A Fine Fall.

I had intended to write about my favorite month of the dozen that we have during it. Now I can barely remember October. Since November has shaped up rather nicely, I am finally getting around to paying tribute to the greatest season: Fall. I know all four seasons have purpose and they make the world go around and all of that jazz, but I think that here in the South the fall reigns supreme. Why yes, I can make such a broad and bold statement based solely on my opinion. Democracy in action, people.

What makes the fall so great? Let's start with the perfect weather that doesn't include suffocating humidity or 1/16" of ice on the roads that equally keep us holed up in our homes for days on end. While I'm on the subject of nature, let's not forget the changing of the leaves in which they transform from bright green to vivid shades of red, gold, and orange. The leaves in the fall is one of the reasons why I especially miss living in Dahlonega during this time of year. Speaking of Dahlonega, another reason why the fall is tops in my book revolves around a little annual festival each year called Gold Rush. It's not so much the painted gourds, lacy toilet seat covers, and seasonal hand-made clothing that makes me look forward to the third weekend in October, but the people you are likely to run into on the streets and the best baked potatoes you'll ever find this side of Heaven and fudge covered apples that are worth the calories and embarrassment of having chocolate all over your face that gets me there.

In fact, I had to put my apple down for a nanosecond this year just long enough to snap this photo. The Square is prime real estate for people watching on this particular weekend. Especially for two gals like us:Oh how I love this picture. It makes me giggle every single time I see it. We are quite comfortable with our dork status. And it doesn't really take a sign to state the obvious. I am so glad that Katie and I were able to spend the afternoon together catching up, lunching, snacking, and shopping. Let me just go ahead and clear up any rumors or speculation as to the contents in Katie's shopping bag. It does not contain a painted gourd, lacy toilet seat cover, or cardigan adorned with wooden shapes of Christmas trees and angels. There are some really good finds to be found there too. Especially the pottery selection! Other good finds include Shelley:
It did my little heart such good to catch up with her and her family while sitting on the sidewalk and eating our Holy Spuds. No, it's not a religious festival only Southern Baptists flock to each year. The Baptist kiddos just sell baked potatoes to raise money for missions. Her girls are so much fun and growing up so, so fast. They will be fantastic babysitters for my little Korean children that I'm going to adopt one day. There was time spent with other dear friends that weekend too, but once baby E christened my shirt there were no more photo ops. Baby E is just cute and sweet enough though, that I didn't mind the christening one little bit.

Speaking of cute and sweet babies, there is another one who will be joining us in January. Earlier this month, we were able to celebrate Katie and the pending arrival of baby #2. Kristen and I discovered that we had not seen each other since Katie's last baby shower a couple of years ago. Looks like Katie is going to have to keep having babies in order for Kristen and I to keep seeing each other!
Yes, as a matter of fact I was wearing my Easter dress in early November. Remember my previous statement about perfect weather? Fast forward just 4 short days and I found myself in C-O-L-D Chicago wishing that I had remembered to pack my ear warmers. It was a nice trip though despite the sub-arctic temps. Sure, there's a chance that I'm being a teensy bit dramatic when I refer to the temps as sub-arctic but what little time I have spent in the Midwest during the cold weather months gives me new understanding as to why so many of them gravitate to Florida after retirement. I enjoyed seeing the Macy's downtown all decorated for Christmas and I was able to get in a quick conversation with Santa to discuss a few items on my list for this year.

So now I'm all caught up to the present where I find myself still recovering from my Thanksgiving hangover. And by hangover, I mean the kind that comes from too many helpings of mashed potatoes and servings of pumpkin cake. Once again, I am overwhelmed at the thought of counting all of my blessings because I have so very much to be thankful for in my life. I hope that the truth does not get lost in the triteness of that statement. These three are at the top of my gratitude list. [Even though the feeling may not be mutual with Micah since I chose to post the better picture of me than of him. :)]

That time I went roller-skating with a bunch of strangers.

