I was reminded that today is Mardi Gras- literally, "Fat Tuesday", for those of you who aren't French buffs or something. I'm not much for the big ol' parties they throw, not only in New Orleans, but around the world. I will tell you, in good staunch religious tradition, that I think there is some not-so-great-stuff that goes on during those crazy parties that I'm not too keen to be apart of. And isn't glutony one of the seven deadlies? Uh-huh.
Okay, well, I will eat plenty of Cadbury mini eggs today. But I think I would do that even if it wasn't Fat Tuesday.
Really, the only significance of Mardi Gras for me personally is that when I was in France my birthday fell on Ash Wednedsay, which is the day after "Fat Tuesday." Ash Wednesday is the holiday that actually makes it onto your calendar. A friend had me come to Mass that night and everyone went up to the front at one point and got ashes smeared across their foreheads. I didn't, as I am not Catholic and was a Mormon missionary at the time, and well, as I still am Mormon and not Catholic, I probably wouldn't get any ashes smeared on me anyway. But it had been a nice birthday. I bought myself a new green coat that I liked very much. And a bunch of junk food. We were doing missionary work on Mardi Gras, but Wednesday was our day off and I took advantage of that. And my friend, who was a spunky old French lady, got a real kick introducing her Mormon missionaries to people in the congregation.
So you know. There is my story about how my life really has no relation to Mardi Gras, except it's French name. Still, if you'd like a mini egg, stop by. I'll toss you one.