time allows, however rare that may be.

Many of our friends are divorced, as seems to be the way of most marriages anymore, and so, it leaves us with more single friends than couples. Oddly, most of our single friends don't do like the televisions would have people thinking...it isn't a new person with the friend . As a matter of fact, we seldom even meet the people they date before they have broken it off for one reason or another. They tell us they are just very selective, and we admire the fact that they know themselves well enough to know what would and wouldn't mesh. That isn't really a bad thing. Have you ever noticed how you can really like one half of a couple, and just barely stand the other?

Pat and I both like wines, cheeses, and the comfort of relaxing with them both, yet, most of our friends see only the Sprite/Coke drinking part of us, as we both don't want to drink and then get behind a wheel or on a motorcycle.

We both like going to flea markets and antiquing, but a great deal of walking becomes a little tough on Pat's knees after an accident he had years ago, so we do it in spurts.

We both enjoying fine dining, but this is another thing that is difficult with our work schedules.

We find that we have to make a conscious effort to do anything with friends, or family for that matter. Is it just us? Are we just that hectic?

Maybe for 2006, we can make a point of scheduling more time to do things with our friends, and maybe even some of those acquantances, and just get to know each other a bit more.

Yippie, 2006!!!!
Well, this is the start of a brand new year, and Pat and I couldn't be more thrilled.

We brought closer to 2005 as a couple, grateful for all the blessings we have in our lives...mostly for the pure and strong love of one another. We actually got to go out and celebrate our unity, despite all the odds of the past, by getting semi-dressed up for the occasion (Pat wore a navy blue turtleneck with his jeans and flannel lined denim jacket, and I wore a white turtleneck with my jeans and pale pink suede jacket that has just been waiting in the closet for just the right occasion. It almost never got worn, thanks to Hurricane Katrina and our failed levee system.)

Pat and I have tried for the past several years to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve, but something always prevented us, either baby-sitting grandchildren, or an ailing parent. This year, we were determined, and even though our plans in past years had included tickets to some formal dressed event and festivities...of which we usually just considered our purchase of tickets a donation, because of our always having to cancel our plans... we stood fast with plans this year, announcing to parents of grandchildren months in advance, that WE were going to celebrate the close of 2005 and the beginning of the new year. We felt like teenagers finally getting permission to go out together.

This year, we dressed for a fabulous dinner at Red Fish Grill on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter, and even though we had to wait for over 2 hours for our table to be ready (they would not take reservations)...we enjoyed the company of one another at the bar, not to mention the best margaritas we've ever had. Pat also spent a great deal of that time trying to figure out what the secret recipe of their sweet and sour mix was. Bribery was not above him, but to the credit of the bartender, he held steadfast by his secrets, and just continued to bring the concoxions to us. By the time our table was ready, so were our appetites. After a lengthy mental debate on the filet mignon or quail, I finally decided on the filet, and Pat enjoyed the red fish. Both of us were pretty well miserable by the time desert and cappuccino came around.

We later strolled, hand in hand, to the river front, only to have a really thick fog come rolling in, so thick, in fact, that they canceled the fireworks display that local citizens had provided the cash for this year. (Harrah's usually funds this celebrational event.)

It wasn't important, we held each other closely, looked into each other's eyes, and the same feelings that my husband was able to stir in me almost 7 years ago, when we met...was even stronger.

We came to rest finally on the tailgate of our pickup truck, until the stroke of midnight, and the promise of a better year coming with it. With the noise makers and horns that we'd been given in the restaurant, we joined in with all of the other citizens of our broken city, a city that refuses to die.

We were so thrilled to see how many people came out to bring in the New Year, and then to read today's newspaper about how the numbers of New Orleans' census is way higher than they had expected. We all know that it will take years to get back where we need to be, and hopefully, the promises of making New Orleans even better than before will remain true. Our mayor seems to feel that way, as I watched him on "Face the Nation" today.

Pat went out and actually found a store open to buy some last minute things that he thought we might need, including me a newspaper to read...."The first one of this year", he told me as he handed it to me. I curled up with my feet tucked beneath me, sipping on my Community Coffee with chicory...a fine New Orlean's tradition in it's own right, while my loving husband cooked the traditional New Year's Day menu with Black-eyed peas for luck, cabbage for prosperity topping the list. We even gave some to Tegan, our six-month old Pembroke Welsh corgi, just to cover all the bases.

Later, we curled up next to each other and took much needed naps, and just lounged in the luxury of one another and the contentment that no matter what 2006 may bring us...we will do it together.