The date was January 18, 1998. It was 13 years ago today, but that particular year, the 18th was a Monday. Please allow me to take a moment to reflect on the fact that I was a freshman in college 13 years ago. Surely I was gifted and started college at age 12 because I don't feel a day over 25.
The Monday of MLK Weekend signifies Bid Day at good ol' NGCSU. It's a grand and glorious occasion where boys come out in droves to see which poor unfortunate girl will lose her footing and fall during her run down the hill to the drill field and collegiate women between the ages of 18 and 23 yell and cheer and paint their faces with their respective sorority colors to name just a few of the nonsensical activities. Please allow me to share my thoughts and views on Greek life in general before we delve any further into today's post. Do I believe that everyone should be in a sorority or fraternity? Nope. Do I believe that one can have fantastic college memories and find lifelong friendships outside of a Greek organization? Absolutely. Do I believe that all sororities are full of ditzy girls who make unfortunate life decisions as they are portrayed in the movies? Heck no. Did my personal experience in a Greek organization instill confidence and leadership skills in me and allow me to meet my very best friends in the whole wide world? Yes, indeed. I loved my time as Phi Mu at North Georgia. But I love the friendships that exist today as a result of my time as a Phi Mu at North Georgia even more. I learned about life with those girls. We did stupid and silly stuff like getting completely bent out of shape over something as trivial as a t-shirt design for an upcoming formal...among other things.
Because it's a reoccurring theme in my life these days, last night when I was thinking about Phi Mu and college and blah blah blah, I thought the choice that I had when deciding which group I wanted to join. During the last night of Rush, I attended two parties. One was Phi Mu and the other was well, another group. I had long decided that I was Team Love, Honor, Truth or nothing at all, but some girls like to play mind games. What? Girls playing mind games? Never!
At the other group's party, the girl that I was paired with told me her story of how she too really wanted to be a Phi Mu. And how she thought that they really wanted her to be a Phi Mu too, but something happened and then she didn't get a bid from them. The good news though was that she was completely ok with that because she found a home and lifelong friendships in the other group. [I know, I know...it's totally eye roll worthy but stay with me, I'm getting to the point.]
So I left that party feeling not so confident, and the choice which seemed crystal clear an hour before was a little cloudy. Even though I knew where I wanted to be and what "felt right" deep down in my getting-bigger-by-the-minute-because-I-was-a-freshman-in-college gut, doubt entered into the equation. The way I saw it, I could either go with the easiest and most direct route to the drill field by choosing "other group" or I could take the risk of sticking to my pink and white guns by holding out for what I knew was right even though there wasn't a guarantee I would have a lovely arrangement of pink and white carnations waiting for me the next day.
In the grand scheme of things, my time in a sorority in college is only a little blip on the screen that is the movie of my life. But the ripple effects last much longer. On Bid Day, I really and truly knew the names and faces of about 10 of the 70 or so sisters. In my Phi Class of 34, I knew faces but no names of only a handful. I literally went roller-skating that night with a bunch of strangers. But now 13 years, 5 bridesmaid dresses, and countless late nights of solving the world's problems one bottle of wine or roll of cookie dough at a time later, the risk of the unknown and of my plan not working out as I hoped and thought it should was absolutely worth it. In that group of strangers, I found friends who know me better than anyone else on this planet. We all face unknowns in life each day. How many times have we been tempted to settle for what's guaranteed and immediate even when we know deep down it isn't what is right? How many times have we taken the risk and in hindsight declared that the risk and uncertainty was absolutely worth it because the pay-off was so much greater? My hope is that we all risk more and settle less when it comes to decisions in life. I think that's step #1 in staying true to ourselves...and to the One who put us here in the first place.

There's No Place Like Home.

This past weekend in the city that I currently call home, Homecoming festivities took place for a little school known as the University of Georgia. It was on Saturday that Uga VIII (aka, Big Bad Bruce) made his debut. He's no Chocolate Labrador Retriever, but he is pretty cute. You can see for yourself through the hyperlink I've included. While we're on the subject of the Bulldogs though, I am cautiously optimistic that the prodigals have returned home with their two game winning streak. I don't know how long their stay is going to be but just as any good father does we'll love them while they are here. As for me, I headed out of town before all of the excitement in Athens got underway because I know of a place where the fun is well, more fun...Gold Rush!
I haven't been to Gold Rush since I left Dahlonega over three years ago and my how I have missed it. For those of us who graduated from a little school known as North Georgia College & State University, this is the equivalent to our Homecoming. Hold up. I'm not talking so much about the craft festival component of Gold Rush that brings people into town by the boat loads even though I do love painted gourds and flower pots as home decor (No, not really!). But the festival absolutely adds to the whole experience. On Saturday when I got into town, I immediately made my way to the food section to get my Holy Spud from the BCM (formerly known as BSU) booth. It's a Gold Rush staple. Nothing like a buttered baked potato to provide one with the necessary carbs to remain energetic throughout the whole day. I met Mag and Carrie and their kiddos over on the Price Memorial lawn so that I could have ample running room for playing chase with Colt. Nothing like a 3-year old to make sure I didn't carb overload.

I spent the remainder of my afternoon stopping in at the Phi Mu sweet tea stand so that the poor girls could smile excitedly and say "oh, how cool" when I identified myself as a former Phi Mu. Believe me, I did plenty of time at that same sweet tea stand so I know how excited they really were to see some old lady grinning from ear to ear as she reflects upon her college glory days. After I paid my dues there, we proceeded to head down to the square in preparation for the Gold Rush parade. Think Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade and then take out all of the floats and high school marching bands. Then, add in a bunch of cadets in uniform, the Golden Eagle Band (Talons of Steel!...shouldn't they really be brass? Just a thought.), and gentlemen dressed in Confederate gray with really loud guns, and a few convertibles carrying local beauty queens. It's the greatest small town parade you'll ever see. Finally after the parade it was time to head over to campus for the NGCSU Alumni Reception to catch up with old friends. The fun kept on coming for me folks because once that was over, I headed to the outskirts of town to see even more friends. My cup overflowed!
The thing about Gold Rush is that unless you were a student at North Georgia, it's really difficult to get all jazzed and enthralled when I write about the specifics. Really though I'm writing about the emotions and memories and feelings associated with going home...wherever that place is for you. For me that place is Dahlonega. I feel more at home there than anywhere else. It was my college town, but then for 6 years after graduation it was the town where I called home. I found my best friends there. Life lessons happened there. It was there that I began to understand that a relationship with God meant more than asking him to live in my heart and going to church on Sunday. I got my first real job there. I paid my first real bills there. It was the place where I discovered that I could live all by myself and not only survive it but love it.

