Happy Mardi Gras, Y'all!

Dear Imaginary Cajuns,

Hey, today was the official day to partay hearty! Especially if you were "down in New Orleans, where the blues were born, it takes a cool cat, to blow a horn! Mardi Gras Mambo, Mambo, Mambo...."

I sure wish I had spent the day in New Orleans sipping on a frosty mint julep, bedecked with beads, rather than sitting around laboring over my landscapes and washing paint brushes. But what can you do? Tuesday is painting day in Washington. For me, anyway.

It was also entry day at The Art League in Alexandria, on the main floor of the Torpedo Factory, and guess who had their Mardi Gras themed painting accepted into the show?
Moi, of course, cher! The painting is based on an old photo taken when I was just a tiny tadpole, wearing a Pirette costume (French clown). My sister Susan is shown sitting on a ladder, waiting for the parade to pass by and throw us something, mister.

Beads, doubloons, we don't care~! When I was a little girl, I just loved the parades, the costumes, the colors, the craziness. The marching band played heavy beats that resounded in your tiny chest. You had to sit on your daddy's shoulders in order to see, or on a specially constructed ladder, like the one Susan is on. Too bad I was not good at catching, because up there, there is no leaning over to catch those beads.

Flambeaux carriers predated the lit floats. Before electricity was widely used, young black gentlemen would dance down the streets carrying the lit torches, at no slight danger to their safety. I think the torches were ignited rags with kerosene. Back then,  necklaces were made with glass beads. When they were thrown to you, you had best catch them. Bend over to pick up a doubloon, and your hand would most likely be stepped on by someone who wanted it more.

Living dangerously, New Orleans style! Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Your Imaginary Friend,

Patsie