Smile triggers

I smile a lot, so it's hard to nail down six specific little or big things that make me smile all the time.

1. I smile whenever I run into someone, known or unknown. After a lifetime in Romania, where no one smiles on the street, smiling at people and saying hello has become second nature. Warm Louisiana people made me a better, more relaxed person.
2. I can't help but smile whenever I see dogs in cars, looking outside. They are the cutest passengers.
3. I smile when I talk on the phone with people I like or love.
4. I smile when I hug my beau. It's one of the most comforting things in my life.
5. I smile more during spring, my favorite season. The sun and the green make me gigglier by the day, although the responsibility of finishing the dissertation looms larger.
6. The silliness, colors and exuberance of Mardi Gras make me smile. This year marks my last festival in Louisiana. Happy Fat Tuesday!

The meme from Annamari goes on to Ionuka, Miss Sophie, Stingo, and The Arrow.

When every dog can make a difference

As a kid growing up in communist Romania, I remember the scrap drives organized at school, when we competed to impress our "comrade teacher" with our collections of paper and newspapers, chestnuts, glass jars and other materials to be recycled.

While working on my disertation, which focuses among other things on the radio coverage of World War II, I learned that similar campaigns were conducted in the U.S. to preserve resources during the war effort - especially since Japanese conquests in Malaya and the Dutch Indies cut off access to natural supplies like rubber. The news coverage of such drives was not without candor, though. President Roosevelt urged Americans to turn in old tires, old rubber raincoats, old garden hose, rubber shoes, bathing caps, gloves, and so on at their local service stations.

Here's what CBS reported on June 15, 1942, among grimmer stories about the war in the world:

"A filling station in Des Moines, Iowa, reports having received the following objects in its collection campaign of scrap rubber: a basket of toy rubber tanks and trucks from a small boy; from a grown man - one rubber band; from a dog - several rubber bones."

This blog needs more lipstick

My dissertation and research seem to have taken over my life, so I'm not sure if I can keep up with the responsibilities of blogging. I'm tempted to close it, but for some reason I still get a good number of visitors daily. Thank you. And apparently I haven't written enough about kittens, jewelry and blueberry pie, because a software that analyzes the gender of blogs thinks I'm a male. I might want to rectify that, so I'll keep this shop open for a while.

"We guess http://ralucacozma.blogspot.com is written by a man (51%); however, it's quite gender neutral."

The other day, a realtor whom I met not too long ago wrote to me thinking I was a man [he sent his best wishes to me and my wife (!?)], and even the school where I did my master's, and which I still attend, addressed me in a recent alumnus newsletter with Mr. Cozma. So yeah, I'll be writing about high heels and cozy fleece from now on.

Meet Katiusha

...the newest member of my family. She moved in and decided she liked it. I like her too. Here she is jumping to catch the camera strap.

I've been Schmapped

One of my photos (The World Trade Center from New Orleans) has been included in the newly released fifth edition of the Schmap New Orleans Guide, an interactive service for your desktop or iPhone, with integrated maps, guide, photo slideshows, reviews, and much more.



I like how it presents New Orleans: a good cup of the native stew, gumbo - a vibrant mix of European and African ingredients, with a pinch of something secret. After long simmering, the result is an experience warm, soulful and unique.

And here's a song I love.

Autumnal emotion

It's finally cool in the mornings, albeit still hot during the day, and I suddenly realized it's October... I wish I could go to Romania, to celebrate my mom's birthday next week and the beautiful colors of my home town in the fall.

Eye candy

Ever since I discovered Lola's blog, I became fascinated with her stories and talent. She creates jewelry from scratch -- molds the clay herself, colors and paints it with patience, and puts it together in the most adorable designs. I resisted a long time ordering anything, thinking I need to accomplish something major (such as finish the dissertation and get a job) to deserve the splurge. But when I realized that the temptation interfered with my ability to focus on work, I decided to put an end to the misery.