On Saturday night as I was driving back to Mom's house, I began to think. There are some days when I just absolutely miss Dahlonega and everything about it. I would live there again in a heartbeat. And then I thought about the symbolism of what that longing really represents. Dahlonega is great but it's nothing compared to my forever and ever home that is waiting for me in Heaven. It's going to be like a non-stop North Georgia alumni reception less the cheap beer served in plastic cups and direct sunlight beating down on me to the point that I begin to sweat through my shirt. It's going to be a homecoming that my mind is far too simple to comprehend. And quite frankly I'm glad because otherwise I have a feeling that I would spend far too much time trying to pick out the perfect outfit.

They are my estate.

"I do not wish to treat friendships daintily but with the roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frost work, but the solidest thing we know." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have a lot of great stuff. I've seen and done a lot of great things. It all pales in comparison to one of my greatest treasures: girlfriends. We are all created in God's image, but I think that when he was doling out the desire for relationship, we gals got the greater portion. Thank heavens because as much fun as it is to sit in front of the TV and watch the game in complete silence less the occasional grunt and swear word, it's even more enjoyable when chatting with a pal on the phone and even taking a trip to Wal-Mart during half-time all the while remaining on the phone together. [True story, by the way...Georgia-Tennessee]
The bond of friendship between women is quite unique. Men will never understand it, nor should they. There are books, movies, and television shows that try to capture the essence of it. As with most things though, until we actually experience it for ourselves, we can't explain it. And if you're one of the lucky ones to have such relationships with a fav set of gal pals, all the words in the dictionary aren't enough to describe their worth. Especially given that we female types love to talk so much about how we feel. True, genuine, lasting friendships are organic. They cannot be forced or bought...no matter how much your sorority dues might have been.


Girlfriends are the keepers of each others secrets. They are the eyes when one loses sight of her own dreams. They are the masterminds behind our most elaborate plans leaving no stone unturned and not one detail overlooked. Girlfriends are voices of reason when one in the group is stricken with a severe case of laryngitis. They are the first ones we call when our moms, men, or mini-me's have gotten on our very last nerve or hurt us in a way that we never thought possible. They are also the first ones we call when those very same people have caused us sheer joy. Girlfriends are brutally honest with us when we aren't honest with ourselves. They are the ones who fall apart helplessly into a fit of giggles when no one else gets the joke.We begin as little girls sneaking our mamas' make-up and playing with our baby dolls. Somewhere along the way we learn the art of freezing bras and cattiness. Fortunately that stage doesn't last very long, but we still make each other mad when we refuse to leave one of our girls at the home of some boy that we can see straight through even when her vision is clouded. That anger usually subsides as the hangover does. And then suddenly one day, we're all grown up. We buy dresses that we're only going to wear once with that new pair of shoes that we're going to wear once. But it will be a Saturday that we'll never forget so it's worth every dime. Girlfriends visit each other in the hospital to celebrate births and mourn deaths. It's a for better or for worse relationship of its own kind. Paul teaches us in Romans that we are to "rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." I think this verse sums up quite simply the primary responsibilities of friendship. In the last year and a half, I've done my fair share of both. What comfort in knowing that I wasn't alone. Regardless of their own circumstances, my girls have been right there with me through mine. I want to be more like them. They each have their own unique qualities. Each one loves differently. One is quiet and shows up at the most unexpected yet most appropriate time. Another sees a situation and immediately sets out to repair or improve it. One listens to me talk and then speaks when she knows I'm ready to listen. Another I can call at 11:45 at night because I know that she's still awake too. I could continue, but the point I'm making in those examples is to illustrate that God's design is evident even in the dynamics of my girls. When He put them into my life whether it be when I was 5 or 19 or 25, I had no idea what was beyond Hickory Flat Elementary, Phi Mu formals, or my twenties. But God did. And he knew that I would need them all along the way. Inevitably the dynamics of such friendships will change as a result of time, distance, and circumstance. Some strengthen while others weaken, but they all have their place. There is comfort in knowing that not only are there a select few who know your history, they are a part of it. They are my estate, indeed.

[August was a friend-filled month. To see more of my shenanigans with some of my favorite people, hop on over here.]

That time I shook hands with James Taylor.

