Mardi Gras Day. Hot, I remember Mardi Gras days in the winter like this one…actually would get a sunburn! Windy. As a bow to the Mardi Gras tradition of Mom’s, made homemade potato salad and homemade chili, no dogs, of course, but just had a tiny bowl of chilii, yum, followed by a dogless chili hot dog and potato salad. Tums feels really fine! I have been solely watching the coverage on FOX 8, local branch of FOX and I have completely enjoyed it so far. You should see the colors this year; the crowds. Liz Reyes, on Bourbon Street, is wearing my exact crown and I have a purple wig like hers…lots of Princess Leia’s, in tribute. They are live streaming it on their site, if anyone would care to watch. The weather has gone to everyone’s head, and it’s really a joyous, funny celebration.
I finally feel all right today. Much better, and that’a huge relief because I was getting worried. Yesterday, kind of semi-followed Mom’s old condition diet—lots of fruit, water, in addition to the pot roast with rice–it’s a purification sort of thing, and I think it did the trick.
Working Lundi Gras today covering consults. Saturday night at the Endymion parade, at Orleans Avenue and North Carrollton, a truck plowed through the crowd and injured 28 people. It wasn’t terrorism, just a 25-year-old drunk out of his mind. That’s not far from where we used to watch Endymion, and not far at all from Moss Street.
I did watch the Oscars last night. What a smug roomful of people. I almost knew ahead of time who would win the Oscar: I knew the Iranian guy was going to win for what–documentary, or something–Hollywood wouldn’t let that one go by–and of course, he had to send by distance someone with a speech to bash America. I wonder if Jimmy Kimmel would have ever brought up Obama’s BM’s the way he brought up Trump’s? Several swipes by Kimmel and other people. Still, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. But there was huge payback in a way for all of this with that monumental flub when it came to time announce best picture. There was a liberal, Trump-hating, conservative-hating denizens of all La La Land so perfect and self righteous with complete egg on their faces. I’m not surprised at all that a film about gay, black drug dealers won this year. And what the hell was wrong with Warren Beatty? If you’re giving out an award for Best Picture, and when you open the envelope it read, Best Actresss Emma Stone for La La Land, isn’t it apparent you have the wrong envelope? He was like a deer caught in headlights. I think I would have stopped, made some kind of joke and just say, this is the wrong envelope, but Emma Stone, you’ve won twice, or something. Ah, the beautiful people.
Feel it in my heart and intestinal region that I did the right thing yesterday.
Well, today I am not in my jammies and although it was another night of heavy sleep awakened with more energy. Also testing to see if this malaise has been brought on by the additional factor of Trader Joe’s, I shopped solely at Joe W’s this morning. I’ve eaten so many roasted vegetables this past week I can’t look at another one. Slowly cooking a pot roast, could use the red meat and right now just want fruit and plain Greek yogurt. Okay, didn’t mean to go on another food tangent, God, I’m obsessed. I’ve been so cooped up for the past month, except for work, and today is so lovely, couldn’t face going home after groceries. The back porch has been so desolate looking since I lost the periwinkles and the blue chair is retired; it’s depressing right off my living room to look out. I lost Olivia and Sousa when they stopped making Schultz’s instant plant food. So, instead of going home, I went to Perino’s nursery there in the spring-like breeze and sunshine and wandered around the flowers. God, what a breath of fresh air. I bought a nice sized pot of solid purple and solid gold pansies growing together, LSU pansies, and a beautiful fuchsia geranium. They will be okay on the back porch until summer, and it looks so pretty out there now. Have to find a chair.
I never thought I’d ever get to this point, but I am anxiously watching the mail for the delivery of–a broom! Not just any broom. The Hurricane spin broom that promises to be the deliverer of my back as sweeping is torture and bending over a dustpan is even more torture.
Yesterday afternoon forgot my problems by losing myself in the still enchanting, “A Room With a View.” It was almost like I was watching it for the first time. Loathed Cecil, pulled for George, and so happy that true love won the day. A wonderful movie.
