That headline really makes no sense--"fat party," I think would be the translation. Don't know what a fat party would look like, but it
probably would resemble a Super Bowl party we attended exactly 16 years ago today (give or take a day), where I ate so much RoTel dip with sausage and chips that Craig yelled across the room, "My gosh! You're a pit!" I was also way past nine months pregnant with a baby who refused to make her way into the world, and nachos were the trendy food at the time. So I bellied up to the bar and ate directly from the Crock Pot. It was a good fit.
Back to Party Gras...I think it's a cute little play on words for a sweet little kiddo who experienced her first Mardi Gras this weekend. And just look at the loot she scored after just two parades!!! Do you know what a grown person would have to do in New Orleans to bring home such treasures? (Trust me, it would be lewd.) This sweet 7-year-old, however, only had to sit on a wall, flash a smile and wave her hands in the air.
Another of my children was supposed to join us, but alas, she was hit like a truck by the flu. Out of nowhere. The high fever couldn't keep her down, but the embarrassing vomititis in the Walgreen's parking lot eventually did—it didn't do much for Walgreen's business, either. Her dear father met us there, we transferred suitcases from one car to another like we were making a drug drop, and I smarted off at him for not listening to me in the first place because I know a flu when I see one and when in the world are you ever going to believe me when I say, "This kid is too sick to be out and about"? And then I pulled out the big guns: "It's like the appendicitis of 2007." But that's a story for another day.
The other photos are various shots taken on or near Royal Street. (Be sure to check out the cereal bowl in the hotel restaurant. You could mix up a cake in it.) Clearly, I am not a photographer. But perhaps these shots will give you an idea of the festivities. Good, clean fun.
So, happy end-of-Mardi-Gras, and best wishes for a very Fat Tuesday filled with pancakes, King's cake, Krispy Kremes or whatever else you can find to rid your home of fat, eggs and dairy. (My friend, Lee, once did this with an entire Johnny Ray's chocolate cream pie, but it had nothing to do with Fat Tuesday. I think it was the middle of summer. The pie was in his refrigerator, and it bothered him so much that he sat down and ate the whole darn thing, just to be rid of it. Wiped his mouth with his sleeve, threw the empty pie plate in the trash, rubbed his palms together and went about his business. That's efficiency right there. A real take-charge kind of guy.)
P.S. -- The Catholics did have wireless, by the way, but this Baptist didn't have a lot of time. So please forgive. And quit sending terse little e-mails, Caprice. I'm doing the best I can.