2 Tired Krewe
Ray, a master of the art, offering to take time from his own busy day (unpacking from his recent move, among other things!), to share in the joy of gutting. And I definitely need the help. What an incredibly naive girl I have been, thinking I could do it all myself; thinking I'd be able to do a room a day. Hah!
This is a very strenuous and very dirty job, folks. (Those aren't new tattoos on Ray's forearms.) I have no doubt that anyone volunteering to help another undertake this nasty task gets off the hook for lots of bad karma. Anyone who's done it once and still volunteers to do it again is due for rewards in the afterlife that make martyrdom's rewards look like winning $500 in a lottery scratch-off game. If you know Ray, I'll bet you can imagine what his heaven's going to look like. You already know there will be more than 72 virgins --lots more. He's earned them. (And more to come...hah hah hah!)
Thank you, Ray! You join the ranks of those having my ceaseless awe and gratitude!
To the rest of you out there: You, too, can erase karma and start building the afterlife of your dreams by joining Ray and I next Saturday when we continue the big gut-job on my house. Since Ray far outranks me in experience, (and I'm not very good at asking for help, but obviously getting a little better at it), he's volunteered to organize this once-in-this-lifetime opportunity to help gut my house. That's right, I said once-in-this-lifetime. Whatever you're thinking, it's still going to be once. Period. If, perchance, you're not on the NOLA bloggers list-serve and you want to play with us on Saturday, leave a comment or drop me an e-mail. And if you have physical limitations that prohibit you from doing this kind of work, check with Ray, as there may be other things you can do to help out. (He'd know better than I would, and I humbly defer to him on all group gutting matters.)
In addition to the karmic benefits and the opportunity to develop a superhuman dominant upper limb, you can look forward to...
-- the experience of being wet, salty, and covered in sandy grit without having to go to the beach.
-- the opportunity to put your deodorant to the ultimate test.
-- one last chance to wear your favorite shirt with the holes/stains in public.
--temporary relief from the burden of vanity.
-- free snack food
-- the good feeling of knowing that the tetanus booster shot you got before returning to New Orleans was worth it. (FYI: the nails in the lath board will go right through the soles of a pair of Converse Allstars and into the sole of your foot, but not too deep.)
-- temporary crowbar tattoo, in your choice of black or red magic marker.
--more reasons for bona fide celebrity status than Paris Hilton.
-- the option to replace at least some of those lost fluids and electrolytes with beer.
-- hanging out with other crazy people who are at least twice as much fun as sane people.
-- the benefit of never having to listen to someone else tell you how nasty and difficult gutting a house during summer in New Orleans is.
-- the privilege of making other people who've never done it listen to you describe it.
-- my ceaseless awe and gratitude.