The Arctic Winter

My house is well, let's just say cold. When I say cold I do not mean a light breeze, or circulating coolness from a ceiling fan. Oh no. When I say cold I mean ARCTIC WINTER. Some of you may think that's a bit of an exaggeration but when you sit on that cold porcelain toilet seat and it makes you want to jump right back off as if you stepped on a caterpillar then you know what I mean. Even as I type this I shiver ever so slightly waiting for the space heater to fill the room with warmth. But warmth can't come soon enough. Sometimes sitting in this Frigidaire of a house makes me think of people who try to climb Mount Everest and sleep in snow covered caves and like it. I mean I love camping and hiking and all but that puts it on a whole new level. At least I can't get frostbite in here. I wonder if those adventurous hikers ever hear wolves howling at night and owls hooting in the distant trees. I think I have my version of the howling wolves right next door. The lady who lives next door, I've never met, but I've heard tales of her calling her cats into her house at night with a singsong nature and undistinguishable words. It happens late at night and my roommates find it quite funny. Well tonight I heard it - wow. I don't think I've ever heard anything like it before. It was as if in a high pitched voice she was singing some kind of cat opera in a language I couldn't understand. Maybe it was a cat language. Funny thing is it kind of put me at ease. I guess when you sit alone in your cold living room it kind of feels nice that there is a crazy cat lady living next door. I think she successfully called in her cats because I can't hear her anymore. The neighborhood is going to bed and though my fingers and toes are still cold I still wonder about the hikers on Mount Everest. I wonder if in that cave they just wished they would have brought a snuggie along with them.

The merriment of Christmas continues

By the end of the night of the party I was pooped and watching the saints lose didn't help. With too many crab pies in my stomach I just went to bed, happy to have had such a fun time with my family but tired nonetheless. Sunday proved to be just as exciting as Saturday and I never knew you could have so much Christmas fun in one weekend. Going to my parents church in Covington is always a little weird for me just because we had always gone to a church in New Orleans and coming home from college would always prove to be reunion time with it's members. Now I walk into church with them and don't know anyone. Regardless the pastor reminded us of the importance of the Genealogy of Christ in Matthew 1 and how scandalous that night in Bethlahem really was. The birth of the Messiah - such a scandalous, mysterious, beautiful night. But sometimes it's not the service that impacts me the most and in particular it was what happened afterwards that spoke to my heart. A missionary family - The Landers - was introduced as visiting and mom informed me that he was part of my spiritual geneaology. This man standing in front of the stage at an unfamiliar church to me was part of the reason I am the woman I am today and he probably doesn't even know it. This man had led my dad's best friend to Christ who in turn brought my parents to the church in which they began to follow Christ and later me. This one man has no idea the impact he made just by being obedient to Christ over 25 years ago. It made me wonder who was in line under me and how many of us could say that we have influenced someone's life and don't even know it. I felt like I owed this man so much but gratitude was all I could offer.
After church the boys and girls split up. Dad took Dillon and Connor to see Avatar and Mom took Laura and I to Miss Audrey's house. Miss Audrey was like family. I don't remember ever not knowing her. She was friends with my grandparents on my mom's side and always around. I remember in fourth grade she came to class to talk about Mardi Gras with Zulu coconuts, masks and all. She was a hoot. Nanny and Uncle Henry and Kristen met us there and with a belly full of chips and dip and hearts full of stories that had more rabbit trails than rabbits actually make we headed to the Ferry. Oh the Ferry. Crystal, my cousin, met us there in the best car ever - the Versa. I'm just saying. And we made our way to Jackson Square. OH LAWD - don't even get me started on the traffic and merging from one parking lot to the other. People can be so rude. With three cars in three different parking lots we met under the Brewery walked over to Jackson Square for the 62nd caroling event. It's amazing what goes on in your own city and you never know about it. This was the first time we had done this. I was glad for the millions (i'm not exaggerating) of layers I had on cause boy was it cold outside. We kept time by watching the clock on the Cathedral and once 7 hit we lit the candles in our hands and began caroling. I stood on my tiptoes to see how many people were actually in the square and I could not tell you the happiness I had when I saw the glow of faces reaching as far as the eye could see on all sides singing Christmas carols. It was like a small town event in a big city and it was awesome. Eighteen songs later we zigzagged our way through the crowds of children dressed like santa, old women in fur hats and families sitting on benches. Cafe du Monde didn't need bright flashing neon lights to attract customers. After our caroling event and plans of next year being prepared with decorated candle holders and hot chocolate we somehow managed to find a small round table with just enough green chairs around it to accomodate our powdered sugar craving selves. Our poor waiter had had a rough night and I don't think the teenagers two tables over having a powdered sugar fight helped. Too many beignets later we found ourselves fighting the traffic once again to walk through the Fairmont hotel (now called the Roosevelt) and run across the street to the Ritz Carlton's life size gingerbread house. We didn't see Mr. Bingle though because he quit at the Carlton Ritz cause he can't reach the buffet.
I had so much fun with my family and I left that night feeling like 1. I've never had so much sugar in one weekend and 2. I think I've found my old new best friend. My cousin Crystal and I have always been close and we always understand each other's quirks and spending the weekend with her made me realize how much I miss her. It was like reuniting with my best friend.
Oh I love my family and I love New Oreleans
Thanks for a great weekend ya'll !

