Finally, we head to nola

Sorry that this will have to be very snappy. In exactly 3 hours, Shaw, our neighbor Terry, and I will begin the drive into nola to see what's what. I am alternately hopeful and terrified. All abstractness (is that a word?) will become reality soon. We have the car packed with about 20 gallons of water, food for three days, every cleaning supply, mask and glove known to mankind (not really) and plenty of chocolate, cookies, wine and bourbon in case the scene is too depressing. We even have a hand truck (dolly) to move the refrigerators outside to clean them.

The mayor says you can bathe and wash in the water now. The postings on the uptown bulletin boards on the nola website either agree strongly or disagree strongly. But it will hopefully be good enough to hose out the refrigerator. By the way, there are a lot of valuable posts on the bulletin boards, and also some kooky people from who knows where bloviating about their opinions of FEMA, the mayor, what went wrong, etc. etc. Of course there are also people posting who appear never to have actually been to New Orleans.

I have a question. How do maggots and insects get into the fridge? How do they get through the seal? During our dinner conversation tonight (yes, perfect for dinner) folks said that the eggs are already in the food -- they just don't do anything because they are refrigerated. Are you kidding?? I'm not that squeamish, but I guess I'm still surprised. I know that fruit flies lay eggs in fruit when it's sitting out on the counter and such, but our packaged food comes pre egged?? I suppose it's possible. Anyway, I plan to stand way back and aim a hose at the emptied interior.

There is some concern right now about law enforcement. Apparently, there is far less military presence currently in the city, and reports again vary on whether this is an issue or not. But I sure wish that there were still people doing serious law enforcement. There are still so many folks not back in town.

But happily, there is also lots of news that businesses are up and running in our neighborhood-- even gas nearby! -- and that my idea of ice cream when we get back is not that far fetched! That's the hopeful part.

So, keep us in your thoughts, and when we come back to our home base here in Birmingham in a few days to pick up the cats and return for good, or to stay away a bit longer depending on what we find, I will post again to let you know how things went.

Abnormal Becomes Normal

An odd thing has begun to happen -- we are just plain getting used to life as it is. There really isn't any baseline for normal anymore. The first days of school seem so very long ago, it's like they happened to someone else.

Our house is now an abstract concept. The stuff there, our possesions, our yard, our plants -- pretty much out of sight, out of mind except during occasional bouts of focused fretting. We have never been away from nola for this long, and certainly not under these circumstances. I know that when we actually go back to New Orleans, perhaps this week if all goes well, that the reality of our city, our house, everything once considered normal and familiar, will all come back. And today I am hopeful that things are much as we left them.

In the meantime, we are pretty comfortable with our existence here in Birmingham. The cats are definitely used to the place, and so are we. Our day to day existence is still pretty limbo-like -- we aren't investing time and energy inserting ourselves into this community because we still plan on leaving as soon as possible. But in terms of our relationship with our host family, we are definitely part of the routine. And we've talked about how weird it will be when we aren't here anymore.

I'm pretty much home at homework time every day, I empty and refill the dishwasher a lot, we keep the place well-oiled with beer and wine purchases -- groceries, too! Shaw has cleared a ton of brush from the back wooded area, and the dogs definitely know and love me. Last night the boys danced all crazy to a Spike Jones CD that Shaw had made for them -- the same songs he and his brother danced crazy to when they were little. We are an extra set of hands to read a story, practice multiplication, take a kid to football practice, etc. I even grade papers with Amy. That's a little weird -- it makes me miss my own kids, my own assignments. The four adults commiserate together about managing sports practice with large amounts of rather ridiculous homework assignments -- very interesting from the "parent" perspective! It's fun to be the secondary parental figures -- the buck does not stop here -- and it gives me an even greater level of respect for parenting than I had before. How did they keep everything going when we weren't here? All households with kids should have four adults to help out!

After a great volunteer recruiting trip to my alma mater for TFA -- and the timing could not have been more perfect, as Rita shut everything down anyway -- I came home to hugs from the younger boy, an announcement from the older boy that the flash cards I'd made for us to practice multiplication together had worked -- yay! -- and just a general, "back home" feeling, even though we aren't home at all.

Not to make it sound like we are not thinking about nola . . . Once I was "home", I got right back into the routine of poring over the Times Picayune pages and the uptown message boards. Currently there is a lot of posting about electricity being on or off, or about to be turned on. Still no answering machine picking up when we call the house. We are still waiting for the go ahead from the mayor to drive back and check things out.

When we get there, the Walgreen's several blocks from our house should be open -- it was apparently open prior to Rita. That's the kind of news that keeps us hopeful. According to Chris Rose, the Times Picayune columnist, there's a lot of Halloween candy in that Walgreen's. And that's something to look forward to. That would be kinda cool and normal.

Delayed by Rita

Oh well. We will get there sooner or later. Fortunately, Rita appears to be headed away from nola, so perhaps we will be spared excessive rain until we can get down there to check out the situation. Patience, patience . . .

So funny that today, I am not thinking about mold or mildew at all! A couple of days ago I was obsessed!! So strange . . .

No more posts will be coming until Saturday -- I'll be traveling sans computer. It will probably be a good break from reading the minutiae associated with this hurricane. Shaw will keep me informed of the big news, anyway.

No time now for more details; it will all have to wait. But overall, today was a good non hurricane-focused day.

A bit more tentative . . .

How quickly things change. Not really sure if they will let our zip code in on Wednesday or not. Seems that the federal government thinks that Nagin's timeline is a bit ambitious. We will know more tomorrow.

Lately I am really wondering about smells and mold/mildew. I have been looking at lots of disturbing images on the Internet of people returning to their homes which are completely moldy. Granted, these homes flooded. And ours didn't.

But our house has been boarded up for three weeks. Amazing -- three weeks! And we might have had water get in from the storm. And our climate is like a rainforest anyway. So what will it be like inside our house? Something will probably be growing in there. And our refrigerator? That is surely going to be really gross. Do we get a dolly and take it outside to clean it?

