2021: A journey. Excitement, fatigue, and burning for more

I woke up this morning with tired eyes; nothing new. 
But I did not wake up in my own bed.
Scandalous. 

Just kidding. I am currently spending a few of these odd timeless days between Christmas and New Years at my friend Kat's apartment. Kat is out of town and her plants need some company, so I postulated for approximately 0.06 seconds before packing a small duffel bag. 
Hastily throwing in comfortable socks, sweatpants, and other comfort clothes. There is a gym downstairs, and last week; work was canceled for the foreseeable next week or so. Most likely longer.
Thanks, Omicron.
No one is allowed in the building without a mask, and we aren't providing any reason for people to remove their masks. Sucks for us, since we do the food and the drinks, and it turns out people eat and drink with their mouths. And when I can't go to work, I don't get paid. 
All that to say, I've some time off, and having a gym that is not only accessible but also downstairs is quite the dream. 

I've found my cooking has changed, as it does with every holiday and winter season.
Thanksgiving was a blow-out. I did all of it for, I think, fifteen people? All I know is I made a ton of food, and people ate it. The compliments were nice to recieve. I got to feed some loved ones, and spent a gargantuan amount on groceries. This year I didn't get in an accident, or fall asleep standing up while making pies. Helllllll yeah, bro.  
All that to say, I've been making more comfort food, and eating less salads.
Right along with everyone else. It is bulking season, afterall. 
Lots of braised chicken thighs, a bunch of hearty sides, and loads of roasted vegetables.
More miso, an increased amount of herbs and spices, and many more heads and knobs of garlic and ginger. But what is the point of cooking only one sort of way? Isn't the beauty of food its diversity? 
From the spicy calabrian chili to the the mellow warmth of a white miso; it all balances out. 
So, my cabinet will always be full with a mish-mash of different ingredients. I think that's how it should be. 

Okay, what I really came here to do was dump a bunch of words about my year.
The good, the bad, and the meh. 

2021: A journey. Excitment, fatigue, and burning for more. 

January.

The new year rang in with my roommates cats fighting. I spent the majority of the day hungover due to copious amounts of champagne. I seasoned my cast iron skillet. I made many trips to the Dekalb Farmers Market, cooked beans and greens a couple days late to bring luck into the year. It worked.
I made oh so many eggs, bought more plants, watched movies with my gays and became even more tired of this pandemic life. 
My roommate caught the virus early in January, so I began a twelve day stretch of quarentine due to rules at work. Wearing a mask inside your own house is truly bizzare.
I did lots of yoga, read three books, and watched entirely too much Netflix; themes that would continue all year long. I pondered next steps to take, and got tested for the Coronavirus so many times I got a sinus infection. I bought a money tree, and went on a girls trip to Athens. A very good day. 
I drank in bars, and really dug into the meme of Bernie Sanders in mittens. It still cracks me up. 
Our little pod had a late New Years party, and went to a lovely brunch where we looked over the city and each others failures. An old pair of jeans ripped perfectly on the knee, and I went with it. I became really into layered text and cross-stitching. I bought more beer, in a professional capacity, and worked my last day at Elemental Spirits Co. 
A job I miss to this day, and will always have a deep appreciation for. Our little rag-tag work family remain some of my favorite people on the planet. 

February.

The month began with a spicy new job, which promised to start me on a long career as a lawn care salesman. I moved up to Marietta for a week or so for training.
It would turn out to be the worst job I've ever had. 
I don't appreciate being lied to, or used. 
I went to Costco and got a crispy new pair of running shoes.
I was given a company car. I got a pair of brass candlesticks.
I had a weird Valentine's Day and lit a candle. 
I drank lots of iced coffee and was too tired from driving the two hour commute to consistently work out, but I still did yoga every day. My hair was long as was my beard. I stopped by a lake and sat there for an hour, thinking about how things should be different, and how to go about the change. 
I sat on our back patio in a small bathing suit and tried to absorb sunlight and harness the energy. 

