The Sacred Pow and her Runner at Krewe du Vieux 2011 © Michael Homan

Here I sit in a friend’s living room in New Orleans with a few moments to myself. A rare luxury these days.

When things happen in my life, they tend to happen all at once.

1) The Packers won the Superbowl! It all happened so fast – we went from possibly wild card to laying the smack down on the Giants to beating the Bears to making it into the playoffs to beating the Eagles and the Falcons (?!). And then another epic meetup with the Bears in Chicago where we all know JAY what CUTLER happened. And just like that we were in the Superbowl and won it. Tada! Utter disbelief.

None of this has been given any time to sink in because of

2) Some big news I will drop next week. No, I am not pregnant, dear aunties of the world whose ears perk up each time I place the words “big” and “news” in the same sentence.

3) First the Superbowl and now massive labor protests. On, Wisconsin!

Pro-Labor protests in Madison (CC Image courtesy of Lost Albatross on Flickr)

The Cheesehead Intifada, The Velveeta Revolution, The Asiago Agenda is going down in Madison and all over Wisconsin. Cheesy jokes aside, this quick post can do no justice to the gigantic worker protest in my state and its implications for public- and private-sector employees’ right to collective bargaining nationwide. What is at stake here is fair, living wages and benefits for state employees as well as their right to organize together for better contracts. It’s also about our long-term quality of life and services as a nation, which are at risk thanks to short-sighted, stop-gap measures that are politically-motivated and do not even begin to really trim the fat. For as the saying goes, “Pay teachers, cops, etc. as if they’re amateurs and incompetents and amateurs and incompetents are the only ones who will take the job.” Yes, everyone must make sacrifices in this economy, but why are the targets inevitably the people who can least afford it and not the people who broke our economy in the first place? What about Wall Street and parties who got significant tax breaks paying us back?

Thanks to First Draft (hugs and smooches to Scout, who spent days in the Capitol and rocks so hard!) and gl33p for working hard to keep us informed this past week. Check out photos from my friends Plankers and Jon Miner (when he gets around to posting them). And you go on with your bad self, Charles Woodson!

4) And the whole reason we’re in New Orleans: Krewe du Vieux 2011. The 25th anniversary of the krewe and parade. And, boy, were we 25 years Wasted. The Krewe de C.R.A.P.S. theme this year was 25 Years Of Running From Bullshit and we channeled the spirit of the Pamplona encierro as well as San Fermin en Nueva Orleans to honor a quarter century of running from the crap heaped on New Orleans by politicians at all levels.

That’s all I’ve got. The pictures will do the talking. Please do me a huge favor and put links to your KdV photos in the Comments’ section.

Happy Mardi Gras, y’all!

She left us one year ago today. I would give anything to kiss her cheek one more time. To inhale that smell again as lips touch soft, warm skin. To watch her rail-thin hand sweep over the folds of her beautiful sari after I’ve scrunched it to kiss her. All I have left now is the honor of having known her.

No, that’s not all that remains. This does.

My grandmother had a very full life in which she realized much. If I have a regret for her, it is that she was not costumer and set decorator to the stars. With the freedom she had, however, Patti costumed us (often with no reason – “the idea came to me”) and decorated our homes for religious functions, and did it all with little more than leftover scraps and household objects. Only she could turn the cardboard inside paper towel rolls into replicas of royal chariots and incorporate any construction item you gave her into an heirloom-quality decoration. Room dividers, diadems, spears, belts, portraits, sculptures of gods, all you had to do was ask for it and she would find a way to make it. And she loved sequins, glitter and the color green.

Each year, and I like to think living in New Orleans brought out my grandmother’s creativity in me, I make a Mardi Gras Day mask from scratch. This year’s mask, the one you see above, was dedicated to her. Patti would love for me to share with you how to make one of your own. It’s quite simple, actually.

1) MASK BASE: Purchase a Phantom of the Opera mask base or cut out the pattern from a plain plastic mask.

2) FABRIC COVER: Glue and staple textured satin onto the mask, as shown on right. Make sure the satin is a) the same color as the glitter you will put over it and b) rough in order for the glitter to adhere to the fabric. Given that the mask has topography, you will have to cut out excess satin at the folds. In this case, I cut out material that would go under the gold cord. Use any remaining strips of satin to paste over the staples’ prongs in the back. (Then again, if you scratch up your face like that, you have a mask to put over it). Carefully drill or poke holes in the nostrils of the mask so you can breathe while wearing it (details).

