Doctor Bird Will See You Now, and He’s Delicious

You know I love sweets. This is a self-evident truth, not a newsflash. I would, however, like to make an important announcement: A new treat has made its way to the top of my favorites list. Enter HUMMINGBIRD CAKE. Also referred to as “Doctor Bird Cake” or “The Cake That Don’t Last,” this delicacy is not only incredibly tasty, it has a name shrouded in mystery. (Pipe down, PETA. No tiny, iridescent creatures were harmed in the making of this dessert.)

Lord knows I love an enigma (one need only note my choice of boyfriends to grasp that fact), so sugar + Southern tradition + a curious origin? Count me in and pass me a fork.

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On Love and Its (Sometimes Tacky) Expressions

Most days of the year, and our lives for that matter, are unremarkable. They pass, collect and fade. Devoid of pomp and circumstance, these are the days when love is formed. Small gestures amass, moments compound. It’s anti-climactic, really. And though it’s not what I’ve been told for 31 years that it would be (I’m looking at you Walt Disney Productions), that’s okay. A slow and steady build has suited an emotionally-reluctant Kitty Lemieux just fine.

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Stop Hatin’ on Love Day, People

Much of Geoffrey Chaucer’s reputation stems from his magnum opus, the bawdiest of storytelling contests, The Canterbury Tales. Hats off to ol’ Geoff for keeping us awake in 7th grade English class (The Wife of Bath’s Tale?!). But did you know he’s also indirectly responsible for Valentine’s Day as we know it? Chaucer was the first author to associate St. Valentine’s Day with romantic love, and since then it’s evolved into the pink-tinted, flower-filled, saccharin-saturated holiday that some of us anticipate and plenty dread. If you’re amongst the Love Day naysayers, direct your negativity toward an old dead guy and stop ruining it for the rest of us.

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A Thanksgiving Post about Everyday Gratitude

Six months ago I started incorporating a new ritual into my normal routine. This simple practice only takes a few minutes each day, yet the impact has been profound. Since its inception, my health has improved, my relationships have improved, and my overall outlook on life has improved. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. To be fair, I will disclose that I have taken other steps that contributed to the shift. This habit isn’t solely responsible for my transformation, but I believe it has had a purely positive effect. It only requires two steps: first, make a deliberate choice to experience the world in a certain way; second, put pen to paper. The ritual is keeping a gratitude journal.

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Foxy Shazam Disbands, Kitty Lemieux Mourns

Mondays have a bad reputation for a reason, and yesterday served as further proof when my favorite Cincinnati-based sextet announced plans for an indefinite hiatus. Foxy Shazam kept up a grueling tour schedule for a decade, and singer Eric Nally—with his masochistic onstage acrobatics and antics—surely deserves a break. But, I have to admit, my selfishness trumps my empathy. This is sad, sad news.

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AURAL FIXATION: Rival Sons

One of my all-time favorite compliments came to me secondhand. A potential employer had asked a colleague to describe me. His answer: “Unflappable.”

I am notoriously levelheaded, sometimes to the point of frustration for people close to me (shout out to my exes!). It’s a blessing and a curse. I easily maintain my composure in what others would consider exasperating situations, but this poise can be misinterpreted as disinterest or dispassion. Let there be no confusion in this case.         I’m aflame. I’m agog. I’m athirst. All for a band called RIVAL SONS.

Me: “Can I be an annoying fan and ask for a photo?” Jay Buchanan of Rival Sons: “No, but you can be a beautiful woman and ask me.” Oh, Jay, you sly devil, you. As if I needed a reason to love you more.

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