Living Wright: Mardi Gras a passport to excess
BY JASON ASHLEY WRIGHT World Scene Writer
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
2/12/13 at 7:09 AM
Go to Jason Ashley Wright's BlogOriginal Print Headline: Mardi Gras a passport to excess
Happy Mardi Gras! Or, if you prefer, Happy Valentine's Day Eve Eve.
Whatever your holiday inclination, I hope you're out there letting those bon temps rouler whenever and however possible - and preferably within the confines of local law.
Without further ado (though I really, really wanted to write "adieu" in keeping with the theme), I thought it better opportunity now than any time of year to have our monthly dose of lagniappe, that Cajun-inspired dose of somethin' somethin' minus rhyme, reason or, more often than not, segue.
Mardi Gras memories
I'm so glad that celebrating Mardi Gras is slowly becoming a bigger deal in Tulsa. Mostly, that's because it reminds me of being closer to home - even though my family never did anything for Mardi Gras.
We lived in New Orleans when I was too young to remember anything but my first taste of coffee and grabbing at Spanish moss hanging from trees when Mom would take me outside. Other than that, my Mardi Gras memories pre-college involved Popeyes chicken commercials (and I might be hallucinating those memories) and an episode of the cartoon "Jem" when they went to New Orleans for carnival.
When we moved to Picayune, Miss., just five miles from the Louisiana state line, we started having king cakes - particularly ones from Paul's Pastry Shop, which ships king cakes all over the world. Absolutely amazing, stuffed with cream cheese or fruit fillings.
And a baby. That's what people not familiar with king cakes need to remember today if they have a slice. Of course, the king cake I had last week had a bigger baby than usual - like, first-trimester-sized, except with a facial expression. Slightly disturbing.
But whatever, it tasted good (the cake, not the baby - it's bad luck to eat the baby). I hope to be having shrimp or crawfish or some similar carnival-themed bottom-feeder for dinner.
Then, come Ash Wednesday, it's back to salads, copious amounts of fruit and a minimum of 45 minutes each day on my new elliptical trainer. I bought it from a fabulous couple in Coweta, and it currently sits in my foyer - i.e., the small expanse of carpet between the back of my recliner and the front door.
I have room to enter and exit without incident from my house, but I'm debating on moving the elliptical - which is about the size of a small helicopter - closer to my bedroom door, so I'll feel more pressured to use it.
I will not, however, drape another hoodie on the arm handles ever, ever again. This is why I moved the coat rack from the foyer to the back bedroom, my future gym/walk-in closet/panic room.
Before that, though, I need to find a po'boy and a virgin hurricane to bid adieu to carnival season. Laissez les bon temps rouler!
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