still not OLD enough to share

Well it’s Thursday. Thursday’s don’t have a typical theme in my established presets for this blog but I haven’t posted in a while and felt the need for an update:

I guess I should start by informing everyone that I did in fact live through my 23^rd birthday. And though it was the most “grown up” birthday I’ve ever had, it was one of the sweetest. I had a beautiful flower arrangement delivered at work by my handsome knight in shining armor  farmer in Carhart bibs and was told that we were going to dinner. After work I went home to start curling my hair and began mentally sifting through possible outfit options to wear- all of which were discarded after Alex showed up in dress pants and a button down. So I crawled to the back of my closet where I keep the “fancy” dresses that are for special occasions and weddings and picked out one that was just right. We went to J. Broussard’s in downtown Columbus, which I always assumed was like the Broussard’s in Cape. Wrong. Obviously the “J.” makes quite a difference in terms of attire and setting. I reveled in pecan encrusted catfish and a glass of expensive wine by candlelight. I had to stop myself on the salad before licking the ranch off the plate…it was that good. Eventually the dessert display made its way to our table and we ended up with some sort of apple and ice cream and croissant combination. I believe the waitress referred to it as an apple “encrue”…but I’m not even sure if that’s a word and I’m not familiar with Cajun or Better Crocker terminology for that matter so I could be completely off track. Either way, it was heaven in my mouth.

Mom assured me that we will celebrate my birthday more officially this weekend at home during the Easter festivities. In short this means we really won’t celebrate my birthday but rather Easter and the “birthday triple header” (me, Matt, and Nanny), an Easter usual for our family. I’ve never liked sharing much, especially my birthday, but I guess that’s part of growing up. Alex even tried to enlighten me with the news that National Agriculture Day fell on my birthday. He was overjoyed….I was not.

I don’t really care today though because first and foremost I’m drinking my first cup of chai tea in a very long time. If I had a kryptonite, it would probably be this. And secondly because this weekend is going to be epic. I am leaving shortly to head to Murray to watch step show. As an alum of the step team, you can only imagine my excitement level which is somewhere between a kid on Christmas morning and a gay man awaiting the outcome from Congress about the current marriage equality rights. Marsha is meeting me in Murray and after the show we will be joined by Mamie, Becca, and the rest of the Murray crew for a novel night at the Apple to celebrate Marsha’s birthday. Where else did you expect me to go, after all? Good Friday will be spent in Nashville preparing pregaming for the color run that Marsha and I are running in on Saturday. After the race Saturday I will head home for the notorious “eve of any holiday throw down” at Jerry’s with S-town’s finest. Sunday will be spent at church and my house for the family Easter festivities and eventually I will hit the road again to return to my sweet ole Mississippi home. Four states in four days. You don’t have to tell me twice to get excited- I’m there.

I promise I’ll write again soon, but I’ve gotta get off this keyboard before my fingers bounce right off from all the adrenaline running through me.

Have a great weekend and Happy early Easter! And don’t forget to cheer on my ladybugs with the Alpha swag tonight at the Step Show to raise money for March of Dimes.

Love always,

Addie

“…Why do you look for the living among the dead?He is not here; he has risen!” –Luke 24:5-6

it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to

I know today’s blog is supposed to have a farming theme, but I’ve got more important stuff to get off my chest.

For the first time in my life I’m nervous about my birthday tomorrow. Twenty-two seemed irrelevant when it hit because I was already 21 and nothing else mattered- except that I was appreciative to be out of the 21-club. When you’re a teenager, 21 is so incandescent and you can’t wait to get there- it’s not until you actually make it to 21 that you realize how immature of an age it really is. It’s like you get your bar-pass and automatically have a reason to go out and be completely carefree. Pretty sure I may or may not have even used the term “YOLO.” Thank God that term can also mean you’re only 21 once…

Then you look forward to 22 so you’re no longer grouped with the rowdy and juvenile 21-ers. I welcomed the 22 birthday candles with open arms knowing that I was now a ripened “of-ager.” And now 23 looms…

When I was a kid I always assumed that I would get married when I was 23. It wasn’t that it sounded “old” per say, but it was definitely getting up there. It was beyond college and as far as I could see, it was when I would be the perfect age for marriage. (Luckily I have found someone that I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with, making this epiphany more bearable…otherwise I might be crying in my keyboard right now.) As if somehow I saw 23 as the magic number to be an official grown up.

I somehow feel like I put a cap on my youth at 23 during my childhood. And tomorrow will mark the day that it’s officially over. In my mind I will have forever lost my child-card and will no longer be able to visit the fountain of youth. So in true form, when asked what I wanted most for my birthday, I wished for new tires on my bicycle and a swing. And I’m getting them both. Ha! Take that adulthood!

Thankfully, I have found that they do no ask for an age when ordering a Happy Meal. The fountain of youth can be found in Olay Regenerist facial lotion. And Jager bombs. You can wear outrageous (not skanky) clothing without being questioned as long as you call it “high fashion.” And you can climb trees as long as you call it “exercise.”

I know that my youth isn’t actually being taken from me. I am just having a hard time realizing that my childhood self was wrong. And that’s another thing I have a hard time admitting…

Instead of singing Taylor Swift’s song “22” and being so exciting about being 22, I guess the actual  lyrics “I’m feeling 22…” will be more true in that I’ll actually only feel 22. But Taylor beat me to the 23 club three months ago so I don’t feel so bad. It’s also an extra bummer when my last 4 birthday’s fell on Spring Break…this one fell on a Tuesday. Which, to a grown person translates to: a regular ole work day.

While sitting at my desk today, on another regular ole work day, a huge storm blew in and hail started to fall in buckets. I got a little afraid that God heard me say that I didn’t want to be 23 and took me seriously…so I had to retract that statement completely. Now I am just anxious about it.

I guess I’ll get there when I get there. Tomorrow. Or in 7 hours and 37 minutes to be exact. Working on changing my attitude in the meantime…

TWENTY-THREE HERE I COME! YOU BETTER GET READY FOR ME BECAUSE YOU AND I ARE GOING TO BE NOTHING LIKE I HAD PLANNED! HELL’S COMING AND HER YOUTH IS COMING WITH HER!

How was that?

Love always,

Addie

“Never regret getting older. It’s a blessing denied to many.” -Unknown