On transport.

We were the envy of 90% of the male population of Summerville High School.

It was just days before turning the big 1-6 and one P. Cameron Kirker introduced a cranberry colored 1986 Toyota Supra to our driveway on Savannah Round. You might have thought it was the second coming based on the shrieks of joy.

Pure joy.

Most males were incapable of walking past our whip without commenting on what a sweet whip it was. It even had a removable roof, did I tell you that? Don't go confusing it for a convertible because that makes it sound like it was an easy process. It required unscrewing four screws that held it firmly in place. Then, we would have to each get on a side and carefully place it in the "holder" in the trunk. If you were alone and beach-bound... you were outta luck. It was a 2 person job at best. That same roof would go on to leak every time it rained, but WHO cared? It was our very own set of badass wheels.

Once, dad threatened to take back ownership of this lovely vessel-for-freedom. It was based on one thing. He said if we ever got so much as a warning from a cop, it was his. HIS. It always was, but this was a bigger deal. It meant we got his vehicle. Y'all, he drove the Silver Bullet aka the Babe Magnet.

 It was an 86 Toyota van....

 that closely resembled a dust buster.










I found it hilarious. Kristin did not. This was enough of a dynamic to keep up both on our best behavior. We never did get a ticket or a warning. Can you believe it? Me neither.

So, later, I would go on to use the Bullet in college. It built my character. Then, I used mom's brown Camry station wagon. I loved it. Even though I drove it in to the garage once. (In my defense, that garage came out of NO where.)

I feel sure I've told this story before, but its worth mentioning again. In college, my dad came to visit and took me to dinner. He asked, "so, if you had your dream car, what would it look like?" I quickly answered, "I don't know- a neutral color... a sedan... a SUN ROOF." He paused... and said, "well, you now have a beige Toyota Camry with a sun roof." That restaurant (Rising High in Columbia's 5-points) has never heard such noises. I started screaming. And jumping. And screaming. And hugging. And screaming.

I loved that vehicle so. I even climbed in its passenger side door for 6 months when both driver side door handles broke off. Later that year, I would single-handedly dismantle my car door and replace both handles with the ones I purchased for pennies on Ebay. I will, forever, be pretty dang thrilled about that accomplishment.

That faithful Camry went on to be Kristin's when she returned from her 2 years in Chicago and still lives in Columbia at the Rochester Manor. Not for long, I have a feeling. She's old. She's tired.

I have my mom's old beige Toyota Camry with a Sunroof. One year newer than my old one. OH how I love this car. I have had a few opportunities to upgrade and leave her behind but I just can't. We're friends. She makes a weird sound, I get her looked at. She makes noises that are old-age and I pretend I haven't heard a thing... like when an elderly person passes gas. It didn't happen.

I'm about to hop in my little chariot and head toward the East. I'm homeward bound to celebrate Christmas with Mom, Dad, Kristin, Chad, Aunt DeeDee, Uncle Bill, Basil and Izzy. We will eat, we will bask in loveliness, we will enjoy snow, we will sing. we will laugh.

What is better?

A most LOVELY Christmas to you.

love, Kelley

On Europe.

ALL of Europe.

Just kidding.

This week, exactly six years ago, I embarked on a journey that I suspected would burn its way into my memories. Still, I am surprised by how vividly I recall the details of my European adventure these six years later. Fortunately, I kept a detailed journal (complete with details on every photo taken so that I'd remember. Way to go, 25 year old me!) in order to fill in the blanks.

I was sitting at the intersection of 21st and Blair this Monday morning and I had a burst of recollection from Italy.

We had just driven in to Milan and sat in traffic for hours. Two commuter trains had collided that day and the city was at an absolute stand still. By the time we reached the heart of Milan(o), night had long since fallen. We kept with the plan of visiting a gorgeous cathedral, nevertheless.

{For the record, I saw more churches and cathedrals than anything else while in (what felt like) the whole of Western Europe. Let me just say- amazing. The most remote little church on top of a hill in Innsbruck, Austria has more art and history than the oldest one in the US.}

So, back to Milan. We all stagger out of the charter bus where we had enjoyed our assigned seats for the handful of hours. None of us knew what we were there to see or why. We were just grateful for the break from bus fumes and the chance to move our legs. Well, all of a sudden there was a flood of the most beautiful (booming) version of Ave Maria that I have ever heard (to date.) As we turned the corner, I could see a really beautiful sort of slide show being projected on the side of this massive cathedral. Unexpected. It was of art and faces and just... beauty. Somehow the art and music combined with the electric thrill of finally setting foot in Italy was just moving.

The whole 3 week trip would prove to be an incredibly powerful and wonderful adventure. Some of it just for me to remember and most of it for me to continue remembering out loud as the memories come flooding back at this time each year. I cannot recommend a Euro Christmas adventure highly enough to you.

