
My favorite part of Mardi Gras? Ash Wednesday -- when it's over! (I'm only partly serious.)
Living in New Orleans, I always tell out-of-town friends that unlike the let down you get after Christmas in any other city, there is no let down in New Orleans. As soon as you put away the Christmas decorations, out come the purple, green and gold Mardi Gras decorations. Then come the parties, and the sticky-sweet "king cakes" in every office, and lots of afternoons when you duck out of work early to meet friends at the parades.
But after two full weeks of throwing my arms in the air to beg for plastic beads, I'm ready for Ash Wednesday. In this rather Catholic city, the day after Fat Tuesday is truly a time to repent. The faithful gather at St. Louis Cathedral to have ashes rubbed on their foreheads -- a reminder of "dust to dust" -- and the city is quiet...calm..peaceful. It is our city again -- the one we reclaim from the tourists on Bourbon Street.
And in the branches of the old oak trees along St. Charles Avenue you'll see those brightly colored beads -- hundreds of strands of beads that were thrown from the floats but never made it to those outstretched arms.
A reminder of our wild side -- until the next big rain brings them all down.