Slow Poster

School is revving up and winding down all in one wheeling motion leaving me a bit dizzy. Thankfully, I had a sun-soaked trip down south replete with Bayou St. John strolls and many a walk through my much loved New Orleans parks Audubon Park uptown and City Park near my mom's home.

I can't bear to be inside too long when the sun is out. Even watching the boy do yard work was a sunny treat.

Doesn't he look like the cover of a Harlequin Romance novel? I helped by taking the machete to one or two banana plants.

Trips home are non-stop family, friend, food, and puppy time. I got a lot of great pictures and memories and almost no work done. But, I did get to see Dave Eggers speak at the Tennessee Williams Festival, which I'll count toward the furthering of my education goals. He has an inspiring and edifying way about him. He was so open and kind to everyone he spoke to and gave a wonderful talk on his approach to writing and education. Plus he looks a lot like David Boreanaz.

I am breaking one of his rules on writing, however, by having the internet. I can't quit you interwub.

Gimme' some green.

The days are getting longer, but still I see no green out there. To compensate, my twin and I have been pretty good about keeping things green inside our hobbit home. She deserves most of the credit. She is a very responsible waterer.

Some of our plants are even beginning to flower! I long for the French Quarter and Bywater smell of Night Blooming Jasmine. Jasmine makes for instant romance and is knee buckling in the right quantities. My Jasmine plant is winding up the window, but no blossoms as of yet. Come on spring!

To add to our blossom collection I impulsively bought some dried Lavender from Whole Foods.

And a Pussy Willow plant from Fleur, which has been sprouting like crazy since we brought it home.

I love Fleur. I leave with dreams of having a very elaborate glass nursery and only wearing green.

Dreaming of Green by Shannonmorley featuring Anthropologie

New Orleans Critical Mass

Megan and I partook in Critical Mass on Friday evening. It meets in front of St. Louis Cathedral on the last Friday of the month at 6:00 pm and gets rolling around 6:30 pm. It felt really good to ride up Carrollton with a gang of fellow bikers who could shield you from traffic if need be.

So, if you like to bike and want a safer New Orleans come out next Critical Mass! Can't you see it?? A skinnier city with less crime and bike lanes EVERYWHERE. It sounds like a Hotopia.

Shanina!

shannonjanaina, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.

A little history lesson. Janina V. and I first met when we were fifteen years old. We were on a Study Abroad program in Australia. I was placed in Melbourne and she in Adelaide. On an official USAC safarri we traveled by bus and tent through the great continent of Australia with other kids in the program who were stationed in Tasmania as well. (That would be my twin's group including the great Robin and Jake-a-rooni.) Janina and I bonded over Tim-Tams and cried in the outback about the pains of adolescence as Dreamtime settled all around us. She and I only knew each other for two and a half weeks.

We kept in touch through the years via e-mail, letters and phone calls. She knew my deep dark secrets and I knew hers. We were a distant, objective ear.

Fast forward to 2004 and I am on another Study Abroad program in the Czech Republic. I took a side trip to Rotterdam, Holland to see Janaina. We had not seen each other since Australia. Much to our delight we got along better than well. We bonded over the pains of post-adolescence and Dutch cookies as our Mushroom induced dreaming settled all around us.

Janina is in America. So far we have seen Jeff Wall prints, had romantic strolls through the park, ridden our bikes drunkenly through the city, seen a petting zoo of rats with Robin at Happy Village, set up a video rental for both of us, fought trolls with umbrellas, disgusted and surprised each other with how sick we both are, ran through the rain and subsequently danced in our underwear to Kate Bush (ok it was just me - I like what God gave me- sue me), and we have eatten a lot of cupcakes.

And we are also heart-breakingly photogenic.

Yay for seeing the world!

Inspiration

Like a breath of fresh air.

Dear Life,

Thanks for being insane.

Love,
Shannon

B (log) Vitamins

I apologize for my lack of Blogging lately. A lot has been going on. I just moved to a new hood and I am having Rogers Park withdrawals. Just joking. It takes me 15 minutes to get to work by bike now and I pass what I (my nose) think is a Bread Factory and a pool (my eyes).


