Mardi Gras Memories, Version 2014

This was definitely a different sort of Mardi Gras for us. It was fun to stay with friends and catch up with neighbors, but it just felt . . . like we were visitors.  Which, of course, we were.

Wow. That's kind of hard to admit.

Anyway, we spent the first part of the week staying with a friend in Lakeview, and we left our car there for the second part of the week, not really being up for paying $50.00 per day to park in the Quarter. Retired Navy friends picked us up there and took us to their lovely 200 year old  home in the Quarter after dinner on the Lake (they live up the street from Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's house, and catty-corner from one of Nicholas Cage's former houses. One of the ones he lost during his little tiff with our pals at the IRS. I might note that our friends are less than enthralled with Brangelina.). Here are two views of the downstairs parlor:

One thing that made me feel "at home" was the ubiquitous Mardi Gras decor.  I did a few things outdoors, but didn't manage to get the lights up. That failure will not happen next year. It's just cheery to see decor like this:

One doesn't encounter decorative arts like that in Little Rock.

We made it to the old neighborhood twice, got to visit with dearly missed neighbors and meet new babies both trips, and even got an extended tour of Moogie's Mansion, which is now nothing like Moogie's Mansion inside. On Bacchus Sunday, we went to two neighborhood parties and visited with the out-of-retirement-just-for-Mardi-Gras Security Guard at St. Elizabeth's who had taken a shine to Pepper and wound up giving him quite a few hunting rifles and shotguns before we moved because he was downsizing. (That is proof positive that it certainly pays to take plates of food to the Security Guard on a regular basis!) It was a great day, but another you-don't-live-in-Moogie's-Mansion realization hit us square in the face when we couldn't find a parking place any closer to the parade route than a mile and a half! We got our exercise in that day, for sure. Here is what the front yard looks like now at the Mansion:

No more holly, jasmine, and lantana on the front fence. And JB's gardenia has been dramatically pruned. It should be okay though -- it survived Bouie's puppyhood, after all. They offered to let us take the Mother's Day birdbath, but we didn't get back over there on the way home. At least I have a picture of it as it sits today.

I went with our Lakeview friend to the Mystic Krewe of Nyx's parade on Wednesday night after our arrival while Pepper relaxed. It was freakin' freezing! And I didn't wear nearly enough clothes, thinking I was back in New Orleans and all -- it took me all night to thaw out beneath the covers. Who knew? This is one of my favorite new floats -- it's one of the signature Nyx floats:

Cosmo, anyone?

I can't believe I didn't take more pics of the food we gorged ourselves on during the week.  Maybe I feared that just looking at the pics would pack on the pounds. On Friday night, we had dinner at Ralph's on the Park with our real estate guy -- he had become a very good friend. He even bought Pepper's 911 so we wouldn't have to move it. (Don't grieve for Pepper's loss of a Porsche.  He had a gently used, but not terribly well-maintained, Cayenne waiting for him in Little Rock that had found its way into the family last spring during a trip when we were supposed to be babysitting, not car shopping. I call it "The German Lemon." Hopefully, it's in good shape now, plus we can get in and out of it a lot easier than the 911.) This preceded dinner -- a cucumber martini. (It had been prettier -- I had already eaten the cucumber slice perched on the rim of the glass):

This was my dinner -- Visiting Fish:

I think we had dessert, but it disappeared PDQ.

This was breakfast with the Krewe of Eggs on Mardi Gras morning on St. Charles Avenue across from Gallier Hall.  Pretty darn good buffet on a dreary, cold, rainy morning!

But, I think this was my favorite.  A shrimp Po Boy from our neighborhood grocery, Zara's.  Or what was left of it by the time I snapped this pic. I called in the order as we were hiking toward the old neighborhood and it was steaming hot by the time we got there, just waiting on us. We ate it on the neutral ground. It also pays not to delete numbers from one's phone when one moves:

There was a lot more food and fun than I photographed. And I finally got to see the Sophie B. Wright Academy marching band as Zulu passed our restaurant on Mardi Gras morning!

Writing this post brought up some very pleasant memories.  And it kept me from concentrating on Ukraine and our paper tiger president, who is on yet another golf vacation in the Florida Keys while the world threatens to implode.

