Celebrating Seventy

My dad turned seventy-years old on Friday--talk about a milestone! We wanted to be there to help him celebrate, so we packed our bags and headed for Georgia for a weekend filled with food and festivities (aren't those the best kind of weekends?).

Friday night, we enjoyed a family birthday dinner with one of dad's absolute favorites: homemade baked ziti. I had given Mom a Pioneer Woman cookbook, so she tried a new version of an old classic and it was beyond delicious. She also made seven layer salad, another one of our most-loved side dishes, and some garlic bread to help keep that ziti company.

Dad's birthday dinner, round one.

After devouring that celebratory dinner, it was time for presents and cake. Dad chose a caramel cake for the occasion, and we decided to let him off with a small squad of candles instead of seventy (no need to burn down the house for the sake of celebrating).

Make a wish!

All smiles and ready for his best year yet.

We gifted him a needlepoint golf club cover with a scene from the St. Andrews Old Course (he's played there before and will again on a golf trip in June), and passes to the Chick-fil-A College Football Hall of Fame--more on that in a bit. His other presents included a gift certificate to his country club's pro shop and a golf shirt--are you seeing a theme develop here? If you can roll it, throw it, or bounce it, Dad is interested: let's just say he is an avid sports fan.

Our family fully believes in making a birthday last more than just 24 hours, so Saturday we headed to Atlanta to use Bill's tickets to the College Football Hall of Fame. Celebration, part two, here we come.

Kind of looks like a football, right?

The Chick-fil-A College Football Hall of Fame opened in 2014 and is three full stories of exhibits and interactive displays with the history and pomp and circumstance of the game. When you enter, you are given a lanyard with a ticket that contains a chip. You customize your ticket with the team(s) of your choice, and then your experience throughout the hall is tailored to you. A major part of the fun is watching the different screens change to your favorite college team as soon as you approach!

The lobby of the museum has a three story display with 750 college football helmets. As you walk past, the chip in your ticket causes your team's helmet to light up so it's easier to locate.

Now, this is how to dress for a game!
(And no, Mom and I did not plan our matching outfits, we just seem to do that from time to time)

As you can imagine, the hall is filled with lots of great quotes. This was one of my favorites.

There were exhibits on everything from tailgates to band uniforms, and even a karaoke station for performing your team's fight song. Sadly, the video of Bill very animatedly singing "Glory, Glory, to Old Georgia" was mysteriously deleted from Clint's phone so I can't share it with you, but it was quite a performance. There may have even been a little dance involved. 

One interactive display lets you be the announcer for famous plays. Dad got so excited commentating Lindsay Scott's 93-yard touchdown run from the 1980 Gator Bowl, 
he exclaimed, "He's at the 45, the 50, the 55, the 60!"
You know you're winning when you manage to make it to the 60-yard line (ha, ha, ha)!

I always think the indicator of a good time is whether or not you buy merchandise from the gift shop. After almost two and a half hours of perusing the  Hall of Fame, we came out with two koozies, two souvenir pint glasses, two Christmas ornaments, and a t-shirt. We came, we saw, we shopped. I think it's safe to say a good time was had by all.

We wanted to treat Dad to a nice birthday dinner afterward. My cousin Bud is a great chef, and a connoisseur of good food. He recommended a restaurant in downtown Atlanta just a couple of blocks from the Hall of Fame, Ray's In The City.  Ray's specializes in steaks and fresh seafood, so naturally we tried a little of each. We started with goat cheese pimento fritters drizzled with warm pepper jelly; then, the guys dug into their steaks with three cheese macaroni and sauteed mushrooms. Mom absolutely loved her scallops over lobster Parmesan risotto, and I had some of the best crab cakes I have ever eaten. I would highly recommend Ray's for a birthday, any celebratory occasion, or just an amazing meal.

Savoring every bit of our delicious meal at Rays In The City.

And finishing it all off with a chocolate raspberry birthday slice of cake!

We headed back to Charlotte on Sunday after squeezing in as much celebrating as we possibly could. Seventy is a milestone birthday, so I hope we gave my dad plenty of memories of the occasion to remember fondly.

Happy Birthday, Dad! I hope 70 is your best year yet!

Marie Kondo, Bless Your Heart

Have you heard about the new Netflix show Tidying Up with Marie Kondo? Marie is a Japanese woman who has made tidying and organizing her life's work. Her method is infamously known for having you gather all of your belongings and then keeping only those things that "spark joy."