3) CORDS & RIBBONS: Fasten any extra embellishments, e.g. cords, buttons, feathers, sequins, to the mask before applying the glitter. (It’s really hard to get anything to stick to glitter other than more glitter.) Also, at this time, staple on the ribbons that will secure the mask to your head. Pick points on the mask that will allow the ribbons to encircle your head and securely. Don’t worry about any ribbon showing on the front of the mask because you will apply glitter over it.

4) GLUE THAT GLITTER ON: Aleene’s Tacky Glue is your friend. I own enough bottles of this gummy goodness to glue a whole big parade float together. It goes on white, but dries clear, so if you mistakenly get it all over parts of your project for which you didn’t intend it, wipe off the bulk of it and wait for the rest of it to dry. (Such things have never happened to me, of course.) With clean fan brushes of different sizes, apply glue to the fabric, one strip between cords at a time. Make the layer of glue thick enough to grab the glitter but not so thin that it catches nothing. As soon as you apply one layer of glue, tap a shaker of glitter onto the glue. Again, if you accidentally drop too much glitter on the glue, simply blow off the excess or lightly brush it onto unglittered areas. Allow it to dry for a few hours before applying the finishing touches. See picture on left for dried, glittered end product.

5) ACCENTS: For this mask, I decided to add accents where the ribbons meet the mask. I bought two small wooden fleur-de-lis appliques (available at most craft stores), spray-painted them gold and attached them to the mask with velcro tape.

6) SEAL YOUR MASK: (Take the mask outside, place it on newspaper and) spray it down with glossy Clear Coat Sealant Spray. Allow it to dry for an hour or so and then spray it again. The fumes coming off the sealant can take down a full-grown Canadian elk, so I recommend keeping that mask somewhere dry and aerated until you wear it.

***

I wish Patti could have seen me in the mask on Mardi Gras Day. And the Krewe du Vieux Baron Samedi hat, which I will show you how to make later.

This life sucks for snatching away the ones we we love after giving us so much time in which to fall in love and grow closer. It is also an alarmingly beautiful thing for the relationships it fosters, the ones that make us and continue to define us from beyond. The masks and costumes sure don’t replace my grandma, but they help me feel very close to her, as I draw inspiration and comfort from wondering what fabric and colors she would have chosen. Through her artfulness, the world still gets to know my grandmother. And I get to know her more.

Here we are, in our full costumed regalia. D wanted to walk in comfort and warmth while ripping on the NFL and I was going for a Saint / winged-football-goddess sort of look.  Not many notice that the mask represents a football field with yard lines.  Yes, I am a dork.

It doesn’t look too shabby in the picture above, but I wasn’t pleased with the quality of my costume this year for a number of reasons:

a) Notice severe lack of headdress.  Thanks to bad weather all across America over the weekend and the classic incompetence of Delta Airlines gate agents, I didn’t reach New Orleans halfway into Sunday.  Therefore and alas, between abuse taken during repeated trips to the airport and the fact that the sealant fumes still coming off it would have rendered our entire airplane unconscious, my headdress had to be left behind.  An almost-seizure-inducing hour on the phone yesterday with Delta corporate customer service got me a $100 voucher good towards the purchase of a future flight.  Woo to the hoo.

b) Too tired on Tuesday morning to do anything more glam with hair. Boo!

c) The wings didn’t make it past the car.  Yes, I forgot to put them on once we reached our destination, leaving me prey to an endless string of tourists asking, “What are you supposed to be?  An Indian?”  D and I wanted to say, “Yeah, Mardi Gras Indian!”  But, we didn’t think they would understand.

d) Costume 2010 would have been decidedly more spectacular had I not been forced to wear a whole sweatsuit under it.  Damned cold.  Actually, damned fluctuating temperatures, which made poor Loki so ill he had to go to the doctor on Mardi Gras Day instead of leading the annual Krewe of Chartreuse walk.  Ick.

We caught some of the Zulu parade, walked into the Quarter, ate chili cheese tots at the Three Legged Dog and ended up at home away from home, i.e. Fahy’s.  As usual, our evening ended early.  To quote Editor B: “Mardi Gras is primarily an early morning holiday, at least to me. It’s kind of like Christmas in that way. This is contrary to the image many casual tourists might have in mind, due to the common association linking revelry with late nights. But I rarely stay out late on Mardi Gras, and for me the best part of the day is generally before noon.”

The rest of the pictures are in the Mardi Gras 2010 photo gallery.  Happy Lent!

