Duct tape

If you ask a kid to close his mouth because he is talking too much and then realize that the kid thinks he can't close his mouth because he doesn't understand that he can actually breathe through his nose without the assistance of said mouth - what do you do? You instruct the kid to hold his lips together with his fingers and practice breathing in and out through the nose and you follow with a demonstration. Which, interestingly, isn't sufficient for proving that the kid can survive with a closed mouth, because the kid tries to mimic your methods, but repeatedly and frantically lets go of his lips and gasps for air. However, if the kid (being the genius that only a kid can be) asks for some tape - to secure his own mouth for this new and exciting experiment - and you just happen to have some duct tape on the desk for some other reason. It's only for the sake of science that you peel off a couple of inches and hand it to the kid. The duct tape becomes a learning apparatus - a tool used to enhance a kid's ability to see clearly that a person with a duct-taped mouth, can, in fact, breathe through their nose and survive. If the kid is so thrilled by the experiment that he wants to leave the duct tape on his mouth for the remainder of the class - and you "reluctantly" agree. It is only for scientific purposes - to continue to gather data about how long a person can live and breathe with no air movement through their mouth. If class enthusiasm is at an all time high because of the duct tape experiment and other students beg to be included.... well..., science is pretty wonderful, isn't it?

A moment in history

James and I don't have a television or the internet in our home (our way of remaining sane and focused), so last night we ventured out to Parasol's, a neighborhood bar/restaurant, to watch the election unfold. While there, the people sitting next to us struck up a conversation. They were a couple from across the river in Gretna who decided to come to Parasol's because this was the stomping grounds of the gentleman's grandfather. This was his grandparents and parents neighborhood growing up - the family lived in close proximity to one another - all within a few blocks of the place we were sitting. His family moved across the river when he was a teenager, but he returned often to pay tribute to his grandfather. As he was talking, he suddenly pointed to the wall just behind me and said "Do you see that box over there?" We looked over to see an opening covered with particle board just behind the standing cooler/refrigerator, which now holds canned and bottled beverages. "Blacks used to have to order through that window. Even though the door was open - they couldn't come inside - they had to stand in line out there. My granddad used to tell me about that."

Half an hour later - James and I watched as Barack Obama won the electoral votes of our country and was announced the 44th President-Elect of the United States of America. We traversed three generations of a family's and a nation's history in just a few minutes and we watched as the world celebrated a victory that cannot be described with words.

little friends

Yesterday I arrived home and was walking through the kitchen, when I looked out of my window to see my neighbor and his little boys, waving their arms wildly from their driveway - beckoning for me to come outside. Not sure if it was an emergency, I rushed out the front door only to be met by my little friends who had already rounded the corner from their gate and were rushing toward ours.

I opened the gate and was immediately surrounded by small happy boys jumping up and down and yelling "This is for you - this picture is for you!" "This is for James - this picture is for James!" The smallest, having no school picture to share, jumped up and down and waved his arms back and forth saying "Hi Hector - Hi - Hi Hector!!! (Sometimes, they call me Hedder, but mostly they get my name confused with Hector, who is a character on their favorite cartoon - Thomas the Train)


The little jumping boys decided it was play and planting time, and tried to muscle their way into the backyard to dig in the dirt. I love my neighbors...

NOLA Halloween

After work on Friday, James and I sat on our front porch watching people go by. We hoped for trick-or-treaters, but was told that all of the kids in our hood pile up in cars and vans to head over to the Garden District where the candy is coveted - and the decorations are to die for.

At about 6pm, we set to work on our costumes, which involved painted faces and draped fabric - he in ghostly white, me in haunting black - (photos to follow) - After reaching a point of satisfaction with our outfits, we went back to the porch and actually had one little girl of about three years wander over to somehow imply without words that she had a bag and that candy belonged in it. She received a bounty being our one and only customer (and I didn't let James scare her - though he really wanted to).



Our neighbors were having a party across the street, so we decided to do front door delivery of candy. We must have looked pretty interesting - walking over - I saying "trick-or-treat" repeatedly and James booing - arms in the air. At some point, one of the group outside, yelled, "It's the neighbors! Get your camera!" Chaos ensued - children ran about - adults complimented our costumes - photos were taken - candy was shared.

We headed off to the french quarter on our bikes (not an easy task with the flowing fabric) - stopping to watch the Halloween parade and catch some beads - then to look at others in festive attire - arriving in the french quarter to the most fabulous costume party I have ever witnessed. Jellyfish with glowing tentacles, walking broccoli and cauliflower, giant carebears, presidential candidates, adam and eve, skeletons, forest nymphs, knights, queen elizabeth and her ladies in waiting, a television, it is a blur of one amazingly decorated person after another.

Hours went by and we only had to walk along Frenchman street and look at every person on display. This is the beginning of festival season in New Orleans.