How many people can we fit in the photo booth?

Christmas always comes with lots of Trauths in one small space and lots of good food. This school of fish somehow finds time to come together every year for one special event - The Annual Trauth Christmas Party. It's been happening since my dad was kid and I couldn't imagine spending a year without attending it. Even if your last name isn't Trauth you are welcome to come - to all the spouses, Les, Brandon and others - we are glad you can come. Since Katrina messed up our Christmas meeting place, our school of fish travels from one relative's home to another and sometimes families are left out. Teri, David and Tabitha with all our heart we wish you could have been here. This year this famous party was held at my parent's house. And for anyone who didn't think I had a New Orleans accent before, just wait to watch videos of this event and be amazed. The "r's" drop and second syllables are exaggerated. No joke and I'm not the only one who sounds like that. Where ya at dawlin? Accents and laughter go hand in hand as Uncle Tim hopes to find a snuggie in the gift pile. But the gift pile is not the only attraction. The question on everyone's mind is who brought what to eat. And if you're a Trauth you know the rule is "first come first serve." Let me just list out the fabulous menu and let you drool a little
Menu:
Crab dip
Crab Pies
Dennis' mini burgers
PawPaw's stuffed peppers
MawMaw's macaroni
Nan's bacon dip
Meatballs in wine sauce
Roast beef sandwhiches (hot and messy)
Amarretto punch
Yule Log
Bourbon cake
oatmeal m&m cookies
fudge
stuffed mushrooms
cookies
candy wreath
mini donuts
pralines
Shrimp mold
Duck
I'm sure there was more and every year the menu changes a bit but it's all delicious. Go ahead be jealous.
This year though, a new tradition was made with my homemade photobooth. Mom and Dad have this perfect little square hallway that allowed for a backdrop and camera with a remote to provide pure entertainment. All you need is a basket of props and a goofy spirit. And as everyone knows we have the goofiness down packed. I think this photobooth might have to appear every year. I've created a monster. At one point in the afternoon my cousin Crystal and I decided to see how many people we could fit in the photobooth. Let's just say we had a lot of people in there and it wasn't even half of the people at the party. From games of boudreaux throw in the backyard to chasing new little great grandchildren there is never a dull moment in our family and I like it that way.

Goodbye Social Life

Dear Social Life,

It's been great knowing you. I enjoyed your careless days of shopping with friends, Your coffee appointments have been good for the heart and well game nights always made me laugh. But, it's time I'm afraid, to Say Goodbye. Homework is just piling up way over my head and I can't see past the books laid in front of me. My assignments taunt me and I can't ignore them anymore. You see dear social life I love procrastination. Just when I sit down to do my homework the lists start to form .....

1. My room is a disaster, maybe I should clean it up.
2. The car needs to be vacuumed.
3. I need to write some letters to friends.
4. That movie looks so good, I just have to watch it.
5. My life needs organizing, I think now is the time to do it.
6. I haven't blogged in awhile, and that lady in wal-mart who was wearing a tiara had make-up on like a child had done it to her in the 80's....

It's like somehow I can suddenly figure out better things to do with my time, more productive things than read about transitional studies in secondary education. Who really cares about the ACT of 1990 that just got outdone by the ACT of 2002? But alas my dear friend this is the path I chose and I need to focus on it. It's been a good run and I promise to spend more time with you in a couple of months. I will miss you, being the social creature that I am, just don't go too far.

Thanks for understanding,
Dana

Just one of those days....

Let me just rant for just a second. The rain continues in Ruston and I think for the first time since it started I'm feeling it's effects. Oh the gloom has come and I just can't shake it. I feel like if I could just go to sleep and wake up again to start this day over things would be better. Here's the kicker, nothing is really going wrong. I just have that general state of blahness. Is that even a word? Blahness? Well other than feeling blah like I've been doing this project for school which I actually love.... it's basically an exercise that requires you to look into your past and see how your culture has shaped you. It just so happens I was born into the city of culture. This assignment also requires you to interview family members about memories, traditions and explanations of what early life was like for them. For most of my life I have loved stories, I have had a deep sense of appreciation and love for my family and the time I get to share with them, I feel like my culture has shaped who I am and in that way I think I'm most like my PawPaw. The greatest pain in all this though is why is this a part of who I am when I don't see the reason in it? Some would say that I'm nostalgic but what's so great about being nostalgic? What purpose does it serve in eternity and do people really care about the details or am I'm just in this alone? I'm just quite confused .... the emotion of my week .....

On days like these ........

The rain sloshes outside my window bringing the only noise to my otherwise quiet household. An occasional clap of thunder couldn't disrupt this comfort of sorts and I am reminded that the silence is not bad but intimate. I find myself on these types of days staring into a wet world that beckons me to stay inside tucked far away from it's showers. It is on these days, in my place of refuge, as C.S. Lewis puts it, that "you can never get a cup of tea large enough or book long enough to suit me." Being alone is not lonely but inspiring. Swallowed by a big soft chair and embraced by a warm fuzzy blanket I welcome a journal as my only companion. Nostalgia fills the room and no dream is too big to imagine. I remember friends of old and friends of new and wonder how can you tell someone you truly enjoy being their friend without it being weird? I remember days when dad would tell us stories right before going to bed and I remember mom tucking us in right after that. I remember Gram singing a "bushel and a peck, a hug around the neck" and I remember listening to stories from PawPaw about the korean war. I reread past journal entries to remind me of days already gone. The pages are full of memorials encouraging me to press forward. Torn and wrinkled passages of time scribbled quickly and without thought speak more to me now in this quiet house than they did the moment I wrote them.  It's funny how insignificant things seem until you sit in an oversized chair and reflect. 

I wish I had yellow rain boots or an umbrella.....

The rain this week can be seen as somewhat of a downer. Tromping through puddles just to get to class or getting drenched right before entering work doesn't exactly sound like fun. This week in Ruston has been a wet one and all I can think to myself is I wish I had yellow rain boots or an umbrella. Two very essential things in warding off the wetness. But being the frugal person that I am I opt for getting wet instead of investing in proper rain attire. Today, to ward off my previous grumpiness and gloom that cloudy days could bring I decided to document my day with my little point and shoot camera. Everywhere I went I found something that made me happy and I wanted to share those moments with you..... Me and Geves getting ready to go to class! Still makes me sad that I hardly see anyone I know on campus ... 
  I just like the smell - don't know why






 It says "Something of God flows into us.. from the blue of the sky, the taste of honey, the delicious embrace of water whether cold or hot, and even from sleep itself" c.s. lewis

Back to the Blog - Episode 3

In the words of Alexander, who found gum in his hair when he woke up and no toy in his cereal box, last week I had a series of "no good, horrible, very bad days." By Saturday my swollen and still hurting cheek left me with only one thing - grumpiness. My diet for the last three days had consisted of oatmeal, grits, smoothies and mashed potatoes. This lack of solid stable nutrition left me cranky. I mean even the littlest things get on your nerves kind of cranky. So, I do apologize to anyone I talked to or spend time with - my mood was just not right. Please know that was not the real me - it was the swollen cheek talking. But like all good mothers, Alexander's mom said "some days are just like that." By Sunday I was eating a little more, and I got to watch the Saints game with the Woods family - what could better than that - well maybe actually being in the superdome. Monday morning, brought not only rain but a healed cheek and a happier Dana.  update on the door handle : Good news it's still under warranty and will be fixed soon, more good news : I'm becoming a pro at getting in through the passenger side.