I told someone the other day that when I'm old and gray I will write a book about the last year of my life. I think that I'm putting it mildly when I say that it has been one heck of a trip around the sun. Who knows if the book will ever come to fruition because let's be honest, in my writing I include far too many ellipses; I begin far too many sentences with conjunctions; and I write as if I'm carrying on a conversation. I would be an editor's worst nightmare. And I would probably cry when I showed up to my big book signing at Books-a-Million (I'm a realist...I would never make the Barnes & Noble circuit.) and only my grandma, mama, and 3 best friends were there to have me sign their free copies of my masterpiece. So, before I'm old and gray and actually forget some of the details of the trip, I will chronicle them here in Cliffs Notes format. In reading this post, you have just saved yourselves $4.95 and hours of boredom. You're welcome.

One doesn't have to have the same credentials as Dr. Phil to figure out that the tone of my posts has been a bit glum as of late. It's not that I intended to have Debbie Downer as a guest blogger, it's just that this particular season has been filled with more rain than sunshine and butterflies. Even though if there was too much sunshine, it would surely cause skin cancer (insert Debbie Downer sound effect here!). The thing about seasons of life though is that they change, and I am optimistic that spring is just around the corner. [Gotta' go, my future of writing greeting cards featuring Thomas Kinkade lighthouses is calling.]

Now if I went through every single "once in a lifetime experience" that has occurred during the last year, it would probably stir a myriad of emotions. You would potentially cringe, turn green with envy, curse, laugh, cry, and ultimately say "bless her little small-town heart" before it's all said and done. Or maybe you would be overcome with boredom and simply click the "x" in the top right-hand corner of your screen as you concern yourself with important matters like Nancy Grace's latest cold case.

I am dedicating today's post to the good things that have happened in the last year. I refuse to highlight the bad because here's the deal, life is made up of both. If you focus on the bad, you will only remember the bad. If you focus on the good, then the bad isn't really that bad after all. [You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and then you have...]

I don't even know where to begin. There's no way that I'm going to be able to include everything because there really has been THAT much good in my life. Should I start with going on a first date in Vegas? How many people do that and remember the details well enough to recount them all to their mama and grandmother the next day...without having to censor said details, no less. I'm willing to wager not that many. Speaking of wagering, I learned how to play Blackjack in a casino. I totally smoked the dealer with my $1.50 in winnings that one time back in March.

I qualified as a Delta Skymiles Medallion member. Do you know what you have to do in order to do that? Fly at least 25K miles in a calendar year. I don't see that that will ever happen again but at least now I can relate to George Clooney's character in Up in the Air. Speaking of Up in the Air, I saw that movie on New Year's Day this year. I've never been to the movies on New Year's Day. Did I mention that the theater was in Bloomington, Indiana? Had you told me on January 1, 2009 that I would be ringing in 2010 singing karaoke at some local place that I cannot remember its name for the life of me in Bloomington, Indiana I would have had your head examined. Nonetheless it was a great time with great people.

Regarding those great people, I am so glad that I know them. I have formed friendships with some truly incredible folks during this past year. Many of my once in a lifetime experiences would not have been the same if they had not been there to shape those memories.

I have had fun adventures with old friends too. Like that time in November when Valerie and I traveled to San Antonio for a half-marathon. Where's the logic in traveling 1750 miles to run 13.1? There is none. But that's what made it fun and memorable and worth it. I would do it all over again for the pint of chocolate milk that was waiting for me at the finish line. Oh, the opportunity to drive a green VW Bug and tour the Alamo was pretty cool too.

I became a Cubs fan that time I went to Wrigley and a Red Sox fan that time I went to Fenway, but I suppose my true loyalty will always lie with the Braves since I celebrated opening day of this season at The Ted. That's a whole lot of baseball in a year for even a sports girl like myself.

Let's discuss food. My palate has gotten quite the education. I had one of the best cheeseburgers I've ever eaten in my life at The Lodge at Pebble Beach over Labor Day weekend. While trying to pretend like I was a dainty and fair maiden with manners (read: choking down my cheeseburger at break neck speed) it just so happened that our table overlooked the 18th hole and Tom Watson was finishing out his round for the day. Some might argue that was the highlight. I'm sticking with the burger as being the highlight for me. I've had caviar, octopus, steak tartare (that means raw for you well-done steak eaters out there), and Waygu beef at a restaurant that even provided a chair for my purse. Don't even get me started on the wine and champagne. It was like Ellie Mae goes to the city I'm sure, but thank goodness for those etiquette classes when I was Brownie Girl Scout. They totally carried me through the entire formal affair. Except for that moment when I choked on the octopus, but that was a result of the conversation. It's a good thing that I work out or else when I was in Maine last month, I might not have been able to eat my lobster. Too bad cookies and french fries do not require that much work because I'm sure I would eat fewer of them if they did.

I have been to concerts that I would have never imagined: DMB and Jason Mraz, Sugarland, Justin Timberlake AND friends (one of which was Snoop Dogg!), and James Taylor and Carole King. Yes, I did actually shake hands with James Taylor. And yes, I'm easily amused. It's not everyday that I shake hands with former heroin addicts who have made their living playing sweet music for the masses. I'm super excited about the continued concert streak throughout the summer with David Gray (my favorite), Ray LaMontagne, AND The Avett Brothers to look forward to.

