Rain & Coffee & Dirt & Mormons

Last Sunday afternoon it rained. RAINED! A particularly violent little thunderstorm popped up out of nowhere. We just finished a long walk around the neighborhood waiting for the mud on the sheetrock to dry, and as soon as we came in the door this little storm began its thunder and lightning show! It was quite violent. A hard gust started blowing and broke a branch off of one of the huge Oak trees across the street. My how the lightning flashed--it was like a freaky strobe light.

Then, another storm popped up the next day that actually chased us. It's true. We were out on Magazine Street getting a tire fixed since it picked up a roofing nail (big surprise around here these days) and this huge, gray cloud wall began to approach from the east, along with a distinct drop in temperature. Suddenly, the violence and volume of the downpour was upon us as we were heading north away from the service station. It was just in the nick of time that we finished and drove away.

As we drove down a street with a small median in its center, a flowering tree lashed out toward us in a violent spasm that accompanied a gust front within the storm. Its outstretched branches lashed the car on the driver's side, scaring the hell out of my husband. Many bolts of lightning struck RIGHT OVER us as we drove--we could tell because the thunder was simultaneous with the bolts. It rained so hard that pools began to form on the roadsides. Volunteer waterfalls sprung into life off of roofs and gutters swollen to overflowing. When we returned to the building, the power was out as a huge bolt had just hit in the immediate area. CRAZY. It really was like the storm was chasing us...then it was over.

I'm telling you these storms are just what my friend Carolyn and I would have cooked up as kids. We have known each other since we were five, so we have many childhood memories together, and many of them were watching thunderstorms out of the bedroom window at night when she would spend the night at my house. Strange, but it seemed like it always rained when she came over. We have thought since then that just by being together, we can bring on the rain. There is no doubt that Carolyn is front and center in my mind here, since New Orleans is so...her. She's with me in spirit, in every old house, every stained glass window, the cemeteries, and every antique shop that I see in my daily excursions around the neighborhood to walk the dog or to Magazine Street.

I'm so glad to be here. It's a relief, actually. People are so nice. Even in the pouring rain, in heavy traffic, in bummed out neighborhoods, people are so nice. So nice. I love being here. I don't know about moving here. I wouldn't be against the idea, and maybe for a few months as a place to sort of land and get some things sorted out until we decide where we'd like to live next, since our time in Utah is coming to an end (we hope soon). It has been an interesting six years there in the desert. I'm not particularly excited about going back, either. *sigh* As of this writing, we have ten days left in the Big Easy. Most of it will be spent working...with too few hours left to enjoy the town itself.

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I'll never be clean again. Ripping out this crummy wall and cement crap leaves a dust cloud that, in humid climates, just...hangs. And you walk through, and your hair is coated, and begins to feel like straw and it's crunchy, and your sweaty skin retains the fine, gray powder, as if you just laid down and rolled around in a big pile of flour and dirt. Well, it's actually not true, that never being clean part. I bathe every night, but the dirt is so intense. Ugh. I thought I got dirty camping and hiking. That was nothing dirt. Play dirt. Nothing compares to construction dirt. My god. But construction dirt is pay dirt. At least you get paid to do the dirty work.


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I saw Mormon missionaries at Cafe du Monde this morning. I saw them right after I had ranted about how living in Utah had scarred us for life. Missionaries at Cafe Du Monde. It made me smile. I'm SURE that they were just ordering milk. Right after that I went and stood in the Mississippi River. It was warm. And big.