The BEST Lent EVER, 2015

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for finding me worthy of sending me sufferings, especially during this Lenten Season, that I may grow ever closer to you. I unite my sufferings, just as St Faustina did, to the agony of your beloved Son, Jesus, in his crucifixion, in atonement for my sins and those of the whole world. In Jesus' name. Amen.

     Thursday morning began like all Thursdays, I just happened to be running a little later than usual. I was in the midst of doing "one last thing," before walking out the door, when I received the call from my brother, Carlton.
     "Deb, I don't know what's happened to mom. I called for an ambulance. She's unresponsive. I need you to come over here right now."
     "Ok."
     As Carlton drove us to the emergency room, his words tumbled out in explanation:
     "I don't know what happened; last night she was fine. She went to bed a little earlier than usual, but she seemed fine. I know she got up this morning, because the light was on in the kitchen. When I saw the light on, I knew she was awake and I'd go check on her when I was done with my shower, which was our routine. Once I was done with my shower and went into her room, I saw that she had one foot on the floor, the other on the bed, and her body kind of crumpled against the bed. She looked like she was sleeping, but then I saw drool coming out of her mouth...When I tried to get her to talk to me, she wasn't acknowledging me; I knew something was terribly wrong. I called the ambulance then," Carlton was still visibly very upset.

     I did my best to reassure him, "You found her quickly and called the ambulance, so she's going to be all right." I had to believe this myself, so I did my best to sound convincing.
     When we reached the Emergency room, we weren't allowed to see Mom right away, which was frustrating for me, and Carlton too, I'm sure. I began thinking about the last conversation mom and I had...I think we spoke on Tuesday night? Would I hear her voice again?
     Since we were nearing the end of Lent, I began to look for connections between the woe I was feeling about my mom's health, and Christ's afflictions during his Crucifixion. Images from the stations of the cross came to mind and I found myself really empathizing with Our Blessed Mother; she had to witness her son's anguish and could do nothing about it. I didn't know what physical and/or mental agony my mother was undergoing, and there wasn't anything I could do either. I took comfort knowing the Mother of us all knew my pain and understood what I was feeling.
     At long last we were allowed into the ER. Carlton reached mom first.. He was sobbing loudly as he looked at his mother. I gently nudged him away and started talking to mom, "Mom, Carlton and I are here and we love you. We're praying for you and know you are going to get better. We love you. Know that the Blessed Mother is here with us too. I'm praying for you." There was a ventilator tube in mom's throat, leading to her lungs, and helping her breath. Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem conscious of what was going on around her. Tears cascaded down my face. The question again arose in my heart, would I ever hear mom's voice again? Was mom going to die?

     Thanks be to God, mom has many friends at church, and I began phoning them, asking them to tell everyone at church about my mom being in ICU, and to please start praying for her complete recovery. I also called our parish priest, requesting his presence at the hospital. He arrived within the hour, blessing mom and giving her the anointing of the sick. I asked him if this anointing would also serve as Last Rites, and he said yes. He remained with us as the neurosurgeon came in and spoke to us.
    The neurosurgeon, we found out, was also Catholic (as were most of the nurses in the ICU; they even attended the church we did). I thought to myself, "God's hand is in this," and felt at peace. The doctor didn't have much to tell us, other than mom was going to have an MRI done, so we could assess what happened, if there was any damage to her brain.
     While we watched mom being wheeled to the MRI, more tears. Carlton and I hugged and cried. Again, the worry: was mom in pain? Since my brother is agnostic, I could only say prayers in my head, which added to my suffering. I felt deserted by those closest to me, and I understood the despair Jesus must have felt when his disciples fled and denied him as he was being led away.
     I pleaded with the Lord to spare mom any discomfort.I wanted to take on whatever pain she was feeling; I can handle it, Lord, send it to me, I silently prayed, adding Help me, Jesus, please give me courage to bear this grief. Thank you Lord. 
     The MRI and cat-scan gave us some good news: there was no blood on the brain, and no signs of a stroke, praise the Lord! The stroke mom had in 2013 appeared on the MRI, and the neurosurgeon told us mom had had a seizure, possibly due to high blood pressure, or dehydration. With this information, mom was moved to ICU. The ventilator tube was still in her throat, as well as various other tubes. She looked shrunken and delicate. More tears.

