A girl on the cusp of 14 is not thrilled by the prospect of her father going out in public as a meerkat. Not even on Mardi Gras.
Celia was even more mortified that her meerkat dad would be driving her and two friends to the parades: “If we get in a car crash, I’m going to say we were kidnapped.”
The final morning of the Carnival season required digging deep. The previous days and nights involved hosting a procession of house guests, dancing on an Orleans Avenue porch after Endymion and giving late-night rides to my 18-year-old Sophie, briefly back in town to show her University of Tennessee sorority sisters the meaning of laissez les bons temps rouler…