March.

I worked weekends, due to management miscomunication and deception. 
Put together half a dozen puzzles, and tried to figure out how in the hell I still look the same as I did almost ten years ago. 
I drank Publix's Iced tea so much I should have bought stock in it, and howled at the midnight moon. 
I made foccaccia bread pizza and fought through each day with a clenched jaw. 
I propogated plants, and attended one of the many fully masked events raising funds for the BLM movement. I saw a tree through rose colored hues. 

April.

I created a Social Media position at the company, and was given a secretary position. 
I dreamed about Your Love, and wore a floral tie for Easter. I went to a bank that was also a Starbucks? 
I got my first dose of the covid vaccine and wore a cardigan. It was a good hair day. I revamped a braised chicken thigh recipe and finally achieved the best Banana Bread Recipe yet
(you can find it here).
I went on a great friend date, and a real date. A few real dates. I ate lunch outside, while on the phone with potential new jobs. Someone asked if they could smell my farts, and I bought a bistro table and new pair of Chucks from Goodwill. I had park picnics and pined after having my own dog. I used a lime to balance a table, and got even more sick of toxic masculinity. I bought a new bathing suit and watched as it hailed down marble sized pieces of ice. I took a glorious bath and reorganized my shorts according to color. I began dating a boy, and took some clothes that no longer fit to Goodwill. 
I recieved my second dose of the vaccine and saw roots begin to grow from the avocado seeds I had propogated over a month prior. Slow progress is still progress.

May.

My coffee pour-over broke into pieces, yet I remained held together, despite the single tear I shed. A tear for old times and friends that knew me well.
I made over fourty Mother's Day bouquets and began using my Marta card again, and again and again. I did a foot mask, and celebrated Mother Earth as the nuturer we often forget.
I day-drank Perrier, and turned 30; beginning with free iced coffee (thanks industry friends ilysm) and writing, and ending with oysters and Asian-fusion and drinking long into the night. My brother bought me a Kitchen-Aid mixer, which continued a wave of thankfulness. I started a new bartending job, and shaved my chest. I made a fake petition for all salads to have white beans, and bought a new pair of work shoes. People signed the petition while I chuckled to myself.
I helped cater so many weddings, and continued to grow in gratefulness for friends that are there when times get tough. I drank Palomas and walked on the Beltline. I had a boat day and wore an ascot which ended with a bonfire. I painted the shelves for a home bar, and made an eight-layer chocolate cake with a dark chocolate buttercream frosting. 

June.

The month began with roasted cauliflower tacos, and then finding over thirty taco bell hot sauce packets strewn about next to a bus stop. The summer heat soaked through my clothes and right into my soul.
I was burning with a new kind of fire. I made a croissant sandwich fit for a prince, and then laid by a pool. I worked too much but hydrated with coconut water and iced coffee along with cases of La Croix. I bought a new jean jacket at the outlets and tried on jumpsuits that made me feel like David Bowie. I watched Too Wong Foo, and had a drink on a rooftop bar where a boy couldn't stop crying. I had a surprise day off where I made a new friend in a catapillar. I drank coffee and ordered sushi from a hotel room. I sat on a bench in Piedmont park and stared over the lake until the time expired, lost in thought but not in life.

July

I attended a Braves game on July 4th and wore a tank top and short shorts and was Happier Than Ever. Kat and I saw the good, the bad, and the in-between, at least where apartments are concerned. I bought a new summer button down and rocked a mustache and didn't hate it this go-around. I worked overtime and had an avocado prop spit out a double stem(!!). I visited my old life in Chattanooga and bought more books and a Mother of Thousands succulent. I went to the beach where I got some color on my shoulders, which in turn made then more broad. I took selfies in a bathing suit and decided to do more. I moved beer kegs and helped guide a shipping container into its forever home.

August.