Yes, my current fixation is mold/mildew/smells. And safety. Does it make sense to go back when the water has not been cleared for bathing? How do you clean up a nasty refrigerator and then not bathe???

I guess I still hope that maybe they can get the electricity and water situation in shape in the next couple of days. It's possible, I suppose. Have to be patient and wait and see.

I've been trying to be better about being patient and waiting with everything -- job situation, home situation -- trying to be willing to just be. I am still an information junkie. I read everything on the nola website religiously. I read just about every single post on the Uptown bulletin board, trying to gather information that will help me know what to expect in my own neighborhood. More and more people are going in and out and then posting about their experiences. They are quite varied. Some hopeful and positive, others sad and despairing.

When nothing else can be done, it helps to do things with the kids. Took them hiking on Saturday, which was great! They loved the trip -- thought that every part was amazing, especially this cool little cave that we showed them.

When I sit up in my room for large chunks of the day working on the computer, with the cats who have taken to sleeping a whole lot, I am reminded of the V.C. Andrews book, Flowers in the Attic. It's a silly gothic novel (popular when I was in 7th grade or so) about a family of four kids who had to stay in an attic for years because their mother could not reveal their existence for fear of losing her inheritance. So the kids basically grow up in the attic and are severly warped for the rest of their lives, documented in a series of sequels that become increasingly creepy.

Of course, I'm not trapped in an attic. I don't have an evil grandmother feeding me powdered donuts laced with cyanide. I can get up and drive off at any time, to the store, to the woods, to volunteer at a shelter, etc. But still something feels similar. Maybe it's that all of my possesions that I am sure about, that I know still exist and aren't moldy, are located in this one room. Maybe it's just that weird limbo feeling of life going by around me while I can't get on with my own. Maybe it's the strange way that time stretches and shrinks.

I think the cats have the right idea. They have just decided that the easiest way to get the time to pass is to sleep. Yeah -- I'm about ready for a bite of a magical apple that will just let me nap for a few weeks. By the time I wake up, they'll have figured out the electricity/water/re-entry issues.

I guess I'm realizing that no matter how hopeful I am, things really aren't going to be even close to normal for a really long time. And that even if my house isn't moldy, there are so very many that are. So yeah, feeling a bit more tentative today.

Power soon?

This picture is four blocks from our house. We hope to have power back to our street SOON!
I know that this is not that exciting, but I wanted to try inserting a picture. More later.

(Picture by Alex Brandon, courtesy of Times Picayune website -- www.nola.com)

Happy happy happy! (We think. . .)

What a difference a couple of days makes! Sometime Tuesday evening, we found out that the mayor might let people from unflooded areas return to the city as early as MONDAY!!! This was fabulous news for us. Plans changed yet again, as we decided to just relax here in B'ham for a few more days and then see about driving back to nola next week. Whether we stay there for good or not will depend on power restoration, probably. It really is possible to live there now, in some form or fashion anyway, from what info we can gather on the Internet. Our local grocery store in Orleans Parish is not open yet, but there are stores just a town or two over that are open.

It's really cool to look at the actual pages of the newspaper online. Every day, they look more and more "normal." Today, there were actual comics! There are ads from businesses besides insurance companies. It's very heartening.

We are lucky to have a bunch of TP reporters living very close to our house, so when they interview people on the street or describe scenes, they are often very close to home. The guy who owns the wine store right up the street from our house is back in town, as is the guy who owns the local ice cream parlor. What a concept -- returning to our city and having an ice cream cone, and some wine, too! They may be back just to clean up, but still, signs of life.

So we are much happier. We still imagine that maybe our house is just fine. We keep wondering how stale and/or damp the air is. Did things mildew? Or is everything ok? This is when we are still hoping that our house was not looted. We even have hope that the power will come back on before we return -- crazy hope, probably, but hope nonetheless. Maybe everything in the freezer will refreeze, so we can clean it out frozen. Things must smell less when they're frozen, right?

Anyway, perhaps this is all crazy speculation, but there is just a lot of hope and positive emotion right now. And it feels great! Yesterday was the first day that we felt ok about taking time to really get out and go hiking. We walked several miles, up to an old quarry -- and it felt good to be doing something non hurricane-related. Ate wild persimmons, even!

Days ago, we did go to a nearby park with a stream. We waded in the water, walking upstream quite a ways over rocks that had formed millions of years ago from mud -- you can still see the ripple marks. We walked through schools of minnows, and scared kingfishers who flew across the stream banks making their crazy calls. I looked down in the water and spotted a beautiful sky blue glass marble -- a big shooter -- with a light blue swirly "eye" inside -- my Katrina marble. At the time, I felt pretty bad, but discovering the marble seemed magical, and somehow hopeful. It will become part of the memorabilia associated with this experience.

Ok -- since beginning this post, a new update -- sounds like the day for our zip code to return is next Wednesday. Still soon enough, I think! Looks like Shaw and our neighbor may go in together while I zip up to Bucknell to do some volunteer recruiting for Teach For America. I made that commitment when I thought that it would still be weeks before we could get back to Nola, and I feel strongly about honoring it.

A few days ago, I played Candy Land with the younger boy from our host family. I didn't recall how quickly the tide can turn in Candy Land. Sure, you don't have to even be able to count to play, and there's certainly no strategy -- but there's still tension. You are past the Molasses Swamp, just about at the end of the board. The suspense builds while you draw cards waiting to get that last purple card that will finish the game. Instead, you draw a card that takes you all the way back to the Peppermint Forest, practically at the beginning! This happens over and over. Of course, some of those cards shoot you way ahead too. So, today, I feel like I've drawn the Queen Frostine card. I know that I'm still not at the end of the board, and surprises may still pop up, but I'm hopeful that we are closer to the end of this story than the beginning. At least closer to going home.

Two days later and no real news

Two days, no new news. So what has been going on? Oh, the usual. Alternating bouts of feeling semi-normal and then sinking into despair.

