Ever since Katrina, I've felt pulled in two directions. After watching the horrific images of the Superdome and the NOLA Convention Center, I felt convicted. It was clear to me that the main reason most of those people were there was because they had nowhere else to go, no money for a ride out of town, let alone a car, maybe no family other than the ones stranded with them. They had so little already, and now they have nothing. And so, I felt convicted. It is easy for me to point fingers at Mayor Nagin, Governor Blanco, and President Bush, and though I do think they all have a degree of responsibility for that part of the aftermath, I also recognize that change starts with ME.

But what can I do?

We gave money to the Red Cross (I say we, because I am not exactly earning money at the moment). But this will not end poverty. I gave blood. But this has NOTHING to do with poverty. I've prayed, and while I believe God hears and answers prayer, I also believe He calls us to action to be a part of the answer. I believe He has called me to be part of the answer. But this is where I start to feel conflicted.

I am a stay-at-home mom, and I recognize that I am fortunate to have that choice. I enjoy having the chance to watch my kids in their precious early years. My husband is very busy with his work and his own ministry (leading a Chinese Bible study), both of which keep him busy during the daytime as well as a minimum of three evenings a week and sometimes weekends. I get my "mom's night off" every week, and feel it is necessary for my sanity, to have time alone just to chill, think, and, well, BE ALONE. That leaves me little time for volunteer work. I have been an AWANA teacher at our church for the past couple of years, and though I am not an official teacher this year, I still help the current teacher of the age group I taught before. Even if I dropped this (and I really don't want to, as I also feel called to the AWANA ministry), it still would not give me much time to do what I want to do.

What do I want to do? THIS. I have been vaguely aware of the work Habitat for Humanity does for maybe the last five years, and I will confess that at first, I didn't get it. "They just give away new homes to people? Just because they are poor? What gives with that?"

I understand now it doesn't quite work that way. Low-income is part of it, but the family does need to be able to afford a mortgage (though it is a no-interest one). They also must have no debt, must currently be renting, and must participate in the building of the house, as well as homeowner education training. As HFH states, it's a hand up, not a handout.

So I've been hearing how HFH has been building homes for Katrina victims, and I've been watching them build some of these homes in Rockefeller Plaza (temporarily renamed "Humanity Plaza") on the Today show this week. Today on a whim, I looked up the website, and found a couple of partner groups that are near where I live, one in Indianapolis, and another in nearby Morgan County. The Morgan County group has an interesting program, called Women Build, in which women are trained in construction and participate in the building of houses with little or no help from men. I have no experience in construction, none, and this program sounds exciting and empowering. But participating in the actual building takes time that I am not sure I have right now, with two little ones (including an under-one-year-old who is still nursing). The Indy program had an interesting volunteer opportunity: data entry. To most people, I know that sounds like drudgery. But anyone who knows me knows that data entry, especially highly detailed data entry, is downright FUN for me. I can't explain it. It just is. So I'm salivating at the thought of being able to volunteer to do just that.

But time is still an issue. It wouldn't take more than 2-4 hours a week...but when? I could leave Aislinn for that amount of time, but with whom? Leo's schedule, while variable, is not what I'd call truly flexible. More often I am the one who has to flex to accomodate it.

I feel very strongly about this. Participating in Habitat would give me a chance not only to help those in poverty, but to work WITH them, among them. Although I know giving money is an important part of helping organizations like this, it seems too sterile to me sometimes, too easy. Sometimes I think people give money to avoid feeling guilty about not doing anything else. I have probably done that myself. So I want to do something different. Something tangible, something where I can see the results, can know I have really made a difference.

I guess I just have to keep praying that God will show me exactly how this will work out, because I believe when God calls me to do something, He will work out the details. I've seen Him do it before. So it will be exciting to see how He does it this time :)

Mid-Autumn Festival

We celebrate by gorging ourselves on moon cakes, both the commercial and the homemade (though not by us) varieties.



The homemade ones, on the left (of which we had another entire take-out box full of) contain such drool-worthy fillings as pork, black sesame paste, red bean paste, coconut, and five-nut paste. The ones on the right are lotus seed and red bean paste, and also contain the yolk of a salty duck egg. Don't let the usage of the word "paste" or the surprise of a baked salty duck egg yolk throw you off. These are a special treat that we usually get just once a year (unless we drive up to Chicago and hope a Chinatown bakery has a few on hand). My favorite has traditionally been the red bean paste with egg yolk (double yolk if we're feeling extravagent), but the homemade coconut ones blew me away this year.

