The Mistaken Mardi Gras Muse

Mardi Gras season has been playing out on the Gulf Coast well over a month, with weekend parades and festivities going on from Mobile to New Orleans. The past two days, Lundi Monday and Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) have long stood as the culmination of all things parade.

On the Coast, virtually everything shuts down. Very few businesses remain open, the post office halts mail delivery.

I am still perplexed that the public school system releases their charges for a three day holiday whilst calling it a Spring Break.

When we first moved to Mississippi, I remember the wonderment of going to a parade, uninformed, and being deluged with beads and moon pies and doubloons. Aubrey was just a little over a year old as we stood on the sidelines of the parade route, showered with these trinkets amidst blaring music and people shouting "Throw me somethin' Mister!"

I didn't get it.

In all, our family has attended probably three or four parades in the sixteen years that Mississippi has been our abode. Yesterday was no exception. The GilGuy dutifully went to work, and I stayed home, playing a domesticated Susie Homemaker. The pantry is clean, and the floors vacuumed, and my Facebook profile updated just for fun.

On Valentine's Day weekend, the GilGuy and I took a much needed respite from all the pressures and responsibilities of life. It was nothing fancy, really, but a get away nonetheless. Our destination? Baton Rouge, LA.

The Louisiana Museum of Art was hosting Rodin's "The Kiss" - and I wanted to see it! So, away we went, February 14, and took in the sights. "The Thinker" and "The Gates of Hell" were all on display alongside "The Kiss." It was a wonderful exhibit that we enjoyed browsing immensely.

However, exiting the building, we stumbled into what was foreboding visual information: roads were being blocked, and policemen were beginning to move in as crowd control forces. In the distance, wafting over the airwaves, we could hear faint Cajun rockabilly music.

We had an internal knowing that we were trapped like rats, in the middle of a parade route in the downtown square.

Egads.

So, we took our lumps with a grain of salt, and I considered the interesting coincidence that Keller, just over one year old, had something in common with his older sister.

Same event, 16 years apart.

It may very well be yet another sixteen years before we take in another Mardi Gras parade. Hopefully, if the occasion should ever spring upon us again, the pantry will be clean.

:P