     As mom was moved to ICU, I felt like I was walking into a dark cave; they laid Christ's body in the sepulcher. If before this experience I hadn't had an idea what misery looked and felt like, I did now. Mom wasn't responding to touches, or our voices, but we continued speaking to her and kissing her. I prayed without ceasing, or so it seemed. When I became discouraged or despondent,besides praying the  rosary several times, and the Divine Mercy chaplet, I called an ACTS sister and she prayed with me; I asked God for special blessings on all those praying for mom. Mom looked terrible: her lips and mouth were swollen as her body tried to fight the intrusive tube down her vocal chords.More tears came when I forgot to look past the patches on her cheeks that held the ventilator in her mouth, instead of just seeing mom.

This is how a ventilator tube works.

     Mom had to be strapped to the bed to keep her from reaching to pull the tube from her mouth. Then there was the "cleaning" of the ventilator tube; this was when another tube was put down mom's throat to clear any mucus or saliva that may have gone down the ventilator, into her lungs. At these "cleanings," I had to leave the room; I just could not bear to see mom struggling with the tube in her mouth as they cleaned her.As the days knocked against each other, the respiratory doctor would come in and tell the nurses to reduce her dependence on the ventilator. Mom was carefully and slowly breathing more and more on her own. But that ignoble ventilator wasn't going anywhere until mom could breath more than fifty-percent on her own. The respiratory doctor had the nurses give mom  steroids to reduce the swelling in her mouth, tongue and lips, so the tube could be removed. Pick up your cross and follow me.
     As I've already mentioned, Carlton and I kissed mom relentlessly on the forehead and stayed close by her at all times. Attached to the ventilator tube is a machine that beeps loudly if mom makes a sudden movement, or has problems breathing, and it keeps count of how many breaths mom takes in a minute. Carlton and I learned how to read this machine and I kept praying the number of breathes she took on her own would increase.
     Even more tears; and when I thought I was done crying and doing okay, I'd just look at mom and the tears would gather and release, gather and release, gather and release...Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem who weep for him; I asked the Father again to please forgive my sins and to create a new heart in me, for Him, and for all of his sufferings. 
    On the work front, for me at least, the devil was creating as much chaos as possible. My principal accused me of not being "a team player," and she wanted proof that I was at a hospital. The nurse at my school was furious for having to "do my job," in addition to hers, since "she didn't ask to do my job." When she and I spoke on the phone, she never asked how mom was doing. In fact, she and my principal both wanted me to go in to work for a "half-day," at least. This request was out of the question for me.
Nothing could pry me from my mother's side.The Pharisees didn't believe Jesus was who he said he was; they considered his miracles blasphemy and works of the devil.

     My ACTS sister gave me Psalm 91 to pray and meditate on as time allowed, and I prayed it fervently for all my co-workers and asked God to "forgive them, as they knew not what they were doing," while I wrestled with my anger; what I really wanted to do was lash out at them for their lack of compassion and mercy, but I knew this wasn't how Jesus treated those who beat, mocked and crucified him. I prayed instead, Heavenly Father, transform these angry feelings. Bless me with the grace to see my co-workers as children of God. Help me Heavenly Father and I ask for forgiveness for any wrong I've done to my co-workers too. Please forgive us Father. He did too. After a few days of emails sent to me and my counseling supervisor that were accusatory and depicted me as not having a "whatever it takes attitude," the Lord blessed me with the words to refute the accusations confidently, without malice of any kind; and work no longer bothered me.
     Thank you Lord, for expanding my empathy toward our Lord's Passion. I was learning so much and growing closer to our Lord.
     Carlton's friends came to the hospital: one prayed over mom and the other brought her a pretty potted plant. None of my friends came to the hospital, but I felt loved and thought of by the many texts of support I received. Mom's sisters called and mom's friends were in constant contact; they visited often throughout her stay in the ICU, praise the Lord, The lighter moments, respites, really, came when friends visited, bringing flowers and gifts for Easter. Besides my obsessive praying, mom's friends were also praying many, many, many rosaries and the Divine Mercy.. At one point, when I was anxious about the ventilator tube,  looking out the window of the hospital, as the sun was setting, I saw a white cross in the reflection of the building across from mom's building. God was reminding me of the resurrection and it gave me hope.
     One rule Carlton and I came up with while mom was in the ICU: mom was not to be left alone; one of us, or friends,  had to be with her at all times. Which meant one of us had to sleep in the room with her at night. When I say "sleep in the room," I mean sleep on the only recliner in the room. It's wasn't comfortable, but it allowed us to be close to mom during the evening, and that's what we needed most. I offered up my discomfort for the souls in purgatory. Pick up your cross and follow me.