Last night, helped Amy grade papers and worked on a jigsaw puzzle. Haven't worked on a jigsaw puzzle in ages. I stuck with our family rules from growing up -- no looking at the box, start with the edges. It was great. I made such progress! Got the sky filled in, a bunch of other stuff too -- there's a real feeling of satisfaction putting a piece in and having it fit. Unfortunately this is not a metaphor for our current lives. But now I see why jigsaw puzzles might be popular in mental institutions. Feels so good to put something together.

We busied ourselves yesterday getting some clothes for Shaw. His height makes it difficult to purchase clothes from thrift stores, so we went the retail route. Still, it's hard to buy a pair of shoes that he has an identical version of at home. If they are still there and not covered in mold.

I have had nightmarish visions of National Guard troops breaking into our house to ascertain if anyone is there. I have heard that they are doing this, but am not sure if it's really happening or not. Do they re-secure the door when they are finished breaking it down?

Was our house already broken into anyway? Friends not far from us had their house looted. All of the reports of looting only happening to businesses do not seem to be matching the personal accounts that I have heard. What is speculation, what is truth? Don't know. I know that by now I should have mentally let go of all of our possesions; yes, it's only stuff, yada yada, so many people have lost everything, lost family members -- so why do I care about the status of the Elvis shrine?

Because it's not an act of nature that would be messing up our stuff now. Because, no matter how lucky we are, no matter how fortunate, it still feels horrible and violating to think of strangers pawing through our things. Even to think of soldiers walking through our house. I cannot fathom how difficult it must be for people around the world who have had to deal with this sort of thing over and over.

So, again the guilt for even feeling this when others are going through so much worse. And the frustration of not being able to do anything about our home or town right now. I read informal reports that Uptown will have electricity soon. Water is already on, but not yet drinkable. Gas is on, I think. Maybe we will be able to go back soon.

In the meantime, we struggle with our forced inertia. We still don't have enough information to really know what our next steps are. We hope to be able to figure out something concrete soon. I know that we need to be patient. We will try.

P.S. For those of you interested in a pet update, Buster has twice spent the night out and come home relatively easily at 6 am in the morning, before our host family lets the dogs out. Bibi has less interest in hanging out outside. Izzy, the little dog wags her tail and just wants to play with the cats. They are not interested. Ginger, the bigger dog, still looks a little too focused when she sees the cats. Buster is brave and sits on the stairs and watches the proceedings in the evenings, but he stays on his side of the baby gate. One night he jumped down into the living room, unaware that the dogs were resting by the couches. We didn't see the interaction, but there was a lot of barking and an immediate retreat by Buster. Overall, things are fine on the pet front. The cats are sweet and they are a comfort to us.

Is it time to take a break from this Hurricane?

Well, today has felt a lot better for me. It's the weekend! Even for an evacuee with nothing on her schedule, the fact that it's Saturday somehow provides temporary excusal from all hurricane- related gnashing of teeth and wringing of hands, which is all that I feel like I accomplish anyway on that front. Maybe it's something about other people besides me not working today.

So the whole family had eggs, biscuits, potatoes, saugage and sausage gravy for breakfast. Rob got to work replacing the rotting wooden exterior housing on the hot tub with corrougated metal-- and he works fast -- it's now practically finished! So I guess someone is working after all, but do weekend projects around the house count the same way mentally? Somehow, no.

Amy and I went to this AMAZING thrift store. They are clearing out their summer inventory, and nothing is over $2! Nothing! Here's what I got for $14 -- and I tried it all on- I had to put back a lot of cool stuff that didn't fit well -- black Bananna Republic capris, Gap khaki jeans, gunmetal Express silk sleeveless blouse, magenta sleeveless blouse, Banana Republic eyelet capris -- not practical right now, but I have plans to wear them in New Orelans in the spring!, black Ann Taylor t-shirt, blue Sigrid Olsen sundress, blue Gap sleeveless top, grey t-shirt, white polo shirt, and two gorgeous long floral print skirts -- the kind I love to wear to school! My fellow thrift store shopping partners in nola would be amazed! Of course, this is not about brand names, but it is the kind of consumption that I feel ok about -- and it is nice to have some other clothes to choose from -- especially if the weather stays warm here for a little longer. And it feels like a normal, fun, non-hurricane related Saturday thing to do.

Over lunch, I was talking to Amy about my new position at school, how much I liked my new office space, how well the year had been going, how pleased I was with my science classes and my instruction -- just how great everything was. When I was describing my space, I was using the present tense, and talking about all of the plans I still had for my work at school.

I feel like I have been through many stages of grieving about my experience, and more so, about the experiences of fellow New Orleanians in this unfolding tragedy. But my favorite stage is denial. Denial in terms of belief that I will still have a life similar to my previous one to go back to. I like to call it hope instead. It seems so much more, well, hopeful! I still feel like it's ok to indulge in this sort of thinking -- after all, my house and neighborhood are still pretty much intact-- isn't is possible that I will again ride my bicycle to work on streets lined with beautiful live oak trees? The ones that thankfully are not dying because they are not submerged like so many others . . .

New Orleans right now to me is like a good friend in the early weeks of a coma. Things look bad, but maybe they'll get better. The experts have told us that it could be a long time, or maybe never, before recovery occurs. But every foot of water drained is like a flash of consciousness, a flicker of eylashes. News of power restored, or never lost, from certain places around the city is like the twitch of a finger or toe. Surely our friend will recover soon. Surely we will run and jump and play again. Experts tell us to be patient, that it will be months from now before our friend can wake up and talk with us. We should stop watching and waiting -- go get some rest. Carry on with our daily lives. Or even worse, begin to create a life without our friend. There are no guarantees, after all, that things will improve enough for our friend to live a normal life. But we can't step away from the bedside. We can't give up hope. We sift through the news focusing only on the positive.

So I think that I will still focus on hope. I will try to get some rest -- I am a bit less of a media junkie now. Shaw and I are talking more seriously about more immediate travel -- about really taking time to go do something fun for ourselves right now. We'll see. I take to heart the story my dear friend shared with me this morning on the phone, about how a planned trip to Greece after her own personal tragedy never materialized -- it just seemed to be too many details to handle at the time. Looking back, she said, "We should have just made it happen and gone to Greece!" So, perhaps it's time for us to think about our "trip to Greece". Time to make something good happen. Time to take a break from this hurricane.

