January 27th, is National Chocolate Cake day! Considering I’ve never heard such a holiday, I can only assume that my nation does not appreciate such a holiday. And as a overall chocolate lover, I’m ashamed that I had never sought such a day out on my own terms.
In the midst of my grief, I sought out a reason to this rhyme and found a National Food Holiday Calends. Apparently there’s a different food to be celebrated for all 365 days of the year (what’s more interesting is that the foods celebrated are sorely indicative of which Nation celebrates them).
It looks like Betty Crocker went obsessive-compulsive and made a dinner/dessert/drinking plan for the year. July is particularly interesting with 5 days dedicated to Alcoholic beverages. Some days are particularly sad, like Frozen Food Day on March 6. But there are others which are way too specific to have collectively acquired “National” recognition (such as Pizza with the works minus the Anchovies day on November 12)
But where’s the Saag Paneer Day? Rasgulla Day? Pine Tart Day? Those are days I’d make a big deal about. In all fairness, August 19 is Hot and Spicy Food day, and December 29 is Pepper-pot Day. There are also many days dedicated to Italian, German and Mexican Cuisine (and Thanks to Iron Man, Robert Downey Junior, it’s only a matter of time before there’s a Shawarma Day).
I suppose it’s not a map of what everyone should eat, but if you have foods you like to eat (however general or specific) there’s a day for you to celebrate it.
No one seems to know where or when Chocolate Cake day (or any other Food Holiday) originated, so I don’t feel so bad for missing out on one. If all else fails there’s also National Chocolate Cupcake day (October 13), or Milk Chocolate day (July 28),or Chocolate-covered Anything Day (December 16), or Fudge Day (June 16).
Check out the Calendar for yourself!
He takes it so harshly. My poor daddy bear dreads the idea of my getting married. Sharing my life, my body, my soul with another man. Maybe he thinks he will never see me again when I get married. The thought is preposterous to me, but it is a possibility for him.
I want to call him silly, I want to call him crazy, but he’s just a Daddy, how can he help what he feels?
In this article about arranged marriage, the New York Times talks about some inherent logic in the age-old tradition. More support from the family is a good thing for the relationship between two people. But how much does the family know about the child that they feel they can take the liberty of choosing the person they spend the rest of their lives with? Surely there is a gentle medium?
Parents these days know less and less of the person that their child is becoming. And this is an issue of communication. Parents need to work more to maintain a quality lifestyle for their children–put them through school, feed them, clothe them etc. And kids these days have their heads so far up in the sky that it’s no surprise when they trip over their own feet.
But I can’t tell you what it is.
My lips are sealed.
But the anticipation is mounting.
I don’t know how long I can take it
So I rationalize.
I don’t know all the details.
I don’t have all the certainty in the world about this.
I know it’s what I’ve wanted for the longest time.
But now that it’s happening
I’m suspicious that it was so easy.
Won’t there be any conditions
addendas, provisos, a couple of quid-pro-quos.
I can’t read the fine print.
I can’t even write in full paragraphs
I have big news!
But I can’t tell you what it is!
Four years ago, I finally caved.
This guy kept asking me out. And I had never been so terrified by a guy in my life.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked out. It wasn’t even the first time I had been pursued. But this kind of fear was different. He was such a good friend. Who does he think he is? What if I messed things up? If not now, when? Where will this go after? How is this going to work?
Why did I care so much?
He saw something in me that I had yet to acknowledge. I know the kind of love I give, and I have a history of throwing those pearls to the pigs. He saw that I deserve that kind of love in return. The kind of love St. Paul talks of, the kind of affection that you hear about in love songs and books. I deserved the kind of life worth fighting for, not the kind that I should settle on.
I couldn’t figure that out four years ago. Yet I took the dive anyway.
To date, I’m still falling but I’ve never felt so high in my life.
It’s been an unsettling few days. one of those times where different aspects of my life pull me emotionally in two different directions.
I learned on Wednesday night that a friend of mine lost her son in a stabbing. He was 24 years old. We went to the same high school, once upon a time. My heart broke for her, but I was truly shaken by the death of someone so young. Twenty four. What can a normal boy accomplish in 24 years? What is to become of his aspirations? His dreams? His kids? I’m still kind of struggling to believe that all that promise can come to such a screeching halt. There doesn’t seem to be much justice in it. Cold-hard proof that God’s ways certainly aren’t our own.
On the other end of the spectrum, my boyfriend and I are celebrating our four-year anniversary tomorrow night. Every day with him is a significant milestone to me. Lately, i’ve gotten significantly closer to his family and, well, the ultimate prize of girlhood. Marriage. I can feel it rearing it’s head, and I have never been more ready. Sometimes I think I’m too ready, but that’s a post for another time.
In another aspect, my plans for London are beginning to unfold. I think I’ve found somewhere I would like to live. My potential roommate, a mutual friend of a fellow parishioner, lives only walking distance from the university, which could mean wonders for my inactive self.
The point is, my life is moving forward. I’m taking in every moment in and admiring the stops along the way. But I have been afraid of what lies ahead until this week. My creative hiatus has seriously been lacking inspiration. Idleness has made me miserable. Something that was supposed to refresh me, was bolting me to the floor.
You never think about how much time you have left in life, until someone loses theirs.
At 24, will have have done everything I needed to do? Most likely not.
But I’ll never know for sure while I’m bolted to the floor.
It was his fifth birthday with me at his side.
Twenty-seven years ago, my significant other was born. I had spent the week wracking my brain about what to get him. He is part of a dying breed of man who still believe in and practice chivalry–a quality that warms my heart every time I think about it. But it makes gift-receiving a little hard for him. He doesn’t like me spending money on him. He doesn’t even like his mom spending money on him.
Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how much I love him. I think about it too much maybe. Just buying him a card was overwhelming. I couldn’t read a single card at Hallmark without shedding a tear (or two). Which is not to say that he is the hallmark of men… okay maybe it is.
The truth is, I was in a really ugly place before him. I can’t even imagine where I’d be without him. The point is, I wouldn’t be here. And I’ve never been so happy with the present in my whole life.
That’s not to say that there isn’t bouts of paranoia, or uncertainty, or even fear of the future. But none of that drowns out how grateful I am about everything I have today. And I will be the first to say that none of this would be here without him.
But he would never take credit for it.
“Start by doing what’s necessary, then do what’s possible. Suddenly, you are doing what’s impossible” St Francis Assisi
This morning I took my youngest brother to school. He did not vocally mourn the passing of the winter break. It’s like he had completely transitioned into the momentum of the school year–or at least defeated by it.
This Christmas season had been a particularly joyous one. I was a lot more receptive to the energy that Christmas and New Year festivities were meant to bring and, of course, that made a huge difference. I was past the longing, past the craving, and was ready for the change that the 2013-2014 year promises: A new home, a Master’s Degree, a new spouse and proud new additions to my already gargantuan family tree.
The feeling that the rest of my life will come together in a single year is exciting. Things that were impossible last year (or at least seemingly so) are now but a hope, skip, and a jump away. This year, I hope to use the energy of this excitement and fervently focus on the end result…
…an end heralding a string of inevitable beginnings 🙂