I ate so much this weekend in San Farancisco and Central California! Cupcake at Cako bakery on O’farrel Street. Drinks at my hotel The Prescott (raspberry drop). Breakfast at Emporio Rulli Union Square. Pain Perdu in Stockton at Midtown Creperie cafe (good bread but plastic, individual syrups?). Yum.
Also, detox needed.
A few weeks ago, I was pretty bummed to find out from a co-worker that if my kid doesn’t get in to the school I work for, she also can’t get free tuition at the tuition exchange schools. I mentioned I needed a plan B. Being someone who can’t wallow too long, I have cam up with my plan B. The teenager is not fully on board with plan B, because she still wants to go to this school, which is like 39k a year (not counting housing). But I am glad we have a plan B. Even if it means going to a school like this, which is like $4k a year for out of state residents.
I am just saving money. Which means I have to give up Starbucks. Again. But I just did it to pay taxes. I also re-allocated some retirement money to free up a little more a month for savings. But I am on it. People, start planning your kid’s college education now. I am totally serious.
So what did I do:
I used this tool from B of A to determine how much to save. It’s handy. Saving Plan Spreadsheet
And then I looked at my money and figured how to do it. What would I cut, how would I rearrange my money. I have 2 retirements, 1 is a Roth IRA and the other is my 401k thing (403B, whatever it is). The Roth IRA, I decided to stop adding to, because it’s after taxes. And I need help now, so I am adding some of it to the 403B and using the rest for savings. Also, no big vacation this year. No Starbucks (as soon as my birthday gift cards are used up). Eat at home. No Hollywood Bowl. Stuff like that.
To find a school we used college board, which is what the SAT and PSATs are managed through. You can make a profile of what college you are looking for by major and cost, and search for them. I found 6 schools in the budget I made for the teenager and said, pick three to apply for. This way she can still apply to two of the expensive schools she wants (and for scholarships) but also have a back up.
So parents. This college stuff is hard. And stressful. For us and for the kids. But we have to use the resources we have. And sometimes make plan Bs. And I still believe that anything is possible and that you can DO ANYTHING. And I will keep telling my kids that.
I’ve gotten kind of used to traveling alone. It can be a little scary to go out of the hotel, alone, and walk the streets in a place you’ve never been. Especially because I look at everything. And take a lot of pictures. And I am pretty sure I have tourist written on my face. But I do a few things to help keep myself safe. First, I wear a particular purse with a long strap that can hold my camera (I have learned that camera bags are a pain in the ass) and I can wear it diagonally across my body. No snatching my fancy camera or wallet. I also use the hospital room safe for things I don’t want to carry or lose. Like my zoom lens, if I don’t feel like bringing it. I study maps before I go to get acquainted with the area I’ll be walking. I never like to walk down the street studying a map. I like to walk like I know exactly where I am going. I figure people who look like their not familiar with the area or not paying attention to their surroundings are the ones who are more likely to get mugged. I read about the area where I can, in terms of safety. I also ask the concierge. They always err on the side of caution because it’s in their interest to keep you happy and safe.
The French Quarter was blocks from the Double Tree, so I checked my map, got oriented to directions and checked with the Concierge, Seth. Seth was soooooo friendly and helpful in a real genuine way. Not like a stiff hotel employee type. He didn’t suggest restaurants, he insisted you try his favorites and then would tell not to forget to try the oyster appetizer. He was very specific in his recommendations. Get drinks there but eat over here. Leave before 10 and head over here for jazz.
I headed out down Canal Street, taking every moment in. It was Thursday, the Thursday before jazz fest. Not crowded yet but definitely humid. Every day, I got dressed in the air-conditioned hotel room, walked downstairs and then headed back up to my room to change. The humidity definitely makes you want to wear a lot less clothing.
I had an amazing afternoon, sampling sweet things from Southern Candymakers and Cafe Du Monde. The turtle pralines were so good. I walked around Jackson square. I met a couple celebrating the wedding anniversary, and they asked me to photograph them in front og St. Louis Cathedral, where they had been married 50 years ago. I looked at the statue of Andrew Jackson, the hero of the Battle of New Orleans. I watched couples sitting under the massive live oak trees and thought of how Walt Whitman may have seen the area. I listened to the music from block to block by various street performers, much better than most music you would find along a southern California beach. I picked up souvenirs along the way, mostly avoiding souvenir shops. I got my husband a mug from Cafe Du Monde. At the cafe, the girl who took my order called me ma’am, which usually makes me feel old, but had a charm to it with her Louisiana accent. I ate my beignets and listened to a man sing Amazing Grace.
