Migration

I've been enjoying robins in my backyard the past several weeks. Huge flocks, hundreds at a time, alight on the winter brown grass to load up on my backyard worms. Robins aren't native to Louisiana. They're migrating; following their innate call to journey north for the summer.

Seeing these robins, as well as many other species of migrating birds, causes me to pause and think about my own journey. Is not life itself one long continuous migration? For without a sense of journey, there'd be no adventure, no joy, no new exciting experiences, no stories. No purpose. Where am I being called to go, not only physically, but spiritually, relationally? What am I called to do?

Today, only a few straggler robins remain in the yard. The majority have flown northward, continuing their journey. Did the dawdlers sleep in the morning their flock took flight? Or might they be the wise birds, intuitively aware that it's still cold and snowy up north, the ground still frozen? In due time, they'll find their way. How about you? Where are you going?

Fat Tuesday

Happy Mardi Gras! Last year at this time, Eric was in the hospital, so we made a point of enjoying the festivities this year. We went into town for a few hours this afternoon to check out the day-long merriment. Mardi Gras season culminated tonight with the Krewe of Krewes parade; supposedly Lake Charles's biggest bawdiest parade of the season. The boys didn't want to stick around for it, but one of these days . . .

Street party revelers dancing to a zydeco band.

Mardi Gras trinket hawker.

Oooohh, scary pirate Krewe.

Horse-drawn buggy ride, anyone?

Beads lined up and awaiting the parade.

Don't know which Krewe they're on, but we liked their matching hats and jackets. I've heard Lake Charles has 50-some krewes.

We don't know this man, but Eric thought he looked like Teddy Roosevelt in Mardi Gras regalia.

Eric and Andrew bungee-racing in the "teenzone."

If any of my northern friends want to experience Mardi Gras some year, no need to go to New Orleans. Just come visit me here in Lake Charles.

Blog Roll

I added a new feature to my blog today. A blog roll. Rather than list these blogs in alphabetical order -- I always feel bad for folks whose name or blog starts with W, X, Y, or Z -- I set it up to list by recent posts. If your blog is near the bottom, it doesn't mean I don't like you. It means you haven't posted in a long time! If I've overlooked any blogs you know I follow, or if you follow my blog and would like yours on my list, just let me know. If you know I follow your blog, but it isn't listed, maybe I was uncertain about your privacy. Let me know if you'd like it to be there. If I listed your blog, and you'd prefer I not, let me know. And if you want your blog near the top of the list, post often!

Happy Valentine's Day

Years ago, in a little antique shop in Wexford, Pa., called Clara's, I believe, I discovered an amazing treasure. I found a box full of hundreds of vintage Valentines. Above is a small sample collage. Each year, around this time, I pull the box down from the attic and look through this little bit of Valentine holiday history. It's a wonderful collection of whimsy, romance, humor and style from as early as 1910 to I'll guess as late as the 30s or 40s. There are Valentine post cards, pop-ups, sentimental greetings to a spouse, hopeful notes from a suiter, handmade lacy devotions of love, school-mate varieties with corny catch-phrases and animals, and loads of the ever popular, most-often given (I heard that on the radio) "to teacher." Because the stash could last me a lifetime, I enjoy using these Valentines to make Valentines of my own. I had the pleasure of my mom's company last week. She and I spent a fun afternoon reading these old Valentines. We laughed and sighed, wondering about the people who sent these notes of affection a century ago. We gathered paper lace doilies, ribbon and yarn, heart-shaped stickers, red construction paper, gold-glittter pens, glue sticks, scissors, and enjoyed making some of our own valentines (photo below) for the men in our lives we love.

Happy Valentines Day!

Super Bowl Party 2010

Saints 31, Colts 17. Do we look a little excited?

Oh, When the Saints Go Marching . . . to Miami!

I've been getting a kick out of all the Super Bowl hype around here. Coming from Pittsburgh, where Super Bowl hoopla isn't that uncommon, it's special, seeing people so excited that their team is, finally, for the first time, going to the Super Bowl. After 43 years. It's a big deal! The Saints have such a history as a losing team. Not that long ago, they were nicknamed the "Aints" and the few fans attending games wore bags over their heads. I'm glad to be here to witness a successful year. A redemption, so to speak.

The whole "Who Dat" thing amuses me. We're called the Who Dat nation. Who Dat stems from a chat, as well as a song, that says Who Dat Say Dey Gonna Beat Dem Saints. As you can tell from this 1983 video, the Who Dat thing has been around a long time.

I'll be keeping my fingers crossed and routing for the Saints!