Emotional merry go round

As I write this, I am on hold with my insurance company. I am trying to find out about this line item that I noticed in our coverage yesterday. We are covered for additional living expense -- this could be a big help in temporary relocation. But I don't feel relieved. The phone is propped up next to the laptop, and every 45 seconds, a little recording comes on that says "Thank you for your patience. Your call is important to us. Yada Yada." So while I am thanked for my patience, I will write.

I feel this awful sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. It comes and goes. Right now it's there. I feel like I should be getting more done. But what?

Ok -- It's much later. Finally got a phone number of our claims adjuster guy, left a message, but have not heard back. Talked to a friend who has the same insurance company and she is having trouble getting any money for living expenses -- they insist that they have to see the house first. Don't they get it? We can't live there! It doesn't matter if it's standing or not -- we cannot be in New Orleans right now! I will wait to vent further until I find out some more info directly.

I feel like curling up in a ball and crying. I've felt this way before. It's the old hurricane-related emotional merry go round. I know that if I just wait it out, I will come around to the other side, to a different view, and then I'll be fine again. Sadly, it feels extra terrible to feel terrible, because I feel so guilty for feeling terrible. We have so much! So many options! Choices! We are so lucky! Again, that awful knotted feeling -- "Why aren't you doing something? Get out there and volunteer!" But right now I am stuck in the house. Shaw has the car down at the local high school, meeting with the principal about a temporary subbing job. So I can stay home and wallow some more.

So then I follow up on some calls I made yesterday. I talk to the woman organizing the Teach For America 15 year alumni summit. She's amazed at my chipper attitude, and my willingness to volunteer my time to call fellow alums. I'm glad that I sound chipper -- I'm pretty good at staying positive in public. I try to explain to her that I would love to do something useful, rather than just sitting around contemplating my limbo-like situation.

I have plans now to go to my alma mater and recruit for TFA at the end of September and beginning of October. Then there's the alum summit in DC in October. Maybe there's some fall foliage or family visit thrown in too. These are things that I would not have been able to do in my previous life because September and October are such busy months at school.

I want to make plans to visit LA too (Los Angeles) -- most importantly to see my brother's family and also hopefully vistit a school or two that are doing amazing things in curriculum design and service-learning.

Yes, plans are finally starting to happen. Shaw and I actually did talk about plans yesterday! We identified four factors that are inhibiting our ability to pick up and just travel anywhere.
1. Moving the cats and the trauma that ensues.
2. High gas prices, gas shortages, guilt associated with using large quantities of gas to flit about the country.
3. Uncertainty as to exactly when we will be able to get back into our fair city, to meet with insurance claims adjusters, etc. and to hopefully stay to clean up!
4. Uncertainty about what is happening with our school.

None of these are insurmountable, and so we are starting to make things happen.

No time left to wallow -- kids are home from school, and I promised to make dinner tonight. Friends are joining us, so it has gone from dinner for 6 to dinner for 8. Had better get cracking! And the merry go round has turned, and I am back to the "happy" side -- or close enough, anyway!

What I would have been doing, in my old life

Am I a teacher? Or was I a teacher?
Do I coordinate a service-learning program? Or did I coordinate a service-learning program?

How is it that my days feel busy enough, even though I am doing absolutely none of the things that are in my plan book?

A sampling of currently irrelevant things from my plan book. This is some of the hardest stuff for me to look at because I had so many GOOD things to do! And this is only what I had scheduled in so far. In reality, so much more would have been happening each day. I would have been working on a finance curriculum, working with my two new mentees, helping my students and advisees. It's so hard to look at this and realize that it is all completely irrelevant. And to realize that even though I would have been really busy, and working long hours, that I really loved what I was doing! I had been having such a great school year!

8/29
- Put together 7th service-learning binders
- Meet with a colleague about a third/fourth grade service-learning curriculum and partnership
- Meet with Upper School Science Olympiad team
- Teach 8th graders

8/30
- Service-Learning training for 7th grade
- meet with heads about strategic design curriculum program
- finish sampling activity with 8th grade, work on field notebook and review
- Diversity club meeting
- Meet with a tutor of one of my students to discuss good strategies for her
- create a quiz

8/31
- Make new cycle sheets (new information sheets for students)
- Give quiz
- Meet with a junior about her independent service-learning project
- carpool duty
- get ready for field trip

9/1
- Field trip to Audubon Park with one 8th grade section -- we would have been learning about water quality, sampling invertebrates, tree and bird ID, field notebook activities with the art teacher, etc., etc.

9/2
-- Field trip to Audubon Park with the other 8th grade section
- evening meeting with my new Teach For America teachers
-- middle school Science Olympiad practice
-- make Care Across Campus binders

Ok. I am done wallowing in my past life. But how very very strange it is to have this irrelevant past life. And how difficult it is to figure out my current life.

Why it's hard to figure out what to do next

Oh, we have plans to make plans. We continuously plan to make plans. We say that we are going to sit down together and make a plan. Write down a plan. Consider all of the choices, all of the wonderful possibilities open to us. We said that yesterday. We say it today.

But yesterday we first ate breakfast. I emptied and refilled the dishwasher for our hosts. It was a pretty day. We let the cats out. This still requires vigilance, as noted by yesterday's post. There was dog drama. This all takes time.

Shaw sat in on a physics class at the nearby high school. He is checking out a particular instructional technique that he would like to use with his students eventually. Yes, we still have hope that we will return to our school, and have students.

I went to the grocery store. I stopped at a used clothing store next door. Wow -- nice stuff -- and lots of great items on sale! Maybe I can continue to purchase 75% of my wardrobe used. Got three pairs of high end, hardly worn shoes that I could wear in some sort of work setting, plus some other clothes. Got a hurricane discount too!

