I heart NOLA

My mom was kind enough to watch Big Sir so my husband and I could visit New Orleans for my Spring Break. We were only there for 2 full days and 2 partial days but I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

We stayed in The French Quarter at the Bon Maison Guest House. It was right in the heart of the gay district which meant lots of drag bars in close proximity. Our innkeeper was both gracious and personable. He explained that his partner has owned the guest house since the 70's. I reckon there are worse career paths than operating a little inn located at ground zero of one of the most fun cities in The United States.

We did not stay long enough to warrant renting a car so we really did not see much of the devastation that is Hurricane Katrina's legacy. The French Quarter and The Garden District were built on higher ground.

A word about drinking and eating. NOLA has the best places for both of those activities. Crawfish ettouffe, jambalaya, bread pudding, and po boys are some things the NOLA kitchens do best. I ate these delicacies without regard to calorie content or trans-fat. Even moderation should be practiced in moderation. The famous local drink is the hurricane. I like alcohol just fine but I can't drink it too liberally or it feels like the lining of my stomach is being eaten away by acid. Curiously, I am okay with spicy foods.

I loved observing the culture of The Quarter which I imagine is more than a shade removed from modern day Cajun. It is choked with tourists and I believe that I heard more European accents than local dialects. I guess that means that I did not have what some might define as an authentic experience. Truthfully, I had an experience that was authentically me because I usually feel like a tourist in even the most familiar settings. I consider it a gift.

My favorite part of The Quarter is the voodoo souvenir shops. We even visited the voodoo museum! This place was lorded over by a man who claimed such authority on the subject of voodoo that he was featured in the Angelheart dvd extras edition! I love love love religions. I am especially interested in the ways that religions evolve and adapt to modern context. I had a nice conversation with The Voodoo Authority. He claims to be the first Caucasian voodoo priest. I was duly impressed. While I listened raptly to his explanations of voodoo, he seemed a tinge annoyed with my attempts to deconstruct his religion. I wanted to understand the face of a voodoo practioneer in the 21st century, he wanted his practice to remain steeped in mystery. It reminded me of Southern Baptist Sunday school when I would ask too many questions. Who says all religion do not share universal elements when most fanatics of any religion get annoyed with the likes of me?!?!

Of course the best part of the trip was being with my husband and sharing an adventure. I have often said that I would rather share a Motel 6 with him that the Ritz Carleton with anyone else. The fact that we routinely share B & B's and guesthouses make it that much sweeter.

Viva NOLA! Viva true love!

Tedious and Ironic Post

Big Sir has two favorite words both of which he often misuses. This is not a source of embarrassment for the lad as most of his fellow fourth graders are not savvy enough to correct him. My son liberally peppers most conversations with the words "ironic" and "tedious."

His fascination with irony began innocently enough. He asked me why I was singing along with The Carpenters.

Big Sir insisted, "This music is really bad. How can you actually like it?"

My reply? I told him that Karen and her brother might not make my personal cut for truly compelling music bit I do enjoy their sweet if overly maudlin vocalizing. I further explained that "I guess I enjoy it ironically."

My son nodded in what appeared to be understanding.

As it turns out, my son considers ironic to be a synonym for "cheesy." Specifically, if his personal aesthetic is disrupted by anything, he dismisses it as ironic. To date, Shoney's restaurant, Americana music, and Flavor of Love (on Vh-1) have earned my son's damning label of "ironic." Come to think of it, ironic is a perfect word to describe the enjoyment one derives from Flavor of Love.

Tedious is a word on which he has a firmer grasp. Anything boring is tedious. Also, stressful events, such as a test on Tennessee history for which he has not studied, are described as tedious.

I like the way that Big Sir is experimenting with language and enjoying the process. Words are like anything else. Sometimes you have to play around with them to get them just right.

Fancy Words and the Fluidity of Sexual Preference

Big Sir is spending the weekend with his paternal aunt and her family who are taking him to a science fiction/gaming convention in their hometown. Does he have cool family or what? This means my husband and I are having what we like to refer to as Grown-Up Time. Grown-up Time includes, but is not limited to, the viewing of R-rated movies,consumption of alcoholic beverages, and staying up late.

I am making homemade mac and cheese from scratch and a big ole salad because our friends are coming to have dinner. One of our friends was one of the first non-family members to hold Big Sir when he was born. She was also the first person, other than his grandmother, to baby-sit him as a newborn. For most of his life, he has understood that she is a woman who has a wife instead of a husband. I explained to him that this was not a big deal. Some people fall in love with those of the opposite sex others fall in love with the same sex. I further explained that the most important thing is that one places their beloved's feelings as a priority.

