All Aboard

A random Saints fan flashing me his grill on Superbowl Sunday, 2010

Working "full time" is exhausting....the quotations are merited by my reference to a 3 day work week as a full time job, which is essentially what I do here in DC...

But it's not the hours I mind or even what tires me out, it's the monotony of sitting in a windowless office for 8 hours at a time and forcing yourself to concentrate. I work for a think tank, so I basically get (not)paid for thinking all day. I just sit and think. And I'm not going to lie, I'm not the most disciplined thinker. Sometimes my thinking goes on a tangent and it's really hard to bring it back. Especially when Beyonce pops up on my iPod shuffle. My girl B is not conducive to serious thinking. I'm pretty sure I've been busted for my Freakum Dress moves, which probably explains why they are moving me to an open cubicle next week and out of my private office. Either they want to discourage Soul Train 2010 or they want to make me more accessible to my fans. I'm thinking it's the latter.

So, I decided to rest my weary mind and treated myself to a trip home. Because when you're tired, the best thing to do is go on a 5 day drinking/eating/football/live music binge in New Orleans. The best kind of R&R.

I kicked it off with a Lady Tigers basketball game where roughly 15 family members joined me to cheer on my cousin who just signed with them this year. The very tenacity with which my family embarrasses every single one of us at any kind of graduation ceremony (yes-they are those people that scream, whistle, clap, and even perform a mini-wave in the stands. I always feel bad for the kid behind me who can't hear his name being called, but that's what happens when you have a very large, very Yatty family) is the same reason why they make the best sports fans and are the biggest supporters in every aspect in life. At any given LSU game this is what you will find: my older sister wearing her tiger ears dancing to the mysterious soundtrack in her head while simultaneously screaming at the ref to watch the lane, my dad pointing out "the talent" and lamenting the fact that the 3 point line wasn't invented until after his glory days were over, my aunt being put on an expletive-watch by my Maw Maw who herself keeps failing to keep it clean, my other aunt jacking every single sign that has a picture of my cousin on it so she can give them out as Christmas presents, me doing anything and everything to get on the jumbotron, and my Paw Paw sitting in the aisle seat taking his own stats which he will share with us for the entire hour long ride back to New Orleans. Yeah you right.

The next night I treated myself to a completely decadent dinner at Dick and Jenny's, followed by an equally debaucherous night which included a drive through daiquiri run, Kermit Ruffins at Vaughan's, the Moonshiners at the Spotted Cat on Frenchman, and Grape Voodoos at Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop on Bourbon. Absolute perfection.

Friday began with a Ladies Luncheon on Magazine and ended back in Baton Rouge for an engagement party. And not just any engagement party. This party had street performers, a petting zoo, cochon de lait barbeque, and the Soul Rebels brass band playing all night long. Truth be told, I spent the majority of the night down by the petting zoo where a friend and I tried to figure out how to steal a bunny. Sadly, it wouldn't fit in our purses. I was also amazed by a little girl who was absolutely fearless and perfectly content sitting on a turtle while holding a baby alligator. She may or may not have gone overboard when she threw a chicken from one end of the pen to the other where it landed on a goat. I loved this party and relished introducing myself as the Maid of Honor, especially when I saw the bride hosting in a leopard print dress while holding a snake.

Saturday I stuck around in Baton Rouge to go to the LSU/OleMiss football game. SEC football is one of my favorite things on earth. I grew up going to LSU games and then went to OleMiss for undergrad where I never missed a home game. Those were the days of Eli and Deuce, which

made it even better...even though we ended up losing more often than not. An LSU tailgate and OleMiss tailgate are polar opposites. An LSU tailgate consists of throwing on whatever purple or gold t-shirt you have that you don't mind ruining, booty dancing to rap music, and playing some kind of beer-based drinking game. An OleMiss tailgate looks a lot different. Everyone wears their finest blue or red outfit, sets up tents in the Grove (usually complete with a chandelier), and jams out to country music. I generally prefer the LSU way of doing things, mainly because I never mastered walking around the Grove in heels. Add that with a bunch of whiskey and it wasn't a pretty picture. Obviously, my allegiances are conflicted, so I ended up in a blue dress while dancing to the LSU fight song in Death Valley....which, if you've read previous World Cup posts, makes perfect sense to you. And although my personal identity crisis continues, the random OleMiss guy who happened to be sitting next to me had no problem ID-ing me as "that New Orleans girls who dated all the Kappa Sigs."

