Posts Tagged ‘New Hood’

Mardi Gras

Saturday, February 6th, 2010

I’m attending a community planning meeting this morning to help save programs at my child’s school. Then helping my parents move some stuff at the new house. Then? Then, Todd and I get to go to our friend Lucy’s Mardi Gras party. Lucy is a Mobile native and they have a party every year. This is our first chance to attend, so we are very excited. Anyone have a great Mardi Gras-themed appetizer or side dish recipe?

And in honor of Lucy’s Mobile Mardi Gras party, i thought I’d post a link to information on the Library of Congress’ American Folklife Center’s website about Mardi Gras in Mobile.

I could seriously spend two weeks straight going through all the awesome stuff digitized at The Library of Congress’ site.

A Girl Can Dream

Saturday, January 30th, 2010

I’ve written about Bunco, already. I was skeptical at first about a bunch of suburban women sitting around throwing dice and drinking wine, visions of 1950s Bridge Clubs, cucumber sandwiches and petit-fours in my head, but I love my Bunco group.

We had Bunco last night. It is usually on a Thursday, but this month, we had it on Friday. I think we all knew that would be both a good and bad thing, in the vein of “it seemed like a good idea at the time to finish off the bottle.” There is something scary about 20 women getting together without husbands or kids for drinking on a Friday night, with few Saturday obligations. (Jenn and Megan, i am so sorry about those ill-timed birthday parties and Math Bowls!) It is even scarier when half of them are dressed in 1980s workout gear.

Tara wins for creativity. Quite a feat to show up pregnant with twins, unable to drink, but wearing a Lakers outfit with matching high-heeled Converse kicks. The Converse, found for $3.99 at Value Village, were the hit of the party, and I am not sure who they ended up going home with after we all tried them on, but somewhere in my neighborhood, there is a husband (or a Kathy, perhaps?) who last night probably thought, “Aw, yeah! What do we have here?” and then quickly found him or herself clutching the covers, sucking a thumb, wondering when, oh when, it would be over.

Our hostess, Stacy H., managed to dig her original 80s dance clothes out of her attic, including some crazy knit bodysuit, and even more amazingly fit into them. I would be terrified if anyone tried to fit me into something, anything, i wore in high school. Shiny headbands, leg warmers, and off-the-shoulder Flashdance sweatshirts were de rigueur.

And then there were those of us who just showed up in our sweats and tees, there for the booze and the dice.

The wine was flowing freely (and I am thanking god today that I chose to bring beer last night), and we got started rolling late, so by the time we were done with three rounds, we were well in our cups. I know that everyone thinks i mean tipsy, but people who are a little tipsy don’t accidentally lock themselves in their neighbor’s bathroom, unable to get out. Twice. Wine glasses were smashed, and music was cranked up. Of course, I am kind of a music snob, and I had never heard half of the songs because I don’t listen to 95.5 The Beat (Lisa, you would be in your element, here), but it really doesn’t matter, because I am missing the dancing gene anyways. The one that makes women get tipsy and dance with each other? It just doesn’t come naturally to me. These girls? They got the gene.

So, instead, i enjoyed watching them do the Beyonce dances, while drinking beer with Lauren (she danced a bit, but evidently does not quite have the gene either) and Stacy’s husband Mike, who oddly enough, went to my high school. Mike had hit the mother lode, as he had a bunch of drunk women dancing for him in his living room. We ladies also may or may not have broken things and then made Mike clean them up, taking pictures of him when he bent over to sweep up the glass, but that part is a little fuzzy.

A good time was had by all, and i rolled into bed at almost 3.

Did i mention the food was great? Lots of great Weight Watcher’s choices. I managed to stay within my extra points for the week, which is a bit of a miracle. I just can’t eat anything else until Monday morning. But I will have no trouble abstaining, now that I know there is a chance I could really work hard and take care of my body, and do a lot of that “She’s a Maniac” dance step, and someday get a slot in the lineup of the Bunco Hos Solid Gold Dance Revue. . . someday.

A girl can dream.

A Halloween Story

Sunday, November 1st, 2009

Last night, we took the kids trick or treating, despite the misty rain, and the mud, and the fact that the Gators were still in the midst of kicking Georgia’s ass. Sometimes, it is better to just walk away and eat candy and drink beer.

Rollie was a mummy (Not that fun a costume to put together, and even worse to remove! Like the old school costume ideas, though.) and Tills was a cheerleader. We went to meet neighbors a couple of streets over for a neighborhood tradition. A family has always done a pinata before trick or treating. It started with just a family or two, but over the years, has ballooned to tons of neighborhood kids showing up to take a shot at the pinata. I think they even have two pinatas, one for the big kids and one for the little ones. So many people show up that I dropped candy off the day before to help out. The whole thing is a ball of candy frenzy, but so much fun. It gives the parents a chance to group, pour themselves a drink (everyone has a cup or a rolling cooler with them), chat while the kids wait in line for their turn to whack the pinata, and to check out all the costumes in the floodlights of the driveway. When the pinata finally cracks open, candy rains from the sky, and the scramble for booty begins. One mother in my neighborhood aptly referred to it as “like a scene out of Lord of the Flies.” I loved that book! Perhaps not for everyone, though.

After that, we all give our thanks and head around the loop to trick or treat. The bigger kids race from door to door, their parents yelling, “slow down! It isn’t a race! Wait for your sister! You’re going to trip over something cutting through a dark yard like that! Don’t ring that doorbell! Porch light off means they aren’t giving out candy!” The shrieks and yells carry through the night, echoing off the houses. The parents walk down the middle of the street, then weave to one side or the other, depending on which house the kids are going to. Occasionally, the kids stop at the parents to yell excitedly that a certain house gave a certain something awesome. Some houses have scary stuff – motion-activated sound machines or mummies and vampires that pop up when the kids approach the steps. One got Tiller so bad that she turned around and ran back across the yard, to the sound of myself and todd roaring in laughter. Parents drag coolers or wagons or push strollers (they make great drink transportation!) The little ones get tired about 3/4 of the way and start dragging and wanting up to be carried or in the wagon. (“Baby, Mama’s cooler’s in the wagon. You better keep walking.”) We finally finish the loop and head home, the kids wild-eyed and digging into their candy before we get there. We visit the old folks around us, which we should have done before going to the pinata, but damn it, Mummies are hard to wrap. The old folks make over the kids and the kids stumble over their words trying to explain everything that they saw, and who was dressed up as what.

Then you get home, and you let the kids have some candy. (Yes, we are terrible and limited their intake right before bed. We wash off mummy makeup and take off saddle oxfords and tights and tuck them into bed, visions of pumpkins and candy dancing in their heads.

Then we rummage through their candy, and pour ourselves a drink. Finally, we walk out into the carport to blow out the candles in the pumpkin and step on a pile of muddy shoes, twisting our ankle and bumping our head on the brick wall, our screams of agony resonating throughout the neighborhood under a Waxing Gibbous moon. We limp back to the couch with the help of our husband, who brings us a water, Ibuprofen, a bag of frozen fruit, and a beer. We prop our foot up, icing it and watching The Night of the Living Dead.