One of mom's friends brought her this statue; it is from Fatima.

      My brother and I began a routine: if I stayed the night, he went home to sleep, returning in the morning to relieve me; if he stayed the night, then I was morning relief. My heart ached when I was away from mom. I appreciated every moment I was with her, because now I was facing the reality of her being 82... More tears when I thought about this reality. I would think to myself, "I could spend every waking moment with her and not add a day to her life!" UGH.
     When I spent the night, sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night just to watch her breathe. Seeing her chest rise and fall told me she was still with us, and I thanked God for every blessed minute. The disciples were caught off guard with Christ's death; they couldn't fathom Christ dying, or being crucified. When Christ died on the cross, I pondered the piercing of Mary's soul, and the pain of loss the disciples felt. The Resurrection is what gives all of us hope. 
     There was one particular day that was even more difficult than the previous ones: mom regained consciousness, but because of the medicine, she made strange requests. She told me she needed an iron because there were many clothes to iron. She insisted I stop a nurse when they passed by the room, to ask for an iron. When she realized I wasn't going to ask a nurse, she waved a nurse in herself. The nurse smiled and said, "Sweetie, I'll bring you an iron tomorrow. But we don't need to iron today." She winked at me and left the room. This calmed mom a bit. But later that evening and into the night, mom was extremely restless and anxious. It was like she couldn't be at peace; she wanted to remove the tube and she wanted to get out of the bed. Carlton used his most soothing voice, petting mom's arm and kissing her face to calm her, but mom's fidgeting only increased. I just watched, helpless. This particular night was my turn with mom. The doctors gave her something to help her sleep, but the medicine didn't start working until 5:30 the next morning, and it kept her asleep for the rest of the day.
     On Monday of the following week, the respiratory doctor gave permission to remove the ventilator tube!

     Once the ventilator tube was removed, mom could be moved to a "regular" private room in the hospital. God blessed her with a spacious "recovery" room! It had tables and a real fold out bed! Patients on this floor had a snack room filled with coffee, cereals, and ice cream. Now when friends visited, Carlton and I could offer them something to eat or drink. Thanks be to God, again, mom only stayed the weekend in this room. From here she was transported to a rehabilitation center, which is where I am typing the rest of this post. Mom's "old wounds," from her stroke, reared their ugly heads and have forced her to work with a physical therapist, an occupational therapist and a speech therapist. Her voice was extremely hoarse from the tube, and has only now (two or three weeks later!) sounding a little more normal, but not by much.
     The rehab center is also very nice; comfortable chairs everywhere, and a large lounge area in the middle where people could chat,  read, or work on puzzles. Mom's room was on the second floor and had a huge window where you could see an open field, or the parking lot, .
     There were two geese that sat underneath some trees and mom and I liked to watch them. I've been spending every day with mom and a couple of nights; Carlton comes in the evening, since he's returned to work. Mom looks incredibly tired and admitted to me she felt tired. Her hair has a great perm on it so she looks good, with curls caressing her face. I prayed a prayer of gratitude, thank you Lord for returning mom to us. 
     The decision to sleep at the rehab center wasn't made right away, but then I thought of the name of the place: it was a rehab hospital. Mom was still in the hospital and I needed to stay with her. This time the bed was a tiny fold-out chair. On the night that I almost decided not to sleep at the rehab center, she fell in the bathroom.  I found her laying on her side, looking up at me with the surprise of a child. She appeared extremely bewildered by her environment and unsure what to do. She was too heavy for me to lift, and since it was 3:30 in the morning, I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't call for a nurse. I held her walker tightly as she pulled herself upright again. Once she was standing up, she was able to use the restroom and get back to bed. Then Jesus said to his disciples: If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. 