New Year's Eve in the Irish Channel of New Orleans
Christmas has come and gone. All the preparations eagerly anticipated by young and old paid off, because it was a near perfect Christmas.

My mother drove in from New Mexico, and Pat spent three days preparing a traditional New Orleans' Christmas feast of turkey, oyster dressing, cornbread dressing, seafood gumbo, a baked ham completely decorated for the occasion with pineapples and cherries of red and green, his homemade pasta noodles, fresh green beans and new Irish potatoes, and more. Wesley, "our" son, contributed the pies which were sinfully left at our home when everyone left. My mama made Desiree's and my favorite, sweet potato casserole. In short, I put on a good 5 pounds in one sitting.

Desiree brought the boys over on Christmas Eve and they all spent the night with us, so we could enjoy watching the boys awake from their sleepy eyed dreams to find out if they's spent the majority of 2005 being naughty or nice. Santa left them tons. The wonder of it all seems to get better every year. The first few years, the boys were frankly more interested in the sounds of ripping paper and the fun of tearing brightly colored ribbons and bows off than they were in the actual contents. As they grew, the boys generally asked for the same things, maybe because they both watch the same cartoons that have the same commercials, or perhaps because they are so close in age (less than a year apart), but I like to think it is just because they are so close, period. This year, however, they had entirely different wish-lists, and Santa came through. He did for the adults as well.

My mother and I, not having seen each other for almost a year, spent the majority of time at home just catching up. I have always been very fortunate to have such a close and loving relationship with my mother, and had tried to talk her into moving to New Orleans after the loss of my dad, but after Hurricane Katrina came through here, I doubt I will ever get her near me now.

I had to go in to work on Christmas Eve and on Christmas, but my boss was terrific and allowed me to do 8 hour shifts instead of the usual 12, and I got to wait until after Colton and Bo woke up to find Santa's delivery on Christmas before I had to go in. I ended up sick, however, and am still not sure if it was allergies from climbing in the attic for Christmas decorations, or if I the "bug" Pat had been suffering with for almost 1 1/2 weeks. Either way, it was miserable and trying to ruin my Christmas, cutting into my time with my family. I took enough antihistamines and drugs to put a horse down, but I kept on going.

Pat and my mother managed to pull off the Christmas dinner for family and friends, while I worked. When I got in, I enjoyed the good company and food. We exchanged our gifts and then the youngest member of our family, our granddaughter, Virginia Ann, gave us all her own gift...she stood up and started walking. She is just over 9 mos. of age. All the first generation toasted her, to her strong little legs and willpower, and then with silent smirks, to one another, to the fact that Wesley and Ginia will never have a calm moment again.

After Christmas, my mother had wanted to see a little more of the damage Katrina had done to our beautiful city while she was here, so I took her on a driving tour through the flood ravaged 9th ward, over by Jackson's Barracks, to mid-city, Lakeview, and through old familiar haunts. I was struck by how many times I caught myself saying "It looks great now, compared to what it did. You should have seen it before it started getting cleaned up." There were still debride piles in front of many homes and businesses, but I didn't see (or smell) one , and most of the neutral grounds were cleaned off. We didn't have to drive around any trees or limbs in the road, either. The boats still present on roadsides, yards and sidewalks were a constant reminder of took place a mere 4 ago. We were so blessed. Our family, though separated by flood waters and locked doors at the Hyatt for a while, was able to be together, and even though Desiree lost her home in the east, she and the boys remained safe. And although damaged and dinged a bit, Pat and I still had a home to return to, albeit a smelly one for a while, but it was home and it was our space. Yes, we have been blessed.

She said she and my aunts and uncles had stayed riveted to their television sets during the days and weeks following the storm. Then as time passed, they were not able to pick up much information about it or how New Orleans was doing. Strange isn't it? Were we so quickly forgotten by the rest of the media? Did the other 49 states find it too terrible to watch anymore, or were they just becoming bored with seeing the same old scenes on t.v. That's the thing about the news...it has to be "new" or you are yesterday's wash...nothing special.

Mama asked me what I thought about the job that Mayor Nagin had done, and I told her I was very impressed with the way he had handled himself during that time, and with how he subjects himself to weekly town-hall meetings that you just know nobody is going to go to in order to praise...they only complain. He is hanging in there and making himself available. He fights for us before Congress. He is trying to keep New Orleans in the forefront of the public's eye...and by public, I mean the nation and the world, not just locally. And I told her that should he run again...I WILL VOTE FOR HIM!