I mainly wanted bracelets, but I had to have a "Love is blind" necklace for the sheer genius of it. The message on it is painted in Braille, and I was happy to decipher a love poem written by Lola herself. For bracelets, I went for some of the already classic designs that I liked ("Vegetal Obsession" and "Gold Infinity"), but I also asked for a special design, giving only a few clues about what I wanted.


"Good night" turned out a lovely bracelet, which I wore right out of the package. It's unique, and until you get one yourself, I'm the only one in this world enjoying its beauty.


The beads and colors and textures are so lovely you could eat them. Take a look at Lola's catalog for more amazing designs. They make you feel special.

Golf in perspective

On my way to school, I drive/ride/walk past a golf course, where, regardless of weather conditions (fog, rain, heat) and time of day or week, several people are moving around in their white tiny carts, with their white tiny caps, striking white tiny balls. Some of the balls end up in the grass near the road, for passersby to collect if bored. It's amazing how carefree these people always seem.

I guess they would be more uptight if they had to play in 1940 London, during WWII. While transcribing a CBS radio news story by Edward Murrow, here's what I came across:

"A golf club near London, where I used to play occasionally before the war came, now has a new set of rules designed to meet German interference with the game. The first rule says that during gunfire, or while bombs are falling, players may take cover without penalty for ceasing play. And there’s another rule which states that a player whose stroke is affected by the simultaneous explosion of a bomb or a shell or by machine gun fire may play another ball from the same place – penalty, one stroke."

December 28, 1940

It's only fair.

I like... (part I)

I promised Leah I would do this over the weekend, but then life happened. I take advantage of my lunch break to finally share with you that I like...

• The sun on a crisp day
• Trees, flowers, grass and green in general
  
• Dark chocolate
• Hot tea on cold days
  
• Dogs, cats, cows and horses
• Travelling and camping
• Short trips to the seaside
  
• Historical sites
  
• Waking up in a tent and stepping out on wet grass
  
• Long walks with ice-cream or milk shakes or smoothies
• To reward myself with a Java Chip frappucino when I accomplish something
  
• Antiquity stores
• Old wooden suitcases
• Woven baskets
• Hand-made jewelry
  
• Stories
• The 1930s
  
• Toys and games
  
• To talk to simple people in villages, buses, stores
  
• To smile and be smiled at
• To listen
  
• To wink at children and see what they do in return
  
• To do my own nails; it's relaxing
  
• To get up to date with the news and blogs every morning over a cup of Lavazza coffee and a bowl of raisin-and-nuts oatmeal. I eat the same thing every day, regardless (when I travel, I take my oatmeal with me). It gives me the energy I need for the gym or for a busy morning.
• Chicken shawerma and sushi-induced comas
  
• The first meal with my family when I visit home
  
• Motorcycle trips on Saturdays
  
• To watch movies with T.
• Old movies
• The smell of leather jackets
• The smell of new books
• Stationery and office supplies
  
• Fall and winter clothes
• Boots
• Scarves
  
• Woven shirts
• The taste of snow
• Grapes and cherries
• Seasonings and spices
  
• Intricate houses with a story
• The first and last day of school
• Office hours
  
• Handwritten letters and postcards
• To measure my time in songs (it takes me two songs to wait for the bus, three songs to get to school; I work out on the Stair Master for five songs, and so on).
• Men who look good in red (and Santa too)
• and much more
  

I don't like:

• That my sight is getting weaker every year
• To get small scratches or bruises
  
• The smell of New Orleans after Mardi Gras or of campus after major football games
• That I turn red when I'm nervous
• That I cry easily
  
• To talk a lot
• To sleep alone
  
• Flip-flops
• Gossip
• Crime TV shows
• Bad-hair days
  
• To get haircuts
• To be rushed
• To be late or to wait for someone who is late
• To be told what to do
  
• The train alarm sound
• Noise in general
• Polluted air and my hair absorbing it
• Animal prints on clothing
  
• People who take themselves too seriously
• When people don't do fun things with us because they can't wake up early in the morning
  
• Whiners
• Roaches and ants in the kitchen
  

Ionuka, Ana, Anais, Lola -- how about yourselves? What do you like and dislike?

