Weekend

I guess 40 is about being. Not like adolescence–which is a frantic sort of being, where you cram all the life you can into everything. A stepped-back sort of being, where there isn’t less going wrong or less to panic about, you’re just better at figuring out what’s worth reacting to and what isn’t.

Will & Kitty AnnanWill said something uncharacteristically philosophical about getting old being okay because you unskew your perspective on many things while we were in Tahoe. I’d quote it but I can’t find where I wrote it down. Although I don’t seem quite capable of paraphrasing, that was more or less the gist.

I was thinking about that, again, as over the weekend I had another mundane realization about myself and another appreciation for relaxing into being.

Basically, I cooked.

I have always cooked. I like to cook–I really like to bake, but I enjoying cooking. That did not come as a revelation to me this weekend; I’ve pretty much always known that I like to cook.  What I did not know was that I like people to enjoy what I’ve cooked.

What an unlikely revelation that was! I am–at times excessively–inner-directed, and suddenly realizing that cooking was a social pleasure for me was both startling and obvious. Here I am, finally closing in on understanding myself. It only took 30 years of excessive inner-directed thought to suss out, but there it is. I enjoy cooking cause good food–like cupcakes–makes people happy.

I suppose it helps to serve food with a cocktail, sugar-rim on the glass and all.

 

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