    Thanks be to God, mom is now home again with Carlton. Talks have begun of her going to live with a dear friend, and all of us are seriously considering the offer. Mom has already said yes. There is a bed in the bedroom where mom would sleep, so most of her things would still be with Carlton.. Heavenly Father, your will be done. Always. In Jesus Precious name. Amen.
     Remember, GOD is GOOD, ALL THE TIME; ALL THE TIME, God is GOOD. Be blessed and happy Easter!
     If you're wondering why I can say this was the BEST Lent ever, it's because our Lord blessed me with an opportunity to grow in him. I found a place where I love him more and seek him and his will in ALL things; I used  to only ask God's advice on big issues. Now I ask the Lord to help me in ALL decisions; from which clothes I should wear to work, to which route is the safest to drive to work. I'm in constant dialogue with Christ and his Blessed Mother. I see the Blessed Mother in a new and sympathetic light too, growing closer to her, and loving her even more than I did. Jesus' Passion became real to me and I am beholden unto him for this awakening and to God for finding me worthy to share in just a tiny taste of our Lord's Passion.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

We had a good time - 10 years and some months living with mom (Part 1)

Heavenly Father,
I praise you and thank you for the time you allowed my mother and I to live together. May she be just as blessed living with my brother. 
In Jesus' name. Amen.

My mom DOES NOT like going to the doctor!
For ANY reason!
Even good news.
Truthfully, unless Saint Michael the Archangel told her she had to go to the doctor, she'd rather just stay home and watch her "judge shows," (Judge Judy, Judge Mathis, Caso cerrado, etc).

Now for my brief "theory," on the two kinds of elderly people I think exist, and what their pill-taking, morning habits are:
The first "type" of elderly people DO NOT GO to the doctor OR take their medicine. 
This is not up for discussion. 
This is how they are, and this is how they want to remain until they die: doctor-less, pill-less, but rest-FULL. 
Anything that can be done after 8:00 a.m. is a welcome excursion.

The second "type" of elderly people GO to the doctor - even if they don't enjoy it - take their medicine, and are likely seen in Target stores cafeterias before 8:00 in the morning, but no later than 7:00 in the evening. 

My mother is in the first category, so it was a smite frustrating for me when, in the Fall of 2003, my mother had to be forced to see a cancer doctor when her breasts were bleeding! And apparently the bleeding had been happening for a few months, she just hadn't told anyone!
I only found out because mom's guardian angel gave me the opportunity to put away some of her laundry, which is when I saw red stains on mom's bras.

Mom, who was 70 at the time, did indeed have breast cancer; the tests revealed the cancer was only in one breast though, thanks be to God. Surgery was required, of course, to remove it. The doctor wasn't sure if chemotherapy would be needed at the time - he'd have a better idea once the surgery was done. Mom's cancer was a stage 3, out of a four point scale; four being the worst.

A first-time house buyer
As I considered the purchase of a home, my thoughts were mainly on my mom's health. 

I didn't relish the idea of her driving to and from her place to the doctor's office, which was an hour away from where she lived. She needed to be closer to her doctor, and to my brother and I, so we could help her with whatever she needed.

I was living in an apartment when all of this happened. I couldn't imagine all of mom's things fitting in an apartment with me. There wasn't an apartment large enough for all the things mom had accumulated in her seventy years of being on this planet. I knew then I had to purchase a home.

Not knowing what I was doing, and not as close to God as I am now, I didn't pray about my actions, or ask for God's guidance in any way, I just looked for a home and when I found one mom and I liked, I procured it. Which also means I didn't ask the Lord to send me the best real estate agent.

Despite my thoughtlessness of God's wishes for my life, I found what I thought was the perfect house: a 3BDRM, 2 BA, 2 car garage, with a huge fenced-in backyard for our dogs. 
The house was bought around Thanksgiving.
Even though the house wasn't near the doctors, it was closer than where mom lived at the time, and adjacent to my work place.

In January of 2004 mom had the surgery and I took off a week from work to care for her. Before, during and after the operation my brother and I were by her side, of course. I was moved with compassion for mom as she lay in her hospital bed. 
Only mom's sweet head, brown arms and legs appeared amongst the large, fluffy white pillows and bedsheets. She hated being in the hospital, but she took full advantage of the attention paid to her, bless her heart. 

Since I was to be mom's care taker for at least a week after the procedure, the nurses in the hospital taught me how to drain her tube.
This may gross some of you out, and if it does, my apologies. 

After breast cancer operations, patients have an "external drainage device," which captures fluid from the surgery site, into a collection device, or pouch. In order to make sure ALL the fluid was drained, I had to pinch the tube with one hand, and with my other hand, push the blood through the tube into the pouch, which hung a little below her waist. 
Every day a nurse came to the house and checked how her recovery was coming along. The nurse would empty the pouch and measure how much liquid had been drained; this was to give the doctors an idea of how her body was recovering. Eventually the red fluid would be turning to straw-colored.