It was the best part of my trip.
The two fourteen year old girls walked down the street towards the Seven Eleven. Light brown hair pulled back in pony tails and long, slender figures that had just become ripened into a physical maturity that tricked others and themselves. Like the colorful fruit hanging from the tree begging to be picked, but if picked too soon has an off taste to it and will soon be discarded.
The girls did this often, meandering along the worn, dirt path that was missing a sidewalk while cars sped by. Occasionally, a small bit of sidewalk cropped up, in front of an apartment complex, and then vanished again. The girls walked close together, each pressing a single earphone to one ear from a shared Walkman blasting music. Out of habit, one of the girls glanced at the stain on a small section of sidewalk. It was from the blood of little boy after being hit by a car. It was no longer red, or even rust colored, but a slight gray-brown stain that might not be noticed. Things had a way of leaving marks on this place and its people. Marks that could sometimes fade after time, but could be found by those who knew where to look.
Fourteen felt old to the girls. Not the kind of old that adults feel, weary and tired of life and its burdens, but a feeling of new-found independence. A sense of adventure and possibility while exploring the world their parents had previously let them see only under supervision. They walked through a poverty that they had lived with their whole lives suddenly believing in the possibility of change. They repeated the words of the songs in their ears, songs about sex, and they believed they understood. That belief made them feel special despite the fact that understanding and experiencing were very different.
At Seven Eleven, the bought their usual fair, Charleston Chews, gum, or slurpees. They paid with what little cash they had and returned to conversations about boys and other girls that they detested out of an unspoken jealousy. They laughed at their inside jokes. They felt the eyes of men as they walked in denim skirts and it made them feel many things. Powerful, desired, attractive, important, visible.
Outside of the Seven Eleven was a bus stop where two very tall girls stood. They were obviously older, in high school, with a strong athletic build. Their legs were muscular and their jaws were hardened by some internal pain. They saw our young fruit walking, full of self-importance and flaunting themselves, and felt a desire to squash what they saw. Who knows what kids of emotion lingered in the minds of these girls, but they saw the long legs and oblivious smiles and wanted to hurt them. Consult your psychology books for causes of violence. There are more than one.
Fear is a gripping, twisting, nauseating feeling. And our two girls knew it. They felt it, when they were stopped by the challengers. They felt it when the confrontation moved closer to them and the could feel the other girls’ physical presence in a way that made them feel small and weak. They couldn’t think. They felt paralyzed by the feeling in their legs, their gut and their mind. And the challengers knew it.
The two girls walked home with bruises and cuts. Their supple legs now marked up with scrapes from the sidewalk. Their faces stunned and their voices silent. The dirt path home had changed. There was no adventure, only bushes for people to hide behind with narrow parts too close to the cars that passed by. Others that passed by appeared suspicious and the girls walked quickly but said nothing.They only wanted to get home and to get off of the street. They world had changed so suddenly.
But the blood stain was still on the sidewalk.
Half way through my sixth class in school and I am seriously over it. I still have four classes to go. Just getting it done. When I was in New Orleans, I read a book for fun. I picked it up at the Houston airport. It was a quick and easy read but my brain wanted to be full of stories, not just nursing, cancer, and to do lists. I think creativity is like a muscle, you need to use it regularly. I’ve been having a lack of that lately and haven’t gone to a lot of writing club things. I don’t have any new work to share, so I stay home. The other day I daydreamed about getting back into my English classes, reading books, and writing essays about them instead of nursing research. I bet there aren’t that many people who day dream about essays on Balzac.
I wanna fast forward school.
Work is busier than ever. Everyone had some project they want me to work on. I leave early and come home late. Last Sunday I went in to work for 2 hours. Sunday. That was mother’s day, in case you forgot. I’d rather be with my kids. The school year is almost over, which means summer, followed by one freshman and one senior in high school. What? That can’t be right…
I’d like to slow that down.
So I guess what I really need is to focus on being right here. Right now. Like Van Halen or something.
No, I am not going to talk about poop, infectious wounds or anything gross. Instead this is a little bit of my week. Which sucked.