If you ever manage to get your hands on one, have them with a cup of coffee (or green tea, if you want to be authentic, says Leo). The sweet ones are soooooo rich they will knock your socks off. The salty duck egg makes it even richer (you know, the salty sweet thing).

As we say around here, zhong qui jie kuai le! (Happy Mid-Autumn Festival!)

I am going to shave that daggone cat bald

Just the black one.

Before (9:03 a.m.):


Close-up of before with board book shown for scale (9:04 a.m.):


After sweeping with the Bissel(9:08 a.m.):


After-after (5:17 p.m.):


And while I'm at it, I'm going to declaw the gray one in back too (her front is already done) because she is the one that digs these chunks out of him when they fight.

(No, I'm not really going to declaw her back feet, hold your flames...no promises about shaving Linus though!)

Stuff Portrait Friday: Kitchen, Handwriting, and Randomness

(As always, SPF is brought to you by Random and Odd.)



My kitchen is tiny. It's not quite as small as this; this is maybe a third of my kitchen area. But the other two thirds are taken up by the laundry area and the entry, so this is virtually the only part of my kitchen that I use for normal kitchen activities. When we moved in, I knew the kitchen was small, but it had no appliances when I first saw it. It was hard to picture it with the stove, fridge, and dishwasher (that's the big white box on the left, with the microwave on top. It is a "portable" dishwasher that theoretically can be moved over to the sink to run, but I was having none of that and had plumbing installed so I would not have to. Why didn't I just install it under the counter? Because the kitchen, it's SMALL, I'm telling you? There is just no room.)



My handwriting, as seen on my current shopping list. My handwriting is one thing that has improved with age, though it may not appear so here.



Something Random: This is Lucy, thinking she can get away with napping on Audrey's "sick couch" while Audrey takes a real nap in her own bed. But a good look at Lucy's ears will tell you she knows I'm there, and that she's so busted.

Perfect timing, George

8:03 p.m. I was all geared up to watch Survivor, but NOOOOOOOOOOOO...you waited two whole weeks to make this all-important speech, and had to do it tonight. Thanks, George. That's fine. I'll enjoy this "live" blogging.

8:04 p.m. You should be an actor. Why didn't you show this much sympathy and concern two weeks ago? Oh, that's right...because you didn't feel sympathy and concern. I'm curious to see if you'll offer anything that sounds like an apology.

8:06 "Trade is starting to return to the port of New Orleans", and you say oil is returning. What you're most concerned about, early on.

"Our first concern is meeting the immediate needs" of those who had to leave their homes...??? Oh really? Sure didn't seem that way a couple of weeks ago.

"Contact FEMA or the Red Cross" if you need help. Um, George, what about the people who don't have their phones back yet? And what of those who don't even have electricity or working TVs to hear this?

8:14 I want to believe these promises of more attention to poverty, offering hope for the poor and disadvantaged evacuees to have a life even better than they had before they left. How can I trust you? How can we? You've disappointed me so much this time, I don't know if it's possible.

8:21 "I as President am responsible for the problem. And the solution." Not bad. I sincerely mean that. Could have been closer to an actual apology, but not bad.

But it may be too little, too late.

And forgive me for being shallow, but Survivor had better start from the beginning, and not in the middle.

Back to school

Yesterday must have been a fluke (or stomach FLU, more likely). After her afternoon nap, Audrey seemed back to normal, no more fever, and was back in school today. I'm still going to watch for more spots for a few days, but I think we may be out of the woods.

What I saw

A few weeks ago, I met Lisa (I've changed her name) at a La Leche League meeting that I got to by chance, just because I happened to be at the library the night of the meeting. I used to go all the time, but stopped after Audrey weaned, and haven't needed as much support this time around with Aislinn. But I stopped in to see some old friends and maybe make some new. Lisa is in her early 20s, and her daughter Sara (also not her real name) is 13 months old...but the size of a three-month-old, and somewhat developmentally delayed. I learned that Sara had been premature, the only one of a set of twins that survived, and that Lisa was a single mom.

