Happy Mardi Gras

Yes, I know it was yesterday. Forgot myself, until I heard an NPR story on it. Makes me sad to think it could just pass by like that. There's no Carnival of any sort in Poland, despite it's heavily Catholic composition. The only thing that happens is, last Thursday, people ate donuts. I did notice in the store that day that there was an unusually large display of donuts, but it didn't ring a bell for me. Now, I'll grant you that these are jelly-filled, glazed donuts, definitely sinful and unhealthy. Of course, I don't like jelly donuts. And it's a pale comparison to the joyful noise and abandon of New Orleans parades, strange children demanding to be picked up so they can catch beads, the proud, brassy strides of a marching band, the lights and glitter and costumes . . . sigh. None of that here. No painted coconuts, no 7 am bloody marys to make sure you can use the bathroom at Lucky's, no neutral-ground bbqs, no roaming vendors with shopping carts full of plastic junk that looks strangely compelling and clouds of balloons gradually eroding throughout the day. No hot dog carts or plasticized nachos, no folding chairs or goodie bags, no 15 foot pink high heeled shoes trundling down the street, no King Kong, no breast-flashing, no random frisbees or spears hitting you in the face, no midnight chaingang clearing the trash, no king cakes or painted faces, no dancing or shouting or singing. It's just a day. Nice enough as it went, dry and clear if cold. Pleasant. That's the most that can be said for my Mardi Gras this year.