That's the way you spell chicken

This is a picture of one of the charming Rhode Island Reds on the farm where I have been living. I'm not sure that an individual chicken can be charming, but a whole bunch of them running (and they really do run, it's hilarious) around the yard are adorable.

In the meantime, last week, in front of my new apartment on an allegedly safer block in New Orleans, a man was shot in the head, run over with his own car, and left to die in the street. This was at about 3 a.m.; he was coming home from his second-shift job.

My old boss lives on the same block. He thinks the neighborhood is stable and just fine. But he just got out of a really bad marriage, and I think the newfound sense of optimism and freedom has infected his rational capacity. I've also met a few younger, maybe more naive, people this summer who are in love with New Orleans. For example, a young teacher who lived and taught in New Orleans for a few years, his here in Virginia getting his masters in education, and plans to go back. Thank goodness there are bright, energetic people like him who have a passion for New Orleans. But I think I have finally lost mine. That enchantment with New Orleans seems to me a negative one, an underworld curse. I only have one more week here and I really don't want to go back. In fact, I'm a little bit scared.

Also this week, I had a bit of panic when I couldn't get Mr. M on the phone after the bridge collapse. He is fine, but I have that lingering sense of everything falling apart. Everything that seemed stable and permanent has been revealed to be fragile and unstable.

Things seem safe out here with the chickens, but then again a fox killed one last week. So chickenhood is fragile. Obviously. BTW, I still eat chicken, but I don't cook it or eat it at the farm.

It's been a good summer career-wise. I think I've decided I want to be a city attorney. For a city that's not in an unstoppable frenzy of destruction. Somewhere safe for Mr. M. The only bad thing I can say about my stay here is that I miss Mr. M, and the Hank & Petunia show. And that it has come to an end too soon.