The next week at church, I was surprised but pleased to see Lisa again. During her pregnancy, she had sought help from the local crisis pregnancy center, which is largely supported by our church, and had been invited, I assumed, by the center's director, who is a member. We chatted a bit, and over the next few weeks I made a point of seeking her out. She seemed to need a friend, and she had lots of questions about breastfeeding, which I was happy to answer and shared some of my own struggles and experiences. Last week, we both participated in the Walk for Life, an event that raises money for the crisis pregnancy center. She shared some more of her struggles...trying to go to school, hold a job, and take care of Sara, as well as dealing with some of Sara's continuing health issues, was draining her physically, mentally, and emotionally. She confided that she had tried to get into counseling because she had been afraid of some of her responses to Sara, afraid that she would hurt her, but the low cost counseling center in our town did not have any hours that worked for her schedule. She also told me she was going to start going to a special program called Choices, a program for single moms that helps them by providing childcare while they work and/or go to school, provides mentor moms, and offers training in such areas as budgeting, parenting skills, etc. This all sounded good, though I encouraged her to keep seeking counseling that would fit in her schedule.

One other thing I had learned through the grapevine at church: Lisa had planned to give Sara up for adoption at birth. When Sara was born so early with such serious health problems, the adoptive parents backed out, and Lisa decided to keep her.

Tuesday evening, I was at church to meet with someone and pass off some AWANA materials. I met my friend in the nursery so my kids would have something to do to keep them out of our hair. Ironically, the Choices program was meeting that night, at our church as they always do, and the director of that program, Kate, came into the nursery and introduced herself to me, and checked to make sure we would be done in the nursery by the time the moms would need to drop their kids off there. My friend and I talked AWANA for about an hour, and then Lisa came in with Sara. We were almost done, so I greeted Lisa, who was excited to tell us that Sara had taken her first steps that day, which was very exciting since Sara is delayed in some of her motor skills. Lisa stood Sara up and said "Show them, Sara! Show them what you did today!" Sara grinned, giggled, and dropped to her knees. Lisa tried again. No dice. I told her not to worry about it, that lots of kids don't like to "perform" this way.

Lisa tried one more time, and when Sara dropped down to her hands and knees again, she scooped her up, spanked her on the bottom, and swooped her over to another part of the room, and said "I hate you!"

At first, I thought the spank was playful and the "I hate you", however inappropriate, was meant to be a joke. But Lisa repeated, "I hate you, I hate you! Stupid baby!" Then she walked to the adjoining room in the nursery, slammed the bottom half of the Dutch door, and glared at Sara.

My friend and I looked at each other awkwardly. I was numb, could not believe what I had just seen and heard. We finished up our conversation, and I gathered up Audrey and Aislinn to take them home.

As I walked by the sanctuary and fellowship hall, where the other moms, babies, and program leaders were having dinner. My mind still reeling, I saw Kate, remembered how kind she had seemed in our earlier conversation, and veered into the room, not even thinking to tell Audrey where I was going. I asked Kate if I could speak to her, and at the back of the room, I confided what had happened. I explained that Lisa was my friend, that I knew of her situation and that she was struggling, and I had not known what to do. I don't remember what Kate said. I was still in shock, I think. I do know that she was reassuring, said I had done the right thing to tell her. I also think she may have said she would have to report it. I don't know if she was going to talk to Lisa, but that is what I was hoping she would do. I left the sanctuary to find Audrey frantically, almost hysterically, looking for me, afraid I had left without her. I scooped her up and hugged her until she could hardly breathe.

I haven't seen Lisa since then. I had been afraid she would call me, yet somehow hoping she would. I don't know if Kate would have told her how she learned of what happened, but it would not be hard to figure out. I don't even care so much if Lisa is upset with me, except that I felt that we had been forging something of a friendship. I thought Lisa had seen me as a role model. Why didn't I just talk to her myself, ask her if there was something else going on that day that she needed to talk about? I could have told her that we all have bad days, and that even I have had terrible moments when I was afraid I would hurt one of my children. I could have once again urged her to get counseling. What if Kate didn't confront her in the kind but firm way I imagined she would? What if she reports Lisa to child protective services, and Sara is taken away from her? I'm not in favor of children staying in abusive homes, but her situation is unique: Sara is not eating solids very well, is allergic to dairy, and refuses soy formula. She still gets most of her nutrition from breastfeeding. If Sara is taken away from her mother, her health problems could quickly become worse.