Thank you for your indulgence.  I think I'll go find a little snack!

And maybe a cocktail. After all, it's 5:00 in the Florida Keys.

Happy Mardi Gras 2012!!!

I briefly tried to post a small political distraction on the iPad, but the App gods had other ideas, so . . .

Happy gorgeous, joyful Mardi Gras!!!!

I'm sleeping for the next day or so.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Carnival, and the Status of the Unionized Speech

Why, yes, I am still alive, thanks for inquiring!  I'm not sure where last week went, but it was probably consumed with the taking down of Christmas finery, the putting out of Mardi Gras excess, and our first ever Endymion Coronation Ball. Pepper will be riding on a brand new super float, throwing trinkets to the masses, and getting properly lubricated for the Extravaganza that follows the parade on February 18th in the Superdome.

The Coronation Ball was pretty impressive -- it staggers the imagination to think of the logistical nightmares that accompany an intimate dinner service for 5,000+, but it was pulled off with style and flair (even though we left before the Second Line parade -- the Second Line parade that kicked off at 2:00 a.m.!  Pepper and Bouie had a date to go bird hunting early on a foggy Sunday morning.)

So, it's beginning to look a lot like Mardi Gras here at Moogie's Mansion!  We're expecting anywhere from 4 to 9 guests for the big second weekend.  I guess folks are finally accepting that this could be our last Carnival season as New Orleans residents (translation: free bed and breakfast a block off the Uptown parade route).  Here's a little bit of the finery --

The dining room is my favorite spot to decorate for Mardi Gras because we spend a lot of time at the table -- and you have to go through the dining room to get most anywhere downstairs.

The front parlor is fun, too.

Then, there's the upstairs tribute to my Krewe of Muses, the night-parading, all-woman Krewe.  I usually leave this good loot out all year 'round so our houseguests have an adequate opportunity to develop an appropriate appreciation for the Muses.  If Pepper wants to erect a shrine to Endymion he'll have to find another spot.

Yep --  shoes play a large role in Muses treasure.  (The roll of toilet paper is from the Krewe of Tucks.  Their monarch doesn't ride on a throne, he rides on a giant toilet and throws plungers and squirting toilets!).

And, of course, the Sophie Wright marching band is in full practice mode, and they've been practicing outdoors in the unusually-warm weather we've been experiencing.  Yep. I had to turn on the AC in the middle of January!

I'm sure I'll feel like this come Ash Wednesday.

Now, changing gears, what Drinking Game trigger words shall we establish for tonight's Status of the Unionized speech?  "Fair share?"  "Millionaires and billionaires?"  "Educational opportunity?"  Everyone had better get a designated driver set up -- this could be a tipsy evening!

Good Times in the Big Easy

Sunday was definitely an interesting day.  Football (which we shall not discuss, thank you very much), brunch with friends, the Blues Festival down the street.

And then, there was this:

As I was heading home after brunch, I saw blue lights at the intersection ahead, and before I could turn around to detour around it, here came a parade!  Floats, princesses, brass bands and all.  At first I was hoping that it was just an ordinary Sunday afternoon Second Line (because they usually don't take too long to pass), but, noooo. 

Yesterday's paper had a few pics and reported that I had experienced the Original Prince of Wales Social Aid and Pleasure Club celebrating 82 years of history, rolling up Magazine and turning onto Louisiana.  And it took the route that I had planned to take home to avoid the blues festival-blocked Napoleon.

Some days, you can't swing a cat in this city without hitting a parade.

Memories and Plans

I just put my baby daughter on a plane back to Little Rock. She came for a quick visit while her sister honeymoons in Jamaica because her Mama was suffering from a mild bout of "family withdrawal." We shopped til we dropped, ate a lot, and drank a little too much. We talked about and planned for her wedding next June. (I'm really glad she's giving us a year for the bank account to recover!)

Now the house is awfully quiet and Bouie's pouting.

So, here are a few more wedding memories from last month:

I guess I did get teary-eyed a bit at first. Doesn't my grandson's expression look like he's escorting me to an execution! He took his duties very seriously (for the most part -- there is that communion wafer story!) and did a very good job. And we did manage to keep his little brother out of the baptismal font. Barely.

