The Boogaloo!

Last weekend was the Bayou Boogaloo. Curt and I live in the American Can, which is a converted can manufacturing plant that is on the Bayou. I had seen signs for the Boogaloo all week, but had no idea what a “Boogaloo” was. Starting Firday night into late Sunday the Boogaloo rocked on the Bayou! Amazing music! Yummy food! Beautiful Art! I even got Curt up and dancing on the grass 

As I continue to try and make a home in my new town I’m continually struck by little heart warming soul crumbs I find God leaves for me. Little moments where I don’t feel so alone and new, but instead, like Hansel and Gretel I find a little crumb that comforts my heart confirming that I am indeed on the right path. Well the Boogaloo was more than a crumb, it was like a big bowl of Jesus Gumbo! 

Dikki Du and the Zydeco Krewe, featuring Peanut playing the washboard!

 

Me gettin' my boogaloo on!

Everybody was boogalooin!

 

Thumbs Up!

They even had a rubber duckey race in the bayou to raise money to end poverty!

Soon to be Mr. and Mrs.

Can’t wait for next years Boogaloo!!  One of our favorite artists we found at the event does some amazing photography. Check them out www.swampdogandfriends.com :) The bulldog is awesome. 

Another thing I’ve learned is NOLA isn’t shy about festivals! This weekend is “Sip and Saavor” food and wine festival…not kind on a brides diet, but promises to be crazy yummy! 

Thankfully no tornado hit our home. At the same time however flash flood warning are issued for my area. Over 2 inches of rain fell in just over an hour. Now having lived in South Florida, massive amounts of rainfall in short time frames is not unusual, and neither are flood warnings…so I think maybe some big puddles all will be fine, I run to my car and begin my way to St Charles Street.

Then it all goes to shit. Not more than three blocks from my apartment the water had flooded the streets and was to the bottom of door frames of home. Water was up to the door handles in cars on the side of the road! Never in my life have I seen flooding like this. I did my best to stay on high ground, but then I get to St. Charles Street and the water is easily four feet deep. The Honda cannot drive in water four feet deep. Not only that but cops have blocked my side of the road due to a crime (most likely a shooting) so I’m doing my best to navigate side streets. The roads in NOLA are bumpy and uneven, and so there are higher parts- not necessarily in your lane but it’s the highest part, and soon I learn the “Unspoken High Ground Code”- when traveling on flooded streets New Orleaners will stop and let each other weave across lanes to stay on the highest part of the street. Not only that but driving on top of the trolley tracks as opposed to the road is understood as well! Notice the pics included. The white car ahead was FLOATING in front of a marriot. It was taken looking through my windshield. Notice also the “no left turn sign” in front of me.

Not to worry my friends I made that left! And all fellow NOLA flood victims let me make my illegal left cause I wasn’t going to drive into 4 foot flood waters that’s for damn sure!

After much dodging, weaving, and praying I turned back and made it to the highway and on to the airport to get my father in law. The crazy thing is that 3 hours later I returned to try and finally make it to the St Charles store and get the chicken and ALL THE WATER WAS GONE. All the remnants of flooding were trash and debris littering the street.

I know NOLA is below sea level, but for the first time I really began to understand how the flooding in Katrina might have looked. I stress might in my understanding. A city like this is vibrant and energetic and incredibly vulnerable. That water rose remarkably fast and it’s so easy to find yourself with no way out… I was truly scared.

Flood watch=stay home. I’m certain this is one of many eye openers for me.

“Turn around. Don’t drown”

Other than crazy ass turn lanes, recent developments include a possible first friend founda at the gym. I told Curt the other day, “There are only four people in the state that know my name.” , which is NOT comforting at all. I woke up feeling a little sorry for myself and found myself in deep prayer. I’m no housewife, I try, and I have busted my ass unpacking and making a home. But folding Curt’s underwear is boring as poop and I’m over it big time. 

I’m eager to make friends-full well knowing that I jump into some friendships too fast. So today I get up, get dressed and go to the gym like I have done for the last week; and for the first time ever the gym isn’t empty!!!

I mean WHAT?!?!? people?! REAL people?!?!? I play it cool, hop on the same damn elliptical I’ve ridden the last seven days and don’t make eye contact. Then I hear God whisper, “Be open Bree, listen.” Which sounds AWFUL! I don’t want to be the strange girl who makes friends (or fails TRYING to make friends) at the gym…how lame is THAT??….But God keeps nudging so I pull my earphones out and sure enough the two ladies chatting are an actress and a musiciain/cook planning a wedding. I mean, could we have more in common!!??? So I join the conversation and low and behold they are fabulous ladies, kind, friendly, not too wierd, with great suggestions on how to get to know NOLA better!!

At their request Curt and I found a local music and food festival that happens every Wed till June 9th in the business district that anyone who’s anyone goes to, and in general is just super fun. We had a blast! great music, yummy food, and good beer! Yum. Yum. YUM!

Today was a day Jesus answered my lonely prayers with a word for patience, and a little treat to tide me along. Thank you Jesus. I’m listening. I’m obedient. I’m grateful. and I’m prepared for U turns.

