Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Happy Mardi Gras everyone!

Even though it's been (gasp!) 12 years since I've called Louisiana home, and 25 since my family lived just outside of New Orleans, there's still something special about Fat Tuesday to me. Like Kelley said on facebook, it's probably more because of the days we had off school than anything else, but I've got some fun Mardi Gras memories lurking around in my brain, and I'm glad to have them!

One of my favorite Mardi Gras memories, I think, is one of me & Jenny playing Mardi Gras parade on the swingset in our backyard in Kenner. The swingset was the float, and we'd take turns throwing beads and doubloons to one another....can't even imagine how much junk my poor dad must have mowed over, with junk getting thrown everywhere, but I'll always giggle when I think of us doing that.

Doing my best to pass on the fun to my kiddos. They already know what a king cake is, baby baked inside & all (yes, Susan, to me it's never going to be weird!), and after I told them the story of auntie & me playing Mardi Gras, K found a flyer from Party City advertising beads & doubloons, and wants some so she & MA can play Mardi Gras, too. Just might have to fulfill that wish today (sorry, honey - I'll do my best to pick up before you have to mow)!

thinking of pop

Haven't been writing much lately (obviously!). I've been attributing that to a case of mid-winter "mully-grubs" (yes, I still use that phrase Bro. Doyle!), and acclamation to the world of facebook (ha!). But as I've been thinking about it today, I think it's because I just really miss my pop. Some of you know he passed away a few months ago - what you might not know is the last time I was with him, I was a complete brat.

Pop, like lots of other 87 year-olds, didn't have the best hearing in the world. Some granddads might put it more delicately, but that old marine who'd raised 8 kids of his own had taken to commenting on my girlies' "screechy little voices" in the last few months he was with us. He never had anything ugly to say about my girls...he loved them - they always got big kisses and hugs from pop-pop whenever we went to see him. But he was tired of what their high-pitched little-girl voices did to his ears, to his head.

So the last time I saw him, I pitched a fit when he fussed about their "screechy little voices." And I didn't give him a chance to apologize when he tried to...and I didn't give my girls time to say goodbye to their pop-pop as I stormed out of his house.

The next time I saw him was on a table in the emergency room, tubes coming out of his mouth, still warm although he was gone. All I could do was kiss his head (his hair was always so soft), and whisper "I am so so sorry..."

And I will always regret that I never got the chance to make things right with pop this side of heaven. I will always, always regret that my girls didn't get to give pop their usual hugs and kisses before we left. I hate that.

I'm praying that I'll learn from this, that I'll be more careful with the precious time I'm given with those I love. But I know that I'm stubborn, that I tend to forget lessons all too quickly, and that sometimes the only way for me to really get something is when it really, really hurts. Think this one qualifies. Father, thank you for tender mercies that are new every morning...how thankful I am that you don't take off in a huff when I insult You, or Your Son with my words and actions. Please, please help me to learn a lesson here, to love well, and to forgive quickly. How desperately I want to grow up to be like Jesus...