The bride's cake was not only beautiful, it tasted out of this world! I wish I had a piece right now. That's a little piece of lace from my wedding dress tucked into Shay's bouquet -- I used the time we were waiting for the emergency plumber to arrive to repair the exploded ballcock in the toilet the morning we were to depart for Little Rock to remove a lot of the lace. Now I'm all ready for next year's bouquet and have a brand new ballcock and shut-off valves. Indoors and out. Egad.

There's my big girl standing at a window in our front parlor with her dress all bustled up. Her friend took that shot on Halloween day before we headed down to the Quarter for her formal portrait shoot. I really need take some photography classes. Her formal portrait wound up being a shot taken in a French Quarter townhouse where a seriously gay realtor was holding an open house and thought it was just too perfect to have a "real bride" do a photo shoot in there on Halloween. He flung wide the door and hustled us inside. And it was a gorgeous place!

Little Rock hadn't seen many Second Line parades -- the band learned "When the Saints Come Marching In" and led the parade with brass blaring! We didn't actually throw the beads -- we just kinda handed a few out -- a personal injury lawsuit would put a damper on wedding memories, don't ya know. Tim was using the Second Line umbrella that his grandfather had given his grandmother shortly before his death. It was a nice family touch -- and, more importantly, it was in Saints colors (as was the groom's cake! That one was seriously chocolate -- made by one of Shay's friends -- whose apartment was flooded after the tornado hopped over it and dumped a gazillion inches of rain the night before the wedding).

Yep -- we had us some wedding adventures! Now if I can shed just 10 more pounds . . . .

Of Cabbages, Brides, and Bachelorettes

Visits from family always seem to turn into sleepless, gluttonous, every-moment-filled affairs. Even so, I must admit that I had a ball this weekend, although I currently feel about 50 creaky years older than my chronological age.

Yesterday afternoon, after I prepared brunch and the last carload headed north, I actually curled up on the couch under a blanket with 2/3 of the dogs and watched a movie I've already seen because I didn't have the energy to search for a new one. Then we ate yummy leftover "Moogielettas" (my beefless spin on the iconic New Orleans Muffaletta) and leftover-from-brunch fruit salad for dinner while watching "The Pacific," the other-side-of-the-world version of "Band of Brothers."

Today I'm tackling the laundry generated by six twenty-something houseguests.

It was fun. After an afternoon in the Quarter, I did a shrimp boil dinner party on Friday night with the Bachelorettes and quite a number of the groom-to-be's lady relatives, including both grandmothers, 2 aunts, and 2 cousins! I skipped the evening adventure in the Quarter that prominently featured "Huge Ass Beers" and other gallivanting.

That chapter ended via cab ride at roughly 3:30 Saturday morning, with both daughters awakening us to complain about the other -- and it seems that their Daddy had texted the 29-year-old Bride-to-be at 3:00 or so to inform her that she was out entirely too late. I think he may be getting pre-wedding Daddy-nutsies. When The Son got married 12 years ago -- literally on the day before the wedding -- Pepper impulsively bought a bright red Mazda Miata convertible for the then-15 year old Younger Daughter. I'm almost afraid to think about what will join the household when Elder Daughter approaches the aisle.

Saturday was the Irish Channel St. Patty's Day parade. Quite a few male members of SIL#1-to-be's very Irish family march in that parade, decked out in tuxedoes and distributing flowers, garters and other Gaelic treasures (such as lacy green underwear!) in exchange for kisses from the recipients. They "prepare" for the march for several hours in advance in various taverns and a last-minute Mass. Such a hoot -- and we did acquire quite a bit of groceries! Who knew Moogie could be so adept at catching cabbages, carrots, and potatoes!

Don't you love the cabbage-bedecked wrought iron fence on Magazine Street? I snapped that shot while picking up Elder Daughter after her post-parade visit to the the fire station, a gathering place for her future extended family (several of them are firefighters). Have you ever tried to locate a cute young blonde wearing a green tee shirt on Magazine Street after a St. Patrick's Day parade? Picture it!

Saturday night was pretty much a recovery period for the bachelorettes, except for "That One," a funny, multi-talented young woman -- one of the single-lady Bridesmaids.