Speaking of being easily amused...I saw the Dancing with the Stars mirrorball trophy with my own two eyes. Where, you ask? At Donny & Marie's show, that's where! And while I'm on the subject of shows, let's not forget the time that there was the celebrity sighting of John Krasinski and Emily Blunt at Love, the Beatles Cirque show. Or that time that I had my picture taken with Frank Caliendo after his show. Or the time that I saw The Lion King. Or Jersey Boys. Or La Reve. Or the show at The Comedy Barn. You laugh at that one, but it was like watching HeeHaw. When I was 4, HeeHaw was in a fierce competition with The Love Boat for the title of my favorite show. What can I say? Even though I'm easily entertained, I definitely enjoy being entertained.

One thing that I've learned about "once in a lifetime experiences" is that sometimes we do get to experience them again. For example, I went to Muir Woods just north of San Francisco 4 years ago. It is one of my favorite places in the entire world and I always hoped that I would go back, but I never imagined that I would and if I did, there was no way it would be as good as my first trip. Guess what, last September I did go back. And it was an even better trip than the first one. Thanks to the miracle of modern styling products and awesomely trained stylists, I had my hair straightened for the very first time ever in March. For a girl that was made fun of constantly throughout elementary and middle school because of my big hair, this discovery pretty much changed my life. At the time though I thought that the only way that I would ever be able to have it straight again was to go back to the salon and have Christie, my new heroine, do it and that just wasn't going to be a habit that I could keep regularly. Two months later I got the play at home edition of the flat iron and now I can straighten my hair anytime I've got an extra two hours to spare.

Just because we do sometimes get to experience things again and they may be even better the second time doesn't mean that they should be taken for granted during the initial go around. Does that make sense? I think that if we looked at even the smallest and seemingly most mundane things and considered that it's only going to happen just like this once in our lifetime then we would begin to look at life differently. I know that I would anyway. No, I'm not saying act as if a trip to the grocery store is like taking a cruise on The Queen Mary II , but what if it just so happens that the sunset happens to be particularly remarkable on that day when you're on the way to the store? Or if you have a kiddo in the backseat who happens to string together his first sentence when he asks you to turn on Cars in the DVD player. Sometimes the champagne and caviar moments in life are hidden. We all have them. We just have to look for them.

My palate and purse have never been so pampered.

This time last week I was in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada...And as luck would have it, I'll be back there in less than a week but that's another post for another Saturday night. Until last Friday, I had only seen the famous Vegas sign in passing, but I'm sure glad that Ryan had the idea of stopping for a quick photo op on our way to dinner. You see, we were on our way to one of those fancy all-you-can-eat buffets down on the strip which is why Ryan was suited up and I was wearing a dress that is never allowed to be thrown into a washing machine. Ever. Or else all of the George Jefferson's of the world will have to file for bankruptcy and move on down to the West side.

Now, those of you reading this who know me at all will immediately know that I would not be caught dead going to a buffet dressed in something that has a belt with it. In reality, Ryan had made dinner reservations at the nicest restaurant that I have ever been to. EVER. And no, I'm not using sarcasm or facetiousness here. It was that nice. Let me tell you, that Alex over at Wynn certainly knows how to make a meal. In fact, he's so good that he has his very own restaurant. Admittedly, I was slightly nervous to eat in such a nice restaurant because well, being a Brownie Girl Scout in elementary school and a member of a sorority in college can provide a girl with only so much social know-how. Fortunately, Ryan recommended that I go with the tasting menu which meant that the only thing I had to do was pick out what bread I wanted when the bread boy [that's his official job title I'm sure] came to our table and tell the waiter how I wanted my Wagyu prepared....which apparently I enjoyed the steak tartare so much that I went a little crazy and said medium rare, but the waiter advised me to go with medium. So I went with the expert's advice.

The truth is, I have referenced this meal at least once in conversation every day since last Friday night. But it's absolutely worth referencing so I'm going to continue to do so until I'm at least 75. Let's see, I don't even know where to begin. Maybe the little chair that was beside our table specifically for my purse. I was sold the minute Ryan pointed that out because I know that any place that will treat my purse well will certainly be good to me too.

Now for the food. It was amazing. I tried to narrow it down and just pick out a few favorites but I couldn't. So for you foodies out there, enjoy...

