Last night, Sean and I drove home from a New Year’s Eve party at Cass and Heather’s house in the Fouburg Marigny. We skipped the pilgrimage to the quarter, and went home. We took the long way home, driving through Bayou St. John and Mid City. The annual Orleans Ave. Bonfire was about to begin, but we drove on. Die-hard renegade firework handlers were working their magic under the cloak of fog. There was a moratorium on fireworks this year. It seems that the FEMA blue roofs are not only very flammable, but they actual melt, and drip molten plastic fire into the very homes they guard from exposure to natural elements.
As we left downtown, cars poured in towards the quarter. The parking situation was panicky. The mid city revelers were a little calmer, despite their decision to disregard one of the better temporary laws in the city. It seemed as though the pull of the down-towners was driven by an urge to flush 2005 five with as much synergy as they could possibly muster. The Orleans Ave. group appeared to be driven by a very familiar determination to not let their traditions be killed by Katrina.
None of us really want to give her anything else.
We finally hopped on I10 to head home. The highway was foggy and quiet. I rested my head on Sean’s chest and stared out his (side) rearview mirror. As I looked at the dark and hazy highway disappearing behind us, I considered 2005 and looked at the time. 11:50.
It has been decided by most, that 2005 was the absolutely worst year ever. I argue that the first half was pretty good. If the events of this year, both good and bad, were measured in quantity, I think the good would exceed the bad. Unfortunately, this year, it does seem appropriate to measure by weight. In that case, it might have been the worst year ever.
Sean and I parked behind our house at 11:56 and ran inside. We plopped down on the bed and gathered our dogs around us. We waited 4 minutes for the countdown, and gave each other a sleepy kiss to celebrate the new year. It was a good moment. I felt lucky.
Lucky to be in our home, alive, with our dogs, and our stuff. Lucky to be loved and to love. Lucky to have turned 29 this year, and finally graduated college. Lucky to have amazing friends and family.
This year I want to celebrate all of these things. I want to pour my attention into the things that I am so grateful to have.
Sean was asleep by 12:02, dreaming of a peaceful new year.
By the way, your Christmas cards and gifts have been sent. Sorry about the timing.
It is about damn time too! I have never before been so excited about Mardi Gras as I am this year. Kaysey said it best..."This year, we are doing it for ourselves". This year we are celebrating the tenacity of our own culture and our right to celebrate the unbridled joy that lives somewhere in the hearts of everyone. Hurricanes can destroy our homes and levees can be broken, but our spirits refuse do be drowned this year.The shortage of marching bands has not gone by un-noticed. Neither have the substitute high school bands from out of town. I am grateful for their presence, but it is just not the same. I am certainly not complaining, only noting that their music and their moves leave me with a bittersweet feeling.This season promises to be particularly joyful, since Cass and Heather will be Married Lundi Gras evening. The event of their marriage will be a gorgeous union and a reunion since so many old friends will be in town.On Tuesday, the St. Anthony's Ramblers will be rolling bright and early from the Treme to the quarter following the Panorama Jazz Band. These guys have been playing non-stop for about 2 weeks. I hope our appreciation of them gives them the energy they need to march through the quarter all day long with their instruments.I can't wait to post the pictures of the Tuesday Second Line!By the way, These photos are all stolen from others (thanks Jonah), since I have been way to busy dancing, screaming and catching beads so far this year. I will bring the camera on Tuesday. 
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