Things I learned this week.

1. Magazine Street becomes Decatur in the French Quarter

2. While you can walk around with booze everywhere you can NOT bring the booze onto a trolley

3. The new show Treme on HBO is about an area of town here and is pronounced “trem-ay”

4. In every grocery store there are HUGE head on shrimp station that you scoop and portion yourself like its dried fruit!

-side note, I still have to close my eyes when I rip the heads off and I feel this makes me a wimpy Cajun, must get better at beheading.

5. By South Florida standards I never thought I dressed particularly racy or slutty, however I think New Orleans operates on a different standard regarding appropriate amounts of daily cleavage and I fear the city thinks I’m a slut.

6. I have located and can successfully travel to my grocery store, home depot, bank, Walgreens, and dry cleaner WITHOUT looking at a map.

7. Operation Wedding Sexy is in full force, I’m hitting the gym like it can’t hit back and have lost 2 pounds! 12 more to go!

All in all I feel the week has been very successful. Curt and I grilled out in our new home, I’m mastering the art of homemade sangria, and have realized that being a “housewife” is damn hard work!!! Having dinner ready, looking pretty, taking care of all things ‘home’ is exhausting! While Curt is appreciative, I know my dinners could be yummier…the house cleaner…the cat better behaved. Moving so quickly from such an over-committed time in my life to this new point where I can again nurture and love myself is exciting albeit lonely at times.

Looking forward to week number 2!

Two days ago I watched three complete strangers pack up everything we own in what seemed like a million boxes in less than eight hours. Yesterday they came and took my car. This morning I looked around my brother-in-laws apartment and all that was left of my life as I knew it was two suitcases, and my cat.

We just took off from Ft. Lauderdale airport. I attempted to soak in one last view of Ft Lauderdale and our home as we’ve known it-but just as quickly as I looked, the clouds quickly blanketed it all away. Jack is solidly asleep after the help of some serious kitty sedatives. I’m patiently waiting for a Jack and Coke from the stewardess (no pun intended) and quite honestly feel pretty darn numb. There was some point during the last three weeks that it stopped hurting, I just stopped feeling. No more tears, no more bad dreams.

Curt left, I was alone for weeks, his dad was in the hospital (he’s fine now), Curt’s taxes were rejected, he crashed the rental car, my professor told me the classes I took towards my degree won’t qualify me for the meteorology seal by the AMS, we missed a friend’s wedding, 5 finals in 3 days,  we lost our apartment in NOLA, the honeymoon got completely botched by our travel agent and as a result it is now cancelled, and now we are in the works of cancelling all the current wedding plans and attempting to recoup all the money we’ve paid thus far,  I graduated from school, quit my job, and am now flying to a new unknown city to start a new life and try to salvage a wedding.

Yeehaw.

I think I should feel like total ass with all that-but honestly I feel fine. It all just seems okay, like it’s no biggie, whatev, standard stuff. Is that perhaps the good Lord quieting my otherwise disastrously restless mind? Or have I simply become numb? Is there some emotional release waiting to pop on the scene?

God reminded me of a dream I had a year ago that I saved someone’s life in New Orleans. I am obedient. I am excited. I am walking blind. I am moving in faith and honestly it makes me giggle.

Looking forward to tomorrows joy…does that mean I am sacrificing today?

How the hell do you plan a wedding anyway?

Bride-zilla’s are like artwork, they are a reflection of their environment.

Wine for breakfast? Yes please.

These are a few of the headlines to come. Topics swirling around in my brain, the opportunity to once again acknowledge, love, and nurture myself is WELL received.

more to come!

I’ve been struggling with this decision for weeks, feeling like a “quitter”. He would poop and pee  in the toilet with much coaxing from Curt and I. Curt literally locked himself and Jack in the bathroom the other day and had a man-to-kitty showdown. He demanded jack poop before allowed out of the bathroom. He eventually pooped and all was well.

Until he started peeing right in front of the front door (signifying to us that he doesn’t like that we’re gone from home more…he’s lonely…and he’s having “anxiet-pee”)

I’m getting baptized tomorrow at sunrise in the Atlantic Ocean. A few weeks ago my preacher was talking about God’s love. Specifically about his perfect and unending love for me just as I am. Suddenly I realized that I didn’t really believe God loved me. I accepted Jesus as my savior long ago, but there was always a small part of me that doubted His love. 5% of me believed I had to make up for my shortcomings by being funny, or sexy, or smart, or slutty, or hard working, or talented, or “something”. I had to be something or someone else to REALLY be loved. As I sat there in church it hit me… that just isn’t true. God loves me just exactly how I am. He made me this way. Constanty compensating for my perceived “unloveable-ness”  is preventing me from really walking with God. It is preventing me from receiving the blessings God has designed for me. It is poisoning my realtionship with God. It is poisoning me. If I can’t let God love me, I can’t let Curt love me. God loves me. Curt loves me. My doubt in myself is a poison to both relationships.