I do not want to excuse Lisa's behavior, and I'm very worried about Sara, but I also have great sympathy for Lisa and the stress she's going through. She may well feel guilty for having considered giving Sara up for adoption. She may sometimes still wish she had given her up for adoption. I do know, from other conversations we've had, that she loves Sara very much. She told me once how one day she could not find Sara in the house and frantically looked all over for her until she found her under the sofa. She said she did not put her down the rest of the day, and even took her to bed with her.

I am a little afraid of seeing Lisa at church on Sunday, but I'm even more afraid of not seeing her, and what that might mean. I know she needs help, and though I do think I had no choice but to tell Kate what had happened, I wish I had talked to Lisa first.

Sick kid (again)

And it's the same one. Audrey woke up this morning complaining of a sore throat and tummy ache. I was reluctant to keep her home, especially since she didn't have a fever. She just missed a whole week, and I did not want her to get in the habit of thinking, "oh, my nose is running, I can stay home."

When she started throwing up about 20 minutes before it was time to leave for school, I told her I was sorry for not believing her. She's napping on the couch right now. The kicker is...today is the day we had rescheduled her shots for the umpteenth time. The receptionist at the doctor's office just laughed when I told her. I'm more worried about the school nurse, who has been after us to get these shots taken care of. Plus, I mean...it's not even a quarter of the way through the year, and she's already missed six days, counting today. Poor baby.

I'm also worrying that, since her chickenpox was such a light case, that she might be coming down with that again. The symptoms she has can be an early sign of impending pox. Ugh. I thought we'd gotten off easy, but maybe not.

I'm kind of bummed out today, not just because of this, but because of something scary and sad I witnessed last night. I've got the baby on my lap right now, so I am going to have to cut this short, but I'm going to need to blog about it because I'm so uncertain about the wisdom of my response (both what I did and did not do). Anyway...I'll have to save that for later.

Tell me how special I am (again!)

Blove you, mrtl!

An interlude

Part I: Giving blood

I meant to give blood earlier, but after Leo did and was told the blood collected at the Indiana Blood Center (the nearest place for us to donate blood) would not go down to the hurricane victims, I made an appointment at the nearest Red Cross office. Turned out they weren't sending blood down there either; I guess it's not needed so desperately (which is a good thing).

I went ahead and went through with it, though. And when I say "went through with it", that is exactly what I mean. First, you need to understand that I am a HUGE baby when it comes to needles. It's not so much the sight of blood that I hate; it's just the thought of this needle, this foreign object UNDER MY SKIN that makes me absolutely nauseated (I did throw up after a shot once as a child). For years I was glad that I weighed under 110 pounds, not just for the obvious reasons, but because it gave me an excuse. "I can't give blood because I don't weigh enough." Then finally I did weigh enough, but I was still chicken.

After Audrey was born, at home with no medication, I finally realized that if I could get through childbirth without medication or an epidural, I certainly should be grown up enough to handle a needle in my arm (never mind that one of the pluses of a homebirth for me was NO NEEDLES, not even an IV).

So I finally did give blood, and have several times, though I occasionally have problems with them not being able to find a vein. Sometimes I haven't had enough to drink, and I also just have tricky veins. They are nonexistent in my right arm; I have no idea how the blood passes through over there. The left arm has them, but they are very deep and require much poking and prodding to find them. Once, I had been hooked up for nearly half an hour, which is already running long, and the gal kept checking my bag, adjusting the tubing, and clucking that it was running very slowly. She warned me that if it slowed down too much, she would have to stop the process because it could make my vein collapse (I think that's what she said; it sounded pretty horrible anyway). Well, that is indeed what happened. The blood flow stopped before enough was collected, which meant that donation was virtually useless. All that discomfort for nothing! This, again, I was told, was probably due to not drinking enough water. I am, admittedly, not the most hydrated person in the world.

Back to yesterday. I got there, filled out all my forms, got through the interview, got the fingerstick to test my iron...all good (though that fingerstick hurts as much as anything else, bleagh!). I hopped up on the chair, and a volunteer brought me a bottle of water to drink while blood was being drawn. Good...I was NOT going to be dehydrated this time! The gal assigned to me started to clean my arm, and that is my cue to look away. Just look away, think about something else, anything at all but that freakin' sliver of metal being imbedded in my flesh. I warn her that I have tricky veins as she desperately hunts for a good place to stick the needle.