Do you know what I am going to do today? I’m going to watch politically incorrect movies. I am just in the mood to watch, “Gone With the Wind, ” and luckily taped it. Four hours of Scarlett. Four hours of watching a survivor. Four hours of a story of the South–gasp! Friday afternoon after I got home and got into bed, I watched a tape of, “Showboat.” Edna Ferber wrote such wonderful stories. I felt so miserable but when I saw the Mississippi, everything just eased in me. All the times I’ve watched that movie, I never realized until Friday that the opening scenes were shot in Natchez. There’s a shot of people running for the showboat down the stairs of Connelly’s Tavern, one of my favorite places there. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen the Mississippi, when I was in River Ridge I was on the levee every weekend. I have to admit I fast forwarded through some of the musical numbers; never really liked nor disliked Kathryn Grayson but sometimes her singing reminded me of Minnie Mouse; loved Ava Gardner in this, how she reminds me of Mom when young, and ooh la la, Howard Keel was really a hunk. Good Lord, they actually used the word, “negro.”
On a mission to remain in bed all weekend. Know I sound like a broken record, but that is it.
Please go to the other site.
Well, another day feeling tired and draggy. If this keeps up, maybe I’ll see a doctor. It’s getting old. Started watching TBN again in the mornings. Joyce Meyer, Andrew Wommack. This morning Andrew Wommack surprised me as most religious people don’t like to go to this subject at all…but it is a belief I have long held. He was talking about Psalm 91 and about having dominion over fear. Not to be foolish and think your faith in God would allow you to pick up poisonous snakes and not get bitten, but to know we have dominion. Psalm 91 is one of my favorite psalms and I haven’t thought about it in a long time. But what surprised me was this…I didn’t expect to hear ghost stories. But Wommack also mentioned the devil and that we aren’t to be afraid of him. He told the story about how, years ago, he had rented a house that he was going to use for a religion center. It had once been a frat house and Wommack said it was filled with demonic activity. He said he went there one night when it was completely empty to spend the night and at 3AM (3AM!), he awakened because something was strangling him and holding him down in the bed and no one was there. He broke away, ran away from the house and got into his car terrified and he heard God tell him,” the only thing the devil is not afraid of is your back.” Wommack said he told the Lord, “surely you are not telling me to go back into that house with the demons!” Well, he went back and confronted them and rebuked them the rest of the night and drove them out. I didn’t expect to hear this because some super religious people freak out if you even say the word demon–yet I remember Mom always saying, “I’m too good for the devil to get me!” But I believe him because, maybe not the strangling, but that has happened to me. Wommack said he always pictured demons to be these huge, tall, horned, fanged creature looming over him, but he said God told him they are no longer than his heel, only they have huge mouths. In other words, in the name of God, they can be stomped out.
Well, on the other side of the spectrum, I have to mention something I saw this morning at the traffic light by the cemeteries. At first I had to do a double take. Because, surely I didn’t see, dangling from the rear view mirror in the car next to me a sign with the word, “FART.” Yet, my double take did indeed say I had seen this correctly–it was a sign that said, “A Fart is a Wish Your Butt Makes.” Just had to share that one with you.
I’m told I also have to see,”The Hangover, Part II.”
I was so glad when that dentist finally sent that mother dog of a fiancee to hell! The look on Bradley Cooper’s face was priceless when it happened!
Such a dragged out fatigued day yesterday. Slept ten hours, still awakened tired, but not as much. Came to work, feeling cranky, and all I can say, is I’m glad I’m going home in sixteen minutes. Such pretty days to feel so bad.
But, there was a bright spot yesterday evening. I watched, “The Hangover.” It was on E and somewhat edited and still somewhat not, but it was funny and I enjoyed it. Stupid men!
That I am grateful for, very much. My friend Gilbert took such time with the story I asked him to read and gave me his results yesterday. I was very impressed with the reason he explained how he came to the conclusions he had about my story, and I knew my hunch was right that he was the perfect person to read it.
He made some excellent suggestions, not changing the story or plot, but perfect tweaking. He added touches on this first draft in the form of phrases that I want to incorporate into the story. There wasn’t a lot of correction, but such constructive criticism. Overall, he liked it, and suggested I hold onto it until an opportunity to submit for publication presented itself. I understand what he’s saying. As usual, when I write fiction, it’s a little strange, not supernatural, but strange, and a little dark but with light somehow shining through. Grateful to him, and super impressed. We shall see.
Well, as well as I felt yesterday is as bad as I feel this morning. Weak, dizzy, a night filled with crippling leg cramps and awful dreams. Staying home since I don’t trust myself to drive. My leg is so sore from the leg cramps and I’m just sapped. It’s raining; the most pressing things at work, like yesterday, are now done, and so for that matter, is my strength.