See, there was a huge convention in town -- 35,000+ orthopedic surgeons and all those folks who would like to teach them and sell them things. One of that number met That One during the Friday night Huge Ass Beers Quarter adventure and pursued her all Saturday via text messages, entreating her to join him for dinner. What could I do -- she's legal and has her own money!

Unfortunately, she had very little luck with the cab companies, so -- after checking out the destination and a little more info -- I offered to drive her downtown, on the condition that I meet the young man.

Fortunately, everything turned out to be legit and she arrived back at Moogie's Mansion before midnight via taxi, but that encounter became a story that stands all on its own. Suffice it to say that this Girls' Trip to New Orleans has now been nicknamed "The Trip Where 'That One' Went Out With A Guido From Jersey Shore!"

I don't have much time to recover. The Son and a friend -- Pepper's first aide de camp! -- are heading this way on Saturday after a bird hunt with Pepper and Bouie.

But they won't generate quite as much laundry. Will they?

Ehhh-- who cares!

A Public Education Success Story in New Orleans -- Wright in My Neighborhood!

Finally! I finally remembered to post pictures of the Sophie B. Wright Charter School marching band!

These pictures were taken on Super Bowl Sunday during the King Arthur parade.

It's difficult to describe how proud I am of these young people and their adult sponsors. If you check out the above link to a recent Times-Picayune article about the school's journey, you might come to appreciate the obstacles thrown into the school's path since 2001. You might also come to understand how Katrina's devastation and aftermath might have been the genesis of the good things going on in education in New Orleans: when the slate is wiped clean, there are no more "lines" inside of which the system must color.

After Katrina, and liberated by the designation of her school as a "charter" affiliated with one of our universities, Wright's no-nonsense Principal chose traditional values and discipline as the foundation for her re-molded school. She rounded up a phenomenal faculty and staff, and recruited not only highly-performing students, but also parents whom she knew to be both interested and committed to raising and educating good citizens who will become contributing members of society. Not a bad equation.

When we first moved to this neighborhood in 1999, Sophie Wright was a mess -- what you envision as a typical inner-city junior high with slovenly-attired, foul-mouthed students that walked to school or jumped off the bus early, leaving littering and looting in their wake. I choose to forget how many times the cars were vandalized, or how many plants were ripped out by the roots, or how many things "disappeared" from our wrought-iron-fenced-and-gated yard, or what unpleasantly foul words I heard wafting loudly through the air as school opened or closed. Many was the day I tried to get through by phone to the office to report wandering students or a fight among them taking place at our corner. Rarely was the phone answered.

That doesn't happen anymore, or at least it doesn't happen where the neighborhood is made keenly aware of it.

We sensed the beginnings of change in the fall of 2006 or spring of 2007. Still a little gun-shy (pardon the pun) about the neighborhood's darling children, we kept a close eye on them as they traveled to and from school. One afternoon, a young girl -- probably no older than 12 or 13 -- was being cruelly taunted by a small group of young men as they headed home on foot. She took all she could take and picked up a brick, eyeing them as targets. Pepper happened to be puttering in the yard and yelled at the young men to leave her alone and to clean up their language -- they all took off, lickety-split, and he thought maybe, once again, he should try to report the incident, not expecting to have much success as past experience suggested. He called the office and someone answered the phone, even though school had been dismissed for the day! He deemed it a refreshing experience as he gave a description of the events and kids involved, but thought that would probably be the end of it.

Not so.

Ten minutes or so later, a man wearing the uniform of Sophie Wright's faculty and staff appeared at the gate with a clipboard and the young people in tow. He politely introduced himself and showed appropriate identification as a member of the Sophie Wright team and asked Pepper to recount what he had observed. Flabbergasted, Pepper re-told his tale, identifying the players along the way. Then, you could have knocked him over with a feather when the Wright faculty member exacted an apology from the kids to one another and to Pepper, and he promised that their parents would be informed and the students disciplined. To be honest, we were a little fearful of retribution, but nothing ever happened, and those students minded their manners thereafter when passing through the neighborhood. At least they did in front of our house!

Since that time, the appearance of the campus has been brightened and beautified by groups of students, staff, and parents working together. The academic performance of the school as a whole has measurably improved. Activity is going on at the school all the time, keeping its students engaged in creative, wholesome pursuits. And I'm no longer secretly afraid of the neighborhood students.