I feel a stick, wince, and then relax. The hard part is over...I thought. Then my gal says "Clarice....Clarice!" Clarice, another needle sticker, the supervisor I think, looks over from cleaning off some counters. "I need some help over here."

Ooooooooh...oh nooooooooooo....that's sort of the same as hearing a surgeon say "oops". I think I actually started moaning, even though I couldn't feel anything wrong yet. I just knew the needle was going to break off in my arm and I was going to have to have minor surgery to get it removed. I still have no idea exactly what the problem was, but Clarice came over and fiddled with the needle for a minute or two (OHHHHHHHHHHHH! No, don't move it around, I can feel that!!!!). At one point it became actually a little painful, but when I started saying I was feeling nauseated, Clarice flipped up the end of the seat so my feet were above my head and switched my water for some cherry Powerade. I don't know exactly why that is supposed to help nausea brought on my personal mind games, but I am now in love with cherry Powerade.

At the end, they filled a few smaller vials, I think for some new testing they are doing, and had some trouble with some of those. Of course. Icky feeling returned, but the volunteer lady brought me some more of that wonderful cherry Powerade...ahhh...OK. I am still alive. I felt like the biggest baby they've ever had walk through their door, but I've survived, once again. And I came home with a couple of souvenirs, which I'd like to share with you.


The bruise left by Nurse Ratchett. Not the biggest bruise I've ever had, but probably the ugliest. Note how far away it is from the needle hole. I have no idea why; I did not want to ask lest the answer bring me closer to puking my guts out.


The hip armband I got to make me feel better.

I also got a cool sticker to wear that says "Be nice to me: I gave blood today."

Part II: I am making my daughters in to shoe whores

It started out so innocently. Audrey was probably 18 months, and I realized that she had black patent leather for church, tennis shoes for play...but what would go with her cute little khaki pants? And I found an adorable pair of brown suede Mary Janes (at a consignment store, so I could justify them!) that solved that problem.

As she grew older, the problem also grew. What about her black stretch pants? And oh my gosh, THAT adorable pair of Mary Kate and Ashley sneakers is just TOO adorable for me not to buy for her, never mind that she already has a pair of perfectly good tennis shoes sitting at home, and these will go with one, maybe two outfits.

How many pairs of shoes does one child need (even if she is a GIRL child)?

I'm ashamed to show this next picture:



The answer, apparently, is eight.

I can explain.

The white sandals in front were her church shoes from this summer. So she won't even be wearing those for very much longer, right? The black boots in back and the black and pink clogs in front are hand-me-downs, so I didn't pay a THING for them. The black boots in front were bought to go with her black boot cut leggings (and I am trying not to giggle as I write that...yes, boot cut pants for a five-year-old, and she is ADORABLE in them), and I had forgotten about the other black hand-me-down boots when I bought them. These go better anyway (though she has complained that they give her blisters. Too bad; she'll soon learn it's a small price we pay for the glory of SHOES). The tennis shoes in back are, well, her tennis shoes, which, along with the black Mary Janes next to them, are probably the ONLY justifiable shoes I've bought her. The tan slip-ons in front are to go with her khakis and cords, and also with jeans when tennis shoes won't do. And the pink high tops in back? Those are my favorites. They were absolutely an indulgence (though at $8 from Walmart, who cares?), inspired by one of the characters in her Junie B. Jones book. They are my favorites of all of her shoes, reminding me of the Chuck Taylor high tops I wore in high school.

Want a better look? I thought so:



These do not even include the two (yes, two) pairs of summer play sandals she is still wearing while it's still nice enough (well, I bet YOU have a pair of white and a pair of brown sandals...don't you?)

And don't think the baby has escaped this either (and she's not even walking yet):



The two pairs in front are hand-me-downs as well; they were Audrey's five years ago. Which is absolutely unbelievable to me.

Betrayed

I've still been watching the coverage of Katrina's aftermath, what there is of it on the networks. Once again I'm glad and yet not that we don't have cable. I have been following online as well.

In the comments of my last post, mrtl asked me if I had seen this timeline. I had not. I was shocked when I read it, seeing just how early it should have been clear that there was a huge, huge disaster brewing. Governor Blanco is off of my list now. Well before Katrina's Louisiana landfall, on Friday and Saturday, she did what she needed to do to get federal help for her state. Mayor Nagin is not quite so high on my list anymore, as food apparently was provided for people in the Superdome, though only a three-day supply for 15,000 people (and 30,000 took refuge there). And it's still not clear to me why sufficient police/National Guard/whatever law enforcement was available was not sent there as well. There is no reason such horrors should have taken place there. And I am still unsure why these poor people weren't bused out of the city (I keep reading and hearing about hundreds of school buses that are now sitting in water).

