Evensong

This morning, we were going to go to the breakfast place where we'd had our first meal in town ~ but it's really just a diner, and had a 45 minute wait. Ummm...no.

So we went to the Ritz. I do love brunch at the Ritz.

Other people take pictures of food. I take pictures of bathrooms.

The rest of the day has been last minute packing. The curtains are even down. We're drinking wine from coffee cups. The mattress is on the floor. But we're ready to pick up the truck at 7:30 and for the movers to show up at 9:00.

Tonight we went to Cleo's for dinner. Our favorite little hole in the wall Middle Eastern place. We were some of their first customers when they opened. It was fitting to have our last meal in NOLA there.

And we were home in time for evensong. The first evensong we heard here was Ave Maria. This was the last:

Those are ... melancholy, excited, omg moving day is HERE ... Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

What I'll Miss

Mike over at My Point Being is also in the middle of a move. He's done a lovely series about it, and a couple posts about what he'll miss and what he won't miss.

God love him.

I've mentioned the fact that I'm moving and then that's about it. Why? Because on the one hand, I still haven't believed it and haven't wanted to jinx it. On the other hand, if I started bemoaning NOLA, I would never stop. I am that over this city.

There are, however, a few things I will miss. We've lived here for 4 years, and loved it for 3, so yes, there are some things. 

I'll miss the view out our window. We look down on one the hotel pools in the area. It's one of the nicest hotels in town, which means there's always something going on down there. We have learned to tell the weather forecast based on the pool umbrellas. Still up? The rain won't be too bad. Being closed? There'll be some wind. Stacked and stretched out on the ground? Hold onto your butts; it's about to get ugly out there.

On nights when there have been private parties, we've opened our windows and danced in our living room to free (and at home!) live music. Usually jazz, but sometimes pop.

And dear lord, who can forget the crawfish hats? I will miss the crawfish hats.

Then there are the church bells. From 7:00 am to 9:00 pm, every 15 minutes, the bells at the Jesuit cathedral chime. And at 6:00 pm every night, we have evensong. Last night, when I got teary, I realized just how much I was going to miss evensong.

Hopefully tonight or tomorrow, Lithus or I will record it. Because I am going to really miss evensong.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

It's the Little Things

I've said for years that one should never bring something into their home unless they love it. From laundry baskets to fine china, if you don't love it, why look at it, deal with it, or live around it every single day?

Because I talk this talk, I also try very hard to walk this walk. You've read about things I love. You've read about my little pot from AppsRUs. Now, let me tell you about my clock...

When I was 12 or 13, someone I admired but I don't remember who now (although it was probably Gail or one of the Sues) had a digital clock with blue numbers. This was the coolest thing I had ever seen. Obviously cool people had digital clocks with blue numbers. So for my birthday, or Christmas maybe, that year, I asked my folks for a digital clock with blue numbers.

They got me this great square clock with blue numbers. A Sony Dream Machine Cube. It was user friendly and intuitive. I loved this clock. And then I didn't think about it any more. It was, after all, a clock.

It moved all over the country with me, hanging out by my bed, in front of my picture of my grandfather, wherever my bedroom happened to be. It was just there. 

For 23 years.

Then, as I was moving from Worcester, I was rushing and not paying attention. Caught my foot in the cords, tripped, and brought the clock down. Done and done.

I replaced with another Dream Machine ~ but the Cube was discontinued. The new one had blue numbers, but was anything but user friendly and intuitive. Whatever. It was a clock.

A few weeks ago, I literally woke up thinking about my old clock. And remembered that we live in the time of the internet. So I went looking.

Turns out, I'm not the only one who loved the Sony Dream Machine Cube. People have written eulogies to this clock. People loooooove this clock. One person has stockpiled 2 spares, just in case.

I found one. For sale. For a reasonable price. It is, after all, a clock.

When we got home from this last tour, it was waiting for me. My clock.

See how it works? See its cool blue numbers? See its old-school controls? Obviously, only cool people would own a clock this cool.

It's as user friendly and intuitive as I remember. This morning, I realized the alarm was set for the wrong time (too early!) and reached out, still half asleep, and reset it without thinking about it. Almost as if I'd used it for more than half my life or something. 

Yes, it's just a clock. But why have anything in your home if you don't love it? And wow...I love my clock.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

My Country, 'Tis of Thee

Lithus took his citizenship test today. Recommended for approval! And the swearing in ceremony can be moved to Boston with no problem.