A busy month; August flew by like a bird. I began the month with my toes in the sand, and was betrayed by the waves. Single yet again, I watched High on the Hog, and marveled at how little exposure is given to African American food and culture.
Some things surface when they are most needed, unlike the acne on my forehead. I spent more time in the Five Point Marta station than I had ever thought I would when I moved to Atlanta over six years ago. I got one of the best brunches ever with an online friend who turned out to be one of the my most favorite humans. I was reminded to Not Quit by friends, and commanded to Keep Going by road signs.
A mood.  
I started working at a kitchen in Midtown, and have been graced with love and care. I got to spend more time with Dina, and have never been more grateful for friends who speak the truth through laughter. 
I experienced one of the best weeks of my life in Tacoma.
I found that the best days happen when you have a very loose plan, and the company is better than okay.
Bailey and I hiked some of Mount Rainier and ate ramen. We played pinball, and watched the White Lotus. I laid on the floor at the Space Needle and was refreshed to see that I am indeed not afraid of heights. 
I dreamt of tomatoes and bought my first dangle earrings. I wear them frequently.

I drank a beer by a lake and watched the sunset with my brother seated next to me. A sailboat gently gliding across the setting sun. My jacket sleeves rolled all the way down, I was shivering for a myriad of reasons. 
We had a negroni, and I got to be a very present uncle for a day.
I held my neices in my arms.
I let Bri win at racing, but only half the time. Life isn't fair but she is a good sport. Those girls are the reason I do cardio. This heart can only take so much.
I asked Bri what we say when we want the music to be turned up so we "Cranked them tunes" and Phil Collins blared through the speakers. I was the opposite of upset about it. The day was absolute magic. 
My highlight of the year. 
I cried in the airport bathroom, and decided a move would be a really very good thing. 

September.

The month started with a day full of taking trains and busses back and forth from Buckhead. I had an unexpected day off, and went to the dog park, followed by a great lunch with Clinton, Bean and Peter.
September brought a swath of new albums and I had my heart broken by drum solos, and rebuilt by choruses. I saw Lucy Dacus in concert and had a full on meltdown; seeing myself in a new light. The arms of friends have been something that has carried me.
I began a slew of weekends where I dog-sat and was too nervous about Covid and gun voilence to go for a walk. I went to a comedy show and laughed from my core. I did more yoga and laughed when the pup did a downward dog while I was in the pose. I went to another concert, and was confident the Covid fog was letting up. Then I got a head cold. It was not covid. 
A mosquito bit my trachea and I posed in a bathing suit, finally tan enough. 

October.

Spooky gym dad vibes, and a fresh shave. The leaves started to change, and I felt the change within me rising as well. A brilliant drag show, followed by listening to records. A dream of an evening.
I washed my sheets and wanted someone to help me mess them up.
A thirsty month, I drank lots of water and wine. I looked for affection in all the right places. 
I saw two concerts on two consecutive nights, and was reacquainted with Noah Gundersen on a very intimate level. We talked about Seattle and food and I told him how his music has sung into every season of my life since college. I can't believe it's been over eleven years. He is a good man. 
I made thirty-eight cakes and enough buttercream to frost an elephant. 
Our little crew carved pumpkins and set candles inside them. A spooky mood. Just right. 
I made come chamonile tea and iced it, not regretting one thing save the head cold.
I watched scary movies and did yoga outside on the patio. The beginning of fall is my favorite time. 
The World Series began, and I was there for every hit, even if it was through a screen.
I sat by a fire, and poured wine for followers. 
I dressed as a Count, and then decided it would be better to go as a gym rat; head cold persisting. Still not covid. 

November.