So, as I sat at that familiar intersection, I pushed play on my ipod. It picked up right where it left off the night before. Josh Groban belting out Ave Maria. It just felt right.

xo.

old habits...

...die hard. I can't always write stories, ok? (though, I have a great one cookin' for later this week.)

I just HAVE to share silly updates with you sometimes.

Have you ever seen such a perfect orange?

Didn't think so.

Also, I'm going to get to see Garth Brooks* next week. With Hilda and Naters.

That is all.

xo.


*its worth noting that I was less than eager to attend at first. But then homey went and sold out 9 shows... and people from neighboring states are coming. I started to think it may be something kinda epic. If nothing else, I'll be with some besties. And drunk cowboys. Everybody wins.

Snow.

Its just a snowy Monday morning in the Music City. There are lovely Christmas tunes making their way overhead and a lovely smell of fresh coffee. The office is buzzing with activity and stories of weekend adventures. There's even a lil squirrel intent on enjoying a hard-earned acorn atop a cold metal pole. I have to hand it to him... he's really cute and really determined.

Happy Monday, friends. Its good here... hope its good there for you.

xo.

On exercise.

I do not naturally like to exercise. Obviously, or I would do more of it.

It hasn't always been that way, friends. There have been seasons of fitness here and there. The kind of fitness that you reach by systematically hitting the ole gym every day. The most fit I've ever been has to be one of two times. Its either when I was 15 and spent an entire summer digging holes for a septic tank in Honduras or just a few years ago when I did many a sprint-triathlon here in Nashville. The Honduran digging was not all we did, by the by. We also painted, roofed, cleaned, hiked with water, used machetes to clear land and dug some more. Without a mirror and/or any normalcy, I failed to realize I'd shed 20-something pounds over the course of 2 months. It was like accidental fat camp. It ruled. I came home, from 2 months away, looking like a trim version of myself. Kristin did not love that development. I was all, "oh my gosh- its so weird. I accidentally wear 3 sizes smaller now, isn't that crazy?" and she was all, "why do we have to share a face?". That phase didn't last long... the weight loss or the twin-gression.

Anyhow, the 2 triathlon seasons I participated in were a bit more planned. It was hard but i got this body ready to run, bike and swim my way to a better me. At the time, I rather loved it. All in all, I finished 7 sprint tri's and 1 olympic (which was my favorite.) It feels like a long 3 years ago. Want to know why I quit? I got bored of swimming and it was a swim-based triathlon club. That and that, while it was a great community of athletes, it was a very isolating and individualized sport. Too much time to just hear myself think. Thus... I quit. Still, what good memories!

Exercise has to be heavy on the social in order to get me interested. If I could figure out how to make watching 30 Rock aerobic, I would do it, trust me. In the mean time, I have to do real work outs and inject some friend time in order to keep me coming back. Enter Coco. {You may remember that just three short years ago, Courtney/"coco" convinced me to start this little blog. Happy Anniversary, dearest}. Courtney and I have now clocked 2 full months of pre-dawn work outs together. We also answer to "Team Bedhead" and have been known to occasionally include one Holly Edwards. Lately, we've taken to the humiliation of a sculpt class. Here's a question, should I be sore 5 days later? Just checking.

As I look back at the variety of activities I have taken to, it makes me laugh. I really have branched out, ya know. There was the hip hop dance class, hula hooping/ "hooping", loooooooong walks, a short stint doing a "pole dance" class that was really more like yoga (are you shocked?), yoga, bootcamp, "Body for Life" weight lifting, half marathons training, cycling, swimming, bowling (Emma league) and kickball. Plainly, I like to keep things exciting.

I'm feeling like I'm sort of in the mood for a new athletic goal to reach. I always love a challenge (speaking of...30 more days and I'll officially have gone 2010 without alcohol. Crazy, huh? I'm almost done! Time flies.) The funny thing is how often I have considered taking ball room dancing classes. Selfishly, I want to learn with one guy instead of a new partner every week, so I've never done it. Perhaps that will be it- a regular Bristol Palin ova hee. Nevertheless, I'm taking suggestions, so pass them on if you like.

Happy sweating,
K

ps. my stomach just growled for the first time in probably 3 weeks. All this talk of exercise has be craving popcorn.

brussels

ok... allow me one break from story time.

Y'all.

I made brussel sprouts (or at least roasted them) last night and it was amazing. I'm not really an "eat brussel sprouts" kinda girl, so this is a big deal. Bigger, still, was the specific hankering I had for them as I drove home from work in the cold rain. Now that is a craving.

check it out!

 

YUM!

xo,

k

on dates.

Before I begin this post, I would like to throw out a somewhat sincere apology to any boy who identifies with any of the following caricatures. Its not you*.

