Fat Tuesday. Paczkis. King Cake. Beads. As the saying goes: today we feast, for tomorrow we famine. Or something like that. Of course, I'm working and teaching all day, so I won't have much chance to join in the bacchanalia. The closest I'll probably come is eating a lemon and a chocolate paczki. (Yes, I know how many calories that is. I know how bad that particular pastry is for you. I. Just. Don't. Care.) There aren't too many Mardi Gras opportunities in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan at the end of February. Too cold for a parade. Too cold for naked or half-naked people on the streets.
The quote with which I chose to start this post comes from the end of A Christmas Carol. It's when Scrooge works up the courage to go to his nephew Fred's house for Christmas dinner. I love the expansiveness of the end of the paragraph, the repetition of the word "wonderful" four times, stretching it out, syllable-by-syllable. It's almost as if Dickens doesn't want the fun to end, either.
For Scrooge, the fun doesn't end. According to the book, he does keep Christmas in his heart all year long. I imagine him, for the rest of his life, being just one, giant party wherever he goes. If he was in New Orleans right now, I'm sure he'd be down to his underwear, dancing to some jazz version of "YMCA."
My wisdom for today is to have a won-der-ful Fat Tuesday. Celebrate. Do something special for yourself, even if it's just taking an extra helping of peas at dinner tonight. If that's your idea of celebration, indulge yourself. That's what I'm going to do. (Not the peas thing. The indulge myself thing.) Because tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, and Project Memoir kicks off.
Saint Marty is craving a paczki now. Lemon. Or Chocolate. Or raspberry. Or blueberry. Or all of the above.
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