Celebrating Life

It was a surreal Halloween this year.  I didn't decorate.  I didn't cook or celebrate, or even give out candy to the few kids who came to the door. I didn't have a little one of my own to take out & trick or treat with.  She was out of state doing teenage things & mama was left home to her own devices.  So what did mama do?  Went to a local metal show & a wedding.

Halloween night hosted dinner with the Honey, something we don't get to do often anymore.  If we have the time, we don't have the cash... If we have the cash, we don't have the time.  We took advantage of families being home & went during trick or treating time.  It was nice to not have a half hour wait on Friday night.  He ended up dropping me off later that night to go support my friend's band & get some time in with one of my favorite lady friends.  Plenty of fun was had, got my fill of loud, obnoxious punk & figured out I speak "white girl" Spanish.  It was a nice contrast to the rest of the weekend.  Deep in the recesses of my heart, I'm a rocker chick. Going regularly to local shows is something that got left behind in my former life.  It's nice that Honey doesn't stifle my need to reconnect with that side every now & then.  He welcomes my (formerly) wild friends & alternative attitudes & accepts how different we can be.  I know I worry far more about compatibility than he ever has.  Our friends may be from different backgrounds, but they're all good, kind, working class people. 

Jason and the Kruegers!

Kitty Cat Liz and a sexy Stormtrooper

The rest of the weekend was about as classic Southern/Cajun as it could be.  Saturday was errand running for me while Honey finished fixing the engine of his old tractor.  Two fields desperately need bush-hogging.  That morning he and I ventured off to the local farmers market to pick up a farm delivery for some friends.  As we strolled through the little market, we were hit with scents of fresh coffee, sweets, hand made soap, as well as the slow easy sounds of a Cajun music jam session.  After the Saturday responsibilities, we ventured to the metropolis that is Basile, Louisiana for a wedding reception.  Metropolis is sarcasm.  It's a sweet little Cajun town with one caution light & deep roots.  We got there just in time for the reception, was introduced to a sweet couple and various family members.  At one point over the course of the night it hit me that Cajun weddings are, hands down, the best.  I was telling Honey while we watched the young and old dance and cut up, that I'd been to plenty of weddings over the years, but these were the most fun.  I remember going to weddings as a child in blue jeans and tee shirts, or sitting through long church services with "dry" receptions that hosted table after table of Southern delicacies.  I've been to elegant church weddings that ended in short receptions containing the requisite dances, cake cutting, and polite champagne and wine consumption.  And then there are the Cajun weddings.  Whether they start out with a ceremony and a mass, or the justice of the peace performs the ceremony at the reception site....the party afterward is always to die for.  The beer and wine flow, the cake is demolished, buffet style food is devoured, and everyone dances.  

From Ma-Mom and Tee-pop, to the littlest of the littles, by the end of the night you have comfortably drunk uncles, aunties and parents, and ragged, tired babies.  There are always the one or two young fellas who get enough in them to believe they are channeling Michael Jackson, you've got the girl in her short skirt, the cache of little girls on the edges of the dance floor wiggling.  There are little boys who are taking turns sliding across the open floor until the young, drunk uncle convinces them to have a dance lesson.  The bride and her entourage dancing and laughing in their slippers or bare feet, wine leaving it's marks on beautiful dresses.  And you have the grown couples, be it the parents of the bride and groom, or even the grandparents...cutting up and throwing down on the dance floor like it's the last time they will get to celebrate anything.  In the 18 years I've lived in this part of the state, it's never ceased to amaze me how the older generations enjoy life, perhaps even more than their young counterparts.  Dance floor activities that strike me as scandalous are met with laughter and encouragement from folks I would typically expect either contempt or at least a head shake.  Typically by the time this starts, the priest/preacher, and the uptight folks have already made their appearance and left.  

The reception carried on until midnight, everyone ate, drank, and danced their fill.  I never get tired of living here.  

After picking up my own not-so-little from the school this morning I cooked all day.  I haven't done that in a long time.  I paced the kitchen for hours washing dishes, stirring, mixing, flouring, and concocting.  All the while reflecting on the two sided-ness of myself and how it makes this unique amalgamation of who I am.  As a rule I'm not fond of cooking.  I'll do it, but I prefer fast and easy meals.  I don't know if a long past relative decided to move my hands today or if I was just feeling
"house full" (both kids were home)...but I cooked up a storm all day.  I know there is homework waiting for me...but there is also a chimenea with cedar and pecan wood, and an unopened bottle of red wine waiting for me too!  

Until next time!  Feliz Dia de los Muertos!!