Side note about feelings associated with using our victimhood to get breaks -- it's very weird. We know that people feel for us, that they want to do something nice. We know that we could play it up everywhere, but we don't want to do that, and we don't need to, either. We were happy to get a bit of a break on our cell phones. I was happy to get half off on the used shoes. But overall, I'm uncomfortable about it. I don't announce it everywhere. I don't need to go get free items from the Red Cross shelter. I don't want people to feel sorry for us. We are staying in a house with a hot tub, for goodness sake! We are so so very lucky. We think we still have our home. We hope that we still have our stuff.

That's another reason why it's hard to figure out what to do next. I cannot get my mind around paying rent, even temporarily, that would probably be more than our mortgage payment, to live in a miserable two bedroom apartment in suburbia somewhere. I cannot get my mind around thinking about having to furnish that apartment, having to buy all kinds of things that we already have! This is one of the mental blocks I will have to get over if our school does end up setting up some sort of satellite location in Houston, and we decide to become involved with that. It just goes against every part of my simple living/frugality philosophy.

So, after the grocery store, made cookies to split between our hosts and friends that we'd be visiting that night. Shaw split wood from the fallen tree. The boys came home; I helped with homework. Then we left for Tuscaloosa to see colleagues from school who are sheltering at a retreat center there. Stories from that meeting deserve an entirely separate post!

We had planned to discuss our plans on the ride to Tuscaloosa. Shaw was exhausted, however. He hadn't slept well the night before, but not due to the cats, for once! So he napped. I drove. Poor Shaw woke up three times in a panic because he thought he was driving and had fallen asleep at the wheel! That's never happened before. I think we have some mental strain that we aren't even conscious of. We feel so guilty to feel bad. We don't have stories or horrific experiences. We're just two displaced teachers living with good friends. So what if we have no idea what we are doing next? We could do anything, right?

On the way home, we start discussing what to do. We still hope to hear more from our school. We do feel a committment to them, and we are definite about wanting to go back to nola, at least for the short term, as soon as they will let us back in. We want to help rebuild our city. We can live without amenities, and we don't have kids who need a school, a stable environment, etc.

But when will we be allowed back? What do we do in the meantime? Substitute teach? Work at a nature center? Leave the cats here, and travel around the country to visit our generous coterie of family and friends? If so, what about gas shortages, gas prices? $25 limits at the pumps?

Do we volunteer? If so, where? Helping at the Red Cross shelters so far hasn't felt much like helping -- they seem so overrun by volunteers. Do I organize a service-learning program for kids in shelters so that they can help others? Do we finally finalize the science curriculum that we have been working on?

Right now, Shaw is back at the school sitting in on another physics class. We plan to discuss our plan when he gets home. But our host is outside right now chain sawing the tree. So Shaw will want to go help, to split more wood. I have a bunch of emails in my inbox to reply to. Then the kids will be home from school, we will visit with our friends, help around the house, and then we'll plan to plan tomorrow. Or maybe we'll plan today. We'll see.

Hurricane escape from a cat's point of view

No, I am not going to write as if I were one of my cats, but it is amazing how the ups and downs of our emotional journey seem to be mirrored in our cats' behavior in the past days.

They always know something is up when we start stacking large quantities of stuff near the front door. All day Saturday (8/27) the pile by the door gets bigger and bigger. The cats grow wary. Then comes the executive decision -- when do we keep them inside for good? What if it were time to leave and they would not come inside, and we couldn't find them? The answer may seem simple -- just err on the side of caution, and bring them in early. But there are repercussions -- they then yowl like the world is coming to an end. So you let them out and keep your fingers crossed.

By 2 a.m. they were holed up in the bedroom, surprisingly calm. Could they already feel the pressure change? Did they know we had to get outta there? They even cooperatively climbed into the carriers. When we loaded the car a couple of hours later, we put the cat carriers in with the windows facing each other so they could look at a familiar face. They cried pitifully all the way out of town. Not meowing, but wailing.

But they eventually settled down, and then we let them out to roam around the car. They were floored by the views of scenery speeding by. Kinda creeped out by it, I think. We have finally concluded that they really prefer the safe space of their carriers to wandering around the car. Letting them out so we can hold them and comfort them and see them is really just for us.

The transition to our friends' house in Birmingham goes ok -- the cats' home base is our bedroom with ajoining bath -- plenty of room to hide, rest, play -- they seem fine and find places to nap. They have no knowledge of the two dogs that also share this home -- a little "circus dog" and a medium sized brown and white shepherd mix of some sort? Sorry -- don't know my dog breeds. All is well. We eventually go to bed.

Then Buster starts to yowl and scratch at the bedroom door. He cries like he has never cried before. He is inconsolable. This goes on for what seems like hours. We worry about him waking up the kids. We hold him, berate him, scold him, hug him, pet him, and eventually we all fall into an exhausted sleep. Bibi, the other cat, is quiet as a mouse.

In the daytime, the cats are fine, and we expand their available territory little by little. When the dogs are outside, the cats come downstairs and explore. The dogs can see the cats through the porch door and they are dying to meet (or eat?) them. The cats sit on our lap, or on our hosts' laps while we watch Katrina coverage. They seem a little more comfortable everyday.

We even let them venture outside a bit. Bibi stays under the boxwood hedge by the front door. Buster stalks up the driveway with a determined look like he is planning to walk back to New Orleans. I sweep him up in my arms and we go back inside. I am not ready to lose my cats too.

At night, it's still bad. For four nights, Buster cries like he is trapped in the fifth circle of hell. He yowls like he is being tortured by demons. But he never starts up until we turn out the light and try to go to sleep. On the fifth night, he is asleep on the bed when we turn in, and we all float off to dreamland together. Finally, I think, he is adjusting to this new routine. Alas, at 1 a.m. I wake up to the horrible lamenting of a cat who has given up on ever being able to go out on his familiar front walk, to sit on the sidewalk and chew the grass, to hop over the picket fence to see the neighbors, to lay around lazily and happily in the New Orleans sun.

