Bluegrass Birthday

Last Wednesday I turned 50. It was a good day.

My husband woke the boys for school and wanted me to sleep in---and I would have, except for the bluegrass. I’ve been cooking a lot for the 4 day festival and had not gotten to lists or packing or even finishing the laundry. So my birthday was also a day of frenetic activity.

My son came to work bringing a hug and a handmade birthday card---a throwback to the many he made while in high school at home with one exception: no bullet is passing through a body leaving a perfectly round tunnel and trailed by bright red splashy-looking drawing. It is so good to have him moving through my space every day. Sometimes you don’t know how much you miss something until you have it again.

There is a bonus. I’m getting a chance to learn to know his new wife in a totally new way. Because they’ve always lived so far away, all of our times together have included the factor of her being a guest in my house. Now she has her own house---her own space---and that gives me an opportunity to know her in differently. It is such fun discovering her personality. I’m only beginning but it is already easy to see why my son loves her.

My daughter and her husband and their friend arrived soon after 8:00 with a fist full of sunflowers and hugs all around. Then they pitched in with all the work I had left to get ready for the weekend.

At noon we stopped everything for a birthday meal at our favorite local Mexican restaurant where I tried something I’ve never had before. I want to start this decade out right---ready for changes.

Then, after an afternoon of more frantic activity we left home in time to arrive at the campground at 8:00-8:30 p.m. It was time to heat up this magnificent supper I’d cooked. It was time to realize we had no propane in the tank. None.

My mother-in-law bailed us out and we moved the pot of water for the parsley and garlic angel hair pasta into her camper. Then we brought the spaghetti sauce and the frozen garlic bread to warm. It took a while, but we fed a crowd and they loved it. When they were full I brought out the fresh peach cobbler still slightly warm from our oven at home. The pieces had to be small so everyone could have some. It’s not gormet or anything. It’s just comfort food with a LOT of sugar. In the dark, surrounded by a circle of campers and tents, and full of great homemade spaghetti it was exactly right. People so appreciated it.

Others tried to tell me that I shouldn’t be providing the meal on my birthday. I don’t know. I think that makes sense. It is what I would have said if I hadn’t been the one cooking. But making good food for people I love and knowing how much they enjoyed it really made my day.

That sounds so much more domestic than I’ve ever been. I’ve been OK with cooking but I get tired of it too. I can’t explain why this was such fun. It just was.

After supper I made beds while others did dishes, and then we listened to sons and fathers and cousins and friends make music in the cool evening air until all were too tired for more.