Fat Tuesday

Laissez les bons temps rouler! Oui. Oui. Bienvenue. I am all for that! Bawdy N'awlyuns is dancing in the streets. Rio de Janeiro is smokin' hot. Montreal is hopping. One last day before the diet begins for all church-going folks. Prelude to spring. The rebirth. And all things steaming as we head into the sultry days of summer bare-skinned and loose.

This gal, too. Need to take it up a notch. Dr. John blows his horn. Revelers debauched frolic along the narrow avenues to Dixieland blues. Trumpets. Trombones. The strains of a lone alto sax drifts from the alleyway. It is celebrating time. This is for real. Doubloons glitter. Purple and green jesters bow and leap. Cougars in vests made of bottle tops, velvet and lace bounce in tune with fraternity boys sporting crew cuts and beer. Beignets and cafe au lait and trolley cars and bourbon. New Orleans in mid-February. Best place on earth. Actually a glimpse into the festivities of Hades. All those lost and departed fun livin' crazies. Way too much fun. Bien sur.

Hide behind your glitter and sequined mask. Peer out from behind the curlicue rodiron balconies. The Saints are celebrating big this year. Secrets. Cajuns. Hurricanes at O'Brien's. Lady Shawmut a very naughty girl. Every time she visits this French ville sur la mer. Swamp rats the size of small dogs roam Le Quartier. Mosquitoes as big as hummingbirds spin lazy circles in the damp evening sky. Humid. Hot. Tantalizing. Mossy trees. Bluesy jazz. Bacchanalian energies a'mix with sensual delights. Pralines and chicken gumbo. Crawfish, jambalaya and etoufee. Po'boys and pork boudin. Bread pudding souffle. Mmmm nums! Oh la la. What's not to love? A little something extra for all of us wanting to have a little bit of romance the southern Louisiana way. Lagniappe.

Cheers! Fais-do-do! A demain ...