If you think this woman has clearly fallen and hit her head, you might be onto something. She says herself that, after spending her childhood yearning to be the class bookshelf manager rather than other, loftier titles, she experienced a breakthrough in organizing one day, "I was obsessed with what I could throw away. One day, I had a kind of nervous breakdown and fainted. I was unconscious for two hours. When I came to, I heard a mysterious voice, like some god of tidying telling me to look at my things more closely. And I realized my mistake: I was only looking for things to throw out. What I should be doing is finding the things I want to keep. Identifying the things that make you happy: that is the work of tidying."

Well, Lord have mercy, Marie. I realize your "breakthrough" came from a moment of fainting and could very well be the result of a head injury, but it is not the method for me. Come to think of it, I'm willing to bet this tidying up business won't sit well with anyone from the South, and I don't even really need to elaborate beyond the words knick knacks, but for those of you who need more clarification, I'll tell you why this Marie Kondo thing is a bigger bunch of hooey than chain letters or Crystal Pepsi.

Southerners feel the need to collect: be it figurines, tea cups, thimbles, t-shirts, coins, guns, fishing lures, car parts, street signs, or college football memorabilia, to name a scant few. I won't say we lean towards being hoarders, but I will say we prefer to surround ourselves with lots of trinkets and nostalgia and we do not easily "tidy up," as our dear friend Marie likes to call it. We don't want to be tidy, we want to be kitschy. If your Nana leaves you her deviled egg plate when she passes, and you already own two deviled egg plates, do you not accept this inheritance? Nonsense. there is room in every good life for multiple deviled egg plates. And commemorative coins, dolls, coffee mugs...well, you know where I'm going with this.

Collectibles, knick knacks, dust catchers...whatever you call them,
Southerners can't get enough of them. Sorry, Marie.

Not all of our belongings would pass the "does it spark joy?" test, but that doesn't mean we should be willing to part with them. There are some things we need to have multiples of, not for joy, but for the sake of living. What if my trusty black yoga pants get a hole? I have a backup. Yoga pants that are also suitable for running errands? Check. Dog walking yoga pants? Check. I don't get giddy over owning all these stretchy yoga pants--especially when you consider the fact that I don't do any actual yoga, yet these pants are categorized and at the ready because they are useful. The same can be said for the approximately 78 koozies we own--some for game day tailgates, others for beach trips, and still more accumulated as souvenirs. If poor, misguided Marie thinks she can come down here and pry the koozies from our hands, she obviously has not heard about the Great Koozie Clean Out Crisis that occurred at our house back in 2015 (well, most of you haven't heard about this, but let me just say there was an incident, beloved koozies were thrown away in the frenzy of spring cleaning, and I'm relieved Clint decided not to file for divorce).

Amen to that.

You've also familiar with the phrase "Southern hospitality?" Marie, my mixer absolutely, positively, does not spark any joy for me. However, as much as I would love to tidy that hateful machine up and rid myself of its existence, I have to use it to be hospitable. People will have babies, get sick, move to new houses, lose a family member, celebrate an occasion, and that mixer will be there for the cakes that need to be baked. Some of these people I have aforementioned may or may not exactly spark joy, and we won't throw them away either. No, we will offer them a seat, between the cabinet with our Precious Moments figurines and the table where our spoon collection is so lovingly displayed and make them feel right at home. The bevvy of throw pillows of assorted shapes, sizes, and needle-pointed sentiments will add to their comfort, and we will even put out some of the fancy guest towels we keep stashed away for moments like this. These may not win awards for their joy, but they do get major points for congeniality.

Come to think about it, Spanx do not bring me joy...they bring me the ability to go to church on Sunday with less chance of looking like a well-dressed potato. Speaking of potatoes, the fruits and vegetables languishing in my refrigerator crisper bin are also not joy inducing, however, unless I'm looking to completely dismantle my health and my appearance, they're staying. The same goes for my very unjoyful scale, the bills, the vacuum cleaner, and pretty much the entire contents of the scissor drawer in the kitchen. The idea of functioning without all these things does not paint a particularly pretty picture. Marie is very thin and presumably does not need Spanx, but everyone I know needs a good, junk-filled scissor drawer crammed with note pads, pens that won't write, a ball of twine, a measuring tape, refrigerator magnets not in use, and other assorted treasures.

And so, Marie, all I can say is bless your heart. You may be tidy, but you are definitely not Southern, and I just don't think the Kondo method is going to sweep my part of the world by storm. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got knick knacks to dust and a koozie collection to admire. Maybe I'll even go crazy and organize the scissor drawer.