First Week Back in the Big Easy

I've been back a week. It feels as if I never left only I'm more rested and centered after 2 weeks in Seattle. I haven't jumped back into the harder work of gutting houses and demolding. I've been working on murals for the past week. It's getting cold here at night-below freezing last night. During the day it's not too bad but the wind chill will get you. The area we were working in was like a wind tunnel and we had to wear several layers. But it was fun to paint again and I got some great props for my work. I was given free license to improvise-yeah.
My typical day is like this. 7am the lights and music come on. Now that I've moved my bunk to the very back it's not so shocking. Anyone who signs up for breakfast set up can chose the music we wake up to and I swear it can affect my entire day. I'm either in a real shitty mood because of it or I'm dancing. I crawl out of my bunk-I massage my feet before standing on them-this takes a few minutes. I walk toward the kitchen area where several volunteers are getting cereal-usually super cheap sugar cereal-yuck. We have these super small bowls so the milk and cereal slouches all over the tables and floors. Others are making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Most don't talk or look up-others are nuts. Me-I am looking to see if coffee is made and if it's not I grumble and make it myself, avoiding all communication with others.
Like I said if the music sucks I grumble under my stinky morning breath while making coffee.
As the hour between 7 and 8 progresses the volume increases expedientially. More people are up getting to showers, the restrooms, getting lunch, shouting out for their teams, getting equipment loaded up into the trucks and gathering the water jugs. The aisles between the bunks is crowded as I slither here and there. There are quiet "good mornings" and "excuse me-s" going back and forth. Lots of tired sleepy people trying to move fast. Some of the people just came in the night before and are dazed and confused. They stand in the way and apologize for their existence and while I am empathetic I don't have time to help them out. Then it's work time-either traveling in a van with co-workers to a job site or in my case this week it's getting the painting materials together and a big boom box(most important tool) and we load it up in a wheelbarrow and walk it to the school. Lunch break usually around noon and then the push towards clean up time-usually around 4pm-getting back to eat a huge wonderful meal at 5:30pm. Group meeting at 6pm. The group meeting consists of welcoming new people, crew reports, announcements, stud awards and then goodbyes to all that are leaving. These meetings are getting really old for me-rah rah-kumbaya-yadayadayadaya. Today we had a raffle for tickets to see the Williams sisters play against each other (Serena and Venus Williams-tennis stars for those who aren't tennis fans:)
Then you see people reading, getting ready to go out in groups to whatever-people standing in line for showers-groups of 2 or 3 in bunks talking or watching a downloaded movies together. Girls in the bathroom blowing their hair, talking,putting on makeup. Right now I can hear 5 or 6 conversations going on. It's hard to focus. In general though the sound is happy.
Back to the first week. I had a warm reception when I came back-that felt really good. My bunk was taken so I had to find one of the few left. Most of us went out to Mother-in-Laws Lounge Friday night. So fun. Gambolaya, R&B,dancing.
Sunday on my day off I spent all day walking around the French Quarter. I didn't realize how huge this area was/is. It's big. I love it there and though the wind was cold and I wasn't dressed for it I had a great time. Around 4pm I met up with my new friend, Georgia. We went to a great yarn store, went out to dinner with her friend Jack Fine at this amazing restaurant called ?? Alphonsos? I'll have to check on that. It was Italian-Cajun cuisine. Then we went to the Spotted Cat to hear jazz-then on to another club where they played classic jazz and I met the grand master of Mardi Gras-an older gentleman-he must have been in his late 80s. Had the great suit and gold tipped cane-got up and sang, "Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?"
It was a sweet night and I felt right at home here. It reminds me of SF in some ways but it is unlike any other city I've been to. I know is sounds vague but I don't know exactly why I love it here so much. It's dirty, gritty-has a lot of big problems and a lot of really nice people.