The month began with seeing the ghost of my old self on public transit. Young and aloof. 
The Braves won the World Series, and I celebrated by tracking the growth of my facial hair.
Two weeks from bare face to a beard.  
A Braves parade, and carafes of coffee followed.
Reheating Mellow Mushroom pizza in the convection oven, and ladybugs on my fiddle leaf figs. 
A wine festival, and Chomp and Stomp preceeded a late nap. I woke up at midnight and proved how time flies when you're having fun. More dog-sitting and unusally warm fall vibes. 
I bought a car from my dear Emma, and watched my brother and Kinga get married via WhatsApp video while sitting in a parking lot. I cheers'ed them with a beer overlooking downtown. It was momentus day. I was driving again and I had gained a new Sister. 
They got stuck at the border, and had to turn around. The yearning continues. 
I did all of the driving things like getting a new title and a new Georgia license. While waiting at the DMV I recalled a sunday school lesson about 'good people' and realised my folded hands held the person I am, and my wrinkles and laugh lines; the person I used to be. I'm grateful for both, but there is still much work to do. 
A lunar eclipse showed me that I'm not scared of hiding anymore. I got a haircut where I talked about asparagus casserole and other mysteries of life. I supervised some guest cooks and fell for Ginko trees and their brilliant yellow. My beard grew back in a week and a half; record timing. 
I did up thanksgiving and gloried in a dip board.
I vacationed after making dozens of ham sandwiches with a honey maple glaze. 
I had an Atlanta morning, and escaped to Chattanooga again. Old haunts and not-so-new flames.
I got a hug from Tim, and held back tears of gratefulness for friends that have been there through the hardest times. You know who you are, Grant and BA. 

December.

I awoke in a hotel room, and remembered how I got there. I was glad to share a bed.
I made new friends, and stood in the same place as my younger self. Outside St. Johns, where my kitchen journey picked up again after Culinary school. I thought about going back to work in a kitchen, then realised I already do. 
The most superbly cozy AirB&B, and catching up with my cousin Rachael over lunch at the Daily Ration.
I got to spend some of Anastasia's birthday with her, which I'm still smiling about.
A day of thanksgiving food, and driving back home. Happy and sad at the same time. 
I had a breakfast taco, and then went back to work where I cracked over 150 eggs for vats of eggnog.
I saw children pretending beer taps were anything from a guitar to a machine gun. I laughed at youth and the simple joy of being silly. Or just being. 
I went on a really good date. 
I was gifted an evening at the Botanical Gardens, and put up two Christmas trees; neither of them my own. 
I went to Blake's, and was reminded that new experiences are good. 
I had brunch with Anna Maria, and we ate Crispy Cream doughnuts while we waiting in line. Palomas and toasting to how we know who we are now. 
I spent an entire afternoon looking for a Christmas tree and settled on a potted plant. 
I bought Christmas presents and treated myself to two new pairs of desperately needed crispy kicks. 
I attended a birthday party where I took my shirt off. 
I slept hard. A rareity. 
I got real festive and strung up lights. 
I ate dinner with my old roommates family and discovered how this car has truly been on of the best things to happen to me in years. 
My roommates caught covid, so I packed a bag (or three) and apartment-sat for Kat. 
I made cookies; continually revamping old recipes. 
My mom visited me in Atlanta for the first time. We walked in the rain, and shared some tea.
She told me "Atlanta isn't as scary as I'd thought", and put words to what I've been through.
Change is scary, but how do we expect to grow if we are too set in our ways? Change is good. It's healthy. I could use more of it. 


I am home now, and it is January 1st. Today was a good day. 
To sound like a broken record, 2021 was truly one of the most challenging years I've experienced. The highs and lows of it all seem distant but very familar. The love and care I've recieved this past year is unrivaled. It was a hard year, but I am so grateful. Fun things happened, tears were shed, and I am better for it. It would be foolish to set any expectations on the year ahead, but the fire that started in me refuses to be extinguished. Burning for more, and for bigger and better things. 
So that is what I'm taking into 2022. Burning, and growth. I'm choosing to see this year and myself as a phoenix. Good things are ahead. Let's get this bread, y'all. And butter is indeed everything. 

Cheers to the New Year, I love you.