*Heirloom Tomato and Octopus Carpaccio with Parsley Puree, Brioche Croutons and Osetra Caviar Delamotte, Brut, Le Mesnil Sur Oger, Champagne, France MV...[Remind me to tell you three readers a little story one day about how I almost choked on my octopus during this course.]
*Butter Poached Maine Lobster with Sweet Corn Custard, Chanterelle Mushrooms and Coral Butter Tensley, Blanc ,Camp Four Vineyard, Santa Barbara County, California 2006
*Olive Oil Poached Kanpachi with Wax Beans, Roasted Purple Artichokes and Black Olive Oil Henri Boillot, Les Charmes Premier Cru, Meursault, Burgundy, France 2005
*Veal Sweetbread Vol-au-Vent with Red Chard, Sherry Soaked Bing Cherries and Toasted Almonds Louis Jadot, Corton Pougets, Grand Cru, Burgundy, France 2005
*Japanese Wagyu Strip Loin with Black Truffle Pommes Dauphine, Roasted Porcini Mushrooms and Sauce Bordelaise Elderton, Shiraz, Command, Barossa Valley, Australia 2003
*Coconut Tapioca with Tropical Fruit, Toasted Vanilla Custard with Maple Poached Peaches and Crème Fraiche Ice Cream
Klein Constantia, Vin de Constance, Constantia, South Africa 2004

This doesn't even include the bread. My favorite was the buckwheat cherry roll. Nor does it include some little treats that we had in the beginning that were compliments of the chef. I'm telling you all...Alex will treat you right. Nor does it include the little sweet treats that we got at the end of our meal. Nor does it include the cappuccino. And then just when you think there couldn't possibly be anything else, there was. As we were rushing out the door to the show, I was handed a little pack of macaroons for the road. Yum.

Speaking of the show, Ryan got tickets to La Reve which is also at Wynn. Holy cow. It was amazing. I'm pretty confident that I just sat through the entire show wide-eyed with my jaw dropped because that's what happens when country girls are taken into town to see a show. If you ever find yourself in Vegas, I highly recommend that you get yourself to this show especially if you like acrobatics and dancing and music and water. And if you don't like any of those things before the show, I promise you will afterward if you just give it a shot. It was definitely a night out that I will not forget, and I know that I am quite a fortunate [and very appreciative] girl to get to experience such fun. The rest of the weekend was great as well. On Saturday, Ryan made omelets and we made perhaps a slight dent in the ever-growing list of movies that I've never seen but must see by watching Glory, Tropic Thunder, and Miracle...along with a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Perhaps the common theme that runs straight through this entire blog post is our appreciation and respect that we have for quality entertainment.


Sunday we went to church, had lunch with a family that Ryan knows, went to see The Time Traveler's Wife [insert my two cents here: read the book, rent the movie], had dinner, and then it was time to head to the airport and say goodbye. But who really likes goodbyes, anyway? As luck would have it [or something like that], my plane was broken which meant that my stay was lengthened for a few more hours. No complaints here. And the cherry on top of all of the other cherries on top? Delta dollars for my "trouble".

One Friend. Two Friends. Old Friends. New Friends.

This past weekend, Ryan flew into Atlanta and we headed north to Tennessee. Our destination was Dale Hollow Lake where we spent the weekend camping, practicing proper West Nile prevention measures, getting most of our daily allowance of calories from Patrón and baked goods, and lounging around in the water.

Unfortunately, before Ryan left Vegas his iPhone went a little haywire so we had to rely on GoogleMaps from the computer as our navigational guide. Apparently I indicated that we wanted to take the long, scenic route with multiple yard sales because this is pretty much what we saw for the better part of 133 miles...In case you're upset that you missed this glorious event, no worries: it happens annually so go ahead and mark your calendar for next year or just bookmark this website. Personally the only thing that I can think of that is worse than traveling to multiple yard sales along a curvy mountain road is visiting 5 TJ Maxx and Marshall's stores each on the day after Thanksgiving. Needless to say we did not stop even though Ryan felt that he would certainly find some great treasures for his new home. We finally made it to Byrdstown sometime after the sun went down. Our timing really couldn't have been better though because our camping pals arrived just minutes before we did. Fortunately we did not have to immediately set up camp on Thursday night since we stayed over at the Sportsman's Lodge. And let me tell you, they are quite serious about sports there. In fact, I was introduced to cornhole. Too bad all of those years of pitching as a slow-pitch softball player weren't enough to carry our team through to a victory.

On Friday morning, we were up bright and early to head out to the lake. Holly's parents had a fantastic breakfast waiting for us at the boats because they had the foresight to know that Patrón alone isn't the breakfast of champions. After breakfast, we headed out to get a good spot on the water. Dale Hollow Lake is absolutely beautiful. It's surrounded by all sorts of undisturbed green space. It's quiet. It's clear. And for a girl who has logged most of her lake hours on Lanier or Hartwell, it was a nice change.Needless to say, I was super excited about lounging around in the water on a nice summer day. The fact that I was keeping such good company only added value to the experience.After spending most of Friday morning sitting out on the boat and then cooling off in the water, Ryan and I took the Sea-Doo out after lunch for a ride. And then we got lost. Ok, "lost" is a bit dramatic. I like to think of it as our bearings were a little out of sorts so it was a bit of an adventure. I wasn't really worried because we were obviously safe. There was plenty of gas in the tank. It was broad daylight. Besides, Ryan's in the Army so surely that means he's got some sort of internal GPS that can be activated in a worst case scenario situation, right? Luckily we didn't have to find out the answer to that question!
On Saturday, we left camp pretty early to head back out to the lake. And in case you're wondering, "camp" was not the houseboats in the above picture. I just included this picture to remind myself that there are some people in this world whose "once in awhile weekend home" is a bazillion times nicer than my "everyday home". It gives me incentive to continue making the big bucks by working for the state of Georgia.

