The first rain arrives

Plink, plink, plink...

Raindrops roll off of the leaves of the banana tree by my back door. It's not anything different from what happens here on a daily basis in July, just a summer storm.

This is the outer bands of the storm, which won't make landfall until tomorrow morning. It's going to be a long night.

We are trying to figure out how to entertain Ryan and Charlotte when the power goes out. Costumes and snacks will play a big role. If we get hot once the power goes out, we'll take a cold bath. We'll read books. Shine the flashlight on the ceiling and make shapes. Tell stories. We'll keep them safe. We're putting on a happy face now, saying what an adventure this will be. If this storm becomes a monster, we won't turn the TV on.

Jindal is on top of things

It is comforting to have a leader who seems to know what is happening and has a command that makes everyone relax and do what they need to do to stay safe. Thanks to Bobby Jindal, I know what is happening with the contraflow (the term for when they make the interstate all go one direction to get everyone out of a city), where the inmates are, where the elderly are, what's happening with the zoo animals, how many other states are sending their forces, and what we need to do (stay put, apparantly!). This is a man who delivered his own baby in the back of a car when his wife went into labor early. I respect him. At the local level, you've got to elect people who you respect as people. He is doing a great job of leading this state through a frightening time.

Running into the gales

We decided to take a family run because we knew that Hurricane Gustav is on its way and we'll likely be stuck inside for a few days. So we loaded Ryan and Charlotte up in their twin baby joggers and David, Ryan, Charlotte, the dog, Riley, and I headed out the door. Everyone in our neighborhood is home. Some are sawing away limbs that could get ripped off during the storm. Others are doing yard work so that they don't have to deal with it in the inevitable growth spurt that will occur after the storms. Others are just outside chatting with neighbors, something you don't see much these days with everyone always searching for that third space where they can gather, away from home. The sun is hot. Sweltering is one of my favorite words, but not the best running condition. We pushed the joggers, which felt like they weighed about 200 lbs. each. Riley's tongue came unhinged in her mouth, so we took that as an excuse to linger once in awhile. I wondered if the few birds we saw overhead knew what is coming. People are chatty today. They linger in their front yards, yearning for the community that seems such an afterthought when you've got a potential community of the entire world on the Web. But we all know that if the power goes out, all we've got is the place where we live. That's our community. It's always true, of course. It's just that we don't realize it. I am, over and over again, surprised at the festive atmosphere that precedes big storms. We all know the horrid things that can happen. If we didn't know it before Katrina, we know it now. But, still, there is this smiley, loopy, punch drunk feeling in the air. You could cut it. In college, I remember studying war literature. What is it about war literature that is so great? It's that, in war, you have to live in the here and now. Everything is so intense and crystallized. Death and destruction are accompanied by moments of sheer beauty and connection. It's all a mixed bag. I think it is true on the eve of storms. At the lake, a neighbor's dog runs headlong to the water and leaps in. The boxer's strong, long legs stroke through the water and his mouth gapes in a big grin. We feed the ducks and feel the sweat run down our legs and arms. Today is sunny. Today we are all here together. Let's celebrate.

Confirmed!

Sarah Palin is still nursing her baby. While I don't 100% agree with her policies, I've got to say that she has just propelled women forward by a huge push. We've been told for so long that we can have it all, just not all at once. And while I think that is a valid statement, I also think it is absolutely vital for mothers to pursue their passions with their children in tow. I know she will get a lot of grief about how she will balance all of this. But I am proud of her.

Sarah Palin

Let me come right out and say I am for Obama. But to see Sarah Palin on the campaign trail always with her baby--who is usually in a sling held by, I take it, a nanny--is so awesome. "That baby is 3 months old!" I say. I wonder if she is still nursing, which is highly possible. To see a woman with her baby at work doing what she loves is beautiful.

Watching Gustav

I was 34 weeks pregnant when Katrina blew into Louisiana. Watching the aftermath had was horrible. I wanted to get out and tell the stories of all these people who all had gut wrenching stories to tell. But I was in full-on nesting mode, expecting my first baby. Not about to go all "Fargo" like and run around in the trenches with my big belly. But, to this day, I regret that I couldn't be there to paint the picture of what it was like in my space at that moment with each moment. Now, here comes Gustav. I hope it dissipates. Out my window, it is cloudy and hot. Not a single leaf lifts with the wind. Charlotte, all sweet smells in jammies is nestled into my neck. What stories will I type one-handed next week? I hope it will just be the ones I had on my to-do list on Friday.

Babysitter's here, but not editors

My great babysitter comes each Wednesday to play with the kids while I work on the piles of stories that are sitting in my in-box. Except that it's August. The NY editor is no doubt at the Hamptons or some other fab place. Another has jury duty. Another is on deadline. Two of my story subjects aren't returning calls at the moment. No doubt, they, too, are at the beach or in the jungle or maybe halfway around the globe. All are nice, accessible people eager to participate in the feature stories I am writing. None are investigative in nature. None are muckraking or something unpleasant. Hello! I am on the inspiration beat!

I feel like a cub reporter again, so eager am I for work. When I get an assignment, I finish it quickly and happily. I keep putting leads out for stories, but I am a bit worried that I'll get a huge influx of work that's all due at the same time. Such is the life of a freelancer. So here I sit, all geared up to write and interview and nothing to do. But, oh, I need this time when the babysitter comes so I can think and write and wonder. So I sit and feel a bit guilty for leaving my hardworking, generous-enough-to-lend-me-the-last-two-books-in-the-"Twilight"series, lovely babysitter with screaming, teething Charlotte and eternal pirate Ryan. Shouldn't I be under five deadlines to deserve her?

The library is quiet. I'll meet my husband for lunch soon, and we'll marvel at how odd it is to be kidless. And we'll remember when we were just we. Wait. Isn't that so much more important than any career?

Getting started again

Back at my writing desk, I am faced with the enormous possibility that comes with starting over again. I am ready to break out, to expand my journalistic horizons. But there is always the temptation of going back to the familiar work, the kind that brings in paychecks but doesn't really help you grow. I have to admit I feel a sense of guilt at not pursuing the kind of work I have always done--i.e., business writing. I know we could use the money. But you have to take second chances when they come to you, whether they come in the form of the end of a long break, a graduation, a move. They don't come by very often.

For many people, having a baby is a great chance to renew a career. Becoming a parent changes your perspective in so many ways. It also gives you a whole bounty of new expertise you never thought you would have. It connects you in a way that nothing else ever will. Suddenly, you care more about the world, you want to see the tiny filaments that connect everything and keep you rooted. You want to understand the decay that can push it all apart. You also have a newborn work ethic, the kind that comes after you realize that you can stay up all night and do something worthwhile the next day.

Lately, David and I have been on a marathon schedule. Our kids run on both pistons from 7 am until around 10. There is a brief nap, which some days, I swear, I live for. We are trying to figure out how to do it all. Any suggestions?

The big profile is out!

check it out at www.225batonrouge.com