I wrapped it all up with a Sunday afternoon in the Dome to watch the Saints play, which was the highlight of my weekend. We won, of course, which made me happy purely because it gave me even more opportunities to get down to Crunk. The delicious turtle soup I had with dinner later that night at Dicky Brennan's Steakhouse was just icing on the cake.

Monday afternoon I climbed on the plane, completely drained and fully satisfied with my trip home. The man next to me breathed a sigh of relief when I sat down in the middle seat and thanked me for being thin and sitting next to him. I'm pretty sure he wasn't quite as thrilled when I pulled out Jay-Z's autobiography, Decoded, and he was subjected to a full page image of Biggie Smalls showing his grill ( I obviously have a thing for grills). I make no apologies. But it did get me thinking about what I'm thankful for in this holiday season.

I have a whole lot to be thankful for, my health, my friends, my family, my dog. But I'm most thankful that I'm from New Orleans, even in light of the recent boil water alert. Not only does it mean that my team is the number 1 team in the nation, but it also means that when I plan a trip home, I get to go home to New Orleans. I can promise you that people from the cornfields in the midwest don't get nearly as excited about going home as I do.

** I am aware of how many Louisiana stereotypes I have perpetuated in this post and I'm okay with it.

Where The Wild Things Are

I never thought that I would see Cat Stevens and Ozzy Osbourne sharing the same stage, but I did, and I have Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert to thank for that. Halloween weekend I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. This was my first rally here in DC and it certainly did not disappoint. I must say, it was wonderful to be surrounded by a whole lot of people engaging in civil discourse. It was refreshing and hopeful.

I'm about to get serious here.

My political awakening occurred when I was living in Argentina 7 years ago as a college junior. Up until that point, I didn't have much of a political perspective other than what I had learned from my family and the environment in which I was raised, which tended to be more conservative. I moved to Argentina in March of 2003, mere months before the United States declared war. This was/is not a popular war abroad, and Argentines are quite an opinioned bunch. This means that I received a whole lot of grief due to my nationality. It was tough and lonely. I even told one particularly riled up cab driver that I was Canadian. Oh the shame.

It took me a while to realize why they cared so much, why it was so damn personal to these Argentines. Not that long ago, in the late 70s and early 80s, Argentina suffered through the Dirty War at the hands of the Argentine government. In an effort to root out and exterminate political opposition and subversive groups, the military dictatorship went on a massive killing spree. Thousands of people were "disappeared," never to be heard from again. Their fate was unknown, although it undoubtedly held a gruesome tale of torture and pain. This is a legacy that has lived on in the collective memory of Argentina, along with so many unanswered questions about a disappeared brother, or father, or daughter. For this reason, they are now fiercely protective of their rights and civil liberties. And understandably so. You would be hard pressed to find an Argentine that doesn't have a well formed opinion about their political leaders. These political freedoms are not to be taken for granted.

So, after a while, whenever I heard the inevitable, Are you for or against Bush? at the beginning of every introduction and conversation, I made sure that my first reaction wasn't anger. I thought about it. I thought about what it means to me to be an American. I thought about the enormous responsibility it is to be an active citizen and participant in our democracy. I thought about how I felt on September 11th. I thought about what demands I should place on my elected representatives. I thought about what I wanted for myself and what I wanted my society to look like. Over time, I came to my own conclusions. And I'm sure you have come to yours.

That's the beauty of being American. You and I can't be persecuted for our political opinions and we can make ourselves heard through the channels of democracy. This is no small thing.

We are living in the midst of a political crisis (and I don't mean the Republican turnover in the House). Partisan politics rule Washington and it seems that people have forgotten how to engage each other respectfully. We need to recognize how lucky we are and start protecting the integrity of our democracy. This will not be done by shutting out the left or right or through personalized attacks. This will only come with consensus and compromise.

So, in the words of Jon Stewart: Don't be douchey.