Friday, February 15, 2013


Whew! My metaphorical tank had run out of gas, but I'm sputtering back to life again. Amazing what sleep (lots and lots of sleep) can do. So where were we? Oh, yeah, Mardi Gras.

Things went about as anticipated inasmuch as such things can be anticipated. Some particulars. (I'm still having trouble with linear thought, so lets just go with a sprinkling of assorted bullet points:)
  • We were indeed late getting out the door, but Zulu was indeed later. (This is the first year I've learned not to sweat it. I was up early. I had the bikes ready and the coffee made. I nudged folks awake at the appropriate hour, then let things unfold as they would. Zulu would be there.)
  • Family biking, especially on Mardi Gras day, is a hoot.
  • I've reconfirmed, Zulu is definitely my favorite parade.
  • The kids scored a serious load of Zulu coconuts. (Decorated coconuts are Zulu's prized "throw" — though now they hand them out for litigious reasons.)
  • I scored a serious load of Zulu beads. Load is the wrong word. Collection. A full assortment of their custom beads. (I don't usually get too caught up in the bead frenzy, but they had some seriously cool offerings.) I went for a curatorial approach, scanning each float for who had something I wanted, targeting them, establishing a dialogue, and more often not, walking away satisfied. (I think most of them were just happy to have somebody ask for something besides a "Coconuuuuut!")
  • Rex was Rex.1
  • The torrential rains which had been predicted, every day for several days, held off, the storms repeatedly skirting just to the north of us. Apparently Providence shines on pre-Lenten decadence.
  • By early afternoon, the big show (thankfully) was over.2
  • We saw some Mardi Gras Indians on the ride back, but a brief surge of rain sent them scattering for cover and us pedaling faster for home. 
  • We had the *very* good fortune to wind up, late afternoon, together with friends, at a house with a hot tub and heated pool. It was heavenly. Folks soaked with looks of blissful fatigue as the past days melted away. 
  • Somebody served a kale salad. After days of chips and dip and red beans and rice and gumbo and jambalaya and king cake, it was greeted ecstatically.
  • Then the skies finally opened and the rains poured. It only lasted about fifteen minutes but was itself rejuvenating: clearing the air, washing the muck from the streets.
  • And home. The ladies watched a movie. I didn't make it that long — down for the count at 8:30, slept ten-and-a-half blissful hours. And then the new day. 
That's the long and the short of it. I might get around to posting some photos too.

1 Sorry. I realize a lot of this may sound like gobbledygook. Trust me, it all makes sense but would require an extensive glossary which I'm far too tired to compose.

2 As I've said before, it's the mark of a good Mardi Gras that you're glad when its over.

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