I'm a bead whore...

I am...I'm a total bead whore.

And this time, unlike my vacations to New Orleans in the 90s, I even got to keep my shirt on.

After selling my soul to the work gods to leave early and not get caught in the hell of parade traffic, I found that the cold weather and rain probably kept a lot of people away.

I bundled up again, forsaking an umbrella to keep both hands free for loot collection, and headed to St. Charles, a five-block walk. The rain continued all night, and the thunder and lightning made me wonder about the wisdom of standing under the tall oaks lining St. Charles.

But death by lightning strike was a small price to pay for the thrill of seeing my first big Mardi Gras parade roll down St. Charles. It was the Krewe of Oshun, and if I hadn't left my completely priceless Mardi Gras guide at work, I'd be able to write more about them, but I can't.

The floats were beautiful, the marching bands cold but energetic, and the whole parade a grand experience. My first score was a porcelain doll, making me glad to have forgone the umbrella in lieu of having both hands free. And I learned that a parade-goer does not just stand idly by on the sidewalk and wait for the beads to come to them. Oh no, one must rush the floats, hands in the air, screaming "Throw me something, Mister!"

Miss Marie, a coworker of mine, passed out blinking plastic bracelets the other day, and I made sure to wear mine...no way was I going to get lost in the dark.

And then the beads kept coming. Like the rain that pounded St. Charles, I found myself covered in plastic baubles. By the time I was done I had more than I could carry. That didn't stop me from picking the ones up from the street left by others who perhaps had enough already, or who perhaps didn't feel the need to dig around in the puddles on St. Charles for their souvenirs.

But I don't care. I'm a bead whore. And I want more.

I've had a crappy week. I've been sick with a stomach flu, had to buy new tires for my car, and miserable at work. I'm tired, cold, still sick, and broke. And I'm in tears. Not because of my crappy week, but because once again, I'm completely overwhelmed by how many different ways it's possible for me to love this city.

And now that I've finally dried out, I'm taking my tired, cold body and bundling up under my electric blanket so that I am warm and well rested when I get up tomorrow to do it all over again.

The Loot: One porcelain doll, one plastic Oshun cup, one little brown plastic football, one back scratcher, one stuffed rose, three broken strands of beads, and 118 unbroken strands of beads.

Oh yeah...

Now throw me something, Mister!