Photos by Drew
I always love the Thanksgiving holiday since my birthday falls right around it, but this was the year I turned 30 so I’d been pretty much dreading it since I was, oh, 25. This whole month I’ve been a little bit down in the dumps because of it. I’ve gotten small cases of the birthday blues ever since I turned 20 and got sad I couldn’t be a kid anymore, so this birthday was especially tough to see on the horizon. Fortunately I was in Tennessee with my family and with Drew and had about as perfect a birthday I could wish for, complete with my mom’s pumpkin pancakes for breakfast, homemade vegetable pot pie for dinner, and of course chocolate cake for dessert. I did perfect day sorts of things like run on the treadmill and read and play piano, and when my mom asked how I’d like to spend my birthday I said I wanted to go to a nerdy historic site. So we went to Carnton Plantation in Franklin, Tennessee.
I knew about Carnton because my mom had told me about it and how during the Civil War it was used as a field hospital for Confederate soldiers after The Battle Of Franklin. She told me about the little graveyard on the side of the place, with over 1,000 soldiers buried under tiny simple headstones. But I didn’t know how creepy the place would be or how sad the whole thing was. There are still blood stains on the floor in the children’s nursery-turned-operating room, and I left the place wanting to take a ghost tour and read up more on Civil War history.
The day was weirdly cold, and I definitely had to pull out my new-old thrift store winter coat that I’ll show you later. For now here’s my birthday dress. This whole outfit is pretty much a bigger version of my niece Stella’s outfit, with the brown sandals and sweater tights and blue drop-waist dress, but I promise I didn’t plan it. One of my fashion-y resolutions for my 30s is to start dressing a little bit more grown-up and I wanted my birthday dress to show it, but when I saw this Dear Creatures dress I couldn’t really resist it, school uniform shape and all, so then I end up dressing just like my five year old niece. Oh well, there’s always next year.