She then asked me how I felt about the Govenor. I told her that I had not voted for her (nor had I originally voted for Nagin, by the way), but that I had hoped she had surrounded herself with capable people and would act quickly and decisively for our city, but that I was saddened by what I was seeing, or rather, by what I was not seeing. Action. She is so busy ducking and dodging and fearful to take the heat, that she isn't getting anything done, and not being a leader. It is frustrating.

Then Mama asked me about President Bush, who I did vote for, and who I had been supportive of. (Key words..."HAD BEEN") I had to hang my head in sorrow on this one. He's been here 8 times, I think, and stood right out there in Jackson Square, and promised us how we would be saved and rebuilt, but here we are over 4 months later, and he hasn't done it. I'm shamed. And I am shamed for him. It was one thing to have a man given misinformation and then make a bad decision, but in this case...he's BEEN here, and seen it for himself and still hasn't done anything. There is no grace for that. We need help now! It was a sad moment in our household for a while after this conversation, because I knew my mother had believed in him as well. We moved on to the next subject. It is Christmas time, remember? A time of joy and celebration.

My daughter, Desiree, turned 25 on the 29th of this month. Seems like just the other day my beautiful dark haired, grey-eyed baby girl was born. Sometimes I think she is disappointed her birthday is so close to Christmas, but I remind her that it was HER that was 3 1/2 weeks overdue, and she should have come on and got here sooner! (I looked like a poster child for Greenpeace.) Still, I'm reminded of how time is slipping past us all so quickly. I used to make her birthday cakes, decorated in whatever theme she happened to be into for that year, and used to, her birthdays were a family get together for celebration. Now that she's grown into her own, she prefers the company of her friends to celebrate the anniversary of her birth instead, but she tries to placate her Mimi and me for a short period of time on that day anyway. We are grateful for the time she can give us.

This year, being her 25th, I wanted to get her something special, because the 25th birthday to me was like turning 1 or 10 or 13, 16, 21, and all...they all have their own rites of passage. There is a guide for anniversaries, but none that I know of for birthdays, so I borrowed, and went with something silver to her turning her first quarter of a century in age.

Mama and I were off to Mignon Faget. I fell instantly in love with a pearl necklace and instead of a silver fluer de lis as I had expected to buy her, I found a dainty snail shell at the end of the pearls and knew with her love of shells...this was the one. I got her a silver snail ring to match. She made a haul because Mimi got the black pearl necklace to match. Mimi also got herself a little Christmas something...A peacock pearl and silver scarab necklace that "goes with all of her signature colors."

Finally, Mama said she really had to go, and that even though she wasn't ready or wanting to, she knew her sister, my Aunt Ree, would be heartbroken if she didn't stop by there and spend a night before her return to New Mexico, so it was off to Minden for her.

So, it was suddenly just Pat and me in the house, and our little corgi, Tegan. We began the clean up process, but then found ourselves simply enjoying spending time with one another, and trying to plan how we would bring in 2006 together.

Every year, for the past four to five years, we have planned to do something, go out and celebrate the birth of a new year, and the purging of the old, but something always seems to come up and prevent us from being able to do it. We have become somewhat skeptical at being able to pull it off at this point.

I requested to have New Year's Eve and New Year's Day off, and would be willing to work a couple of other days during the week to do so, but I felt (and still do) that it is really important for Pat and I to do this, this year. 2005 was a very tough year for both of us, but especially for him, and we want to bring in 2006 with the hopes and dreams of a brighter tomorrow, for us and for our loved ones, and for our city.

We hope that 2006 finds you and yours safe, happy and loved, and that you enjoy your blessings every nanosecond that you can.

Maybe I am beginning to look forward
It has been over a month since I last posted anything. I can scarcely believe where the time has gone, yet so much has happened in the period of four weeks.

We lost Pat's mother the day after Thanksgiving and buried her the following Tuesday. Thanks to Hurricane Katrina, we were first told that we would not be able to have her services for two weeks because most of the funeral homes in New Orleans had been wiped out and had to move into the one in Metairie where Pat's parents had bought a funeral policy and where Pat's father's services were held just five months ago. Since so many are being held there now, and because they lost 35 limousines and all but one hearse, they are booked solid. If it were not for a cancellation because of family members of an originally scheduled service...all the family members couldn't plan to get there in time because of the Thanksgiving traffic and travel.. we would never have gotten the Tuesday date. Then we ran into the problem of not being able to bury my mother-in-law and father-in-law together as they had always wanted to be, because it had only been 5 months since my father-in-law had passed away and it was a "double single" plot. So we had to find another site. We ended up buying a family tomb in St. Rose, which was beautiful, and they will eventually be able to be together there.

Also during this four week period of time, my insurance adjuster finally made it out. Miracle of miracles!

