that picture - of the final float in the krewe of muses parade - says it all for me in terms of why we, the people of new orleans, continue to observe mardi gras even now.

here are some more images from my past week, which has been, aside from the regular work of, you know, work, pretty carnival-centric: going to parades and getting ready, gathering my costume gear, etc., in preparation for these next few days of revelry. conscious revelry.

spinderella's not a fella, but a girl dj

worms

last saturday, the kids and I went out to the sun done garden in gentilly to learn about bioremediation with starhawk and the pagan cluster & common ground folks. the worm bins were wonderful, but what the kids really dug was the fire pit.






and then we rode the bus, streetcar & ferry home...


so that we could walk our dogs and get ourselves ready to enjoy krewe du vieux in the cold. which is when my camera battery gave out. but there are beautiful krewe du vieux photos all over the web, just search.

happy birthday to alice

this is why I get the writer's almanac in my email every day. because I get a lot out of being reminded of people like alice walker:

It's the birthday of the novelist Alice Walker, born in Eatonton, Georgia (1944). She grew up the youngest of eight children. She went to Sarah Lawrence College and then took a trip to Africa. When she got back to college she was pregnant and seriously considering suicide. She began writing dozens of poems over the course of a week, barely eating or sleeping, and she shoved all the poems under the door of her poetry teacher, Muriel Rukeyser. Rukeyser showed the poems to her agent and they were eventually published as Alice Walker's first book, Once (1968).

Her first big success was The Color Purple (1982), which spent more than twenty-five weeks on The New York Times best-seller list and went on to win both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Walker was the first black woman ever to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction

and folks criticize Ms. magazine, and rightly so, I mean, everything is deserving of criticism, right, but there will always be a special place in my heart for that publication. when I was a kid I always grabbed it first out of the mail stack to read the latest of the Stories for Free Children (and my all time favorite is the one about the mom trying to quit smoking while the daughter is trying to quit thumbsucking); and teenage me always grabbed it first out of the mail stack to read short fiction, by the likes of alice walker and margaret atwood.

anyway.

good morning.