 I wrote last week about my proclivity for organization and planning. But for some reason, the act of arranging activities to celebrate my July 31 birthday sucked the life out of me.
Usually, my birthday — and all that it implies — is the highlight of my year. I am a Leo after all, and it’s the only day when my overly inflated ego is justified, accepted and even expected. A whole day all about me? Well, hell yes. In fact, let’s make it a week! I’ve been kind of blah about the whole deal-io this year. First of all, 41 is not a milestone and doesn’t warrant any particular fanfare. Plus I don’t have anyone in my life who is obligated to fawn over me. I am single, and my son is (technically) grown. His priorities do not include making sure his momma feels properly feted on her birthday. The big day fell on Wednesday this year, so planning something suitably celebratory wasn’t feasible. I scheduled a relaxing facial with a lovely friend who recently enrolled in cosmetology school, and then she took me to lunch. I had cleared my work calendar and basically took the day off, which was a welcome luxury. If the weather had been nice, you can bet your sweet arse I would have been at the pool.
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 Anyone living in our fair city the past few weeks could not avoid at least an indirect exposure to college basketball. The national notoriety and solidarity that’s resulted from the University of Louisville teams’ success has been a fabulous boon for my hometown.
And I gotta admit, on a personal level, hopping on the team spirit bandwagon was a lot of fun. I was invited to a gathering at a local watering hole to watch the Final Four matchup between the UofL men’s team and Wichita. Going into it, I could have cared less who won. I was only there for the pizza and camaraderie. I wore red just so I wouldn’t get jumped in the parking lot, but I had no intention of losing my voice over a damn game. And then, tipoff.  It was around Christmas time last year when I finally grew the cojones to stand up for myself in the context of an extremely rocky juncture of my marriage.
Needless to say, it did not go over well, and it marked the beginning of the end of that relationship. I remember feeling very anxious and unhappy during the Christmas season, not to mention resentful of my husband for casting such a pall on my favorite holiday. This year, I am in a much better place on nearly every level, so I have been looking forward to Christmas for months. I decorated my house the day after Thanksgiving, I've been blaring Christmas music in my car every day since then, and –- as evidenced by my Facebook posts -- I went into a baking frenzy a couple weeks back. This year, the spirit grabbed me by the waist and vigorously spun me around on the evergreen-adorned dance floor, and I let it.  Like the rest of the country, I have been deeply affected by the horrific events in Newtown, Conn. My heart is so very heavy, yet I am certain I’m shouldering only a tiny portion of what must be the excruciating grief the victims’ families -- and the entire community -- are enduring right now.
Tragedies are agonizing to bear at any time of the year, but these events are especially painful because they occurred so close to Christmas. For the people directly affected, the holidays will forever be associated with horror. And that breaks my heart all over again. I could use this space to explore my feelings about the Sandy Hook shootings, the mental state of the shooter and how Friday’s events came to pass. How could this happen? Could it have been prevented? I don’t have any answers, but like most people, I have a desperate need to make sense of it all.  Sometimes, if I’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night, I’ll hunker down with a cup of chai latte and watch that night’s marathon of wedding-related shows on TLC. “Say Yes to the Dress,” “Four Weddings,” “Along for the Bride,” “Brides of Beverly Hills.” Y’know, Diva TV. I am not ashamed to admit that I am drawn to that garbage like a gnat to a bare bulb. TLC wedding shows are trainwreck TV to me – so captivating I can’t look away.
What’s funny about my fascination with these shows – I am SO not that girl. See, I’ve had two weddings in my lifetime, both shared with the same man. We were together a total of seven years, and we split up for nearly the exact same reasons both times. (Apparently, those reasons weren’t quite clear enough the first time around. Our last installment was officially over in May. More on that another time.)  I feed people. It’s what I do.
One of my greatest joys is making the bellies of those I love very, very happy. Preparing and serving comforting meals and desserts is one of the core ways in which I express my affection. And I gotta say, nobody has ever complained. It tickles me to death when friends and family compliment my cooking. (And the fact that I just said “tickles me to death” should tell you that there’s a direct line between my culinary prowess and my Southern roots.) I'm pretty proud of the fact that there are people in this world who refer to me as "a good cook." |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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