To me, the marching band is the public face of Sophie Wright's success. We listen each year as the band starts from scratch, practicing in the schoolyard, sometimes wondering if they will ever all play the same notes at the same time. But, they work -- they work hard, putting in long hours -- and they succeed in coming together. Their band director and chaperones work hard, too, and should share in the glow of success, knowing that they have probably changed these children's lives forever, for the better.

This year, the band began practicing for the parades by circling the block while playing or dancing. Part of their training is learning to concentrate through the din of cheering parade-watchers. Pepper and I tried to help them out by standing outside and clapping as they pass, or honking a car horn in rhythm to the beat. They did as instructed and concentrated on their performances -- for the most part. We spied quite a number of surreptitious peeks in our direction, accompanied by shy, satisfied grins. But, who can fault them?

The last few years during Carnival, entrepreneurial booster groups (including non-band students) have opened the school during weekend parades, selling really good (donated) food prepared in the cafeteria, secure parking spots in the schoolyard, and use of clean restrooms. That's teaching by example, I'd say.

The proceeds go, among other places, to the purchase of those dazzling uniforms and instruments you see pictured above, and to outfitting the spirit groups for the Warriors. I've even kicked in a few donations myself.

Sophie Wright was everywhere this Carnival season, showing off their hard work and doing their beaming mentors proud. We were proud of them, too.

Sophie Wright is a win-win for its students, the neighborhood, and the future of public education. We wish them continued success as their program builds and their school's successes multiply.

Now, if we could only do something about that awful bus backing-upping beeping!

A Few More Pics

That's Drew Brees on the float. He was Da Man in parades this year! And that's Moogie and Pepper in Dat Number -- I've never really mastered the "self-portrait" technique.

I've said it before and I'll say it again (see previous post) -- what a ride!!!

Buddy's Brawds Celebrate Saints in the Super Bowl

Buddy Diliberto was a Purple Heart Korean War veteran, a correspondent for The Stars and Stripes, and a New Orleans sportscasting icon. It was a mournful day, that January day in 2005, when Buddy unexpectedly left New Orleans to take up residence in the big arena in the sky.

Buddy had that "Yat" accent from "da Parish," and loved the Saints like no one else. He was also their sharpest, most outspoken critic, often from the broadcasting booth.

He was the guy who came up with the less-than-flattering team nickname, "the Ain'ts," and was among the first to sport the famous paper bag with eyeholes over his head to depict "the embarrassed fan." One season, out of pure frustration with the Saints' dismal performance, he declared that if the Saints ever made it to the Super Bowl, he'd don a dress, march to the Quarter, and sashay down Bourbon Street.

Yesterday, with the blessing of Buddy's family, and the assistance of Bobby Hebert (the "Cajun Cannon") who quarterbacked the Saints and succeeded Buddy at the microphone, thousands of men (plus a number of women and a few Elvises!) made good on that promise with the "Buddy D Dress Parade!"

They left, en masse, from the Superdome and headed toward the Quarter. Some marched in a precision dance team group, some pranced as "Buddy and Bobby's Brawds." Some just second-lined toward the Quarter, gleefully pumping black-and-gold umbrellas into the air, and shouting, "Who Dat! Who Dat! Who Dat sayin' dey gonna beat dem Saints!"

Men in dresses marching through New Orleans. You're smirking, you say? After all, it is New Orleans where Southern Decadence takes over Labor Day weekend.

Heh. These were mostly straight guys, helped with the intricacies of their costumes by wives, girlfriends, and daughters! Guys who had a little trouble keeping pace while wearing those spiked and stacked heels. Guys who learned how chilly one can get when wearing pantyhose instead of slacks on a breezy day. (Parading gay guys in New Orleans already know all that stuff and accept that, often, one must sacrifice comfort in order to accommodate fashion.)

Not that Buddy's Brawds were exactly "fashionable!"

But they were joyous and happy and ready for Super Saints Sunday.

They were also a little tipsy.

That may continue for the rest of the week, through the Saints Welcome Home parade next week!

Who Dat!!!

(Check out pics and videos here. More available here, but there are a couple of ads for a lawyer on this one.)

Check out a fellow Who Datter's excellent post at Our Little World! It reprints a very "educational" letter in today's Times-Picayune.