It started on Friday, while I was in new Orleans. The hospital laid off 44 people. People I worked with. You’ve probably been through this. Since 2008, things haven’t been awesome economically obviously. But in healthcare things have been alright. Because people still get sick. And healthcare is still growing.
However, the recession did cause one thing to happen, new nurses can’t find jobs. Hospitals don’t want to spend all of the money to train them. So while nurses have it pretty good, new grads have it harder. But recently a hospital in the area closed a whole unit. We got a bunch of applicants for nurses looking for a job. Budget cuts have been happening at my work. We are over budget and the largest labor pool is often nursing. It’s been a strict no overtime, no meeting time, no coffee for meetings, etc. And then the CEO was gone. Followed by the CFO. And friday, 44 people from management.
I have a job still. But this kind of thing does something to the work environment. People are nervous. They are sad. They don’t know what’s happening next. Good people were laid off. People keep talking about it. Or don’t talk at all. I’ve seen people on the verge of tears. People who still have their job but wonder what now? People are re-evaluating their role in the organization. They are “restructuring” now. We’re all still waiting to see the new org chart, the new plan, the new whatever. It shook everyone up and the whole week just SUCKED.
Yesterday, I saw one of my managers as she left for the day. She said she was just sick to her stomach over everything. Thursday I saw a director who came to clean out her office. An amazing, inspirational nurse who is sending her kid to college and suddenly has no job.
And it’s affecting me too. I wonder what the future looks like. The near future.
On Friday, I sat by the pool between conference sessions listening to another nurse tell a man from Amsterdam about nursing in America. She looked like a brand new nurse. She sounded like a brand new nurse too. The conference I was at was the convention center, about a mile down the street. Each day I walked from my hotel, in the humid New Orleans weather, to the convention center. And then I walked back to the hotel for lunches organized for the conference. And then back to the convention center. I am pretty sure I walked 2-3 miles a day.
It’s hard to explore a place when you are there to sit in an air-conditioned conference hall to learn. Which I did, to some extent, explore and learn. I walked around the French quarter on 3 separate occasions. I learned that the closer it got to the weekend the more drunk tourists were walking the streets. On Thursday, the French quarter was low key and friendly. A slow moving New Orleans with some families and individuals out walking. Music was still playing on the streets. Every where I went people called me sweetie, which was odd for this Californian. I tried creamy pralines (pronounced PRAWlines) and beignets.
By the weekend I had ventured on to Bourbon Street and determined it was an unnecessary stop. Too many drunk college kids and too many half-naked girls with gross guys. I am not a prude, but with a 16 year old teenage daughter, things look different.
I ate one dinner at a private kitchen. I don’t have photos because it was a company dinner. The food was fantastic. Shrimp and grits that were spicy and so good, Some Creole fish over rice, and a yummy fruit custard. FYI-I eat anything when I go to a new place. Have to!
But one of the best parts were the people.The friendly, jovial staff in so many places. It’s easy to think that hotel staff get paid to be friendly, like Seth, the concierge at the hotel. But I just don’t get the same smiles and friendly conversation in LA. Sure people smile, but it’s not the same as the genuine grins and conversation in New Orleans. That service does come with longer waits, LA is in too much of a hurry, but it was very appreciated.
My river cruise on the Mississippi was awesome. The moon was out and it was supposed to be the largest the moon had been, did you see it last Saturday? That large moon over the Mississippi with warm air over the water. There was a moment where we sat at our dinner table listening to the excellent jazz band play Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World. Couldn’t have been better.
I’ve been kind of whiny about going to New Orleans without ANYONE but this weekend I decided I am going to have fun. I am going for work and will spend about 4 days there at a conference. But now I am ready to be adventurous. I am going to wander through the french quarter eating all of the way. I am going to eat anything and everything. Well, maybe not anything. Maybe not alligator. I printed a map, did some research and selected a few places to eat. I looked at recommendations by Andrew but not Yelp. I find yelp whiny and finicky.
A coworker told me I HAVE to go to Cafe du monde to have a beignet and a cafe au lait, so I am. I also would love to look at masks and Voodoo stores. And I want some ettouffe (crawfish or shrimp). Haven’t had it in years. I thought about going to cemeteries, but it’s not recommended to go alone. And I may hang out in a jazz bar. And I will take lots of photos.
Do you have any recommendations? How do you plan a trip?
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