So really, the first year with mom was just moving her into the house and making sure she felt as comfortable as possible, and for her recovery to go well.

I considered myself extremely fortunate, blessed and honored to care for my mom. She is such a blessing!


"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

2/1/03 Where were you when the shuttle exploded?

Hello Heavenly Father,

Thank you for all the changes going on in my life right now and providing the support I need amidst these changes. I offer my life to you; just as our blessed Mother said "Yes," to you, I too am saying "Yes," to you.

In Jesus' name. Amen.

I'm going through some writings I did long ago, and this is one of the gems I found.

Enjoy. :0)

Wednesday

Arrived in New Orleans, hopeful and awaiting good things. Went to the opening ceremonies @ 6:30 and the conference had a slide show of various places in NO with Moby's album "Play," as the music, which fit the photos perfectly.

I then rode the bus to hotel.

There was a guy on the bus, G, and we started talking. When he exited the bus with me, asking where Bourbon street was, I got really bold and asked if I could join him.

We walked Bourbon Street and G wanted to grab a bite to eat, so we ate at Crescent City Brewhouse. He paid for dinner, which was nice and unexpected.

We then went to Cafe Du Mond and parted ways around 11:15.

I looked for G at the exhibits, as he said he was a vendor, but never saw him again.

Thursday

The most boring day, as far as sightseeing.

The conference was okay.

Interesting sessions. New ideas in my head for teaching. Bought a sweatshirt.

Didn't go out Thursday night.

Friday

For some reason, I didn't write anything about what I did Friday.

Saturday night

I met up with A, a psychic (this was obviously before my true conversion to Christ.) I met thru the Haunted History tour website, at a bar for a drink.

I wouldn't be asking for a reading tonight; we were just two gals hanging out in the Big Easy.

A mentioned I looked like E's old gf, B. She went on to say that I was E's "type."

By which I think she meant he likes brunettes with long, dark hair.

(Background info on E. He's this guy I met a year or so ago, around my bday; it was my first time in NO. My bro and I took a Haunted History tour and E was our guide.)

After we finished our drinks, A took me to a great restaurant: Irene's.

On the way to the restaurant I found a $10 bill.

We talked as if old friends, covering all the hot topics: family, lovers, work, career changes, movies, and of course E.

She knew where he would be after his tour.

We debated my feelings about him, the possible outcomes, what did I want to accomplish?

I felt I needed to see E, but I wasn't sure exactly why: would seeing him bring the closure I wanted and needed?

I wish A had given me a reading - or at least tell me that seeing E was only going to befuddle me more, even though that probably wouldn't have quenched my desire to contact him.

I did, however, gather more information about him from our interaction, and what his lifestyle is like, so that was good.

So, yes, we did go to the bar where he appears once tours are finished.

When he arrived, my eye searched for changes since our last visit:

He'd gained weight;

Smartly dressed, as always.

I was most certainly curious about two things:

was I still attracted to E?

if so, what was the attraction?

He was able to join us after a bit of chatting with "leftovers," from his tour.

E and A chit chatted, while I stared at him, waiting for him to address me.

Same handsome, chiseled, facial features.

E was the epitome of romance to me. He is like the guy on the cover of those cheap romance novels some women are known to purchase. Those men are attractive, even if they are on the cover of flirtatious books.

E was saying he made $160 last week on tours. He didn't think he'd be able to make his house payment this month. I gave him the $10 I found.

He responded, "My dad always said, 'if someone gives you money, you take it.'"

"Your dad's a smart man," I grinned at him.

"This deserves a hug," E and I embraced, "and a kiss."

He kissed me on the forehead - a true sign of a friendship.

I looked at A and winked.

She smiled, "An expensive hug."

E said his cell phone was turned off on Thursday, due to lack of payment.

E would not make eye contact with me as I stared at his face, memorizing every movement.

He didn't ask about the conference I was attending - the whole reason I was in NO - he didn't ask me anything. Not a good sign.

"I'm going to Yo Mama's, would you all like to join me?"

A's former bf owned that bar, so he asked A if she'd be comfortable going.

"Sure, no problem."

I mentioned how I was waiting for a call from friends from Dallas, who were joining me in NO, adding, "depends on who you are meeting there."

"My gf is supposed to be there, or here. She's not here, so she must be at Yo Mama's waiting."

