Things We Will Not Miss

There are a lot of things we will miss about Philadelphia. Walking everywhere, good BYO restaurants, friends, etc.

One thing we will not miss is the chubby furball to your right. Since his arrival at the house he has earned the name "Fat White." He doesn't belong to us, we don't know exactly where he came from, but he seems to have decided to take up residence when we are either upstairs or out of the house. He's like a bloated Kato Kaelin with two bad eyes. Except that Kato Kaelin didn't eat all of OJ's kids food. Or leave white fur all over OJ's house.

Natalie can share her history with this evil evil feline. I will try and take the positive road, for four months I won't have to watch him try and sneak into the house.

Packing

Sine I am now glaringly unemployed, I have plenty of time to pack. In theory.

I like packing, even if I do do it in a haphazard way. (Like I'll get to my destination without my toothbrush and toothpaste but with my bathing suit. And I'm in Vermont in winter.)

After Mardi Gras, we're moving into the guest house of a woman who should be annointed to sainthood. We've never met her - she works at the Times Picayune, where I once worked - but she supports our mission. (Oh my God. We have a mission. I'm not sure if I hate that or love that, leaning towards hate.) So I'm packing practical things, like towels and dishes, and things I just like, like candles and Scrabble. Then I'll get distracted by something I find in a closet or a drawer and the next thing you know it's 3 hours later and the room is in shambles in the name of "organization."

Packing clothing is a little more complex than usual. I've purchased a supply of $1 tshirts and $2 pants from local thrift stores for my house gutting efforts; those are my "gross clothes." Then there are the every day things and the nicer outfits. In the midst of all this, I'm emptying my drawers and closet so a friend can sublet the house while we're gone. The problem is I started packing last week, never taking into consideration that I needed to have clothes this week. Smart.

So if I'm home, there are a lot of scrubs and tshirts. Jeans and a black sweater have become my official going out outfit of January 2007. Last week, soon after I'd packed and when I was in the midst of my post-job hangover, I found myself wearing pajamas almost all day. Shower? Hair? Please. When I dragged myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I felt like calling KYW1060 so they could send a reporter over. Flossing would have merited breaking into regular television programming a la a presidential assassination.

One day, this is really what happened: Pajamas, gross, no sense of time, working on resume and cover letter and being bitter about it. There may or may not be a glass of wine involved. Jordan calls to ask, "Do you want anything from the outside world?" I'm puzzled, like why would he call now? Then I realized: it was 4:30 p.m. He would soon be home and realize I had hit bottom - and that would make me feel like I'd hit bottom. I raced up the stairs, hurled my body into the shower, threw on new clothes, willed the hair dryer to work faster so my hair wouldn't look like I'd just washed it, and made it downstairs again by 5:15 p.m. I felt like the woman in the old commercials who threw flour on her face when she walked out of the kitchen with the Mrs. Smith's pie.

I'm better this week. Like, it's 1:30 and ... OK, I lied. Scrubs and tshirt. I have got to find some other clothes.

Clearing the Record

Simon wants it known that he was found on the streets of DC, making he and Jordan natives of our nation's capital. But it was in New Orleans that Simon spent his finest hours, including the night he came home with Mardi Gras beads around his neck and no collar.

Bourre (pronounced Boo-ray, and not Burr, as the vet insists upon doing) is a NO native, born Uptown behind my old house. She is named after a Cajun card game.

An Cat Dubh/An Cat Liath

These are Natalie's cats joining us on our adventure. Internet, meet Simon (black one staring jealously) and Bourre (wolfing down food as quickly as possible). In about two weeks they will be taken in two little carts and flown down to New Orleans to join us.

Both of these adorable little scamps are originally from New Orleans and so you think they would welcome a trip back to their roots. Fat chance. Upon getting off the plane I have no doubt they will look at us with utter contempt for having hijacked them in those little cat plane boxes. If we are never heard from again it's probably because they took us out and dumped our bodies in a bayou.

Right Back to the Beginning

Some time in the summer of 2006, through a combination of good weather and a bottle of wine we ended up on the roof of Natalie's house kicking around the idea of moving to New Orleans for six months or so to work. Natalie having lived there full time in the mid 90's to early 2000's and covered the city during Katrina and its aftermath. My experience was basically limited to a trip in 1995, a weekend or two in 2006 and my collection of "girls gone wild: mardi gras!!!" videos.

Thanks to the good graces of at least one office in Philadelphia, we were able to plan about four months of living and working in the Crescent City. Natalie got a gig rehabbing houses and writing a book on journalism and trauma and I signed on to work at the Orleans Public Defender.

Hopefully this blog will chronicle our missteps, mishaps and pratfalls as we go through the next four months. Expect updates on Orleans Parish courts, how to quickly knock down a house and the genius of the po-boy sandwich. And if this blog leads to fame and fortune and a movie about us starring Brangelina, all readers of this blog will be allowed to serve as extras on the set.



P.S. If you are an Eagles fan and had previously "shared your thoughts" on Natalie's story about rooting for the Saints, please go back to philly.com and spare us the trauma.

Definition

Beignet (noun): a deliciously deep fried piece of dough covered in powdered sugar. Sort of thing that would be embraced by Philadelphians but for the cheese steak stranglehold. Example: Jordan, stop trying to stuff 10 beignets in your mouth at the same time!