I know that he wants to go outside. I fear that his cries will wake up the kids. We go downstairs to the screened porch and cry together. I miss my yard, my sidewalk, my picket fence too. I want to go back home too. Like Buster, I can relax and enjoy our pleasant situation during the day, but I am scared and confused at night. I hate feeling helpless. I hate watching people suffering and literally dying on television because our leaders are bungling the relief effort. I hate what has been allowed to happen to our beautiful city. I hate thinking about vandals destroying our property for no good reason at all, and hope desperately that it hasn't happened. The cat and I finally both give into exhaustion and go back to bed.

We develop a new theory -- the cats are quiet and happy until the lights are out. Is it just too dark? In New Orleans, streetlights shined into our house . Here, it's dark. Really dark. We try turning on the bathroom light. It works! Not a well-controlled experiment, we know, but finally, we get a full night's sleep.

Now, on day 10, things are looking up. Buster and the dogs have seen each other. He comes down the stairs and sits just out of reach on the other side of the baby gate. The dogs stare hopefully. The big one throws her paws over the gate. Buster hisses but doesn't retreat.

Outside, the cats seem more comfortable. They stay pretty close to the house. Buster is not heading off the property anymore. However, today, Ginger, the bigger dog, somehow jumped her electric fence in the back yard and ended up in the front yard with the cats. I catch Ginger by the collar and bring her back down the driveway. Buster looks confused. What am I doing with the dog? Have I gone to the dark side? Then I think I shock Ginger accidentally putting her back into the back yard.

Stay tuned. Will Ginger figure out that it's worth a shock to see the cats? Will Buster keep sleeping through the night? What bizarre behaviors will Bibi develop, besides chasing her tail like a maniac, and shredding any papers left on the floor?

A couple of days ago, Shaw had an idea that made me laugh like I used to laugh pre-hurricane. He suggests that we put the little electric collars on the cats too, and throw everyone in the back wooded area, but include some other creatures in the mix, also fitted with electric collars, for distraction and to even the playing field. A couple of turkeys, a bear, a llama, some guinea pigs, maybe some monitor lizards, a boa constrictor . . .

A recap of the first 8 days

So, how did this all begin? Well, it came up quickly. Often, we are watching named hurricanes come into the Gulf. We hear about them long before we have to make a decision to evacuate. For some reason, Katrina was not in our mental radar. Perhaps because she had hit Florida already and then was projected to shoot sharply north.

Friday, August 26
I didn't realize that we were going to have to pay attention at all until Friday afternoon. Shaw was on a weeklong trip with the freshman class, and he was due home in the late afternoon Friday. I was out taking pictures of residents at the nearby nursing home for the 7th grade service-learning program. Saw our headmistress, 5/6 science teacher and tech person in the student center poring over an image on a laptop. It was the "spaghetti" model of the hurricane track, very recently updated. Three of the four possible models showed the hurricane headed directly to nola. We passed out slips at carpool that afternoon that reminded people that if Orleans Parish Schools were closed on Monday, that we would be too. Still this was not that alarming. We have had school closures for hurricanes that passed too far to the east or west to do any damage at all. In fact, days like that are often sunny and breezy with low humidity. The Gulf version of a snow day.

Shaw came back from the trip close to 5 p.m., and I popped in to the school's beginning of the year happy hour briefly, then we headed home. Still no major plans -- discussion of how inconvenient it would be to evacuate right now -- Shaw having just come back from a trip, yada yada. We watched the weather at 10 p.m. and saw that things did not look that good. But folks not from the area need to understand that many named hurricanes come into the Gulf every year. If we left for each of them, we would never be home at all! So we still weren't sure what we would do. We were watching the storm track and the intensity. The hurricane was still far away. Off to bed.


Saturday, August 27

Restless sleep. I was up at 6 a.m. Watched the news. Hurricane still headed this way, and gaining strength. I didn't want to wait in long lines for gas like I did for Ivan, so I got dressed and headed to the gas station and to the grocery store. Happily, no lines. Bought food, bottled water and ice for the freezer.

Still not sure if we were evacuating. Certainly not mentally excited about it! Wanted to have all options open. Watched a lot of weather on Saturday. Talked to our neighbors across the street, who ended up with a reservation in Nachitoches (about 4 hours away to the northwest of nola.) Called our friends in Birmingham to check if we could come there. Not ideal considering the track of the storm, but we didn't really have much other nearby choice, plus it's our favorite place to evacuate to -- great friends.

I watched more tv -- listened to the Mayor at 1 p.m., I think. It was pretty clear from what he was saying that we would be asked to evacuate. Our policy is to go when the mayor says go. Got out the "hurricane list" -- started gathering important papers, passports, birth certificates, wills, mortgage stuff, teaching certificate, insurance stuff, etc. etc. Gathered together photo albums, journals, quilt made by great grandmother, guitar, cat supplies, etc.

Had some cake with the neighbors -- we had planned on getting together Sat. night, but that was not going to happen -- then Shaw and Terry got to work on boarding up the two houses. Takes five and a half hours to board up both houses -- screwing in pre-cut, pre-labeled boards. This even with four windows in the front of our house with closable shutters that don't require plywood. Again, it is a huge hassle to evacuate.

Finally ate some dinner, continued to pack and watch the news. We tried to decide when we would leave. The options were 4 a.m. or wait for the news at 6 a.m. and see if anything had changed. If we had waited until 6 a.m. for Ivan, we would have seen that it had turned, and maybe we would not have sat in traffic for 8 hours just to get to Baton Rouge, and then return the next day to a sunny day and an unscathed house. That's what makes this all so complicated -- it's disruptive and uncomfortable to evacuate. This time the traffic flowing out of the city did look much better. The contraflow evac plan went into effect at 4 p.m. on Saturday.

So we keep packing. This is where it gets hard. What clothes? Tons of clothes? Three days worth of clothes? We have evacuated twice and never spent more than three nights away.
Jewelry? Other items? Threw a bunch of stuff pretty quickly together. Almost all casual vacation-type stuff. Exhausted.