"I don't know, E, that might be awkward."

"No, it won't be awkward. It's not like that."

I thought to myself,  'It's not like that'?? What did that mean?

I further expressed my concern, "For you it might not be awkward."

"C'mon, let's go. I bought a motorcycle. I could give you a ride on it."

I look at A. She gives me an "it's okay," nod.

So we walk to Yo Mama's and E shows us the motorcycle parked out front.

Upon arrival at the bar E grabs his things and prepares the bike for our ride.

Off to the side, I tell A, "He can't make his house payment, but he bought a bike?"

"What do you think of that?"

"Messed up."

"He's a guy. He likes his toys."

A continued, "Do you think you could live this lifestyle? Be in the French Quarter every night...put up with his attitude?"

I answered inside myself, "No."

E voiced concern for my miniskirt - might be an issue on the bike.

"It's fine, let's go."

He asked me to lean in with him when he made turns.

My arms wrapped around him tightly as he picked up speed in New Orleans, in the French Quarter.

The realization of where I was and what I was doing, relaxed me and I enjoyed the ride.

I was a teensy bit afraid - I wished I could remember how much he'd had to drink - and we weren't wearing helmets...LA has a "don't need a helmet" law - crazy.

When he sped up, I pleaded, "E, please don't go so fast." He'd slow down, only to accelerate again. It was a gorgeous night, a bit on the chilly side, but comfortable.

I wanted to say something to him during the ride, but where to begin?

Instead I remained quiet.

I did manage to ask him how he could afford a bike, but not pay his house payment.

"It's only a $120/mth," was the avoiding-the-question answer.

I asked him if AA had his truck, or if he had sold it. He still had it. No, she wasn't driving it.

It was at this moment I noted E could make this ride as long or as short as he liked; he was in total control.

Suddenly we were back at Yo Mama's.

The youth who were on E's tour, were also Yo Mama's bar, and one of the girls requested a bike ride.

E took her for a quick spin.

F, my friend from Big D, called and said she was in Baton Rouge. This was at 10:30 p.m. A and I guessed they'd probably be in the city in another hour.

We proceeded inside Yo Mama's and sat at a booth.

Again, A's thoughtfulness showed in her behavior: she quickly sat on one side, at the edge of the seat.

E stood standing, waiting, I guess, for me to sit next to him.

I was waiting for A to move over...

When she didn't, I remarked, "I thought you'd move over."

"No, I like being on the end."

So I scooted into the booth opposite A. E sat next to me.

He bought us a round of drinks, probably using the ten dollars I'd given him. I had a local beer (don't remember the name now), A had a coke, and E had a beer.

AA, E's gf, came in a little after our drinks were served.

I saw her and asked A if that was her.

"Yes, I think so."

AA went straight to E. I thought E would want to sit next to her and I almost got up, but A slid over, "Hey baby," she addressed AA, "sit down."

She's got dark hair (it didn't look natural), short, slightly chubby, and light complected.

She said she was of Russian descent. I didn't find her particularly attractive. She reminded me of my friend G, only uglier. (Again, pre-Christ value judgments.)

E introduced us.

E talked a lot about the evenings tour, and how much money he'd made.

Someone gave him $20. AA wanted to know if it was a girl; E said he didn't look at the person who gave it to him.

A also remarked on E's bike, and how maybe he should sell it to make his house payment. He gave her the same "schpeel" he gave me about the monthly payment being only a $120.

AA seemed relieved we were giving her bf a hard time about  the bike.

E, probably uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, left us to gamble. Yet another poor money choice, but before leaving our table he told AA, "I have been faithful to you our whole relationship. I do flirt, however, that's part of the job, to get tips."

AA showed A her stained glass portfolio and gave her a business card. I noticed AA didn't make an attempt to show me her work. A was impressed with what she saw. AA then proceeded to tell us how unhappy she was: her hubby cheated on her and how he'd gotten the woman he'd cheated with pregnant.

I asked how she came to NO.

AA's face showed relief in sharing her story: she met her hubby in CT - she revealed she's Jewish - and he got a job in NO at Harrah's. Well, he had since gotten fired and now his new gf had a baby on the way. I asked if she ran in to him much. She said on occasion and usually for alimony checks, but how that too would soon end, since next month was the last payment.