Well, our friend is (for the first time in 15 years) in a relationship with a man. He is very kind and likable man who treats my friend and her friends well. I am happy for their mutual happiness. The only thing was I knew Big Sir would have questions.

I briefly told him that our friend was bringing over her boyfriend to our house. Without skipping a beat, my son asked if she was a bisexual. He then added that bisexual was a "fancy" word that he knew. I said I guessed that she was.

Big Sir nodded, signaling both his comprehension and pleasure at having the opportunity to use such a 50 cent vocabulary word. Albeit, this one probably won't be found on the 4th grade vocab test.

InTouch With My Kid

In a previous blog, I wrote about how my son works out with me at the downtown YMCA. I have also mentioned that my son is not the most enthusiastic exerciser. I am his mom and it is up to me to instill habits that will prevent him from suffering diabetes, high blood pressure, and the myriad obesity related diseases that plague many Americans who practice the same level of physical activity that Big Sir would opt for if given a choice.

He has been doing pretty good lately. He likes the cardio machines fairly well because he can play his gameboy while doing them. He also has down pat his routine with the weight machines. (He was taught by a personal trainer who specializes in working with pre-adolescents)

Well, yesterday I left him semi-unsupervised while I ran on the treadmill that was in front and across the room. Normally, I am accustomed to receiving a "visit" from him about every 15 minutes announcing that he has to use the bathroom, get water, etc. It had been about 30 minutes. I walked back to his recumbent bike and the following scene was what greeted me: Big Sir's face was nearly obscured by the issue of InTouch magazine featuring the headline emblazoned across Brittany Spear's face: My Mom Slept With my Husband. The only thing prominent about big Sir's head was a couple of sprigs of hair sticking up over the magazine. The bike pedals were so loose that a late stage polio victim could have pedaled the thing.

His comment upon seeing me?

"Sometimes I like exercise!"

The Blogging Subject Formerly Known As Big Sir

Big Sir has informed that this extremely apt nickname is "babyish" with the unstated implication that he is no baby. While this is certainly true, my son is Big Sir. He simply is. I grew him for 9 months. I have raised him in a human form for nearly 11 years. I know a Big Sir when I see one. I gave him the name when he was 2 days old.

So. I will try very hard not to slip up and accidentally call him Big Sir in conversation. But for the purposes of this blog, by gawd, he is Big Sir.

PS those of you who know my son in real time, don't rat me out!!!!

Bloggers at the YMCA

On Thursday, at the downtown YMCA, I was pleased to see The Lovely Em. She is the blog mistress of Joe's Used Toy Emporium. The lady got on the treadmill and wore that sucker out. Damn girl, you better back off!!! You are making the rest of us look bad!

Rocking the Early Vote

I early voted on Thursday and took Big Sir with me. I wanted the young un' to see democracy in action. So we headed over to the former site of Hollywood Video (off Chapman Highway)and I let him peek as I cast my ballot in this early stage of the democratic primary. I did ask a poll worker if my kid could come to the machine with me and watch the process. All of the folks staffing the polling place were super nice and accomodating. One staffer complimented Big Sir by insisting that my 10 year old surely was 12!

So, we stepped up to the voting machine, and hovered, both of us partially obscured by the curtain. Big Sir immediately noticed that John Edwards had his name on the ballot despite the fact that he had dropped out of the race. He also loudly commented, "Yep, I already knew you were voting for Hillary Clinton." Political affiliations of the various other voters not withstanding, several seemed amused by my son's frank observation.

Big Sir also inquired why I did not vote for every single local office. I explained to him that I never cast a vote unless I have researched a candidate. Some of the local people were unfamiliar to me so I just skipped the question rather than playing eeny meeny miney moe. I did confess to my son that when the real election rolls around around, I just go through and vote for the Democratic candidate. What can I say? I'm a Yellow Dog Democrat. Historically, that phrase is rooted in the joke made by Democrats of old that if they had a choice between a Republican and a yellow dog, they would vote canine! I am glad that, in this election, I do not feel like I am voting "against a Republican" but for a candidate in whom I believe. I am glad my son got to witness my optimism as I participated in the first step of a process that will hopefully put Clinton or Obama in the slot currently filled by a piece of human feces.