Cotton Dresses & Big Hair.

Our trip to the Big Easy is approaching in a few weeks. I'm getting prepared by looking up plenty of New Orleans websites and unearthing my billowiest dresses. The word is that it's going to be HOT. That said, I'm also getting psyched to wear my hair in all its dangerously puffy glory.

It all started when my pal Joy (who grew up in NOLA) told me a few weeks ago at the Greek Festival that naturally curly hair just can't lie down and behave in the sticky Louisiana summers. She told me that I'll need to bring extra-strength hair products, but I assured her I won't need them. I plan to take full advantage of the heat and sport the 'fro of my most rebellious dreams! Bumble & Bumble be damned!!

 http://srewotsjarak.blogspot.com/

Ohhh yeah. 

Literary Constipation

Sometimes, we lovers of words can get a tad...backed up.

Y'all know what I mean. We voraciously borrow library materials, buy novels, surf the blogosphere, visit book sales, attend poetry readings...and end up with a stack of stuff that we're dying to read.

But we can't read it all. There's absolutely no way. Even if I quit all my jobs and spent every day reading, there's no way I could get through the mountains of great literature that I crave.

Stefan and I lament this fact constantly. Last fall, when we got back from the "Giant Book Sale" at the library, we each had a fresh stack of classics.

"Look at this AMAZING early edition of Jane Eyre!" I crowed.

He nodded enthusiastically. We spent the afternoon examining my tiny bookshelf, taking out the stuff I didn't need anymore and replacing them with the day's finds. They're all there now, and I admire them and flip through them when I'm able to.

But before you start thinking I'm just some high-brow snot, I must tell you that I even get backed up with fashion magazines. Right now I'm squelching the urge to buy the new Marie Claire, for example, because I haven't gotten through Vogue yet.

But what I've come to realize is, writers and readers just wanna be surrounded by words at all times. Even if they can't always be read.

My Own Six Feet Under Episode.

Did any of you watch Six Feet Under when it was on HBO several years ago? It's one of my favorite shows ever. For those who didn't, it was about a family who owned, and lived in, a funeral home. Morbid, right? While the show had a tendency to be dark, I learned today that funeral homes can actually be an...amusing experience.

It all started when I made the expedition to Summerville this afternoon for a new part time job I just took, gathering business listings for a community news website. Armed with my list of businesses that I've been assigned, I tackled a street in the downtown area, hoping the experience wouldn't be as tough and awkward as I feared. I was supposed to take pictures and get general information.

My first business to visit was the funeral home. Can it get more strange? I mean, I knew we had to get all the businesses in town--not just the glamorous boutiques and chic restaurants--but a funeral home makes for a pretty odd introduction to any gig.

I got out of my car, pulled out my camera, and started snapping pictures of the business exterior. I shot the sign, the front of the building...and ran out of ideas. I was supposed to get five photos.

Hmm...should I photograph that hearse? That seems...grim, I thought to myself.

As I stood there mulling it over, suddenly the front door opened and a tall, African-American gentleman with a furrowed brow approached me. "Can I help you?" he asked. I must've looked awfully crazy, snapping pictures of a funeral home like the freaking paparazzi.

I gingerly explained to him who I was, (what if he told me to get the heck out, and that I was disturbing the peacefulness of the recent deceased?!) and to my relief, he invited me in.

"I'm supposed to get pictures of the inside too..." I began helplessly.

With that, he whisked open the door of the home's chapel, and told me I could photograph it. I gotta admit it was weird, taking commercial photos of such a solemn place. But as my visit progressed, the man got much friendlier. He told me all about the funeral home's history, the original owners, and all sorts of things. It was actually interesting!

"Do you like cake? If I had known you were coming, I would have baked a cake for you!" he suddenly declared.

I was amazed.

"I love cake!" I replied. "I'll actually be back in Summerville on Wednesday to get more listings! I'd be happy to stop by for a slice of cake!!" We laughed heartily.

So, overall it was a great visit. And while I probably won't actually return for cake (although I'm tempted) it's cool to know that I won this skeptic over with my charm and enthusiasm.

Here's hoping the rest of the job goes just as well!