He's worked so hard for this. It means so much to him. I'm so very, very proud.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Curly Girl

I was about 12 when I realized my sister, my friends, even the grown ups around me were putting their hair through horrible chemical processes to get what my hair did naturally ~ and still didn't look as good as I did naturally. Perhaps that was one of the unexpected benefits of growing up in the decade that epitomized Big Hair: the '80s.

Truthfully, I was an adult before I ever knew not liking one's curls was a thing for women. But now, as an adult, I also recognize how incredibly lucky I was. Still am.

Every now and then, a new stylist will practically beg me to let them straighten my hair before I leave their chair. Fine, whatever. And they ooooh and aaaaaah about how gorgeous it is. I smile and say "but it's not as gorgeous as my curls" and I mean it. The rest of that day, I feel...off...somehow and can't wait to get in the shower in order to get my curls back. For those of us who have embraced them, they are an integral part of our personalities.

So while I am deeply sad this campaign needs to exist, since it does, I'm really glad it exists.

Rockin' the Curls...

And okay, some wine, too.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee (and wine, apparently).

But Sometimes, It Is

I spend a lot of time explaining to people that Lithus and my life isn't a movie. There are more boring days than we can count. There are too many hotels to remember. Trying to find laundromats in small towns and clean bathrooms in truck stops and put up with people you don't necessarily like but have to work with ~ it's not at all a movie. Hell, it's not even a movie set.

There isn't majestic lighting, or stirring soundtracks. It's just life.

That's what made working for BCAZ (the old company) such a dream. Country Boy and M-O-M were friends. We made a family. Nothing was perfect, but we were always united. Lithus and I are in agreement that, at the end of it all, we will look back on those 18 months and consider them the glory years.

Today, we had lunch with them. Possibly for the last time. Definitely for the last time as our little family.

So we hugged and went our ways. They back to the helicopter they're overhauling. Lithus to take me back to the hotel, and then back to the hangar at the company where he now works without them. And I wasn't teary eyed. I wasn't. (Like hell)

At the hotel, I kissed Lithus, talked about dinner tonight with the kids, and hopped out of the truck. Walked into the lobby to hear the song any music director would have chosen for the moment.

Fair enough. Maybe sometimes it is.




Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

"I Felt Threatened"

Funny how only white people are allowed to feel threatened enough to kill someone when it's the people of color who are actually being killed, but aren't allowed to feel threatened enough to steal a taser and run away.

Crazy how that works, isn't it?

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Pragmatism at Its Finest

There are 2 things that play a huge part in defining me:

1. I'm pragmatic. Almost to the point of taking it too far, sometimes.
2. I remember the face of my father.

As a pragmatist, I am willing to admit that, in spite of deeply held beliefs, not a one of us knows what happens when we die. Anyone devout ~ and I include devout atheists here ~ will tell you they know exactly what happens when we die. Hell, I truly and with my whole heart believe I know.

But the truth is ~ we don't.

As a woman who remembers the face of her father, I also remember how deeply his Christianity defined who he was. And not the sick, twisted Christianity that has become so prevalent in the last several years, but true Christianity. That which follows the teaching of Christ.

So yesterday, in spite of the fact that Easter really is a random Sunday to me any longer, I gave a nod to my dad. Appreciated his belief that this was the day that promised he and I would be together again. And drank a toast to his memory ~ and our eventual reunion.



Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Nope, Not A Joke

Once people started emailing me, I realized what day I had posted the news. No, it's not an April Fool's joke ~ Lithus and I really are moving back to Massachusetts. Worcester, to be exact.

We're in Oregon for his yearly recurrency training (made more important this year because he's with the new/old company) then back to NOLA on the 11th or 12th. 

The firemen arrive in NOLA on the 20th, and the gentle giants arrive in Worcester on the 24th. 

We have a place ~ a lovely 3 bedroom ~ that my dear friend, Bolger, went and saw and checked out for us. The whole thing has taken place via internet, email, and text messages. LOTS of text messages.

When Lithus and I first started talking about me moving out west, I told him I would come ~ but that I wasn't done with Massachusetts. Eventually, he'd have to bring me home. He made that promise, and now he's keeping it.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

April 24th

Finally.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you Dunkin' Donuts coffee.

Especially for Mrs. Pike and Slick

Lithus and I were walking down the street the other day and heard a song coming from the convertible stopped at the red light. It was a lovely ballad love song, with a nice hook, so I listened as we all waited for the light to change.

Shawty, I don’t mind If you dance on a pole
That don’t make you a ho
Shawty, I don’t mind when you work until three
If you’re leaving with me
Go make that money, money, money
Your money, money, money
Cause I know how it is, go and handle your biz
And get that money, money, money
Your money, money, money
You can take off your clothes
Long as you coming home, girl, I don’t mind

Writer(s): Matthew Shafer, Chad Hugo, Pharrell Williams, Drayton Goss, Michael Bradford
Copyright: Janice Combs Publishing Inc., Seven Peaks Music, Emi Blackwood Music Inc., Hoodlife Publishing, Gaje Music Inc., Gaje Music, Chaserayn Music Publishing LLC, Chunky Style Music, Warner-tamerlane Publishing Corp.

Now, I have to say ~ I respect the point of this song. I respect it great deal. That being said, you know the lovely ballad lovesong I'd really like someone to write?

One that goes more like this:

Woman, I don't care if you have a PhD

If you're highly educated and will out-earn me.

Cause I know how it is, go and handle your biz

I'll do the laundry, laundry, laundry.

You can wear your lab coat, or a suit

I'll always respect you and think you're cute

It's your whole package I adore,

You've worked hard all day, so I'll run to the store.

Writer: The Boston Pobble

But somehow...I don't think that's happening any time soon. Sadly.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

I'll Drink to Him

By now you've heard about Germanwings flight 9525 that crashed into the French Alps, killing 150 people on board. And you've probably heard this morning's news ~ that the crash wasn't an accident. That the young co-pilot asked for control of the aircraft and locked the pilot-in-command out when he stepped out of the cockpit. Then, for reasons we may never know, that young second-in-command flew the aircraft and those 149 other people into the ground. 

Here in the US, when one of the pilots steps out of the cockpit, a member of the flight crew has to step in. No cockpit ever only has one person in it. That way, if the pilot in control has a medical emergency ~ or is suicidal ~ there is someone inside to open the cockpit door for the other pilot. Europe has (had, because you'd better believe they will now) no regulation to that effect. Pilots can leave one person in the cockpit without breaking regs. That nuance fed this situation. 

It was a hard morning here at Casa de Pobble when we read this news. Aviation tragedies are always tough in the homes of commercial pilots, if it's the same industry or not. There's a sense of losing some of one's own.

And to discover it was an intentional act committed by a professional pilot... sigh. That makes it personal in some way.

Pilots are guilty until proven innocent when lives are lost. The default is "pilot error" never "equipment failure." And even when equipment failure is discovered, the question "well, did they panic when it failed?" gets asked. We want someone to blame.

When it turns out to be entirely pilot error ~ not even error, but intent ~ the pilots I know take it personally. That one pilot has stained them all. Has put an asterisk next to every pilot's name.

This morning, though, this morning Lithus and I lifted our coffee mugs to another pilot. Not the SIC who took control and flew his aircraft into the ground. But to the pilot in command. 

According to the latest reports, the pilot in command (PIC), who didn't break regs by leaving the cockpit, can be heard over an intercom trying to get the SIC to open the door. Then he can be heard knocking on the door. Then he can be heard trying to break the door down. He, a man who more than most understood that nothing and no one could get through that door, kept trying. 

If the reports are correct, and I hope they are, he didn't break the trust of his passengers and crew. He fought for control of his aircraft as hard as if he had been sitting in the cockpit, fighting an equipment failure. He didn't quit. He didn't stop. He didn't fail.

So I ask you, dear friends of Pobble, to remember that pilot. Who didn't break trust and went down with his ship trying to save lives, even knowing it was futile. Because those really are the men and women in our skies, even if we don't think about them much.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

It's Spring

We've made it through winter, my friends. Yes, I know for many of my readers, there's snow falling and on its ways. But that's just weather. The reality is Spring is here. 

I've always felt that if one was going to make resolutions, today was a far better day to do so than New Year's. That's just a random turning of the calendar page. Today has far more going for it in terms of fresh starts and new beginnings.

So happy Ostara, dear ones. Blessed be.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Yep, That Kinda Sucked

Remember there was all this excitement because there was Mardi Gras? And then there was Starbuck's visit. And there was this great build up and then you heard about, oh, I don't know, absolutely none of it? Yeah...

Mardi Gras was fun. Starbuck's visit was ah-fucking-mayzing. There was the amusement with the cabbie. Then, that afternoon, the Canadian parent company walked into the American branch where Lithus worked and shut it down. Effectively immediately. With absolutely no warning whatsoever. Before Starbuck's plane had ever left NOLA.

We were shocked. If anything, there had been serious indications that things were going better than expected just 2 weeks before. Then *boom*. The American branch of this helicopter company was no more. Just like that, we no longer worked with Country Boy or M-O-M. Once again, unemployed. One more paycheck, followed by a 2 week severance. Medical insurance would run out at the end of March. Done and done.

Plus, did I mention we no longer work with Country Boy and M-O-M? Yeah...

Lithus is impressive though, and has some really solid contacts in the industry. All's well again. He was employed by the end of that week. And as of today, health insurance has been figured out. It was that last stressor that still had me spun up (although I didn't even realize it until we had everything in line and suddenly I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding).

Here's the thing though ~ how often have I written this story? How often have I told you this exact same thing? It doesn't get any easier to live through, but shit, I'm really tired of telling this story. Even if you're not tired of hearing it.

The ending is happy. Employed. Insured. Safe and well. But the last month? Yeah, that kinda sucked.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Questions For You...

Big Ol' Edited To Add here ~ while I appreciate greatly my phone, text, and email blowing up with concerned readers, let me assure you I am okay! Lithus is okay! We are okay!

I'm not even looking for advice, or support. It really is just about my wondering about other people's thoughts on their lives and how they handle their own experiences.

***

And I do hope some of you answer, because I'm intrigued to know other people's thoughts on this.

At what point do you say "enough"? Is there ever too much? When you can no longer understand, accept, not judge, adapt to the situation? When do you realize you have to walk away from a person, relationship, or situation? And do you consider it a defeat to do so ~ or is it taking back your power?

So much right up in my face these days.

Those are Pobble Questions. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

From 2 to 3

For about 10 nights now, I have been awake from approximately 2:00 am to approximately 3:00 am. Being a nightowl, this isn't usually a problem. Except that I haven't been awake intentionally during that hour any of these nights.

Generally, I go to bed between midnight and 1:00 am. Wake up between 8:00 am and 8:30 am. Only for the last week and a half, there's been that hour-long interlude stuck in there.

Nothing going on. My brain wasn't whirling. My stress wasn't stressing. Nothing was hurting or uncomfortable. I was just awake.

Last night, I finally took Lithus' advice and took a benedryl. 

Oh.
My.
God.

Sleep is a good thing, people. Today, I have been energetic. Productive. Peaceful. Witty. Sharp.

Did I know the sleep schedule was taking its toll? Of course. But I had no idea just how much. 

Sleep: it comes highly recommended.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

STOP!

STOP killing men of color like Anthony (Tony) Robinson.

STOP killing men of color like Ahmed Al-Jumaili.

STOP killing women of color like Penny Proud.

What the fuck is wrong with us as white people? That we are accepting this in our society? That we are accepting this in each other? That we somehow think killing other people is an appropriate response to...what? The threat of an unarmed black man? The delight in an Iraqi seeing snow for the first time? A transwoman walking down the street?

Yes, those are dangerous, dangerous individuals. Shoot to kill. Protect yourself.

What the fuck is wrong with us.

Just...stop. And shame on you, me, us, that we even have to be told to stop in the first place.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

My Own Personal M.O.

Generally speaking, I'm pretty damn self-aware. So none of this surprises me. However, every now and then, stuff gets right up in my face. When that happens, I am amused at how really consistent I am, regardless of the specific situation.

1. I have a lot of questions ~ at first. When I am going into something new, I don't float well. I don't wait and see well. I want to know what's happening, what are the expectations of me, what expectations should I have, HOW IS THIS GOING TO WORK DAMMIT! And I want to know this about any big, new thing. 

When a new relationship would get serious ~ how often will I call? how often will he call? are we at a daily thing? what about a weekly thing? morning and night? 
A new job ~ when exactly does it start? when exactly do I get paid? what are my editors' expectations? what tone, voice, and word count? what do they have in their heads that they are looking for me to recreate?
Lithus gets a new job ~ when does it start? what is his pay? when will it come? what are the variables? is there a schedule?

Here's the other shoe, though: once I have my feet under me, I can disappear. I can become so settled and confident that I look like I don't care. There can be total radio silence, and I'm okay with that. Because I have a sense of what I can expect. But until my questions are answered, yeah, I'm a bit of a mess and I know this.

2. Once I love someone, unless there is a falling out, I will always love them. Now, if there's a falling out, I make no promises, But if it's just time, distance, and falling out of touch? Nope. If I loved you once, I love you now.

I've recently been texting with an old friend. Someone I used to like and love and consider my family. We haven't seen each other in at least 10 years, maybe longer. We are in sporadic touch via text and email ~ and "sporadic" is being generous. The truth is that he and I don't know each other any longer. I have no idea if I like this man or not. Nor does he have any reason (to my knowledge) to know if he likes me or not.

But the fact is ~ I love him. I love him as much as when we saw each other daily. As much as when we were chatting from Colorado to the east coast because he was working nights and the time difference made it perfect. As much as I always have. 

Because once I love you, if I still know you or not, if I still know if I like you or not, is kind of irrelevant.

3. I like closure. And not just in the obvious ways where someone pulls me into a big situation and then forgets to tell me how it turned out.

I like when someone I've been working on one piece of a project comes back when it's completely over and lets me know that the whole thing came together well. Or didn't. Or whatever. So much so that I have to remember most people really don't care. When I've been emailing and phone calling with someone over a situation, once they pass it along to the next level, I really don't need to email them when it finally resolved ~ but I LOVE it when someone comes back to me and says "hey, this got resolved finally." 

I like knowing about the young man who was our banker in Spokane. I wonder if he ever finished school and made it to the UAE as a fire fighter, the way he was hoping. 

Little things that other people don't care about, so don't think to tell me about, but that I will be curious about...forever.

Again, none of it is a surprise. All of it is very, very current right now.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

And Another...

...that I will leave right here. My fellow white women, we need to get our shit together and stop doing this.

Those are Rafia Zakaria's thoughts, that I am passing along to you because I agree. That and a buck fifty...

Airport Adventures

Getting around New Orleans is...interesting. This one though was particularly special.

This past Saturday, it came time for Starbuck to go home. We take her to the airport, see her through security, blah, blah, blah. Go down, stand in line at the cab stand, get given our cab by the guy whose job it is to organize cabs, Cab Dude. 

Get in the cab. Say hi. Make pleasantries. Ask if his credit card reader is working, because we've learned to ask that. No, it's not. Reconfirm that his credit card reader is not working. Nope, not working. Oh, okay. So we get out. Go back up to Cab Dude, tell him the card reader isn't working, and ask for another cab. Cabbie #1 comes out of his cab and has an exchange with Cab Dude, where Cab Dude (respectfully, I may add) reminds Cabbie #1 that he is required to have a working card reader, and to get it fixed before he comes back to the airport or Cab Dude will have to report him. Cabbie #1 says that card reader "could come back up any time" but Cab Dude gives him a cash fare, reminds him to get it fixed, and sends him on his way. (Note: I think, but have no way to prove, that Cabbie #1 had a perfectly fine card reader, but didn't want to deal with card fees, so said no, not expecting us to call his bluff and get out of his cab. If this is so, it makes the rest all the more annoying because it was unnecessary.) We get into the next cab.

I say hi. Make pleasantries. Ask Cabbie #2 if his card reader works. He responds "Where you are going?" Which makes me wonder, but I tell him the CBD, and ask again if his cab reader works. He asks "where in the CBD?" 

"Name of My Street. But does your card reader work?" "Why wouldn't he take you?"

"His card reader doesn't work. Does yours?"

At this point, Cabbie #2 starts getting angry with me. "No, no, that's not how it's supposed to work. Why wouldn't he take you? Hold on this isn't how it's supposed to work. You stay right here!" And he gets out of the cab, goes over to Cab Dude. 

At this point, I can't make out individual words, but can tell it's heated. Then I hear Cab Dude, yelling: "They didn't refuse him. They offered to take his ride, but his card reader wasn't working. They don't have to take a ride if the card reader isn't working. (...Cabbie #2 yelling indistinctly, but angrily) No YOU look, I did MY job, you worry about YOUR job. They're a legitimate ride. Take it."

More Cabbie #2 yelling ~ as he get back into the cab to drive us. Oh hell no. At this point, I say to Lithus "That's it. Get out. I'm not riding with this guy."

Poor Lithus has been sitting there the whole time, trying to stay calm, not embarrass ME, not overreact. I said "that's it" and he FLEW out of the cab. Flew.

I go to Cab Dude and say "that's it, I'm not riding with this guy. We'll find another way home."

Cab Dude: "No, I got you, You stay here. I'll get you a ride that's got his stuff together." Yells over my head to Cabbie #2 "SEE?!!! And now YOU lost YOUR ride, too. Get your shit together and stop worrying about other people!" And Cabbie #2 screeches out of the cab stand, leaving the single, female tourist in line with us looking scared out of her mind and wondering why the hell she's come to this city.

Cabbie #3 is pulling up. I don't get in his cab. I don't make pleasantries. I walk up to him and ask "Does your card reader work?"

He, who has seen just enough of this to understand my exasperation, smiles and says "Everything works in this cab. I even have backup."

And so we got home. But good fucking lord. 

Those are I-feel-like-I've-dropped-into-a-weird-movie Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.