I have one running shoe. I have no idea where the other one is. I’ve been wearing the lone shoe for about an hour and have finally given up. I even wore the one out to the car to look for its mate, but no shoe. Found 3 scarves, 2 hats and various other stuff I brought in with me that’s been living in my back seat. Sure possibly I could wear my cross trainers and go for a run, but it’s just not the same. And now I’ve run out of time, he’s on his way over to make dinner. Hopefully after dinner we’ll go for a walk – it’s sooo beautiful – and I’m sure I have some walking shoes around here somewhere.

I called my mom looking for my shoe. My dad had me do a foot count to make sure I didn’t have an extra foot instead of a missing shoe. My mom thoroughly searched my old room. Nada. So while I had her on the phone I told her Jonathan and I were going to Nashville next weekend for his birthday. And I said it kind of feels strange that I’m going away with someone they haven’t met yet (doesn’t really feel strange – that was just strategy). Well she says, as we’ve learned from your brother-in-law it doesn’t really matter if we like him or not, only if you do. That’s pretty forward thinking for June Cleaver...and a testament to how we’ve resigned ourselves to the fact my brother-in-law will forever be an idiot.

She was more concerned that I’d eaten meat today on Ash Wednesday. Accidentally!....I said. That’s what you said last year...she replied. I recounted my lunch angst about making my lean cuisine no preservative microwave meal of chicken marsala and how it took 10 minutes and 30 seconds on 50% power (which I had to ask someone how to do) and then it was terrible! She told me it was God punishing me for trying to eat meat. I told her apparently I didn’t get the message because I ended up making a chicken sandwich. When she reminded my dad this morning he called her a big mouth and was still bitching about having no meat - he had to bring a cheese sandwich to the golf course and they had pancakes and eggs for dinner - which means he’s just grumbling because everyone knows breakfast for dinner rocks.

I told her I survived Mardi Gras and how surprised everyone was that my mom was encouraging me to get beads. She really did tell me to get lots of beads...to use in grab bags for the parish kids during their festival. I need beads for the parish kids because my mom says so. It made us all laugh.

Mardi Gras was a lot of fun and I was not an easy sell. When we layered up and starting walking to breakfast, it was cold. Cold! I was bundled in my new cold weather gear. I was in REI Friday and the check out guys said....glove liners, hat, hand warmers....uh mardi gras? I said...how’d you know...do I have dumb ass stamped on my forehead?

Within the first couple of blocks John commented that it was a little quiet – where was the debauchery he’d heard so much about? He’s not from around here and it was his first Mardi Gras. About a minute later a car load of drunk girls drove by yelling...woooooo Mardi Gras. It was 9 a.m. From then on we got to say fun things like....look, there’s a pirate! And ah that jester is creepy.

I’ve become a fan of the bloody mary...and I’ve discovered my favorite so far is at Soulard Coffee Garden...and not just because it had a red pepper shaped like a flower stuck to it – however the esthetics didn’t hurt. I figured I might as well start warming up from the inside out. When we finally got to the bus – wow! You St. Charlesans really know how to do Mardi Gras in style! It was totally posh, warm and filled with friends and liquor. I’m not normally a keg drinker, but viva la Mardi Gras. I was fine, it kept me warm and happy. And I even used the port-a-potty, which I stressed was a major breakthrough. It was a banner day for the anti-crowd squeamish one. Makes me think maybe even camping is possible if you drink enough...and wear a feather boa. Amy wondered if people would be flashing the floats for beads...it is really cold. I said, if people are dumb enough to show their boobs when the weather is warm, they’re dumb enough to do it when it’s cold.

The day went really quickly. Beads were caught, stripper pole on the bus was enjoyed, photographic evidence was taken, and then we walked up into the crowds to see Dave’s band play. It was fun, hadn’t heard them in a while – actually this was a different band from his usual and apparently the back up drummer is a small child...or the drummer’s son was standing next to him watching...one of those two things is true. They did some originals which I liked because they sounded like songs you thought you should know – I thought that was a good sign - and then your usual good time festival/bar songs – everyone had a great time. There was dancing...it was 3 p.m....it was a good day.

After that we parted from the bus riders and started walking back home through the crowds. When we got to a clearing, we stopped to take some pictures of the all the people, and then we kissed...a guy passed by and said...well I would say get a room, but it’s mardi gras...enjoy! That about sums it up.

In this parade they don’t throw beads II

I have written before about the Parade of Babies...I just found it in my old MySpace archives. It’s that terrible yearly feature in the local Washington paper where everyone who lives in town sends in pictures of their babies or people send in photos of their grandbabies from their kids who have wised up and gotten the hell out of there.

Hey look – it’s baby Joey – he’s sooooooo cute! Sure I’m biased because he’s my great nephew, but after snuggling with him this weekend, I’m totally gaga for this kid. He heats up like a piece of coal. Little known fact about me – at night I heat up like a furnace, which is shocking because during the day I’m always freezing. My body must think someone is going to steal the covers and I’m going to be left shivering so it heats up to protect me...there has to be some explanation. I got a sense of what it’s like the other night when Jonathan had a fever (strep throat...yikes...he’s better now) and it finally broke and it was like a zillion degrees in bed... interesting to be on the other side of it.

Little Joey is just full time furnace...he’s 23 pounds at 6 months old – he’s harboring a lot of caloric energy. I was holding his little face to mine and it was remarkably calming, especially since minutes before he had just thrown up and I had my arms outstretched saying “please watch the sweater, I have tickets to a show tonight.”

My dad kept scouring the parade of babies. Fred’s had another one he says. Eleanor Louise. Now there are Belle and Ellie I think - it's like he's starting his own faction of Disney Princesses. I just glanced at her but she didn’t appear to be all cherub-y like the last one, but I'm sure she's probably cute. Not sure why they think I need to be updated. Although it is a great feeling to just have it all be factual instead of emotional. It was a lifetime ago. And I am very happy in my here and now.

Then a few hours later it hits me. That’s my baby name. Who takes somebody’s baby name? Louise is his grandmother, but Eleanor that was mine. Well it was until I told my father of the idea and he said he wouldn’t name his ugliest horse Eleanor, which was the name of the wife of a man he couldn’t stand at work. Then just to prove his point, he named our next horse Eleanor. Still.

We’d come back in the living room and my dad would still be reading the paper. Finally Trisha says - dad are you a sperm donor or something? He says – well I did see a few that looked like me. I thought – they are babies – they are mostly bald and look like little old people – yes, I’m sure you’ve found a few that resemble you.

In real parade news, Mardi Gras is this weekend and I’m promising to be social. I know, I’m shocked too. I’m not anti-social as I’ve been accused, I just choose to spend my time with less then thousands of people at a time. I’m better in small groups...and I’m short so I can’t see over people. I appreciate stupid people for their people-watching value, but I have a low idiot tolerance, which also applies to drunks. And I don’t go to the bathroom outside or use Port-a-Potties – just don’t. That’s why I don’t really camp, go on float trips or work construction.

So mardi gras has never really been my thing. But since he’s in the neighborhood, I have an escape plan and can return to the apartment at any time. I like this approach – makes me much less claustrophobic about the whole thing. But don’t hold me to it if it’s going to be 34 degrees...i said I was going to be social, I haven’t entirely lost my mind.


Side note: Can someone explain to me the benefits of the variable speed limit on 270? I finally saw it change the other night – went down to 45 mph. Isn’t the point of a highway to keep moving? If I can go 60 shouldn’t I be encouraged to do so?