I don't know what to say about the President. I feel completely betrayed. I could go into all kinds of reasons why I trusted him, naive as that may sound to some, but whatever...that trust is gone now. I don't really want to get any more political than I have already here, and I do think the first thing that needs to be done is to continue the aid to the victims. But there will be a time that accountability will come. And all I keep thinking is: if a president can be impeached over lying under oath about an affair, what can happen if a president and his administration can be shown to be responsible for what will almost certainly be thousands of deaths?

(And don't think I haven't heard about Barbara Bush's now-famous tactless comments. What was she THINKING??)

Campbell Brown is my hero

I'm sitting here watching NBC, listening to her grill New Orleans mayor Nagin over why he did not make better plans for the refugees in the Superdome. She's the only one so far that I've heard call for accountability where it should have started.

While I'm glad the refugees have been rescued from the two "shelters" in New Orleans, I'm disturbed that coverage has slowed. Yesterday afternoon, instead of covering the exodus, the 40,000 people who remain in the city, or the people in Mississippi and other places that still need relief, all I saw was NASCAR and the U.S. Open. What is this? Oh...right. It's Labor Day weekend. The huge moneymaking programs have to go on.

Forgive me if I sound cynical. It's hard not to when I look at what's going on.

Oh, now Texas is too small

Texas is now officially not allowed to make any more jokes about her size. Not since Texas Governor Rick Perry warned today that "his enormous state was running out of room, with more than 220,000 hurricane refugees camped out there and more coming."

Um. Sorry. But no. Not that other states should not do their share (and YAY Indiana! for taking many of the refugees). But I THINK all y'all in Texas have enough room to help all the people who are sent there.

At least the Superdome and convention center are finally evacuated. But so many died there who did not need to, who thought they were going where there was help and safety awaiting them.

I hope the media interest does not die down just because the people are now evacuated. There needs to be a stink so that those "responsible" (or who should have been) will be held accountable, and to ensure that something like this does not happen again, EVER.

And it does not end (Updated)

With relief finally on the way, the discrimination continues. MSNBC reports:

At one point Friday, the evacuation was interrupted briefly when school buses rolled up so some 700 guests and employees from the Hyatt Hotel could move to the head of the evacuation line — much to the amazement of those who had been crammed in the stinking Superdome since last Sunday.

Meanwhile, the remainder of the refugees in the Superdome are stuck there, as the evacuation from there was halted, with no explanation given. (Update: MSNBC now reports that the buses were diverted to the convention center, where officials said people had been waiting longer. The evacuation from the Superdome has resumed. I'm wondering why they can't send some buses to both places at the same time?)

The story goes on to say that the Mayor had been using the hotel as headquarters, and gave the hotel priority to be cleared to make room for police and firefighters. Sounds reasonable, but why should these people get to LEAVE sooner? Are they too good to be sent out into the hordes? It's not hard to guess what race and economic class the majority of the Hyatt guests belong to.

I take it back. The Mayor doesn't need to use the hotel as headquarters. He can go use the Superdome as soon as he empties IT out.

This is really starting to remind me of the Titanic.

I have a lot to say

I rarely get political here. I just don't like to invite debate. But today, I'm mad, and while I don't want to politicize the disaster, someone (or, more than likely, multiple someones) will need to be held accountable. And it's not about Republican or Democrat, but the accountability should fall on both sides. I feel angry and helpless, so I'm venting here. I've been reading and chatting on Fark.com tonight, so I'm in a cynical mood, and I've been foolishly bingeing on cookie dough because I AM FEELING STRESSED.

Before I start, let me make it clear that I'm an increasingly disillusioned Republican. I voted for Bush twice, though both times somewhat reluctantly. I think he's generally a likeable guy. I even more or less support the idea that it's not a horrible idea that we are in Iraq. I say all this in advance so you understand where I'm coming from.