Now what does this have to do with Jack pooping in the toilet? As I watched him frantically dig like a backhoe on crack, it occured to me I was trying to make Jack someone he isn’t, and he was trying to be the kitty he thought we wanted him to be. He didn’t enjoy the toilet, not jumping on it, not the little ring of litter, not awkwardly hovering his butt over the hole, and he hated not being able to dig. Jack is a digger. It’s how God made him. He is a vivacious, rambuctious, mischievous, and intensly playful kitten  who loves to dig and who deserves to be loved for exactly that. So tomorrow as I submerge myself in the Atlantic, I surrender to God’s love. To the Holy Spirit within me that His divine gift.

No more pretending to be what I think other people want. No more pressuring Jack to be someone he’s not. He’ll poop in a box and love it. And I receive God’s love and the gift of eternal salvation and love it!

2Corinthians 5:17 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here”

Why is FIU wasting nearly $4 million dollars a year?

By: Bree Smith                                          

The economy sucks right now, everyone and their dog is perfectly aware of that. FIU is struggling with its budget, every student and their family is perfectly aware of that. We’re all tightening our belts, and going without luxuries and, in some cases, necessities. So why is FIU cutting academic programs and campus wide scholarships opportunities while wasting nearly 4 million dollars a year on electricity?

Have you noticed how the classrooms on FIU’s campus are always FREEZING? Even through winter, when we had lows in the 40’s the air conditioning continued to blast. Even if is 95° outside I carry a sweater with me every day, because I know once I get to class I’ll have to sit in a virtual refrigerator. During my calc 2 final last semester my fingers actually began to hurt not just from the two hours of grueling integrals, but because the bones inside my fingers had become so cold they ached.

Energy consultants recommend setting your air conditioner to cool at 78° and your furnace to heat at 68°. 3 percent to 5 percent more energy is used for each degree the furnace is set above 68° and for each degree the air conditioner is set below 78°. Since I’ve never found a working thermostat on FIU’s campus I don’t know exactly what temperature it is in each room, I do know that it’s not 78°. For arguments sake, let’s say it’s 72° (which I still feel is too generous). Having the classrooms 6° cooler than the recommended 78° results in 18% to 30% more electricity being used.

I was unable to find how much electricity FIU uses yearly, and exactly what rate they pay per kwh (Kilowatt hour). But I was able to find that New York University uses 150 million kwh per year, and power companies charge as little as 5 cents to 16 cents per kwh nationwide.  Lets say FIU pays 10 cents per kwh, and that FIU also uses 150 million kwh a year. That means that FIU pays $15 million dollars a year for electricity. By setting the thermostats to 78° they would save anywhere from 18% to 30% yearly on their electric bill; which equates to a savings of $2.7 million to $4.5 million dollars a year.

FIU please stop freezing the students in their desks. Stop wasting electricity. Stop wasting money. Bring back the campus-wide scholarships for students who so desperately need them. Realize and support the potential of this dynamic student body and challenge yourselves to act with the same resourcefulness and drive.

We’ll see if they get the message. Big Dummies.

Hitting the gym, going to church, finding myself…decide to revisit Yoga tonight.

So here I am looking at my own plump ass straining to breath, telling myself to be peaceful, calm, at one with myself. And all of  a sudden I’m aware of all the actual thoughts in my brain..

“Wow, she’s has funky defined hamstrings when she does down dog….Is she better than me?”

“How does that woman not have her hair up in a pony-tail?”

“Really? Really? You two show up five minutes late, with your own personalized yoga mats, and you suck at the poses! Fuckers.”

“the yoga instructor doesn’t like me”

“He just smirked…is it cause I’m failing horribly at triangle?”

“Wait, what? Breath through the nose? the mouth? Oh God…I mean thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus. Please, Lord, fill my mind with peace. Please Lord, help me to stop judging everyone in this -DUDE SHE’S SUCH A QUITTER, THAT POOCH AINT GOIN’ NOWHERE IF YOU DON’T TRY BITCH- OH!!!!!!!!! Gosh, there I go again, Lord I’m SOOOOOOO sorry please just shut all the negativity up….oh fuck I don’t even know what move I’m supposed to be on now…is this even helping? I’m not feeling my inner skinny at all. fuck.”

My mind is so loud. not just busy and full but LOUD. I’m talking “swords and spears, peas and carrots” loud. Like a chicken coop, or a thug daycare with no supervision. Crazy Ass Cocophany. I’ve been praying this whole time for God to guide my thoughts, when in reality maybe my brain just needs to shut up. 

I have bad dreams every night. I mean BAD. Like I’m being raped, mutilated, chased, watching loved ones die, accidentally killing someone I love, literally petting the skin off of my kitty accidentally. Every night I pray for good dreams or at the least a “neutral” dream…and every night I have these terrible dreams. As I acknowledged the noise in my brain tonight, it occurred to me that the noise might be what’s poisoning my dreams.

It occured to me that the dreams aren’t just “bad”. More specifically they are full of fear and terror.

Fear and terror I can work with. “bad” is pretty darn vague.

So, Lord help me to recognize what’s terror and fear, and with the power of the holy spirit within me help me to challenge and overcome the voices. “For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of courage, love, and self discipline.”