Author Archives: marlakinnejuliano

No one knows me like you do…

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My 50th birthday was a beautiful day. Okay, not beautiful in the weather sense, but a wonderful night planned by my husband. Now, many women would have loved flowers, a reservation at a wonderful restaurant or a surprise trip away. Not me and my husband knew this.
When you work 24/7 and you live in Hilton and airports more than your own home the last thing you want is to be trudging off on yet another plane, eating at another restaurant or being on someone else’s schedule. You want to be home. You want to cook, relax and laugh in your own environment. My husband had plans of whisking me away to the Redwoods, to a Fleetwood Mac concert or even off to Maine for the weekend. But, he knows me best. I wanted to ring in 50 with him and our cat. Some may think “how boring, how nondescript”. It was the best birthday ever!
He had Cousin’s Maine lobsters flown in, cooked me a wonderful meal as our favorite country hits played in the background. ( And yes, Kelty enjoyed the lobster, too!) Instead of turning on the tv we enjoyed some great wine and played our favorite card game. We laughed, we ate a phenomenal meal and had an electronic free evening.
God blessed me in 2002 through a freak meeting with a stingray which led me to a truly wonderful man. He has the best soul, a caring heart, and sees & knows me for who I am–the good, the bad and loves me above all else. My big birthday present has actually been by my side for the past 11 years. I just need to remember to open that gift daily as there is not one material thing or one destination that can take the place of being married to someone you love, but even more, the person who is truly a best friend on all levels. For that, I am truly blessed…

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The irony of Krispy Kreme and 50

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I find it ironic that today is national doughnut day, the day I turn fifty. I was hoping to wake up to national free day at T.J. Maxx, not some reminder of the extra dough I seem to be carrying with me. Believe me when I say it is not residing in my pocketbook, but more around my middle and thighs. I was certain God was hearing my prayer about these extra fifteen pounds. I was certain He was going to take them away for my milestone birthday. I was certain I was going to fit back into those size six jeans in my closet today. Instead the only six I will see is the six my husband has in the refrigerator (actually 11, but it is never good to have a man run out of beer).
I need to get off my butt this summer as The Lord only helps those who help themselves. Those size six jeans are not going to magically fit this size ten butt. I would love to participate in National Doughnut Day and indulge in a dozen dripping hot glazed doughnuts, but instead I will refrain so by summer’s end I can be like the sign at Krispy Kreme when they are ready–hot and now…

Bruises, biopsies and Bordeaux

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Yes, bruises.  Bruises everywhere.  Now, I am a Southern lady, not some back woods, tooth missing redneck who indulges in hair pulling, fist throwing or cat fighting.  I just seem to run into things more often and never see them until they just appear.  (Besides, the tooth missing thing would really bother me as I have no idea what I would floss!)  But, needless to say, I fell backwards off of a chair at a trade show, bruised my butt and bruised my ego.

I have to admit there is a part of every refined Southern woman who would like to beat the crap out of some idiot to the point of destruction at some point in our lives.  Instead, we smile.  We mutter a discreet obscenity under our breath and view it in our head in our technicolor.  The thought is delightful, but we never pull our dreams into fruition (nor do we tell our real dreams from the night before we eat breakfast as Momma always said that was bad luck…)

So, I made it through the show with 6 new bruises from who knows where except the imprint of the chair wheel on my behind, but I added four new biopsies the following day from the dermatologist.  This skin cancer thing is truly nothing to mess with and it is difficult walking in public watching small children point at you with four beautiful band aids placed strategically on your face.  The next time I am requesting Hello Kitty ones.  I think those will be much more appealing and more en vogue.

And the Bordeaux?  It is one day before 50, do I even have to explain?

The last days of 40….

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50? Really? Just trying to enjoy the last two days of my 40s. What exactly would that mean? Hell, I really don’t know. I have spent the last twenty five years recouping the memories of everything Momma ever taught me. I smile when I have to say anything “ugly” to anyone, I laugh when I start to cry and I still don’t know what the answers are because I really don’t have the time to distinguish the questions from the b.s. of all this world has become.
Simply, I am 49 and 363 days old. I am happily married. I have no children. I work too much. I travel too much. I look for the best in the world and try to find where we, as a society, have gotten lost. I cook for enjoyment and solace. I write to dig into all the thoughts that have molded me into the person I am today even when the day may show more than my past ever held.
I started this blog to show the Southern side of 50…a bit of my (un)cultured Charleston upbringing, a bit of 11 years living in Alabama and a bit of my future mountain side of Jasper, Georgia. It is my chance to share my Momma’s wit and wisdom & my Daddy’s live for today attitude. I survive in a corporate world through mouth watering recipes, great quotes for living, and a love for the wonderful people who have shaped my world and also those who have strengthened my backbone. (I may not have liked the experience, but there is truly a difference in a mistake and a lesson in life. The mistakes you make over and over, the lessons you learn and move on to living, truly living.) Everything is not pretty, nor should it be, but I have learned there is nothing in this life that cannot be helped through faith, love and truly living.
I hope I can inspire you on some days. I hope I make you think. I hope you roll across a recipe and it makes you and others very happy and content. I hope there are things that make your eyes well up and your soul reaches for an answer. I hope you laugh, a real laugh, the reach down in your gut ’til you want to pee laugh…for that Momma would say I was being uncouth.
So, for that, I say “enjoy!” as I will these last 48 hours of my 40s…bruises, biopsies and Bordeaux are only the beginning…