I wasn't ready to stand on the curb Sunday to watch the parades in 40-degree weather. Lots of other people were, fueled by red beans & rice and Abita Amber. I stayed at home, trying to straighten up and get my life together. There is always next weekend and the weather is supposed to warm up.
But it wasn't long before I sensed a parade coming my way. I peeked out the front door, still wearing my bathrobe. It was the Lyons Carnival Club with sort of a flowery, fleur de lis theme. A costumed marcher attached an artificial flower to my front gate as he walked by.
The need to march must be encoded on New Orleans' DNA.
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| End of the parade |
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