She seemed very angry and unsure how to express it. "I feel bad that happened (I guess she was referring here to the fact her former hubby was now a papa?), but it's nothing like he did to me. It's just not fair. He wasn't really grown up and I took care of him. I kind of feel that way with E's cell phone getting cut off; he's not doing well financially. We have a dog, Xena. E loves German Shepherds and wants to breed them.. She's bleeding all over the place right now; I'm more of a cat person."

She asked if A and I lived alone. We both do. She wanted to know if the space stayed cleaner with just us living there. LOL

I asked her if she thought she'd get married again and she said no. Better off living together, get to know someone real well first. E sat at the bar at one point and watched us talk. Most of the time it seemed he was watching me, as I think it would be difficult to see AA's face from where he was seated.

Around 11:30 my Dallas friends still had not called. It was getting late for A.

The brief break in conversation made it easy for A and I to say we needed to go.

E and AA said they were leaving as well.

We told E we were leaving as he was heading to the restroom. A suggested waiting until he returned to say good-bye.

When E returned, we gave our farewells. I don't think E even looked at me. What a strange ending!

I didn't say anything to AA.

A and I talked, of course, about E and AA's relationship, which appeared to us as one of convenience. AA just seemed very unhappy and grumpy. Almost to the point of, once she had a bit more money, she'd be gone. They seemed like friends, roommates, really, that slept together.

E won't leave NO, A says.

I won't leave Dallas.

My last thoughts as we walked away from the bar were: E, say good-bye.

So here's what happened with my friends from Big D, who were supposed to meet me in the French Quarter.They called just as A and I were leaving Yo Mama's and said they were half an hour away - go figure - and that they'd call when they were at the hotel. I asked R not to call, as I was really tired, having been up early and out and about all day, but that didn't seem to matter to her, who called about five times.

I thought to myself, "Next thing you know, they'll call the hotel room."

And they did.

I laughed and fell asleep.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

10 a.m.

New Orleans

Cafe Du Mond

The shuttle Columbia exploded over North Central Texas this morning around 8 a.m. It was 200,000 ft in the air. It's mission was to perform some space experiments. Communication was lost, then the shuttle exploded. 6 Americans and 1 Israeli on board. I pray their souls went straight to God and for blessings on the families. Truly sad and quite shocking.

I dressed, packed, heard the broadcast about the explosion, and then saw the footage. I called Carlton. He had also just seen the shuttle coverage. He was on his way to meet a friend to go biking.

Sunday, around 1:30 or so in the afternoon, in the lobby of the hotel room:

A couple of professors from Spain were sitting next to me, waiting to go on a swamp tour - they were expecting their guide to pick them up soon. (I noticed they had bags from the conference I attended, so I asked what they did.and they said they gave Summer classes in Madrid for exchange student/teacher classes.) They asked me to speak for them to the hotel about their swamp tour, since they didn't speak English very well.

I noticed the concierge wasn't at her desk. When the concierge returned, the professors wanted to know if the guide was still going to take them on the tour, and, if so, where were they? The concierge called the company and confirmed that the tour had already done a pick-up at the hotel. The tour company didn't see anyone, so they left, and wouldn't be picking up anymore today.

The Madrid couple was furious! Was their money (a $30 deposit) going to be refunded? The concierge couldn't refund the money, she patiently explained, she just booked the tours, and didn't have anything to do with the company themselves.

The Madrid couple was even angrier at this information.

The concierge called the tour company and they sent someone to talk to the couple, via me. The person they sent apologized profusely, but couldn't refund the deposit. In order to bolster their argument, the Madrid couple pointed to the brochure where it said the pick up was from 1:15-1:45. (The 1:45 had an asterisk on it.) The couple continued explaining: they'd arrived at the hotel from a previous swamp tour at 1:25. They saw no one to pick them up, etc, so they thought they still had time. The tour guide told me to tell them that the asterisk meant between that time, not the exact time.

The person from the swamp tour reiterated how sorry he was about the confusion. They had 25 people going on the tour, so they didn't have time to ask/tell the front desk person anything. This just made the Madridians even more livid, especially when told they weren't going to be compensated (in the tour company's defense, the brochure states NO REFUNDS)

The couple was flying out later, so they couldn't enjoy any other tours.

As I gathered my things to depart for the airport, the Madrid Couple thanked me for helping them, and asked for my address in order to send me an application for their Summer classes. They excitedly promised to treat me well, if I ever vacationed in Madrid.

I hope you enjoyed this memory as much as I did writing and remembering it.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa