It’s Just Not Right

Every morning, I drive 30 minutes out into the coon ass country of Louisiana’s Bayou for work in the pitch black darkness that is daylight savings time.

On my long commute I pass a McDonald’s. It has a very large glass room two stories high in the front for a play area.

The only problem is there is nothing in said room. NOTHING. It is just a giant empty glass room.

What the hell McDonalds?

This is what you are supposed to look like, not all empty and depressing

Did something happen and they had to take down the play room and were not able to put it back up?

Were the owners too cheap and just never put it up in the first place?

Perhaps the traffic causing aliens took it to their home planet?

It bothers me to no end. McDonald’s is built on the concept of you get exactly the same nasty ass shit in every store. This is not that. I need my McDonald’s to be reliable damn it.

Sure, Sure I could go in and ask them, but then I would look like a crazy lady. And we can’t have that. Because the opinion of strangers is really the key to all happiness in life.

Well Hello Strangers…..

So sorry my lovely followers. Are there any of you left? I do hope so.

I know it has been months since I posted and I have quite a good excuse. You see, I had to take a second job writing math curriculum to make my bills. And as you can imagine teaching full time and writing part time left little time to sleep let alone write for fun. Do not fear, I am determined to blog twice a month this year, damnit!

The quick and short update for what has happened to NC since September:

1. I have been teaching in the country. As in, I drive past three mobile home dealerships on my way to work each day, country. The most popular boys at my school have mullets. This is now my life. Send help if I start saying I am listening to Toby Keith.


2.  My youngest daughter decided sleeping through the night is totally overrated. Needless to say I think I remember what it feels like to sleep a whole night through. Maybe.


3. My oldest had her tonsils out. If you have not had the joy of this experience, oh you are missing out. It is most certainly the seventh level of hell. If the dr tells you, oh your child should get their tonsils out, curse your life because it will be awful, horrible, and scary.


4. I became a whole new level of crunchy. I have crossed over y’all. There is no turning back. This deserves its own post. Conversations in my house. “You are feeling sick, have you eaten any garlic?” “She got her uterus removed, I bet she wore tampons” “You really need to save your placenta”


5. I stood up for myself at work. Another teacher was not doing their work and I was told my expectations were too high. Not only did I not let them walk over me, I told them right then and there, that their behavior was unacceptable and ridiculous. Anyone else want to try me? Let’s go. I will be here all year. Let me just put down my Toby Keith CD and we can take this out back.






There is a quiet out here that is unerving

Leaving you alone with your thoughts

Can you imagine a scarier place to be?


Even the wind is afraid to speak


In the silence their is also a beautiful calm

One that slows your breath

and softens your gaze

I think the colors are brighter out here

Maybe without the noise

I can finally see clearly

through the chaos

and into the beauty that lies within

To be or not to be… out that is…

In one week I start teaching at a new school. I am going  back to working in public school.

Every year teachers are frantic setting up bulletin boards, prepping lessons, and worrying about whether or not they will get the crazy students this year all in one class.


But not me.


I am distraught over what to tell my students about my wife.

In Louisiana it is legal to fire someone for being gay. Especially if they work with impressionable youth. My school is progressive, they have a gay straight alliance. And the GSA even has a bulletin board on a main hallway in school. But, that is not the same as an adult teaching children it gets better.


I could ask my principal what she wants me to say, but last time I asked that, I was fired.


I could just do my usual and use words like ‘they’ when they students ask about my husband, and simply not correct them. But, when I do that I feel like I am doing the young gay kids in my class an injustice. I am standing there telling them they should have to hide who they are because it might make someone uncomfortable. Which is not right.

I could correct them when they ask about my husband. But, if I do that do I use the word partner or wife? I use the term wife because we are married, and I personally feel partner is a second class separate but equal term. But, in god’s country, people may not take kindly to me using the word wife. Because didn’t you know that using the word wife means you are shoving your ‘lifestyle’ in everyone’s faces?

Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just go to work?

Wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t have to worry that a moral lynch mob was going to come after my job simply because I am married?

Maybe If I were butch, the kids would assume I was gay and not ask me about my husband?

I wish I didn’t work with kids sometimes, but honestly, I am a fantastic teacher. Why should the kids miss out on a great teacher, and why should I have to change careers because a preacher can’t be bothered to read his bible?

Or maybe one day, it won’t matter that I’m gay.



Maybe one day I will convince a school to do an it gets better video?

They can see you

They are in my house waiting for me.


I slowly turn the dead bolt lock and push the door open. Holding my breath in hopes that it will somehow keep the door from squeaking. My eyes slowly criss cross the room looking for any sudden movement.

They hide in different corners of my house every day.

I slowly make my way to the kitchen and jump at the kitchen sink as though an army might come out of the pipes to attack my darkened soul.




I try not to let my foolish excitement overrun me. They are still here. They must be.

I slowly make my way down the hallway. Careful not to make a sound. As I turn the corner, there they are.

Just waiting for me.


Laughing at my utter inability to stop them.


I throw everything I have got at them. To no avail.

And just like that they are gone.

Back into hiding.

Just waiting for my next move.



~my ode to fruit flies~

The Truth Behind Mardi Gras

So you have heard of this thing called Mardi Gras, huh? The wild parties, the drunken tourists, and the parades. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that is not Mardi Gras, that is Bourbon Street in the french quarter any night of the week year round. Ok, well sometimes this is mardi gras, but most parades throughout Louisiana are actually quite different.

This is Mardi Gras:

Real Parades start with old men, you didn't know that?

Real Parades start with old men, you didn’t know that?

It all begins with a couple of old guys walking down the streets with flags. Proudly following the cops on horses and hopefully not stepping in horse crap. If you are lucky they will blow you a kiss.

What could be better than a group of kilted musicians?

What could be better than a group of kilted musicians?

Then, the parade gets really wild. Bagpipes baby. It’s getting hot in here, so lets all wear awesome kilts.

Ghostbusters! That's who. Yes, our parades have the actually ghostbusters.

Ghostbusters! That’s who. Yes, our parades have the actually ghostbusters.

Yes, we have  a group of men that go around town pretended they are the actual ghostbusters. This is something that is really happening. How do I become friends with them?

hello float full of brides..

hello float full of brides..

What could be more southern than parading a group of women who need to be married on a float? You are too old to find a man on your own, well then we will parade you through town and see if we get any takers.

Wait for it, a second group of kilted bagpipers!

Wait for it, a second group of kilted bagpipers!

Oh yeah, it is about to get wild, a second group of bagpipers. Who knew there were so many families that bagpiped together? The family that wears skirts together stays together, right?

Even spider man comes to our parades.

Even spider man comes to our parades.

Throw me somethin’ Mister! No, not white goo that shoots out of your hand, this is a family parade. Throw me some beads and a plastic cup. God knows I need another mardi gras cup. What else would I drink my sweet tea out of? What you thought I was going to say whiskey didn’t you? Tisk Tisk, I save the whiskey for family holidays and I keep it in a flask, naturally.

The calm before the storm.

My brain is a bit cloudy these days and it is leaving me challenged to be creative.  Well that and all I can hear in my mind is the theme song to wonder pets. “Wonder pets, wonder pets, save the day” And of course I hear it in my daughters voice as she chants it around the house. She also sings a nice little song I made up about lightning bugs and how their booties glow. Because there is nothing like a kid singing about bug booties glowing.

The dense fog of winter is settling in and has taken a hold of everything even my mind. But, how can one be expected to think when it is so damn hot in January. And for us in Louisiana so damn wet. The rain is relentless. Literally we are now under a national emergency for the entire state. When it rains for a week straight here, we are in feet and feet of water and it won’t go away. This is why I think there must be tons of people murdered and dumped in the bayou. With all this gator infested water everywhere, nobody will find you. Just don’t go driving around up to no good out in cajun country. You have been warned.

Sure, I could try and come up with something to jump start my mind, but ain’t nobody got time for that. Ok that was awful. Forgive me. Maybe I will just go get my pint of Ben and Jerry’s (that I really shouldn’t have bought since they donated money against the campaign in california to label genetically  modified food) And sit on the couch and watch a documentary about the life of Buddha and enjoy the mellow calm that comes with a clouded mind.

We all know there is always a calm before the storm.


Do you need to spice up your life?

One of the best things about South Louisiana is by in large the food. While I do not enjoy the spicy food, I have actually built up my tolerance from cannot handle ground black pepper to I can handle the spiciest thing you got. This is a big deal for me. Food is spicy here in ways that the rest of the country wishes it were spicy. Most people who are born and raised here are so used to the spice that when they travel they pack spices in their bags to put on the food on their vacations. But, I am now off topic because this post is supposed to be about dessert. Focus NC, focus.

This past week I have been to two of my favorite places in south LA for some amazing treats.

The first is the Frostop.

Don't you just feel yourself going back in time?
Don’t you just feel yourself going back in time?

What makes this place special, aside from the fact that it has a giant root beer float as a sign? I am glad you asked. I dislike root beer and creme soda, yet here I am downing a giant root beer float in minutes. That is hogwarts level magic folks. They make their root beer from scratch. Words cannot describe the simple yet distinct taste of the melted icecream swirling into the heavenly soda. When someone can take a food I do not enjoy and make it something I crave, that my friend is an amazing drink. Hands down best root beer float ever created.

Oh my God, look at it in all its sexy glory.

Oh my God, look at it in all its sexy glory.

The next stop on my dessert train is of course beignets. One cannot live in or visit south LA without eating good beignets on a regular basis. I have heard rumors that in other places people have these things called “donuts” and try and tell themselves that they are good. But, they are lying to themselves. Quite sad really. Going to get beignets is more than the powdered sugar floating in the air and falling softly all over your clothes. It is more than the cafe au lait that goes down so smooth you think you have entered a deal with the coffee devil. It is about the feeling that comes from each and every bite. As if it were your first bite. Every time. Even if you go every sunday and eat a whole plate yourself. Each bite is like the first time. And no donut can compete with those moves. I promise you that.

The calm before the two year old devours half the plate.

The calm before the two year old devours half the plate.

Satisfaction- oh look it is the wife's hand.

Satisfaction- oh look it is the wife’s hand.

hide your kids, hide your wife

So many posts all over the internet about what everyone did in 2012 and what they plan to do in 2013. This is not one of those blogs.

This blog is to discuss what the hell is going on at the house down the street from me.


Here is the scene:

The house has those reflective mirror tint in all of their windows. And to top it off they put it up wrong, so its all wrinkly. They have three of the same style cars, one from each major company. They have a honda fit, a hyundai accent, and the chevrolet sonic. In three different colors. At first they all look so similar I thought they had bought three of the same car. Here is where it gets weird. December 1st they take down the window tint in one window only and put a bunch of nutcrackers up for Christmas. I guess the christmas spirit overwhelmed them.

What are they doing in that house?

My first thought was maybe they are allergic to the sun and that is why they need reflective tint. It would also explain why I have never seen anyone come or go from the house. But why the nutcrackers? Maybe they are magical nutcrackers that protect people from the sun.

Maybe they are secret spies collecting data on my neighborhood, because really all of my neighbors are secret agents in the FBI.

They could just be drug dealers. My neighbor thinks everyone is dealing drugs in the neighborhood. Well, only the people she doesn’t like. Which is why I bake her candies all the time. Not because I deal drugs, but I don’t need her calling the cops on me too. Yep, new hispanic family moved in, so naturally she thinks they deal drugs and called the cops. Poor family didn’t see the racist neighbor coming.

They are the aliens causing all the traffic. Easily could control the traffic with satellites from their home. Or there suspicious cars.

Come on aliens is a legitimate explanation its not like I am running around saying sparkly vampires exist.

Favorite Posts From This Year #4

This post speaks to my thoughts on the south. Even though I think we have a whole lot of crazy up in here from time to time. I still love the south.

Enjoy this post My south

I have been posed the question “Why do you live in the South?” a lot lately. As someone who is gay, married, and raising a family; I can see how people would struggle to see why I would chose the south. It is often considered to be the opposite of who I am.

I have written a handful of posts specifically about living in Louisiana here  that will paint a picture of the south through my eyes.

The quiet silence of a small town

Trying to put into words what the south means to a southerner is difficult to do, so I will start at the beginning.

Being a southerner is like being a part of a secret club that everyone knows about. You have to prove yourself to get invited in, but once you are in you are in for life. Of course unless you do something crazy. In which case, you need to openly ask Jesus for forgiveness and we will let you back in.

The south is the people. Sure you could say it is something about those long hot summers and never ending glasses of sweet tea that do something to you, but down here it is about the people. The whole town may talk about what crazy things you did last saturday night and how they cannot believe you are dating so and so, but if you are sick the whole town shows up with a hot meal. The first words children are taught is please, thank you, and sorry. Yes Ma’am and No sir apply to everyone out of respect. It is not about your age.

And then there is the food. It isn’t simply food. It is bacon cooked in brown sugar, pecans, and cayenne pepper. Food is not something you do to get the best body or help you finish the race. It is a ritual, an event, and a time to catch up with family and friends.

As the suns sets on a warm summer evening with the breeze blowing past you full of memories of times past, and you sink into your porch swing, you can feel the soul of the south wrapping its arms around you whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Listen carefully