This picture was taken yesterday in the downtime between the MidCity and Thoth parades.  Girl on left = unruly, attention-demanding pain in the ass.  NOPD officer on right = patient, professional and extremely generous to little children and abusive, space-hogging idiots.  And I mean generous to a fault. If I see this officer again tonight, I am going to have to remind him of certain New Orleans ordinances prohibiting fencing of public property, especially when people cordon off whole quarter to half city blocks with Caution tape and pitch teary, obscenity-laced fits as soon as parade-goers Invade Their Space.  Required reading for folks attending Mardi Gras parades in uptown New Orleans: If I Were Carnival Dictator

We had a great time at Thoth this year.  Great weather, gorgeous floats, lots of quality throws.  Thanks, Thoth!

I was 19 at the time and had no use for such pointless bilge.  The gopher was to start its epic journey towards Z’ha’dum or Mount Doom or something that rhymes with Oom and save the planet from a threat we were blissfully unaware of, thus shedding a limited gopher-shaped body to transform into something bigger and more heroic.  Super Kryptonite Investi-Gopher or Gophero, the sworn enemy of mutant carrots everywhere.  Now that I am in my 30s and think back on that story, my friend may have been onto something.  I’m sure there were some other clever, post-modern metaphors in there, but the most obvious one stands out: Life is out of your control, and crap happens when you dream about the great plans you just made.  Or that the gopher was doing it all wrong and could be Herr Commandant of the Underground Resistance if it had simply armed itself.  The futility of being a pacifist country gopher, as it were.

Chippy The Attack Gopher (don't ask)

All of this is to say that I’m terribly frustrated today.  I was supposed to be in New Orleans tonight, but will not leave Ohio until early Sunday.  See this horrible monster in the Southeast that doesn’t even have the common decency to dress in complementary colors?  Thanks to it, I will putz about my house – rearranging the folded clothes and plowing my driveway yet another time – for an extra 36 hours and lose an important day of Carnival.  Even more irritating is that I haven’t spent any meaningful time with D in three weeks and he has been down there waiting for me.  I really don’t know how much longer we can handle this financially- and emotionally-burdensome business travel lifestyle.  Something has to give.

Could be worse, could be gopher pancake under an alien spaceship.

It can be confusing to some how the win of a football team can somehow be tied to the rebuilding of a devastated city. But if you lived here you’d feel it. Athletes often talk of ‘momentum’, and Nola has definitely been experiencing it since Katrina. There is a drive and energy here that simply defies. For being a culture preoccupied with pleasure, I didn’t realize how passionately the people here would go to war over defending their right to it. I guess we’re more like our French fathers after all.

The following video was taken on the street on which D and I used to live.  Each time I watch it, I am so deeply happy for everyone crying, laughing, drinking, jumping and dancing, and want to hug all of them.  The Packer Nation, known for the unfettered dedication of its fans in good times and in bad, salutes the WhoDat Nation.  You deserve it all.

I cannot begin to tell you how majorly bummed I was at not being at Fahy’s with D and my friends to watch and celebrate victory and history in the making.  Kudos to my family, however, for screaming loudly in support of the Saints and agreeing with me that I should have been in New Orleans.  Friends who don’t stay up late and rarely party made their way to the French Quarter at 11PM; folks I thought didn’t have my phone number called or texted into the wee hours of the morning.  Loki, Alexis and I should have been there.  We should also be there today, on Lombardi Gras a.k.a. Dat Tuesday, for the parade about to happen in downtown New Orleans to honor the Saints.  Thankfully, my husband is in New Orleans armed with a camera (and a death threat should he fail to get good pictures).

Keep the party hot for me, y’all.  I will be there on Friday and you know it’s gonna be a good time.

Sat up in bed early this morning, a Sunday morning, knowing this would happen. Changed into my Ashley shirt at halftime.  I knew they’d win, but didn’t know how or by how many points.  Three good dead-on Hartley field goals.  Then, the Tracy Porter interception and runback.  I have never been more certain of victory.

At this moment in time and history, I sit shaking in utter disbelief.  But why?  I knew all along.  Still, like Cade, I took the above picture and am posting it here, so that when I look at this blog tomorrow, I will know it’s not just a dream.  Thank you, Drew Brees.  We deserve this, New Orleans.  You deserve this, lifelong Saints fans.  A team that plays with so much heart had to have destiny on their side.

WHO DAT! WHO DAT! WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS?  NO ONE.