Birthday weekend, part two

As big on my list as Dallass getting knocked off in the playoffs was, the spread mom put out for dinner was epic.

If you've seen "Antowne Fisher" you'd know.

Every dish I like was prepared: Mom's trademark fried chicken was first up, seasoned perfectly as always (served with honey is also an option, but that may be a bit much for some. One might start selling off personal items like a crackhead for a second serving, if he's not careful).
Followed by a perfectly done casserole of sweet potatoes, and as always, the ridiculously tasty collard greens, and this nameless medley of a dish consisting of kielbasi sausage, pineapple, and chopped peppers in a tangy tomato broth that has haunted me since I was a kid.
It's the only sausage dish I like. Mom claims she pulled it out of some magazine back in the day I've seen some of those recipes and they all look like something you dare your family to eat and never speak of it again. This is not that dish, boyo.

The last thing she smacked me upside my head with was her classic deep-dish apple pie.
Oh My God, just stick it straight into my veins!
She hasn't pulled that off in years. Only a Tastykake apple pie can be considered an acceptable alternative, and there's still a considerable distance between them. Like a light-year.
Its the kind of treat that has the kids sitting there confused after they eat a slice a la mode, cause their little bodies & brain pans are unleashing endorphins they won't experience again until they get their first "munchies" attack after their first joint.

After I woke the next afternoon, clutching the containers of leftovers I liberated (I don't remember anything, post pie. not the first time that happened. there was that family reunion dinner back in '79...), I shook off the lingering effects of "the itis" and went about what was left of the day.

Thirty years plus seven, goddamn. What keeps me humble all this time is the flashes of recall I get about shit from my past. All the jerky, awkward stuff I put myself through. The missteps I've made personally, professionally, etc. We all have them, but mine feel like they happened yesterday. But then I think "who else would remember that?", and relief would wash over me when the realization that not only am I million miles and "life miles" away from those who would still hang me for my missteps, but that I never even made any lasting impact that anyone other than myself would consider worth remembering among that group.

Its all in my mind. I'm well into my third decade of existence, I got a whole new batch of insecurities on the table these days to obsess over.

Thank god for that.