Win a link

Here's a contest where your creativity and writing skills might get you something. And I mean facebook-status-kind-of-writing skills. No need to write a novel.

Good luck!

The agony of uncertainty

School has restarted today, although electricity and some facilities are not completely restored. The traffic is a mess, with many lights still not working across town. LSU sustained $40M in damages after Gustav. The fall break is cancelled, and Saturday classes were also implemented to make up for the lost days. You can imagine the enthusiasm. And now, another hurricane is knocking at the door, while people are still working on recovering and are depleted of patience and resources. Many haven't lost their sense of humor, though. Here's a funny list that's been circulating a lot since Schmustav cornered us:

Top 10 Reasons Hurricane Season is Like Christmas

10. Decorating the house (boarding up windows)

9. Dragging out boxes that haven't been used since last season (camping gear, flashlights)

8. Last minute shopping in crowded stores

7. Regular TV shows pre-empted for "specials"

6. Family coming to stay with you

5. Family and friends from out-of-state calling

4. Buying food you don't normally buy ... and in large quantities

3. Days off from work

2. Candles

And the number one reason Hurricane Season is like Christmas...

1. At some point you know you're going to have a tree in your house!

Update: Ike might spare us after all. Fingers crossed.

One of the frustrating things for the locals was that national media did not cover the sufferance and frustration in Baton Rouge at all. They kept mentioning the survival of New Orleans, which really had it easy under Gustav. We may not have had the dramatic number of casualties and the sensational images of flooding, but the heat, the power outages, the holes in the roofs, the mildew in the walls, and the harrowing sight of the beautiful trees fallen like soldiers made people suffer just as much. That's why I was grateful The New York Times finally acknowledged the story yesterday.

Candids

The basketball arena on campus functioned as a shelter for evacuees with special-needs before and after Gustav. We volunteered to help move around the patients, help them register and set up their beds, carry their luggage and oxygen tanks, feed them, bring them water and coffee, give them showers, keep them company, give them comfort, help change their diapers. I haven't seen so much helplessness in my entire life. I have a new-found respect and awe for the volunteer doctors and nurses, who kept sharp, positive, smiling and caring after working several shifts to tend for the 200+ patients. The air did get heavy at times in the dome-shaped building. Here are some photos to help you get a feel of the atmosphere there.

*

A lady in her sixties was the caregiver for her chronically ill mother, who was sleeping on a bed next to her, with an oxygen tube coming out of her nose. When the mother did not need her attention, the daughter kept ordering some old photos in a shoe box. They were color and black-and-white photos of Elvis.

*

I helped a lady from South Louisiana give a shower to her wheelchair-confined mother. We spent about an hour together, and at the end she kept asking for my number to later invite me over at her place as a way to thank me. I said that she was welcomed and that she didn't have to do anything about it. After about an hour, I see her running to me with a smile on her face: "Come! I found another Romanian here!" I thought she meant my boyfriend, who was also a volunteer. "No, this one is a patient!" Thus I got to meet Nicolae, a 54-year-old who fled Romania in 1979. Oh, the stories he had to share about his adventures through Serbia, Austria and Italy on his way to New Orleans! I hope his postponed heart and kidney surgeries will go well, so that he can rejoin his family in Arad and Beiuş.

*

A lady with blond died hair and beautifully done nails came to the shelter all alone and had nobody to talk to. She was very alert and was obviously in better shape than most patients. She refused to lay on the folding bed and stuck to her wheel chair, which allowed her to carefully observe everybody. Volunteers rotated shifts to keep her company. She's actually in one of the photos in the Reveille story, with her back to the camera, in a navy-stripe shirt, talking to a volunteer. I brought her a cup of cofee and took one for myself too before I sat next to her.
"I'm surprised you drink coffee," she said to me all of sudden after our conversation about her home and community.
"Why?"
"It will stunt your growth."
"Um... I'm 28."
"What?!!? Good God!"

I guess everybody saw me as a kid around there, although I was one of the few graduate student volunteers (and I'm 1.70m tall).