Mardi Gras has been one of my favorite things since I was nine years old. That’s when I went to my first parade. Down in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama, they know how to have a good time. Then Mardi Gras comes around and makes it a great time. The floats, the beads, the bands, the costumes…dang, y’all…this and so much more has thrilled me for many years.
While many other states do have parades, I can say without a doubt that these three have elevated it into an art form. Each town and each Krewe has developed delightfully unique colors, themes, and traditions. There are parades that feature children, or dogs, or even flamingos. Most are appropriately family friendly, while others are a bit too bawdy and gawdy.
At any rate, let me get back to my point. On February 22, 2020, I was enjoying a fabulous time in Lafayette, Louisiana. Staying in an historical home only three blocks from the parades was so exciting. Eating crawfish cooked seven different ways was a gastric celebration. Catching a variety of beads, toys, and stuffed animals was so much fun.
Mardi Gras was great until…I lost my balance, fell off a curb, and broke my wrist! Ouch!! And, before you even ask…no I had not been drinking! I was totally sober. The next morning my travel companion took one look at the swelling and discoloration and began packing our luggage. He was so sweet, stopping to buy me a King cake and pain reliever for the long ride back home.
And that, dear friend, is why I have not posted over the last month or done much of anything. Having my dominant hand in a cast has certainly made me think about things more carefully.
Will I be more cautious when walking? Yes! Will I be more thankful for my health? Yes! Will I stop going to Mardi Gras? NO, goodness no! Even though I broke my wrist, I will always love Mardi Gras. Dang, y’all…I just hope the next one has a much happier ending.
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