It's 11 p.m. We have moved some stuff away from windows, covered some furniture (but now in hindsight don't feel like we moved or covered nearly enough) and I head to bed. Shaw is still taking care of a long to do list. Something wakes me up at two a.m. Can't sleep. Nonstop Katrina coverage on the tv. The thing is the size of the Gulf of Mexico. I now have no interest in waiting until 6 a.m. We work to finish getting ready to go. Plants and lawn furniture moved, porch swing inside, water and gas turned off, car loaded. When we evacuate, we always mentally say goodbye to everything, but do we really believe ourselves?


Sunday, August 28

We hit the road at 4:30 -- go about two miles and Shaw realizes he's forgotten his wallet. We turn around and go back. Phew! So we're really on the road at about 4:45. Don't see much traffic leaving the city at this hour, although it is far more brisk than typical on a Sunday at that time. As we leave town, we are surprised at the number of homes and businesses still not boarded up. I think a lot of folks ended up boarding up on Sunday.

There is lightning flashing in the distance, but the sky is clear. I breathe a huge sigh of relief once we have crossed the twin spans on the eastern side of Lake Pontchartrain. Now we won't be trapped by rising waters -- even though the lake looks fine at this hour. Note that this part of I-10 was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina.

We drive north in the southbound lanes of I-59 in the dark. Very disorienting. Police cars blocking the on ramps, flares and lights flashing. Center reflectors are red, indicating that we are officially going the wrong way. Traffic is a little heavy, but moving well. And the further we go north, the lighter the traffic gets.

Sun comes up, I drive. We are both exhausted. Shaw hadn't slept yet at all. He sleeps now. Every license plate we see seems to be from Louisiana. So we are not the only ones who evacuated into the projected path of the hurricane. Quick breakfast at Hardees, then more driving. Listening to Garden State soundtrack. Odd how so many of the lyrics seem to speak to people leaving their homes possibly forever. Probably just because that's where my mind is. "Let go, let go . . ."

We arrive to our wonderful friends' house at 11:30 a.m. on Sunday. Amy is making cupcakes for a Cub Scout meeting, the boys (2nd and 4th grade) are adorable, and we are all in good spirits. We beat the traffic, we are in a beautiful setting, we are happy to see our friends, punchy from lack of sleep, etc. No hurricane has hit yet. We are still hopeful. These suckers so often turn!

An afternoon of hanging out with the kids, napping, ping pong, foosball, settling the cats in to their new temporary home, visiting, and watching TV as the hurricane continues to bear down on NOLA. Finally to bed.

Monday, August 29

Hurricane day. Our friends headed off to school and work. We watched the TV. Watched the roof tear open on the Superdome. Watched the storm go slightly east, directly to Biloxi. Watched and watched, then finally took some breaks. Wow -- New Orleans spared the brunt of the storm again! We got groceries for our friends in antipation of the storm coming this way.
We fretted about power outages -- they had been without power for 6 days for Ivan, and the track was similar. Wondered if we would evacuate here only to have a tree fall on our car.
Called more family and friends, watched the power flicker, but did not lose power. Amazing!
Amy cooked delicious food for dinner, and we were sad about Gulfport and Biloxi, but relieved about New Orleans.


Tuesday, August 30

No school for the kids or for Amy! (She's a teacher.) Our host house is unscathed, but one big tree down in the wooded yard -- conveniently barely on the driveway. Rob and Shaw work to cut enough branches away to get the vehicles out.

Happy moments with our friends -- playing UNO on the back porch, dinner together.

In the evening, I check out the news online and on TV. Bad news. New flooding in NOLA. Levees broken, water rising. How depressing. Lots of Internet on Tuesday -- found the bulletin boards on nola.com -- read a lot of stuff everywhere. Trying to get as much news as possible. Reading Chris Rose's column makes me cry. Watching the looting on TV makes me even sadder, and weary. How can this all be happening???


Wednesday, August 31

A gorgeous sunny day in Birmingham. I spend lots of time on the phone with insurance companies getting claim numbers so that we can get what we need when we can return. I relax on the porch, watching cardinals, hummingbirds, chipmunks, blue jays - sure beats the news. Can't keep watching every minute. Shaw and I make a list of what we want to get out of the house when we come back. We talk about possibilities -- what we might do for the near future -- but we are not ready to make a definite plan. We are waiting to hear from our school -- which is not flooded, yay! We are hopeful. We do normal things like go to the drugstore for toiletries, help the kids with homework, eat dinner together and marvel at how these two little boys that we are staying with have become real people -- with incredible senses of humor, great stories -- it's really fun! Then we watch the news on Wednesday night -- the horrifying lack of planning, the people trapped in their homes, the devastation on the Gulf Coast. It is really too much to absorb. We feel so lucky, every minute, to be in such a comfortable situation. We feel so helpless and angry about those that are still trapped in inhumane conditions.


Thursday, September 1

I make contact with colleagues! I find out that a faculty member from school has set up a blog for us! I email tons of people. I read messages from so many people who are so near and dear to me. I am thrilled to be in contact. I spend a lot of the day on the computer. Then homework help. Shaw weeds and plants rose bushes for the family. We pick up the fourth grader from football practice. We joke about being the new au pairs/butlers/maids/gardeners for our friends. We feel so lucky to be integrated into the family. On Thursday night, Amy and I finally get their wireless connection fixed -- such liberation! I can now use my laptop to access the Internet, rather than sitting in their bedroom to do this. This is the last night of news for a while. It is too much to watch. I keep updated online.

Shaw and I have been taking a walk through the neigborhood every day, but I am antsy. I go outside on the driveway and do yoga with the second grader. Thank goodness for these kids!

Friday, September 2

We venture out. We go to a bookstore to get a gardening book for our friends. I buy two of my favorite cookbooks -- I need recipes to help with cooking for the family. I hope that the books are still home when I return. I burst into tears. I get myself back together. We get a new litterbox, socks, some cat toys etc. at Wal-Mart. We buy things we normally wouldn't like a Snickers bar at the checkout. Good old consumption to take your mind off of things . . .

