Post-Mardi Gras party....

Since my child psych class just would not stream well here in my local St. Louis Bread Company, me voila!

I'm feeling pretty good today after we took our son Bubba (not his real name) to one great Mardi Gras party in the Shaw neighborhood yesterday. Dad's friend Jeff, and his wife, Rachel, always throw a monster Mardi Gras party with every kind of food you can imagine --gumbo, grilled and smoked meats, a cajun boil, red beans and rice, and of course, a real King cake and hurricanes.

Dad, being the chief chef over anything that gets made in a large stock pot, presided over his own monster load of jambalaya. I played the scullery maid, and stayed out of the way while chopping vegetables and monitoring the dirty dishes. The jambalaya was a big hit.

Jeff and Rachel have four kids, so Bubba (not his real name) just gets in the door, drops his coat and takes off to the upstairs with the other kids and plays to his heart's delight. Last night, he was a light-saber warrior and wild man on the pink three-wheeler Tess, the youngest, left in the living room.

I vegged and enjoyed the food and hospitality. Dad listened to music as Jeff played DJ in the front room. Hopefully, Dad keeps Jeff out of trouble with the new speakers he brought over. (We had a spare set of Klipsch Heresies at our house.)

No one complained this year that the music was too loud. With the New Orleans style music, you could have closed your eyes and felt like you were there.