Suffice to say - lots of changes are happening and are about to happen. Thank God for all of my awesome friends and brother who have been helping my sister and I move /cope with shiznit.


Also, you should check out Megan's Blog to get some perspective: Red Beans and Lice. Watch Kota howl and hear from Megan's mouth how awesome I am. And my mom. Sandra Rae is awesome. Just think about THAT.

Mom and Meg at American Can Company, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.

And it wouldn't be a Shannon Post without an entertainment recommendation:




I saw Sunshine with Mike, Funzi and Megan this weekend. It was (Mike you will like this) AMAZING.

A Long Blog for a Long Day

Westernmost Puerto Rican flag on Division St (May 2003)., originally uploaded by YoChicago1.

This week has been super busy. I meant to write a really detailed account of my magical weekend from last week, but had to make a quick trip to New Orleans for family matters.

I will give a few suggestions for those who live in Chicago. Firstly, go to Public Pools and parks. The Chicago Park District is a thing of beauty. You will be greeted by tons of little kids who want to swim with you and comment on your boy choices. LaToya thinks Megan's dude is "ugly". And the water is ice, ice cold.

Second suggestion - Go to the Puerto Rican festival in Humboldt Park. It is way tastier than St. Patrick's Day. Get the stick full of meat and a Pina Colada in a Pineapple.

And third, next time Dax Riggs comes to town - go. You know that really tense video of David Bowie and Mick Jagger dancing and singing with each other? Well, when they were done shooting they went down to the swamps of Louisiana and made love. They had a baby and his name is Dax Riggs.



The show reminded me that sometimes the best part of meeting people are the cds and books they leave behind on your nightstand.

Party till you puke Purple, Green, and Gold

Warren Easton Marchers, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.


Boobs, beer, and maybe some Blow are things that come to mind when outsiders think of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. And they would not be wrong in their assessment of my fair city’s last brew-ha before the season of Lent. There is plenty of Hedonism and Decadence to be had. But, Mardi Gras is not just a time to roll out the puke and piss soaked carpet of Party for tourists. It is, like any holiday, a time for kids.

Hear me out. Mardi Gras in many ways, is like Christmas or Halloween. In classrooms all across Louisiana you get to eat King Cake every Friday afternoon from the Epiphany till Mardi Gras. Kids and teachers alike fell victim to airway blockage when our Lord and savior appeared in the form of a plastic baby Jesus. When parade week literally rolls into town, families converge upon Veterans Highway or St. Charles Avenue. They lay out tarps and blankets staking a claim on coveted Neutral Ground land. People set up grills, kegs, couches, tents, and tow along ice chests full of beer, cokes, and insanely delectable food.



Mardi Gras day meant eating cold Popeye’s chicken all day long and sneaking beer. It meant "Iko Iko" by the Dixie Cups and Professor Longhair on the radio. It meant dressing up in costumes. It meant threateningly and pleadingly shouting, “Throw me something mister!” from atop a Mardi Gras ladder that caused splinters and threatened to topple every time you reached too far for a bead. It meant wrestling with other kids for prized beads, cups, stuffed animals and mastering your Doubloon stomp. It meant putting frilly panties and garters over your pants, spraying passer-bys with silly string, and smoking fake cigarettes. It meant dancing to marching band after marching band. It meant having no place to pee. Did I mention the cold chicken?

There are many nuances to this holiday that imbue a New Orleanian with a deep understanding of how to properly party till you puke. So, when strangers and friends alike who have never partaken in these festivities incredulously ask, “Your parents let you go to Mardi Gras when you were little?” remember this one thing and that is growing up in the Puritanical Mid-West sucks.

That being said, Mardi Gras was a wholesome, good time this year. On Mardi Gras day I was drunk by noon and had a hangover at 4 in the afternoon after imbibing several Hurricane Katrina Daiquiris. Tacky? Maybe. Delicious? Undeniably.

Now to gear up for Lent!