Back to the Blog - Episode 2

My Bizarre Week .....

 Monday morning:  I wake up with an uncomfortable feeling in my right cheek. It feels as though I had just bitten the inside of my cheek-no big deal it will feel better tomorrow or so I thought. 

 Tuesday Morning: I wake up to a swollen right cheek and a little bit of pain. I thought, maybe my wisdom teeth are acting up or something. I couldn't figure out what else it could be, it had to be my teeth. But my teeth didn't hurt, nor did my gums so I thought it very strange that my cheek would swell because of my nonhurting teeth. Being the smart and logical person that I am I go visit my friend Elizabeth, the wife of a dentist. Not an actual dentist.  I thought maybe that being married to a dentist, some of his knowledge of the teeth might have rubbed off on her. She was able to make an emergency appointment for me with her husband for the next afternoon at 4. Apparently swelling isn't good and usually means infection (you might want to jot that down for when that happens to you). 

 Wednesday Morning: The swelling has gone down but the pain has increased. I'm still tapping on my teeth to make sure that isn't what is hurting and counting down the minutes until I can find out what is wrong. By 11 am at work I'm pretty desperate to see a professional. "Ding" the drive thru sound buzzes in my ear (as I am at work wearing a headset) and I recognize the voice - Shaun McIntire and friend and a doctor. So, I proceed to tell him my problems when he reaches the window and I  basically get a medical exam through the starbucks drivethru window. No joke. He noticed the swelling and told me it was a duct or gland in my cheek that was clogged and not letting the fluids flow properly causing the swelling, pain and pressure (which by the way was now reaching my ear). I do not know the proper name for this. Dean Kirby tried to help me pronounce it but I don't remember. It's long and medical and that's all you need to know.  So, he called in some antibiotics for me and I couldn't wait to get off of work to get them.  So, on my way to get my medicine I go to get into my car and my handle of my driver side door comes completely off - and I think to myself "are you serious?!" My car already looks ghetto with my two back tire hubcaps missing and now I don't have door handle. For crying out loud the car is not that old. Maybe I just have brute strength that I didn't know I had or maybe was brought on by my swollen cheek. Now I climb in and out of my passenger side door to get into my car. Ridiculous. Then that night I play dodgeball with a bunch of teenagers wrapped in bubble wrap - oh yes - my life is not boring. 

 Thursday Morning: My cheek still hurts. I haven't eaten anything solid in the last two days and I'm cranky. Yesterday my thoughts were - this is hilariously disastrous. I mean I could laugh about this. Today my thoughts are I just want to eat. My dear friend Tara brought me ice cream and for that I am so grateful. I thought if there was any week that I needed a little extra encouragement this would be the week. But you can't ask for such things. I started my first class of grad school and found it unusually boring as my professor decided to tell us all about his life in Arizona. But at the end of the day I got to see Chris Larsen, hear him speak and hear the common ground band guys lead worship - that was wonderful. 

 Friday morning : well that's today and I don't know what's in store but I'm still hungry, have lost some weight and am battling crankiness. Pain is still there but I'm hoping next week will be better. 

Back to the Blog - Episode 1

  The thing about blogging is that I never keep up with the actually blog. It's a lot like exercising. I start of motivated and eager to make "this thing" work and for the first two weeks I'm golden. I'm running everyday, or doing some sort of activity and then one tiny insignificant thing happens and in the third week I'm on the couch again going "I really should exercise more often." The same thing happens to me when I blog. I start off good, refreshed and full of ideas to jot down on paper - or in this technological world - to type on the computer but one thing leads to another and I find that I have forgotten my password to even get on the blog. By the way, why does everything need a different username and password. It's like you need a notebook to remember them all and then that defeats the purpose of the security because what if someone steals the notebook? But I digress .... Maybe after months, ok maybe after a year of neglect from my little blog a friend at work suggested I go back to it. My amazing friends who listen to me rant and ramble about everything might actually be applauding this effort because then I can get my words all out in writing instead of talking people's ears off about seemingly minute details no one wants to hear but I feel are so necessary to the story.  So ... my peculiar week as prompted a return to the art of writing for the public, which i will tell you all about in Episode 2.