I am finally going to be able to start repairs on my home, and do some other projects that have been being put off.

Pat's son Wesley had been caring for his grandparents, and now with them gone, has agreed to come and help me out, so I am thrilled.

We also managed to start getting patients moved back from Baton Rouge to New Orleans, so I won't have to continue to commute every weekend, but what a chore getting them moved was!

Colton and Bo don't really care about all of that, all they know is that "Grandmama still doesn't have her Christmas tree up nor any Christmas decorations yet". To them, this is just not right, because I usually have them up the weekend after Thanksgiving, and some traditions have become engrained in them, and I just had no idea how strongly. I WILL have that tree up by this weekend! I have to...I haven't even wrapped a gift yet, as I have no place to put them.

Colton made me the most beautiful Christmas wreath and Bo made and gave me my first Christmas card of the year.

I love seeing my neighbors returning. Matt and Mandy are back full time across the street now, and it is comforting to see them taking Henry out for walks, and the glow of their Christmas lights from their tree shining from their living room window.

I see Chase outside, or his girlfriend walking their dog, and we wave, or stop to talk to each other as we continue to do some clean up or renovational work, and it is nice.

Vanessa is often seen outside working in the front yard, with Enya music playing as she cleans or tends to whatever plants she is fussing with. And I am trying to get to know Michelle, Clair's neice that is subletting her place until she returns.

Desiree is steady and creative with everything she has been doing to make her and the boys' new house a home next door. We've talked about leaving the fence down in the backyard for a while, to give the boys a larger area to play in and also to give them a safer way to come to Grandmama's house than by next to the street.

Yes, it is all coming together. Maybe I am beginning to look forward to the holidays.

Finally, we had a productive day at the house in New Orleans! We got the gate fixed, we got the plywood off the windows and doors in the front. Yep, we are starting to look like a home again.

The National Guard stopped by and visited with us again. We asked them about a block party and they said they were not allowed to have one, but "They could come by if we were having one, and could certainly offer extra security that would probably be needed for such a function" then they all four grinned. And then mentioned something about how none of them would mind some food that had some real seasoning in it. I think they are with the 30th Briggade. I know I love them all.

Still no word this week from my insurance people. They called weekend before last to say they'd call this week to set up a time to come see the interior wall damage and all. Guess they will when they can.

FEMA SBA people sent a guy out to visit. FEMA also called me twice to see if I needed a trailer. Told them I didn't unless my utility bills go too high with the hole in my wall. They told me to call them back and they will be happy to work with me. Nice people.

Pat bought a new truck last Saturday to replace the trans-am I converted into a submarine. It is beautiful, and caused him to do the second bit of yard work since our return...he trimmed hedges so they wouldn't scratch the new baby.

Well, Happy Veteran's Day!

Daddy's Punch in The Arm
Monday, 11-07-2005, the 20th anniversary of my father's death...strange, I've been depressed all day long, awoke with a migraine that required me to almost deplete my pharmacological stash of pain killers, but still...it never registered on me, not until just this very minute, when I wrote the date down...my daddy has been dead for twenty years.

Died at 58, from cancer, a disease that had ravaged his 6'2" body down to a mere 64 pounds. Fifty-eight, only 13 years older than I am right now, 5 years younger than my husband, who has the same silent but life robbing disease.

I know I need to call my mother today. She marks these anniversaries on calenders throughout her house and in every purse she owns, though she really doesn't need to, as they are all embedded in her heart.

When my father was in the end stages of his battle with cancer, I remember sitting on the edge of his bed one day next to him. He was so frail looking, breathing labored on his oxygen, and having already lost so much weight. He looked like he had come from Auschwitz. His eyes were weak, starting to sink some, but they were still such a pretty and clear blue.

I was feeling rather sorry for myself that day, about losing him, because I'd always been a "Daddy's girl" and about having a mother that I loved but couldn't talk to about the situation because she was so deeply in her denial about the entire thing that she simply refused to admit that this was all even a possibility. My parents were so deeply in love. She couldn't fathom the possiblity of a life without him...he HAD to make it!

Suddenly, my Daddy punched me in the arm!!!

While I was realing from the shock, he told me "If you are feeling sorry for yourself, get over it! If you are feeling sorry for me, don't! I've done more in my (at that time) 57 years than most people will if they live to be 107. If I wanted to do something, I did it. If I didn't want to, I didn't. If I wanted to say something, I said it and if some son-of-a-bitch told me something I didn't like, I told him to go straight to hell! About the only thing I can think of that I always wanted to try that I never did, was scuba dive and since we live in the desert and I have emphesyma, I don't guess that is too bad, so if you are feeling sorry for me, don't. My advice to you is this... You have a responsibility to raise my grandbaby. That comes first. After that, figure out what's important to you, then go after it and don't let anyone tell you that you can't do it because you are a split tail."

