Aching for New Orleans

Oh, I am aching to move.

For a girl whose sense of self-worth rests largely on her ability to help people in some meaningful sense, my life in Key West is becoming more than a little depressing. Sure, I'm feeding people (always always always), but it's largely the wealthy, or at least the Wealthy Enough, those people who can afford to vacation here and drop several hundred dollars on dinner. When I'm painting for a living, it's painting the vacation homes of these same people, or painting businesses that cater to these folks. The catering business that Otter and I are starting up will, of course, cater to people with disposable income enough to pay several hundred or thousand for an inclusive meal in their own weekly- or monthly-rented domiciles. I mean, it's great that we can fill needs and niches, but...

...I know there are people out there who are hungrier, who are in more desperate circumstances, who need us far more than these priveleged sojourners want us. I also want to do more than just feed the hungry, y'know? I want to participate in the mycoremediation of New Orleans' soil, so damaged and diseased after being submerged in sewage for several weeks. I want to start guerrilla gardens all over town, not just for their beauty and edibility, but for their ability to brings bright spots of hope into places decimated by man and nature, abandoned by those elected to help them. I want to take Alice Waters' super-awesome Edible Schoolyard and try to duplicate it in other sections of New Orleans, bringing kids in close contact with the life cycle and their intrinsic part within it.

...For all my talk of wanting to do more than just feeding people, it's funny how all the stuff I wanna do just leads back to feeding people or helping them feed themselves.

Food is a beautiful thing.

Growing and sharing it is even lovelier.