I have so many questions. Who made the decision to bus people to the Superdome? (Mayor Nagin, was it you?) Why didn't that person also dispatch sufficient National Guard and Red Cross to the Superdome in anticipation of these people needing someone to watch over them, keep them safe, give them some food and water, hold their hands and reassure them it would be OK? Was it because the National Guard and the Red Cross would then be stuck in the storm? If so, why then was it a good idea to allow innocent civilians to stick around? Why weren't they all bused out of town? Isn't a hurricane the type of disaster that actually has the most advance warning?

After the hurricane passed, why weren't food, water, and medical supplies immediately dispatched to the throngs still left in New Orleans? Does it really take FOUR DAYS to get relief in? If TV crews were able to get in, why couldn't relief? I understand there was a bit of shooting at one helicopter, but were the troops so poorly trained that their best reaction was to turn tail and run? Surely they are trained in ways to deal with such things? The reporters I've been watching on NBC all claim they have seen no further evidence of violence, yet Lt. Gen. Honore had to repeatedly tell troops to point their weapons down, not up, reminding them that "this is not Iraq." Why is that? Governor Blanco, do you have anything to say?

(My conjecture...I'm wondering if the shooting, which I do believe really happened, got blown out of proportion and exaggerated and "someone" in charge decided they were going to be mobbed. And yes, I will confess that I do believe race is a factor here, not the primary factor, but it's in there.)

President Bush...don't worry, Bushie, I'm not going to blame you for all of the above, or really any of the above. I certainly won't stoop to blaming you for the hurricane, though some will certainly find a way to, blaming it on global warning, that you as a Republican and an oil man must be responsible for. No. I'm not going to do that.

But I am going to ask you this: why is it that, before you met with the Southern governors, you said the results were "unacceptable", but when you met with them face-to-face, you shook their hands, patted them on the backs, and told them they were doing a good job? So, who is responsible for the "unacceptable" part? What kind of double-talk is it to say "I"m satisfied with the response. I am not satisfied with the results"?

(I don't mean to invite debate here. Because of my bipartisan dissatisfaction, probably everyone can find something to agree with and something to disagree with. Feel free to leave comments, but please, please, I so rarely get political here, don't start a debate in my virgin comments ;) If it does start to get bad, I reserve the right to turn 'em all off, for this post, at least. I don't want negative energy on my blog.)

George Bush doesn't care about black people

No, I don't believe that, I'm just quoting Kanye West, who blurted this out a few minutes ago in the concert for the hurricane victims on NBC, right before they cut to Chris Tucker. If it wasn't such an idiotic thing to say at a Red Cross fundraiser, it would be funny, it's so ridiculous. What truly was funny was Mike Meyer's stunned facial reaction to the comment. Priceless. I couldn't help laughing out loud. Probably the first time I've laughed in a couple of days.

Helplessness (Updated)

The pictures of the children, the babies, are killing me. We've already given money, I'm going to give blood tomorrow, but it doesn't feel like enough. I want to offer our house for people to stay in, but I don't even know who to ask if this is even a possibility. I feel so helpless. (UPDATE: Someone on another board posted this link: http://www.hurricanehousing.org If you are interested in offering housing to displaced families, check it out.)

It's frustrating watching dehydrated, hungry people beg for help, and there seems to be no one in charge. Why wasn't the Red Cross sent in as soon as people started arriving at the Superdome and Convention Center? Where is the National Guard? I've heard reports of shooting, but are these troops so green that they really don't know how to deal with that? I have not heard word one from the governor of Louisiana, nor the mayor of New Orleans. I sense that someone will be held accountable (and I certainly hope so), but no one is stepping forward to take responsibility.

The networks are pretty much following a normal daily program. It's a good thing we don't have cable, because I would have it on all day. My kids don't need to be seeing that all the time (let alone myself).

Devastation and Humanity

(Photos courtesy of Lotus Lynn and PBMaxx via flikr.com)

Because I haven't been watching a lot of TV in the past few days, I wasn't aware of just how horrible the aftermath of Katrina has been. Then I started noticing the shock of other bloggers and got on some news sites, and now I'm stunned. I've seen and heard of the damage done by hurricanes in the past, but phrases like "80 percent of New Orleans underwater" and "no working toilets in the Superdome, where thousands of refugees are staying" boggle the mind.

This is definitely the worst disaster since 9/11, and it feels like the second worst in my lifetime...maybe worse, in some ways, because I'm wondering if the casualties might be even more. The horror feels the same.

God have mercy on the people of Louisiana and Mississippi.