I like to think I'm handling a damn pandemic like a rockstar. We're all still happy, dreaming, and growing in new and different ways. Everything you could hope for in a regular time honestly. I give myself credit for that. Then, there are some points that it all becomes too much to handle. All of the changes in life get to me. Being trapped in our house starts to choke me. When dreaming gets me nowhere because I don't have the ability to safely DO something right now. Last week, it was a king cake that sent me over the edge.
Two years ago, I spent an early birthday in New Orleans during Mardi Gras season. When asked about this experience, my eyes get wide and my hands go spastic as I half-shout, "it was soooo much fun!" It was a unique experience. We fully embraced, as we usually do, the local culture. We asked locals for recommendations to restaurants, places to see, things to experience. Doing this whenever we travel has never steered us wrong. It's often my favorite part of traveling. Since we were in NOLA for a whirlwind weekend ( read about that weekend here, here, and here), we wanted a king cake we could take home and enjoy with the kids.
Everyone, seriously every person we asked, recommended Rouses Markets king cakes. Oddly enough, we had passed a few Rouses Markets and didn't think to stop because their king cakes were piled to the ceiling by their doors. How good could a grocery store king cake be anyway?? Long story short, they're amazing. So much so, that I ordered one for delivery last Mardi Gras. Even shipped, it was amazing. It was a little piece of cultural heaven delivered right to our front door.
This year, 2021, I had hoped to maybe go to NOLA with my kids. Not for a full Mardi Gras experience, because hello, there's still a pandemic going on, but just a simple walk through the streets, see some of the sights, eat beignets and jambalaya. Of course, February 2021 isn't on my side, so my next thought was to order the king cake for delivery again.
Except, I forgot all about it until last Thursday. I tried and tried to get shipping to work out, but I couldn't not get our favorite cherry filled king cake here in time for our Mardi Gras celebration. I was devastated. I cried.
I cried for everything lost, everything that is unable to come to fruitation. As a person who truly finds happiness by doing, being in a stalemate is beyond maddening. It physically hurts at times. A king cake, or lack thereof, reminded me of all that and more.
But, as with every other time, I had my meltdown, I said not-so-nice words to my computer, and I moved on. I picked up a king cake from a store (I do believe I said the words, "it's probably shit," when I got in the car, so there's still some bitterness regarding the king cake fiasco). I will eat it and I'll continue with our celebration. Someday, I realize, I'm likely going to laugh at my meltdown over a king cake. I'm beginning to half-smile about it already. How something so insignificant, but representing so much, threw me over the edge temporarily.