I have thrown a Fat Tuesday gathering for many years.

I have very strong feelings about the Crescent City.

I met a man there, who became my husband, at a Halloween Party in 1979.  The marriage only lasted a few years, but my love affair with the French Quarter and surrounding parishes has continued throughout my life.

Visits were made in every decade.  I accompanied my mother there in the 90s.  She was flabbergasted by the idea that we could sip gin and tonics from plastic tumblers, go-cups, as we strolled down the street, but she happily participated in this local tradition.

During other trips with friends and partners, I visited galleries, plantations, cemeteries, and tourist spots. I also spent hours happily just hanging out – accidentally discovering where to get a great po’ boy sandwich or listening to music offered by buskers on street corners.

Over the years, I purchased a lot of sparkly Fleur de Lis decorations from the local Dollar Tree.  I also have compiled a set of favorite Mardi Gras recipes. Some of the best ones come from a cookbook purchased in 2010 from The Kitchen Witch, which is in the Quarter, on Broad Street near Esplanade.

I make a kick-ass jambalaya (in my crockpot), a very acceptable gumbo, and a shrimp-crabmeat-spinach casserole. (Okay, I use fake crabmeat, but it’s still very good).

My friend, Lynne, used to make a king cake for the annual event, decorated with purple and yellow icing, with a tiny trinket, a super-mini baby doll miraculously baked into the confection without melting.

Lynne passed away from ovarian cancer a few years ago. She has been most certainly been missed at our Mardi Gras table although other friends have stepped up to offer southern-themed desserts.

Every year, there is plenty of wine, although I get some Abita amber ale for the occasion, made on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain, because it seems to make the menu authentic.

I queue up my DVD player with the likes of Trombone Shorty, and Pine Leaf Boys, Clifton Chenier, Red Stick Ramblers, Dr. John, and of course, Doreen and Lawrence Ketchens.

Doreen is the spirit of New Orleans to me; not as famous as other area musicians but a local staple in the street music scene  I first heard her in 2013 near the Cafe du Monde. She was wailing a classic like St. John’s Infirmary on her clarinet, her husband playing along on tuba, and a friend on drums keeping the rhythm.

Laissez les bons temps rouler…

In late February, I sent an email to a collection of friends to see if they would be interested in attending a Mardi Gras party.  I led with the famous Mardi Gras catch phrase. Translated from French, it tells us to Let the good times roll.

I asked myself the question, What makes for a GOOD TIME?

Good food?   It doesn’t hurt.

Alcohol and music?  It can be wonderful when people relax, and the process of loosening up can often be encouraged by a little wine and a background beat.

I did host a Mardi Gras gathering on March 5th,  I certainly enjoyed the related food, drink, music, decorating, and bead-wearing rituals.  Nicki made a pecan pie from scratch, and Valerie surprised and delighted us all by whipping up bananas Foster at my stove.

I loved the sharing and openness that filled my home; how easy it seemed to be for people I have become close with, but who came into my life from different circumstances, to all enjoy each other’s company.

The good times actually started to roll for me about 10 days before Tuesday, March 5th.

Things seemed to move in the perfect direction almost immediately after sending out my email to gauge interest in the party.

I received enthusiastic yeses from everyone within two hours of pressing the SEND key along with offers of “What can I bring?”

I don’t think everyone just didn’t have other plans.  These friends really wanted to spend time with me – and with each other.  They love me.

Ah, laissez les bons temps ruler… When you feel loved, you’re already having a good time.

Getting a positive RSVP from everyone you invite is no small thing.