It took me about 3 years after my father's passing before those words sunk in. After they did, I started setting 3 goals for myself each year. Those goals were things that were important to me and me alone. That first year was 1.) Going back to school so I could better support myself and my child, 2.) I bought Pearl Export Drums and learned to play the drums, and 3.) I learned to scuba dive...while living in the desert. My first dive was for my Daddy.

Each of those goals came after that initial responsiblity of raising my daughter, however. It was a responsiblity and a joy that I delighted in.

Medical Records
Pat went to see one of his doctors last week. We were glad to see he was still there. I've made copies of all his work ups, visits, labs, bone scans, basically everything he's had done since he started seeing doctors, but I wondered what about all the other people that were in the middle of their cancer treatments (or any other treatments for that matter) that didn't have all that with them when Hurricane Katrina hit? Can you imagine how scary or life threatening that could be? To not have your primary care physician, oncologist, radiation oncologist, urologist, hospital records, x-rays, radiology results, chemotherapy treatments and stages where you were at in your treatments...and then you have to go to somewhere else and expect to get care and start it soon enough? Would it be soon enough? It's not like you could just call up your doctor and get a copy of your chart sent to the new doctor you are now going to have to see...the old doctor can't be reached by phone because his office no longer exists, nor does his answering service. And if you did happen to have a physician that gave out his personal cell number (yes, a few do that) then the cell number might not work.

Okay, then you think you might get your records from the hospital? Well, try doing that after it has been evacuated and there is no one there to get it, or after the entire medical records room has been flooded. (Medical records is usually located on the first floor of most hospitals, by the way.) If the hospital is empty, that pretty well, shot down any chances of getting copies of any x-rays, or CAT-scans, bone scans, etc.

Most physicians can't treat you now until they know what you were getting then. By the time lab work gets repeated, and they find out what toxic levels your blood work is at, how much time have you lost?

When they had suggested to take important papers with you before evacuating for Hurricane Katrina, I took copies of not just our birth certificates, titles, insurance papers, the grandchildren's's immunization records, but also copies of all our medical treatments for just such a reason. Maybe it is because I am a nurse, but I think it is a plan that we will continue to have large manila envelopes on standby for any future emergency departures that we may have to make in our future.

Just a thought.

Guilt and the 3 Important P's
I've often kept a journal. It's helped me keep focus when life's day to day chaos kept me clawing for solid ground.

I'm creating this blog as an outlet, primarily for myself to have a safe haven to go to away from loved ones to share moments of pure joy, exhaulted pleasures, share my own bewilderment at what continues to pass for normal in our society, to share humor-which we need more of I'm convinced, a place to release and unload my frustration, my hurt and anger, rage even - because it is an emotion that is so much easier and safter to have than pain...but the emotion that I find that is mine more than any other lately it seems is...guilt.

Seems I take on guilt rather readily in my life. I always have. It's a trait I recognize in myself and have tried to overcome, as I know it is not a healthy one when taken to extremes, or when taken and the guilt is not yours to take, but it is still there and I seem to possess it none the less.

The latest dose of guilt I've been feeling has been hitting from all sides, and a great deal of it comes from my city's recent disaster...Hurricane Katrina.

I am not a "native born New Orleanian". My family is from the northern part of this beautiful state, but I was born in exile in the desert-where nothing was green. While that part of the country was good to my parents, I longed for trees and "green stuff".

As a child, I remember my first visit to New Orleans to visit great aunts, and even at that early age, I was with the old New Orlean's style homes and . Those tall ceilings, crown mouldings, hardwood floors that just begged for sock covered feet to run and slide down their long halls... I didn't know the names of the styles, "shotguns, , ,", I just knew that I had to have one when I grew up!

As I said, my parents' business was good to them and consequently, I benefited as well. As I grew up, I traveled all over the world, spending many conferences and vacations here in New Orleans, but nothing could ever touch my heart like this city.

So in 1999, I finally moved here, with the dream of getting my own old style house in an old neighborhood, with similar homes around me. I dreamed of being able to walk to little bistros for either a glass of wine or maybe a cup of coffee, stop, sit outside and enjoy my city while watching the people pass by. Being that my first major in collage was to be art, and that I still love the smell of oil paints and linseed oil, I reveled in living in a city so rich in it's history of artists and galleries knowing how I could entertain myself for days, nay, weeks on end, just browsing galleries and antique shops. And that I am a jazz and blues aficionado, that had also come to love the likes of Dr. John and the Radiators and their funkiness many, many years before moving to New Orleans and attending my first Jazz Fest (which incidentaly, always seems to fall on or around my April 24th birthday-what a totally and now traditional way to celebrate it).