We make a giant leap. We get something we have never had before - - cell phones! We each get one -- the poor salesperson has to teach us everything - -we are completely cell phone illiterate! Shaw stops at the local high school to meet the Physics teacher there -- possibly to sit in on a class or two. He calls me from the parking lot. We leave each other silly messages on the cell phones. At the grocery store, I look over and Shaw is on the phone. I chide him, "Are you pretending to talk on the phone?" He says, "No, I'm talking to you, babe." Sure enough, when I check my messages, I hear, "Hey, babe, I'm talking to you, babe." Levity in the midst of all of this.

In the evening, the TV news starts showing the horrific scenes at the Convention Center. I spirit the second grader upstairs with a request that he let me read a book to him. We read "My Dog Never Says Please" and look at I Spy books together -- especially the treasure hunt one. Second grader to the rescue, again!

Saturday, September 3

Cell phone extravaganza. It is the weekend. I have unlimited minutes. I start calling people. Everyone is thrilled to hear that we are ok. I spend a ton of time on the phone. I also reach some dear friends from school. We cry together. We so want to go home. Emails start rolling in too.

In the afternoon, Amy, Shaw and I try to volunteer at the Red Cross shelter here. Too many volunteers. They ask us to come back tomorrow.

Happy, happy news -- I discover Google Earth and find our house. The pine tree in the yard appears to be standing! Uptown looks so good that I cannot believe that I am viewing a post-hurricane photo. Our roof looks mostly intact. What a relief.

Friends of Amy and Rob's come over for dinner. Today is the 12 year anniversary of Shaw's and my relationship. We have always celebrated two anniversaries -- one on Labor Day weekend, and our wedding anniversary the first weekend of Jazz Festival. We toast. More hurricane stories. Post dinner, I am exhausted and go to bed early.

I have a computer routine now -- every night I look at the Times-Picayune ( nola.com ) website and look at the photo gallery and breaking news. I check the school blog. I check my email. I am a junkie for new information. News from anywhere. But we have not watched TV for two days.

Sunday, September 4

We go to the Red Cross Shelter and are not turned away. Our orientation consists of a three minute explanation from a Red Cross worker -- telling us where things are, mostly. We are told that it's a pretty organic situation and that we should do whatever work needs to be done -- we should be proactive and figure it out. Just as we are starting to get to work, we hear someone call Shaw's name -- It's the 5th/6th math teacher! We hug and cry and hug and cry. He is staying with family in the area. What a thrill to see a familiar face. We help set up cots on the upper floor of the civic center. The governor is coming, so everything is buzzing. There are camera crews and media. I think I manage to avoid being on camera.

We talk to kids and adults. I meet a girl who is a student of one of my former Teach For America teachers. We listen to a lot of harrowing accounts. Shaw and I have been out of New Orleans for a week -- these poor souls just arrived in Birmingham yesterday. They were at the Convention Center amidst the chaos. They talk about how they tried to maintain order, help the elderly and the children, with no assistance at all from Red Cross, FEMA, the local police or the National Guard. Their stories are chilling.

We leave and return with a cell phone charger that Amy purchased for one of the evacuees. It is amazing how calm and well the evacuees look, considering their circumstances less than 24 hours prior. We speak to one woman, Patricia, who was in her attic for days, with no means to get out. Each story is more poignant than the next. Happily, the kids are now playing with new toys, and everyone has a bed where they can get some rest.

We count our blessings yet again. We have a lovely dinner with Rob's parents and family - everyone is so wonderful; we are so grateful -- I keep getting emotional.

Today we would have gone to Ship Island -- a barrier island off the coast of Gulfport. We do it every year for our anniversary. I am not sure that Ship Island currently exists. It is probably severely damaged, at least.

Monday, September 5

A great normal day. Helping with housecleaning. Organizing the play room together. Reading books with the kids. Helping with homework. A walk in the woods. Putting off other plans and ideas for one more day. Still clueless about our next steps. In the evening, we watch news again for an hour and a half. At least things are better than they were.

First Post!

One week and one day post Katrina. Thought that I would delve into the fabulous world of technology and try this blog to keep family and friends informed about our plans. I'm not really looking to tell the world about our situation, but am already having trouble keeping people informed about us via phone and email, and this way I don't clog inboxes with my daily musings. If you want to know more, you can check in here, if not, you don't have to. We'll see how well it works.

Soon I will go back and fill in the details of what happened up until now, but wanted to get this up and running first. So, today, it's 9:20 in the am, the cats are hanging out here in the bedroom with me, Shaw is outside helping our host cut down the one tree that fell in the yard of this beautiful Birmingham home where we are currently sheltering, and that's about it. We are in pretty good spirits overall, considering the situation. Today we plan to sit down and really discuss and maybe make a flow chart of our options, both short and long term. Our hope is still to get back to Nola as soon as possible. Our house is definitely dry, has a roof (thanks to Google Earth) without a tree on it, and the neigborhood looks fabulous from space. We are hoping not to have been looted, and even without looting may have roof damage, water damage, broken glass, and a very very smelly refrigerator.

We are lucky to be in a very comfortable setting with good friends who are encouraging us to stay as long as we need to. We have had offers from across the country from family and friends telling us that we can stay with them, and we are so grateful for the outpouring of good will. We are staying put at least for a little while, partly because of gas prices, partly because it's traumatic to move the cats, and partly, because this place offers real sanctuary for us right now. It's peaceful -- in a verdant wooded setting, we have space and time to do what we need to do, but we are also welcomed into the family to help with homework, cleaning, just normal everyday stuff which is great. Most importantly, it is the closest place to New Orleans right now, and we are still hoping to get back in soon, at least to assess damage and to pick up a few more things. We know for sure that our house is easily accessible from the Crescent City Connection (the bridge) so we are just waiting until we are allowed to return. We know people who have family members who have been able to return uptown, but we don't know if they had special credentials or not. It's hard to distinguish between the official word you see on TV and online and what is really happening. More later.