But no. Everyone is walking around shell shocked in a way that’s reminiscent of Katrina. It’s the same feeling of quasi-helplessness in the face of a manmade screwup. The same wondering how bad the butcher’s bill is going to be when it comes due.

And the same thinking about the lovely things being damaged…possibly irreparably, and the memories you’d made there.

Here’s one of mine.

Ali was only 10 when we took this trip to Grand Isle, which is at the very tip of Louisiana hanging out into the tainted Gulf of Mexico. It was a trip of firsts- her first kite, her first fishing pole, and of course, her first (and to my knowledge only) fish.

The city smelled of oil night before last; now the wind’s blowing in the opposite direction and we’re not being hit with it in town…but of course Grand Isle is a lot closer to the problem and I can’t help but wonder what they’re smelling tonight.

If you’re anywhere in the area and can get involved, CNN has a list of organizations looking for volunteers here.
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Last week Charlie and I lucked into seats at the Prytania Theater for the big Saints-Vikings game. This was huge. It was the first time the game was being shown at a movie theater in New Orleans and we just happened to show up to watch a movie the night they put the announcement up.

The Prytania is the last single screen, independently owned theater in New Orleans. It rocks. The owner’s always around, wearing his crazy ties and keeping his eye on everything. The balcony is small but cool, and an old organ still sits up front, beside the screen.

They’d decided to open the theater up for a viewing of the big game on the huge screen- for free. They were under the impression that as long as they didn’t charge they weren’t violating any rules, but since then the NFL has stomped on them, which is utterly ridiculous. They’ve hit them with a cease-and- decist order among other things and things aren’t looking good for a repeat for the Superbowl.

At any rate the Prytania hadn’t ever taken as much abuse as it got that night with stomping feet, screaming and running around. The Who Dats shook the walls.

And when they won? forget it.

At that point it was decided we should head down the the French Quarter and see what it was like. Not surprisingly, it was like this:

This place is going to be insane for the next two weeks. More insane, I mean. Come for a visit if you can- the real party’s gonna be here, not in Miami, and surely not in Indy.
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The Phunny Phorty Phellows kick off Carnival season in style- with a streetcar ride, tossing beads as they go. I hadn’t gotten out to see them on their ride before, and was surprised that they don’t set a slow, maximizing sort of pace, but the typical “now you see us, now you don’t” streetcar speed.

There weren’t huge crowds for this one, but they always had people around because drivers on St. Charles Ave would see them, do a quick whip around, get ahead of the streetcar, park, and run over.

I have to say, they looked like they were having a hell of a good time:

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I should be doing a big wrapup and commentary about Katrina’s fourth anniversary. I should have spent the day going to remembrances and speeches.

Instead, I went for a walk, which was the sensible thing to do. Much of life in New Orleans is still spent with Katrina at its core- volunteerism, fighting against the bureaucracy and incompetence, and just generally doing our best. Next year, the 5th anniversary, I’m sure we’ll go do something big and powerful to remember.

Today was more quiet and meditative, spent walking with a friend in the bayous and swamps. It’s a wonderful time to do so- flowers are everywhere, banana spiders are spinning their massive webs, bees are buzzing and gators are sunning. Even though there trees brought down by Katrina still liter the grounds of the park, there’s new life- vines cover them, mosses and mushrooms grow and the crickets sing.

It was hard to imagine a better way to spend the day.

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I didn’t even realize the stupid domain had expired, because I was off doing graduation things with/for my daughter, not paying attention to emails and whatall.

But after a minimum of begging and pleading, lunarpages came through and fixed it in short order.

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And I take a deep breath, go into the garden and smile.

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Muses, Chaos and D’Etat- the three most political, sarcastic and topical Krewes- all toss out detailed drawings and explanations of their themes. The floats pass by so quickly that, even if you forego bead begging, it’s nearly impossible to read the entire thing before it’s gone.

For example, Muses’ theme was Bond this year; every float was a reference to a movie or character. Here’s the paper’s description of their “Latino Royale” float:

And the real deal:

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