I even love the smell of my city, and strange as that my sound...it gets even better the closer I get to the French Quarter. It becomes even more heady. It's a rare mixture of the and french cuisine cooking, the totally brain inoculating liquors found sold all up and down Bourbon Street to the tourists, to the resulting trash on the streets before being picked up after everything is closed, to the strong incense now being sold in the French Market by people who look like they come from an even more desert than where I was born. My God, I love this city! I often ride the Harley just to soak the city up in all my senses.

Now it took me 10 months, 2 weeks and 6 days to find a house that my, at that time boyfriend, Pat, and I could agree on. Even though I was buying the house, I valued his opinion...well, except the parts about how "I didn't need to buy in New Orleans or in Orleans Parish because of the taxes being so much higher than in Jefferson Parish or St. Tammany Parish", and how "I should look in Metairie" where his parents had built a beautiful home some 30 years ago, or in "Slidell, where the crime rate is so much less, and the prices are better." Yes, he made good arguments, problem was...they weren't New Orleans...they weren't my dream.

Pat did have other good ideas however. He told me he would move wherever I wanted to go even if it was into the St. Thomas Street Projects (I think secretly, he feared that I really would find a house across the street from them). His one request that he really was going to insist upon, however, was that he would really like off street parking.

Well, we finally found our double shotgun and it does have off street parking, and as luck would have it, it is located only blocks away from what was once known as the St. Thomas Street Projects, but what is now the site of a Wal-Mart and some pretty classy condos.

Pat and I have been together for going on seven years now, and we married over 3 years ago. True to my love of this city and it's old world charm, we said our vows on the steps of an old antebellum home that had been completely restored on St. Charles at Avenue Plaza Hotel, out by their pool. Most people don't even know it exists, but a very dear friend of mine, Barry Soileau, turned me onto it, as his hair salon used to be at "APS" before he moved off to the Big Apple and really made it big.

I'll skip alot of other details that went on the years between then and now, but I think you can get a feel for what this city means to me.

That brings us to Friday, August 26, 2005. I'd been sick for a couple of days after a sales rep had brought some food to my newly opened hospital, where I was the Director Of Nursing, to smoozh us. I hadn't been able to keep anything on my stomach for two days and...well, lets just say I had ALL the symptoms of food and leave it at that, shall we?

My daughter was working that weekend at the Hyatt, so she brought our grandsons by before going to work. Hurricane Katrina was brewing in the gulf and according to forcasters, we were right in her sights, so Pat was trying to get his mother, who is in the advanced stages of , squared away before he could get our house ready. This is no easy task because we have ten feet tall windows and doors if you count the transoms, and add that our house is raised, requires lifting the plywood up on a 12-14 ft ladder. Nope, not too fun. (I want shutters for Christmas.) We thought for a while the storm might turn like it always does, but Pat said something was different this time and he wasn't taking chances.

My daughter would be lined up to work at the Hyatt and Entergy was right next door so they would have power no matter what, plus, that is where Mayor Nagin was going to go, so she felt good about it and planned on taking the boys and her pet ferret and our pet sugar gliders with her, since they had cleared pets to come with employees who were working through the storm. She had also gotten a friend, Lori, to agree to leave her home in Chalmette and come and stay with her, who would watch the boys while she worked. They planned to be there 2-3 days. We were welcome to stay also.

Luck was on our side and we'd managed to get all the patients out of my newly opened hospital because of routine discharges, and even though we expected new admits as a possibility, everything started being prepared for the storm, and we weren't going to be actively seeking new patients.

Saturday, August 27, 2005 came. My stepson, Wesley, came over and helped Pat get all the windows boarded except the front and glass sliding doors, then he had to leave town. I was still sick, but my daughter, Desiree, came and got the boys, Colton and Bo, and the gliders after she got off work, so I helped Pat get the front windows done. We planned to do the glass sliding doors on Sunday morning when I got to feeling a bit better and stronger, as well as Pat. It was such a hot day, we were both drained by the time we finished the front windows. I packed a couple of days worth of clothing for Pat and myself...just in case.