Skiing was high on the agenda on Saturday. Here, Ryan celebrates after a successful run...Victory was his! Now I don't really like to brag, but I think that Scott would benefit greatly...if he just observed me for a little while to pick up a few moves.
...I'm just saying. Skiing was the morning activity, so after a strenuous afternoon of floating and sunning and staying well hydrated, we got all prettied up for dinner. [I use the term "prettied up" very loosely here when referring to myself because let me tell you all, I was a vision. This girl can only go for so many days without her hair products!]Cruising to dinner on the pontoon was a whole lot of fun though and we were able to enjoy quite an amazing sunset once we got there.The truth is, the lake was great, the food was great, the drinks were great, camping was great [even though my back still hurts, but we won't discuss the signs of aging that are presenting themselves in my body today]...everything was great. But what made all of those things great was the people. This weekend was the first time I had met any of these folks, besides Ryan of course, yet everyone was so nice and welcoming. It really just adds more evidence to my theory that the Midwest is very much like the South except for the fact that "y'all" isn't used on a regular basis. Or ever. As the lone Georgian, perhaps I'll work on the incorporation of slang into the vocabulary of everyone else next year. Or not.
And in case any of you, my three readers, have chosen to live vicariously through me [and might I recommend that you take up needlepoint for some added excitement to your life if you have] and wish to see more pictures from last weekend's fun, you may do so by clicking here.

Where I'm From

Has anyone out there heard that country song Where I'm From? I heard it one day when I was scanning the stations on my way home from work and at first I wasn't too impressed. Then I heard the chorus and suddenly, I was all nostalgic and started thinking about home.

I love the fact that I grew up in what was once a small little community by the name of Hickory Flat in what was once a rural little county. I remember when the main intersection was a four-way stop with a blinking red light. Seriously, it's true for you "transplants" out there reading this who thought that there was always a Publix shopping center and restaurants that served beer. If we needed groceries or had an insatiable urge for something to eat at a restaurant other than fried chicken and greasy vegetables then it was a 20-25 minute drive. My mom and I went to the same elementary school, and no we weren't students there at the same time. It's not that rural. Not only did we attend the same elementary school, Mr. Browning was the principal when we were both there. It's true, and no she wasn't a teen mother. I loved the afternoons when daddy would pick me up from school and take me by Hickory Flat Store so I could get a fountain drink and an after school snack. I don't know why but for some reason those fountain drinks were the best. I grew up surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandparents. My kindergarten friends were my high school friends. Their families were like an extension of my own family. My "home church" is where I learned that I needed a Savior and it was there that I found him. Throughout my entire childhood I was deemed as the one who would never leave home. I even thought that until my sophomore year of college which I mentioned here briefly a few months ago. Perhaps it's a bit ironic that the one who everyone swore would never leave is probably never going to go back for more than a visit.

Time has certainly changed many things. I think that is only inevitable in this living life thing that we do every single day. A couple of weekends ago whenever I was at home, mom and I were talking about home and kind of what it means to me. I told her again [she's been know to forget things] that I have known since college that I would not end up living in Cherokee County. This doesn't mean I know where I'll finally land, but I do honestly believe that God was preparing my heart for my future when I was still in college. Perhaps He had to start so early because I was such a homebody throughout my entire childhood. Sure, I did stuff with my friends, but I absolutely loved being at home with my family. I was always the little girl who went home from slumber parties in the middle of the night because I missed my mama and daddy. In our conversation, it became evident that one of mama's main concerns was that I didn't plan to come back home because of some sort of negative association that I might have with my childhood or something. Well that certainly couldn't be farther from the truth.

In fact, I love that I had the childhood experiences in the kind of environment that I did because those things have shaped who I am at my core. There is such comfort and a sense of security that comes from be a part of a community. My family certainly benefited from this when daddy died. When I go back to Hickory Flat now, just by appearance it is a much different place than the home I grew up knowing. In a way it makes me a little bit sad, but then I stop in at Bruster's for an ice cream and decide that maybe growth isn't so bad after all. And I'm not referring to the kind of growth that results from too many trips to Bruster's. Besides, it isn't the stores or lack thereof that I think of first when I consider where I'm from. It's the people. It's the experiences. It's the memories.

The only thing missing was "y'all".

Hello, blogosphere...long time, no write. It really has been quite awhile since I've posted anything on my little piece of Internet domain, but as I've stated before, I do my best blogging when I have at least 3 papers due for school. Since I'm not taking classes this summer, the ink well is essentially dry. Except there is no ink, nor have I ever used a fountain pen a day in my life. Before I bore my three readers out there to absolute tears with my nonsensical rambling, I'll get on with the purpose of this post: a recap of my trip to America's Heartland, otherwise known as the Midwest.

