Jill's place (or Pinky's place)

We arrived to Jill's place after quite a long trip along I-59. Jill is our previous and current friend, now she and her very small and vicious chihuahua, Pinky, who is a genius, are our hosts in semi-lovely Birmingham, which may or may not turn out to be better than we think. We've been invited to a party, and there's a bar downstairs to which we are on our way, so it's all good for now. Especially now that Jill has taken over the blog. She'll check back later. We're fine for now. TaTa.

Gustav - 3:30pm

Tulane is closing at noon tomorrow and will not reopen until Wednesday at the earliest. I'm waiting on James' status. We may head out of town tomorrow afternoon.

12:30pm
We are watching Gustav as it moves toward the Gulf Coast. Tulane and the UNO Charter schools are updating us frequently on evacuation procedures, but it is doubtful that a decision will be made today. Potentially, Tulane will close on Tuesday in order to allow the storm to pass and to give students, faculty and staff the wiggle room they need to go away for the weekend prior to a mass city evacuation and return on Wednesday if the storm isn't bad.

We'll keep you posted as to our whereabouts. As of now, the storm is disorganized and the track is not aimed directly at New Orleans. Flooding is a major concern, but we live on the highest ground in the city - so try not to worry! Send your positive thoughts toward New Orleans - this city could use them!

Bicycle commute

I don't think I've mentioned, but I ride my bike to work. Three miles each way and I love it. I ride from our house on Philip along the river wall road, in between the railroad tracks and the Mississippi. I follow the road under the bridge which leads to the east bank until I reach Canal Street. Canal is a major historic downtown New Orleans street.

Each morning, along the river I pass a huge warehouse where Mardi Gras floats are built and housed, followed by a huge port that isn't really used much anymore, and the convention center until I reach an area called River Walk, which is a really pretty pedestrian/ bike path (unfortunately, it begins at Canal, which is where I turn off). There aren't many people along that portion of the bike ride, so it's pretty quiet. Every now and then I'll see a security guard or a train will pass and lots of whistle-blowing and waving ensues.

Canal is totally different, I pass Harrah's Casino, where there are always people milling about and loud, happy music playing. The morning is pretty low key - I ride down the center of the street in between the two street car lines. School is back in, so I see lots of tidy students in a variety of uniforms waiting to ride the car to class. I pass many hotels and restaurants and shopping places and Lucky Dog vendors (read Confederacy of Dunces for details) trudging off to work.

Sometimes it rains and I get a little wet, but I can usually time it pretty well. Today was nice - it is hot and sunny, so I left at 7:30 to get to work by 8:00 before it gets too terribly hot.

pickle boy

Yesterday (while looking fabulous in his striped shirt and paisley-ish tie ensemble) James noticed a disturbance in the back of the room. A generally quiet student yelled out, "Mr. McDonald it really stinks in here!" At exactly that moment James described a tidal wave of stench that blew through the room. He did a quick visual assessment - along with other frantic students - and identified a "problem" student who was leaning backward in his chair, arms outraised, expression of shock on his face as he looked himself over - somehow unsure of what had happened. He was covered from dripping fingers to soggy feet in slimy flourescent green liquid - more of which was dripping off the surface & down the legs of the desk and puddling on the floor.

Students were squealing frantically while trying to escape the area. "WHAT IS THAT?" James demanded - fearing toxic urine would be the answer. The boy didn't speak. Someone else called out, "I think it is pickle juice."

James proceeded to investigate. Pickle boy did not own up to the allegation and instead sat in the puddle miserably. Amazingly, during his investigation, James could find no remnant of a pickle or jar or baggy or anything slightly resembling a pickle anywhere. None of the students saw the boy with the pickle either before or during the incident. It was as if he had been slimed by some greater pickle force.

James sent the boy away to get cleaned up and pull it together while he tackled the responsibility of removing the pickle stench from the room. The smell didn't leave and this was his first period, 6th grade class (his 'good' class), so the odor became worse as the day continued. "Pickle ass," is how he described it while repeatedly shaking his head. He had no idea when deciding to come to New Orleans to teach that this could be a possibility. There is no protocol for a situation such as this one, no guidebook, no advice. "What do you with a pickle boy?"

fancy

Very soon I am going to purchase a digital camera simply because I want the world (or the 17 people who visit this blog) to see James Francis in his teacher clothes. He is a sight to behold!

He has a fine selection of second-hand clothes that he has acquired in recent months (because, as you may know, we rarely enter a mall and instead spend our $$ at consignment shops and thrift stores). Because of his tendency to hoard and the tendency of the rich folks in New Orleans to cast off some really nice clothing, he now has at least 50 "new" dress shirts. That might seem excessive, but you should see the shirt, tie, slacks, shoes & belt combos he pulls off.

My favorite part of each morning is watching him stroll out as if he just threw the outfit together.... as if it were an accident that he coordinated so perfectly.

He may return from Capdau Elementary looking beaten and bedraggled, but he enters each day making a fantastic-ly fashionable statement.

It was worth moving to this town just to learn that he has not lost his ability to accessorize (photographic evidence shows a childhood filled with enormous belt-buckles, bell-bottoms, embroidered vests, and hats whenever appropriate).

Finally, he is in the right town with the right attitude and he exudes all that is good in the world. I love it!!!! Photos will definitely follow.