Sunday morning, August 28, 2005, at 03:20am. Change of plans. My boss called. They needed more muscles. My hospital is owned by a corporation that also owns several nursing homes, assisted living facilities, another hospital in a different town, etc. Since my hospital was empty and they had one home with over 184 residents to evacuate and another one with something like 169, could I please come help? They'd already called the NOFD and they could not come, but Acadian Ambulance had sent 3 units and crews to help but it was not enough. The corporation had chartered enough commercial buses for all the residents to be evacuated, and those that could not sit up were being taken by ambulance, along with food, juice, bathrooms on the buses, etc. So much for finishing the glass sliding doors. Pat could not do it alone, and we chose people over property. It was a no brainer really. I took his trans-am and left him to finish getting his mother out and our new puppy and harleys loaded up.

I went to the facility on Haynes Blvd. and after we got all the residents loaded and they didn't have enough nurses to ride the buses, I loaded up and left Pat's car there. When he finished what he had to do, he followed me to Baton Rouge and after we unloaded all the residents there, he and I tried to get back into New Orlean. The Mayor ordered a mandatory evacuation of the city, the 1st in New Orleans' history. It saved numerous lives, I'm convinced, but we couldn't get to the Hyatt, or to the kids. That is when all my mothering and grandmothering took over and made me a nervous wreck.

That brings us to the death and devastation of Monday, August 29, 2005. Hurricane Katrina. Failed levee systems. Rising waters. Oil spills. Lost homes. Lost possessions. Lost lives. Lost relationships. Lost past. Lost history.

For days, we stayed in the dark. Not just in the literal sense, but metaphorically as well, because of our shock, our self numbness, disbelief. I mean, you can see a single house catch fire and be list, maybe even ignite a while block..remember when Magazine Street caught fire when the Animal Clinic caught blaze? We as were in shock and that was just part of a block, but it was close to home...so close to home. How could it not be contained sooner? Could we learn from that? Remember? And now, here we were being told that over 80% of our city was and as many as 10,000 dead were possible in New Orleans alone. And we were alone. This had other towns, like Waverly and all along the had been affected. It was too immense to grasp.

Celebrities were coming. Matthew MaConnaghy, Julia Roberts, Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, New Orleans' own Harry Connick Jr., Winton Marsalis, Oprah did a 3 day special on us! We were in trouble.

President Bush made something like 8 visits. Why just last week, Prince Charles and his wife came to survey all the damage. We are in trouble.

I've tried to give you a little bit of my own history (one reason why this blog is sooooo long) so you would know where part of this is coming from, and though I can't imagine anyone who hasn't at least heard a tiny bit about our struggles down here, I felt like I needed to give this information as a backdrop for where we are at now.

The corporation we work for found jobs, shelters and/or rooms for all of it's employees that lost their homes. The corporation has also brought in FEMA and Red Cross people to the workers so that they didn't have to go and stand in any lines. They also helped those that qualified to get food stamps, and whatever other assistance they needed. They have bided some farewell as they have moved on, and yet others have pledged to stay and return to New Orleans.

I'd mentioned my guilt earlier. You see, my house survived. Well, we had some interior wall and ceiling damage, a downed fence and a few other minor things, however the most rancid thing I've ever come across (even when I worked years for the Office Of Medical Investigators in New Mexico) were the two fully stocked refrigerators and one upright freezer we had not been able to empty after I got the call from my boss that Sunday morning. Whew! Gases had built up in the freezer so badly that the door had blown open and food had sprung out onto the floor on it's own, as though they'd come into their own life.

In the over a month of no power and feeding off the rotting seafood and meat (Pat had just loaded the freezer the week before with 80 stuffed crabs and 60 stuffed merlatons and 40 pounds of shrimp for us and for my mother in New Mexico...not to mention a couple of cases of steaks I had just bought...I have to stop typing now, to wipe the tears)Anyway, the flies had grown so large they needed parachutes to open when they landed in the house. Still, this is where I feel some guilt. I HAVE a house. I HAVE a home that albeit, after much cleaning with bleach and enough incense to come across as an opium den, we will be able to return and live in it, I catch myself starting to complain about the smell, the fact that insurance still hasn't come to look at my missing wall so I don't know if I can begin to do repairs since I've shot a roll of pictures of it and since my climbing utility bills will require a second mortgage if I don't... Then I look around and see that all of my co-workers are actually living at the nursing home I am now having to work weekends at.Some even have their children living at the nursing homes, playing with donated toys. They live here because they have no homes, no clothing other than what was donated to them, no cars because they too had left theirs at the facilities where I had left Pat's and like his...theirs were turned into submarines when the facilities were submerged to the . I fall silent.

Although I've always been a hospital nurse, I find myself no longer the Director Of Nursing at my newly opened hospital, as it was also sunk up to the roof. Now I commute to Baton Rouge on weekends with the promise that someday the corporation will reopen my hospital again, location TBA. That is where more guilt comes in.

