A Twist of Things to Come

So, yesterday I took the boys for testing at our second choice school. It went fairly well. It was not an achievement test type of thing, but the Star Math/Star Reading software that their previous school used to evaluate their progress. I suspect it was a slam dunk.

Their testing for the first choice school is Saturday. I'm determined not to fret about it because, honestly I'm willing to accept what comes. We've prepared as well as we can, and that's that.

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Last night we went to a big Mardi Gras themed party, with hats and ties and masks that you could customize as party favors, lots of caterer stands/free food and about seven different free bars. There were about three or four different musical groups, including a Jazz brass band that marched around with a bunch of hired actors and dancers in costume.

O_o

It was stunning. This town knows how to party, you have to admit.

In any case, I've learned that the Gala season is the Fall, mostly, though it merges with the holiday party season a bit. Then there is Mardi Gras, which lasts... well, there are two weeks of parades, but the parties start earlier, I think. After Mardi Gras comes the Festival Season, which consists of huge outdoor festivals and people partying in the streets. This lasts until summer, but becomes more subdued as the heat gets going.

I think that's how it goes, but I could be wrong.

***

One other observation I have to make, though it could seem bigoted:

Creoles are the most gorgeous people on earth. Men, women -- it doesn't matter. Every time I go out, I have to remind myself not to stare at the jaw-droppingly hot folks everywhere. They're, like, the master race. Living, breathing statues sculpted by the hands of God.

*shrug* I do not wish to be racist, but it's not a lie. Some years ago when I first realized that I was attracted to people of mixed race, I chalked it up to being mixed race myself - like calls out to like, or whatever. But now I've seen enough to posit that the gene pool in New Orleans is simply awash in sexiness of epic proportions. O_O I'm often surrounded by stately mocha-latte godlings -- at the library, or the P.O., directing traffic or delivering packages. I try not to feel like a bleached, dumpy dwarf, by comparison.

Also, Cajuns are *tiny*. In the company of Cajuns, I'm a giant. I mean, Cajun men are like little cubes of meat -- short, stocky and really muscular. I can almost see them climbing the rigging on pirate ships. I have noticed that on average, most of the Caucasian men in any given place I go are either smaller than me, or pretty close to my height. Cajun femmes often wear three-inch heels and still barely come up to my chin. They're lovely, too, petite and pretty. Around them I feel like a galumphing giant -- sturdy feet, you know.

I've lived a lot of places, but I had never really noticed a preponderance of any particular body types in the people around me. Until now.