Fat Tuesday in the ‘Hood
As a writer, I ususually stick too non-fiction, but being adventurous, I’m trying my hand at telling a “yarn”. OK, here it goes: Once upon a time . . .
Under the waning moon nightlight, my trusted bulldog and I are out taking our usual pre-bedtime walk in the ol’ neighborhood. For a Fat Tuesday, it is unusually quiet. Teddy sort of hates two things: Wearing doggy clothes and walking with a tight leash. So it seems safe enough this evening to let him off his leash and let him lead me on our nightly walk.
Teddy, much like other bulldogs, has a great sense of smell, hearing and intuition. Next thing I know, he starts dashing across the normally busy street directly over to Nemo and Tootsie’s house.
For a canine with very short, stocky legs, he is quick and can run much faster than I. When I have almost caught up with him, I notice that the gate to their back yard is open and Teddy has already trespassed into the neighbor’s property.
Naturally, I follow my dog into the side door of the house. The door is wide open and there is music and fanfare inside. I had thought that these neighbors were on vacation; the heavy snows in the Sierra Nevadas are awfully inviting to local residents with school-age children who have Presidents’ Day Week off.
So, I am following Tiki Teddy Bear Rumpkin into the house where he knows Tootsie and Nemo usually are hanging out. Sitting on the couch watching the Vancouver Olympics, tape-delay sporting events on NBC, is some guy hollering and laughing. The son of a bitch welcomes us in. The dude shouts, “What are you drinking?”
Instinctively, I answer that I’ll take a cocktail. Afterall, it is the night of Mardi Gras! Within a minute or so, I am experiencing a Deja Vu moment . . . the sofa I’m waiting for my cocktail on feels very familiar, the large hi-def TV looks like the one my ex-wife gave me for my 50th birthday. Sure enough, the leather sofa is the same one that I spent many sleepless nights on during my 27 year marriage. OMG!
Before I know it, I have a Mai-Tai in my hand and three brightly dressed women come through the doorway laughing and laughing and giggling, too.
The next thing I remember is the three large women dancing on top of the dining room table. OMG! They are going to mar the beautiful walnut surface of my daughter’s great-grandmother’s dining room table! Well, while Teddy is barking with excitement I am looking to see where my ol’ girls are so that they can police and moderate the party goings-on. Oh my God (OMG), where are they?
The short of the story is that I finally figured out something. Unfortunately, I am getting too old to remember what it was that I learned last Tuesday.
What I remember vividly is the three overweight women dancing on top of my Grandma’s dining room table while Teddy barks to his greatest delight. Huh, three fat ladies? Is this why the day is called Fat Tuesday?!?