I am what I've always considered myself to be a hospital nurse, not long term care. It's just not my niche. But my hours are good and I work just on Sat. and Sundays, so it gives me the week to do what I need to do in New Orleans and to be with my family, and we need each other right now, but still, I am miserable working where I am. It is only the promise of them reopening my hospital that keeps me going. And I feel guilty about being so miserable. Is it just that things are done so differently than what I am used to? I should be grateful for my opportunity, but I can't help long for the comfort of my familiar surroundings of a hospital and more importantly...the comfort of a hospital staff, and yes, even hospital patients.

I think about the fact that I USED to have a nice M-F job, and that Christmas Eve is on a Saturday and Christmas is on a Sunday this year, and now that I am on a weekend gig, how will I get to spend any of that with my family? Will we be in Baton Rouge still, or will we be back in New Orleans, where I could at least see them at night? What about morning Santa finds with my grandchildren? Family traditions? Is this something else that I must now sacrifice? I feel myself becoming angry and then the guilt begins to creep in because I should be happy that I have the blessings that I do, but I can't help myself.

Pat has been taking all of this hard. Not the loss of the city or his car so much I don't think, but the loss of support systems. I don't think he ever really had as much as he might have believed he did, but then, not knowing is sometimes a blessing. When we don't have to test our theories, we can sometimes rest easier.

I think life is made up of 3 Important "P"s..."Priorities, Perceptions and Presentation" When you think about it, everyone is defined by their priorities, but they don't always have the same perception on a matter and two people can say exactly the same words but have it come across as totally different ways, depending on their presentation.

One of Pat and I's bonds is that family has always been a priority. , not everyone feels that way, and they put possessions first. We both find ourselves bewildered each time this happens.

I will miss some of the lost relationships that are a casualty of Hurricane Katrina, like my friend, Nicole, who has relocated to some country named Texas, to start her life over with her husband Rick, an attorney, and their tow girls, that I will now miss getting to watch grow up and all those other firsts...1st day of school for Callie, Emma's first boyfriend and date, 1st time Mama has to take them shopping for prom dresses, and I find myself feeling guilty because I know I should be happy that they have found a beautiful place to live, but I just want my friend "HOME".

I will miss my relationship with my friend Leslie, who also went to that country, only as a pitstop before she goes on to Canada. Leslie, who will continue to raise her children alone , go to school and who is one of the most people I have ever known or worked with. I feel the guilt creeping in again.

I will even miss Paul Accardo, the familiar face with the NOPD that you saw on the news anytime there was a tragedy or shooting. A tremendous loss, not just to NOPD but to the city of N.O. as well.

And I miss the relationship with my city. My New Orleans will never be the same . The people have changed. Not all of it is bad, mind you, it's just not the same, and I think we fear uncertainty. Every street you go down has a pile of debrid on the sidewalks and street in front of the housed. Piles of broken furniture, cabinets, pulled up carpet and paddings, mattresses, morter work, bent pieces of metal, duct taped refrigerators, and freezers line the streets and neutral ground like they are new forms of lawn furniture. Cars and windows on homes are marked with graduated white water lines while have the same color brown lines chowing water levels that went anywhere from a foot to the eaves of some properties. Huge "X"s are painted in paint with markings to indicate dates and findings on if anyone or if a body or"SPCA" 1-cat or 2-dogs if need be. The smells I once loved in my city have evolved. The first couple of weeks in Sept. are hard to describe. I'm not sure I should even try. Now it is better, but some areas are overwhelming with the dankness of mold and mildew.

The downed tree limbs have for the most part been cleaned up and now there are just a couple of huge jump spots on the I-10 West Florida Blvd Exit and Exit. There are probably more but those are the ones that I have seen.

Traffic is a nightmare. It is a cross between Christmas time shopping and evacuation. It's that bad. With so many people gone, I was amazed, but then when you figure the hours that stores are limited to being open because of the limits of workers they have and top that off with the limits of what areas have stores open...I guess it makes sense. Stores and gas stations close early, usually by 7pm, so everyone has to plan ahead, but still it's better than just after the storm. There is also a curfew still in effect in Orleans Parish.

It's strangly quiet on our street at night now. I was up at 2:00am the other morning, and it was silent. No cars, no one was walking down the street and talking as in all the years before. In the first week, it bothered me. I'm starting to get used to it now. Next week, I might even enjoy it.

Well, this one has been long, but it was because it is a first one.

Posted by irishchannelrn at 12:01 AM EST

Updated: Wednesday, 4 January 2006 3:53 PM EST

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