Thanks to Orville and Wilbur Wright [who are incidentally from the Midwest] and their efforts way back in the day to make air travel a reality, Ryan and I met up in Chicago last Thursday to kick-off the 4th of July weekend. This was my first visit to The Windy City so I was without a doubt quite excited. On Friday, we headed over to Wrigleyville for a Cubs game.

What a great game - the Cubbies beat the Brewers in 10! And don't even get me started on Wrigley Field...
It really is a beautiful ballpark. Maybe it's because we had absolutely amazing seats, but there really is no need for a jumbotron either. A good old-fashioned scoreboard will suffice.

I was such a good fan that after the game, I got a cap of my very own...
Needless to say, I was very enthused about this because even though Ryan was kind enough to bring me one of his caps that I could wear during the game, apparently my head is larger than the average man's so it was a bit small. I'm just chalking it up to the big hair that I've been blessed (read: cursed) with instead of developing a complex about it.

The Cubs fan indoctrination process was halted briefly on Saturday in order for us to head east via train to Indiana to visit Ryan's hometown. This was the part of the trip that I was most excited about in spite of a slight case of nerves since a hometown visit also meant meeting the family. Of course in the grand scheme of things I felt that I really had nothing to be nervous about because 1. there was no way on earth that it could have been more uncomfortable and nerve-racking than the circumstances under which Ryan met essentially my entire family and the majority of my best friends: at my father's funeral. What can I say?...Just another episode in the bad sitcom that will one day chronicle my life. [I should add that Ryan was quite a rock star throughout it all though.], and 2. Johnny Appleseed, David Letterman, Michael Jackson, John Cougar Mellencamp, Axl Rose, and Crystal Gayle are all from Indiana and really can one be more wholesome and down to earth [the Midwestern culture as defined by Wikipedia] than Axl Rose or Michael Jackson? Don't answer that question.

It can go without saying that I felt very welcomed by everyone which certainly put me at ease. [and no, I'm not just writing that because it's the polite thing to do] The town where he is from is very small and for the most part, it seemed very much like a small town in the South. Except "y'all" isn't found in their Slang Handbook. Come to think of it, I don't think that there is a Slang Handbook...bless their hearts.

After we got to Culver on Saturday afternoon, we had an amazing lunch out on the lake which was followed up by an incredible dinner complete with homemade peach pie. Ryan's mom is quite a cook!

Perhaps the above picture best captures my delight over such great meals. You see, my own mom kind of stopped cooking in an act of rebellion after daddy compared her mashed potatoes to his mother's not very long after they got married. As with many disputes between married people, the kids are always the ones who suffer the most. :) Unfortunately it was a rainy 4th in northern Indiana so the fireworks show was postponed until Sunday. This actually worked out really well though because the show just took place after the parade.

Now, I know what you all are thinking and before we go any further, please allow me to clarify: there were no Shriners in little red cars nor were there local teens hurling candy to the crowds from the back of pickup trucks in this parade. By parade I mean, a parade of summer campers marching in a standard military parade formation.

As we sat and watched, I was reminded of my college days and the many times I sat on the drill field and watched the parades at North Georgia except here there was a lake in the background. And while I always loved watching them at North Georgia, 9 year olds are much cuter and more fun to watch. Not to mention the fact that these little guys were a little better than the GEB of my time...
On our way back out of town on Monday morning, we made one last stop with Ryan's dad and sister at the local coffee shop. Of course I still haven't learned to drink coffee, so I just stuck with my standard substitute: hot chocolate. When we got back to Chicago, we took an architectural boat tour of the city. It was fantastic and provided numerous photo opportunities.
What? You were expecting pictures of buildings? Alright... This was one of my favorite buildings on the tour even though it isn't one of the famous skyscrapers. If this one whetted your appetite for more, just click here. After the tour, we took the subway back to Wrigleyville one more time. After visiting with Ryan's friend Meghan (whom I got to meet along with his friend Amy and both of their families in Culver on Sunday), we headed back to Wrigley once again. This time the home team was playing my hometown team: the Braves. In spite of my attire, I did catch myself doing the Tomahawk Chop. [What can I say...old habits die hard] But no amount of tomahawk chopping was going to stop the Cubs. We got to see them win once again...Go Cubbies!

Tuesday morning began with massages at the hotel spa. Have I mentioned that this guy treats me like a queen?

I'm quite a lucky and very thankful girl! Before leaving the hotel, we were able to watch some of the Michael Jackson memorial service just as all good citizens of the world were doing on Tuesday afternoon. Finally, our last stop before heading to the airport was a riverside restaurant...

Speaking of airports, yesterday I took Ryan to Hartsfield because he was headed to Portland for the weekend to visit one his best friends. I was fortunate enough to get a gate pass and we got to visit with Mike, Suzanna, and Caroline for a few minutes before they headed out to Canada. Caroline was a big fan of Ryan's at their first meeting and it appears that she still is. Now, whether or not she's a fan of me is questionable. Little does she know that she doesn't have a choice in the matter though...she's stuck with me!