*Gasp, wheez, gasp, pant, pant, pant*
That’s the collective wheezing and panting of both my liver and stomach. More so my liver. Since I made the lofty promise to blog about Mardi Gras everyday (hard to do when you are both hungover and drunk at the same time), I have managed to consume massive quantities of both liquid and solid concoctions that together have forced my body to ask a few questions:
“Thank God for the Baptist as their religious practive of having church on Wednesday night forced a reprieve for the rest of us! What’s going on here?” my liver asked my stomach.
My stomach shakes its head and replies, “I don’t know but I hope it ends soon. I don’t think I can tolerate anymore mega nachos or chicken-on-a- stick.” They both agreed this was worse than the martini-pizza combination of which they had both just recovered.
I sternly tell them both to pipe down as this is only the halfway point. “We’ve got two Mardi Gras balls, Joe Cain Day, Fat Tuesday and numerous parades in between to contend with. Now look alive and pretend we’re back in college!”
Admittedly, Wednesday’s break from the festivities did provide a much needed reprieve. (Hence all the panting and wheezing.) So as I sit here sipping Alka Seltzer, in preparation for Part Two of Mardi Gras 2010, I offer a synopsis of where we’ve been thus far:
[I honestly just sat here for five minutes trying to recollect. Drawing a blank, I made a quick call to my programming director for a reminder. I’ll also take this break from programming to apologize for confusing my two readers on my last post. Obviously the endless parade of, well, parades starts tonight.]
Because the Conde Cavaliers were rained out Friday night, we kicked the season off with a day parade, The Bayport Parading Society. My 8 year old nephew was fortunate enough to ride in his first real Mardi Gras parade that day. He saved a football especially for his daddy and was proud to have thrown it right to him—the perfect spiral might I add! And to think, there may come a day where he finds himself partying with his favorite aunt downtown during Mardi Gras. Ahhhhh, the aspirations!
That night, Mama, AE, and I had all intentions to see the Conde Explorers parade. We stocked the ice chest with beer and flasks of bourbon, and whiskey. After convincing ourselves that it was too cold, and parking would be too complicated, we chose to see Blue Mother Tupelo at Callaghans instead. Funny, cold and parking never stopped us before but I am certain we made the right decision. Mama enjoyed the warm hospitality of everyone’s favorite Callaghans host by dancing the jig with him numerous times that evening. It was on that night I made the mental note to try NOT to share the dance floor with her. Can you imagine the shame of being out-danced by your mother?! If only I had her moves!
And here, I’ve gone a little fuzzy again and my programming director has started tonight’s festivities without me. I won’t make the same mistake by setting goals again. Turns out, that’s a big no-no for us Sabbaticans. So until next time…
“Throw me somethin’ mister!”