My summah in N'awlins

With Gustav bearing down anytime, with Katrina still fresh in our memories, with worry for everyone in the area in our minds, let's take a trip in the wayback machine to a happier time.

Waay back when I graduated from college (1995 to be exact) I treated myself to a summer in the Big Easy. Alone. No children, no friends, just me and the French Quarter. It was a match made in heaven. Of course, had I known of the oppressive humidity of a Louisiana summer, I probably would have chosen a winter trip. Unless you've experienced it, it simply cannot be explained, so I won't try. But night! Now nighttime was a different story. After the daily afternoon thunderstorm would end, I would hit the streets (not like that, you freaks) and explore. I would usually have four or five hours of daylight, arrive at Bourbon Street at around midnight, get "home" between 3 and 4 a.m. Frankly, I'm lucky I survived. I assure you I couldn't keep that kind of schedule now. I'm in bed by 11, not starting the night at 11.

I started out the summer at the Fair-something (mont, field, view?) Inn. But at over $200 a night, I decided I should find less pricey digs if I wanted to stay the whole summer. I moved to a quaint victorian on Prytania Avenue, right on the trolley line. (a dollah gets you anywhere!) It was a student hostel run by some group I probably should have checked out more thoroughly than I did, but I had my own room, bathroom and a/c. I was good.

I spent the afternoons touring the mansions and gardens and zoo. I wandered the french quarter. I befriended taxi drivers ( a font of information for wherever you are) and found out the best place to eat on the cheap (Port O' Call) and what parts of the city to stay out of ("now here on this corner two tourists got robbed and killed last weekend"), and how to use the trolley and bus systems to save on the ginormous taxi fares.

I spent evenings in the Old Absinthe House bar listening to jazz. I discovered a cajun band headed by Waylon Thibodeaux and his fantastic fiddle. I met Harry Connick Jr. (swoon) in a sunglass shop. He gave me free tickets to his show later that week. (I took a guy from the hostel named Skillet, true story) I went to a water park in Baton Rouge that had the biggest waterslides I had ever seen. If someone had told me that these slides relieved the slidees of their bathing suits before I went down, that would have been nice.

When August rolled around, I was both reluctant and anxious to leave. I had had a wonderful summer immersed in the culture that only New Orleans has. I didn't want to leave it, but I couldn't stay. So I returned home, taking memories that will be with me all of my life.

When Katrina devastated New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, I watched and cried. When I saw those people confined to that stadium, dome, whatever it was, I remembered attending the JazzFest there. When I heard of the atrocities committed by our own government against it's own citizens in the form inaction, I was incensed. But I did nothing. I contributed nothing. I ranted and railed against the injustice and the inaction. I was appropriately offended when our own countrymen were labeled refugees. I would have put Ray Nagin in the White House given the chance, such were my emotions, my anger, my helplessness. Why didn't someone DO something? But not me. I did nothing. And I will always regret it.

Now I have a chance to diminish that regret. When Gustav reaches land, if the destruction is anything near the results of Katrina, and if we are needed, my company will be contacted by FEMA. I will mobilize whatever equipment they request and head south. I will leave Silas with my mother and I will put whatever meager resources I can toward helping those who I so grievously ignored at this time three years ago. It may not be much, but a few pieces of heavy equipment to clear debris and help clean up is more than I offered before.

It may be time to downsize

I currently drive a Ford Expedition sporting the license plate seen above. At this point, I'm fortunate to be able to feed myself and this beast. I've driven an Expedition since 1999 (not the same one) and it is my vehicle of choice. It serves its purpose by having enough room to haul materials needed for various jobs, being high and heavy enough to traverse very off-road job sites, having a large enough engine to pull various smaller pieces of machinery if needed, and, most importantly, a dvd player to keep Silas occupied whilst being hauled around all day. Unfortunately, I can't keep it and it breaks my heart.

I'm not the type to name my vehicles and talk to them and anthropomorphize them like some do, but I do have some loyalty and feel like a traitor getting rid of it. The fact is, I just can't afford it. And that makes me angry. I've worked hard to get to the point where I should be able to afford anything I want, within reason.


My industry is fuel based. My machines can't move without diesel fuel in them. Diesel now is very close to $5 a gallon. Because of the economy, or everyones perception of what the economy is and is going to be, my customers will not tolerate any price increases. Operating costs are quickly approaching the levels of the money coming in. Amount of $$ coming in = amount of $$ going out = no $$ for me.


So in the interest of economy, I'm downsizing. To this:

And if I need to get around a muddy job? I always have these:

(No, I don't actually own these. I snagged the picture off of ebay. Where no one had purchased them yet. Go figure.)

My life as an excavator, or How I became a ditch digger

Ree, over at the hotfessional, asked how I came to own an excavating company. When you wake from your boredom induced coma, you can go tell her to stop asking questions you don't wanna know the answers to. Once upon a time, a long, looooong, time ago, a little girl wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up. This little girl never lost an argument, a master debater she grew up to be (make sure you put the de in there). So the little girl grew up, went wild, had babies, figured out what caused the babies, calmed down, went back to college and then law school. The young lady, at 28 years old, with three chilluns, got her law degree. Yay!! Then, while dating Him (who will become her husband, much to his dismay) started practicing law. Practicing is the key word here. Because, guess what? Law stuff is hard! And boring! And tedious! No one tells you this in law school. Unless you go into trial law, and unless you actually try the trials, it's one big ole snoozefest.

So the young (rapidly getting older at an alarming rate) lady marries Him and they settle down into domestic bliss (har!). The young lady ponders what she wants to be when she grows up. She decides she'll simply never grow up, problem solved, the end. That worked until the young lady realized that she really liked having the finer things in life, like food, and needed some money. At this point the young lady switches back to speaking about herself in the first person, because this is exhausting. She simply doesn't know how Bossy does it.

My father in law was ready to retire and wanted to sell his business contracts and equipment. I thought Hey! I've got eleventy gazillion dollars out in school loans and no income! I should borrow a hundredy million more and buy an excavating company! So I did. Did I mention that law school doesn't teach common sense?

So here I am with my brand new, shiny, excavating company. Off I go into the wilds of construction. Did you know that to work on a construction site you must have a penis? Me neither. Oh, but girlfriend, I quickly got schooled. Yes indeedy. Not only was this told to me, but also shown to me. Sadly, some things just can't be unseen. I have been told to get home and tend my house. That I should stay behind my desk and leave the field operations to the men. That "I don't take no orders from no wimmin". Never mind that this woman signs your paycheck.

But, using my charm, wit, and litigious nature, I slowly won these neanderthals gentlemen over. Once they figured out that I could deliver what I promised, that I was fair, and that I knew what I was doing, they did give me a fighting chance. I think the most important thing I did was to ask questions if I didn't know something, instead of following my first instinct, which is to try to huff and puff my way through (something they do teach in law school).

So I've been at it for ten years now. I guess I know what I want to be when I grow up. A ditch digger.



My other ride is a beast!