Happy Flipping Thanksgiving

I am very much aware that I have much to be grateful for, but this Thanksgiving finds me on the edge of depression. It didn't help that I woke up this morning to a story on NPR about displaced New Orleans residents missing their food on Thanksgiving. One of the guys they interviewed was clearly bullshitting the interviewer, though. I'd like to say for the record that it is not common practice to eat nutria for Thanksgiving or otherwise in New Orleans. A couple of years ago, I did cook a rabbit for Easter which the brother of the IRMS had shot in his backyard. I felt very down-home coon-ass and a little guilty.

According to the Weather Channel, the expected high temperature today in New Orleans is 77. The expected high temperature here is 47. It snowed last night, but it didn't stick except for a little on the cars. I shouldn't whine, but I am just so weary of the cold and the traffic and the commute and sleeping in a bed that isn't mine. I mostly like the work I'm doing except for sometimes when I feel like I'm screwed something up and I get no feedback whatsoever. But four hours of commuting a day is too much.

People have been very sweet to me, but I'm lonely for the people who really know me. I miss privacy. I'm worried about money. And I have a paranoid fear that MM is bailing on me again. I do hope that it's only that. You'd think I'd be immune to him by now.

Johnny Fasullo, WWOZ's Ragin Cajun, died last week. When I first moved down there, his voice on the radio was one of the things that made me feel I was somewhere strange and exotic. I could barely understand what he was saying. His show was a bit cheesy--the guy who came on after him played better Cajun music. But he was a sweety and a character, Catholic and socially stunted and devoted to his mama, from across the pond in Marrero.

Also, I read that Irvin Mayfield's dad died in the flood. But I ought not make a list of things to feel sad about.

The 12th Anniversary of my 25th Birthday

Today was my birthday. I wasn't prepared, I had no plans. I'd been thinking about going to NYC, but I have nowhere to stay and a hotel isn't in the budget. I'm starting to worry about money again as my return to New Orleans gets closer. I'm not sure, after my last DOJ paycheck, when I'll have income again.

A low-key and slightly lonely birthday, but not really a bad one. Actually, I feel a little guilty because my aunt and cousin had wanted to take me to lunch (I didn't know till this evening) but I snuck out on my own. That, for better or worse, is typical of me--it's pretty much my m.o. I do everything to avoid people and be alone, and then feel lonely.

But, for better or worse, I'm picky about whose company I want. And the person whose company I want the most right now is MM. I don't know what to say about him, or what I should say. He's made himself a presence, once again. I'm happy about it, really happy. Happy for him, happy for me. But afraid of being a fool, a sucker, a chump, a glutton for punishment.

I learned a lot of painful lessons courtesy of the gentleman in question. I learned to let go of him, and to not take it too, too personally when he disappeared or when he got angry and bitter. To accept that I might never see or talk to him again, and I had no control of the matter, and that I just had to get on with my own life. And so I did. But he never let go of me--he never vacated my consciousness. He's never too far toward the back of my mind. I'm thrilled to have the real MM back, but I'm afraid I'm a fool to be thrilled.

He might come to visit me here before I go. All I can do is wait and see--that's all I've been doing for quite awhile.

Oh, my birthday--I went to the Corcoran Gallery and the more-depressing-than-I-remember National Zoo. It was a nice, sunny, almost-warm day. The picture was taken early in the afternoon on the Metro. I think I'm holding up okay for my advanced age, but there's no denying the forehead line. Last weekend, with my sister, we were looking at pictures from when she used to visit me in Memphis. I was stunning and I didn't even know it.

Mount Joy

This picture was taken inside the bar of a strange and wonderful bar/restaurant/hotel in Mount Joy, Pennsylvania. It's decorated in an over-the-top decadent nouveau Victorian style. I was there last week with my Aunt and my sister and her fiance and Miss S. The night before, I was drinking in a VFW with all of the above except Miss S. It was a strange but fun weekend. I went to the market and got my Martin's potato chips fresh in white paper bags, my sweet bologna, my apple butter

My sister's fella is attractive, sweet, and completely devoted to her. He's a good cook and a good mechanic. He's not an intellectual heavyweight, but I don't know that she requires one. Really, it seems like she hit the guy jackpot and she doesn't appreciate it. She's never really happy, and neither is my mother, come to think of it. Accentuate the negative is their motto. I'm nowhere near as bad as them--I don't think so. But I see similar tendencies in myself. I'm reluctant to ever be too happy about anything for fear of losing it or being disappointed.

Holiday

Ah, federal holidays--I'm off today and I'm going to Pennsylvania to visit my sister and other relatives and meeet my future brother in law. Miss S is going to meet me there tomorrow. The last time I saw her I was on my front porch waving goodbye after my last night out in New Orleans.

People have pretty much forgotten all about Katrina here, except for us uprooted wanderers.

I like DC. Some days I like it more than others. One day this week, my commuter train was stopped in Alexandria so that a bomb-sniffing dog could smell us all. (It was a yellow lab--why can't Hank do something useful like that?) (Actually, I miss big ole Hank and petite Miss P something terrible.)

I went to venerate the sacred documents at the National Archives, and on the way out "Mardi Gras Mambo" as done by (I think) Los Hombres Calientes, was playing in the gift shop. Odd.

I've made three short visits to the National Gallery but I haven't seen it all. I'm not that sophisticated about art, anyway. I'm interested in it but not sure what one is supposed to think when looking at, say, the only Da Vinci in North America, or what sense it makes to look at a Warhol soup can in the same afternoon. But I keep going back.

MM did send me a crate of Mallo Cups, which pleased me very much. Things are some significant hopeful signs in his life, but I don't want to write about it for fear of jinxing it, plus maybe it's not my business to write about anyway. But I'm tentatively very happy for him.

A good day

Now that I'm sort of semi-settled here, I'm more aware and appreciative of what an amazing opportunity this is. I had only one week of law school, and I'm working at the Justice Department. And I like it. I'm enough of a dork to find the work fun. I guess I'm in a good mood because an attorney is very happy with me for finding a case that he overlooked that helps him a lot. But I was in a good mood this morning, too, walking to work with the Capitol and the Washington Monument in view. DC is growing on me.

Without Katrina I wouldn't have this opportunity. I can't say the price was worth it, but since Katrina has happened and can't be undone, there's nothing wrong with appreciating the silver lining.

Also, I haven't had any sinus problems since I left New Orleans. Unfortunately, now I'm getting a cold.

Making it legal

My sister, it seems, is not totally overwhelmingly enthusiastic about getting married.

I feel like I can't say anything. I'm cynical about love, and demonstrably crappy at relationships. Whatever I say would either be a bummer or bad advice or both. Also, I want her to get married for selfish reasons, to take the pressure off me.

My mutually fat, married-for-almost-forty-years aunt and uncle seem to be having sex right now which is a.) gross; and b.)a counter to my bad opinions about marriage.

Coincidentally, my fellow intern/refugee bought an engagement ring this weekend with the intention of proposing to his girlfriend. And you thought it was frivolous for me to buy a used BMW with my FEMA money.

Today, a paper in which I wrote one and a half paragraphs was filed in a federal court. I'm figuring out my projects, probably the hard way, but eventually I seem to get them done right. I think I'm pretty good at legal writing and I find it oddly entertaining--I feel like I'm engaged in parody.