I was am a bit of a late bloomer. By that, I mean that i have never really been the girl-with-a-boyfriend type. Sure, I was the creepy 8 year old (at dinner with my parents) staring a couples on first dates at Pizza Hut. I dreamt that one day I would go to that greasy restaurant and drink a coke with a cute boy too. Later, I decided Applebees would be the dream date. I really aimed for the stars.

Tales of romance in my life read like a comedy.... an Adam Sandler comedy. Uncomfortable but entertaining. LOTS of story-worthy moments. I will limit this to just a few, for the sake of time. Keep in mind, these dates actually happened.

Let's start with Fly Boy. FB was a colossal disappointment. In all honesty, there was an epic moment in an airport wherein he said these words, (and I am not making this up)... "you're a rockstar." Just buy me a stuffed teddy bear, why don't you? Ultimately F.B. is not worth mentioning... I just wanted to start strong. Remind me to tell you the whole story one day.

Next, there's Embroidered-Sweatshirt-Guy. He took me to a basketball game that started at 6p so he thought we should eat dinner at 4p. OK. Did I mention he wore an embroidered sweatshirt? He also chair-danced to "Too Legit To Quit." No offense to MC Hammer, but I honestly thought I was getting punk'd. Also... he wore an embroidered sweatshirt.

Then, a few years ago, there was hockey guy. He took me to a Predators game on our second date and bragged about his friendship with the guy who runs the "kiss cam." Ultimately, the fact he worked for Ticketmaster was a deal breaker (modern day pirates).

There have been a couple wonderful hightlights too. Don't get me wrong. They just aren't as funny.

Lucky for me, people like Adam Sandler movies. ;)

*But it is, probably.

on babies.

I started babysitting at 9.

I fully realize that 9 is a young age for babysitting. I couldn't drive, so it involved walking next door to play with the kids... while their mother was home. It was a pretty big deal. Not because I was such a good baby sitter (side note: can it be called that when you're only 4/5 years older?), but because I made dolla dolla bills, y'all. It was the first time I was able to earn money outside of my allowance. It was way more fun to play with kids and watch movies than clean and do my chores. I would nearly shake with joy when the Outlaws (swear that was their name) would shell out the $15 dollars or whatever it was. I think I started making $.25 an hour at first. No exaggeration. As I got older, I was able to babysit on Friday and Saturday nights for the big bucks. I would probably have done it for free, but being a wage earner was exhilarating.

At some point, I realized babysitting made a lot of sense. I could make the same amount hanging out with kids as I could slinging reubens at a "The Turtle Deli." It became the obvious choice. Where else could I eat chips and play until the kids went to sleep and then watch Saturday Night Live? (confession: I used to fall asleep watching SNL and they would come home to me asleep on the couch with Baywatch blaring.)

Most people stop babysitting in college. I didn't. I haven't.

Its not even that I love kids so much. I just have a general tolerance of most kids and happen to ADORE a few of them. For example, I will jump at an opportunity to hang out with Emma and Martha- Nashville's coolest girls under 4 feet. We go on dates. We are not scared to hit up a movie. Somehow, I get paid to do so. There are no words for how cute they are, so a picture will have to do. This is last Halloween. (Emma was a bee, Martha was an old lady and I was Kelly Kapowski).

 

Tell me how anyone could resist these two? I love them so.

Now, life has transitioned from being offered the opportunity to watch someone's child(ren) to being surrounded by babies who actually belong to my nears and dears. It still gets me that I'm at the age where my peers are more frequently birthing offspring than getting married. It never stops being exciting.

I won't list the babies that melt my heart because I am sure to leave one off the list, by mistake. So, rest assured, if you are reading this- its your child (or children, Amanda). I am not sure what is sweeter than a baby smiling up at me for no other reason than I have made just enough of a fool of myself. I particularly love the babies that don't give away their affections. You know- the ones that make you work for it.

I got to spend last weekend with my college best girlfriends. There's just no way to describe how sweet that time is every year. I have mentioned it before, but it bears retelling. Each Fall, we gather in a city (either one we live in or we throw a dart at a map... like that time we ended up in San Antonio.) and spend time together. We cover three questions that allow us to assess our past year and dream for the coming one. Its amazing what a fixture in my year it is. This year, er'rybody's baby came along. That's because there were 2 under one year old. It was lovely to get to know Ryland and Olivia and snug up with Kate and Pete. We snuck in some full conversations and stole moments for the rest of them. I got (arguably too much) joy from trying to teach Ryland to clap. If I'm honest, I do love the quiet bliss of lying around like last year in Palm Desert but what I love more is walking through life with these women. Real life. Life with kids, losses, victories, joy and pain. We are sisters.

babies, represent!

I would like to end by saying that the sooner I am an aunt, the better. But don't tell Kristin and Chad.

xo,

k

On clowns.

You guys.

I hate them. I always have, so at least I'm consistent.

As a tot, I called them "funny faces" and would usually take to climbing whatever parent was holding me if things went terribly wrong and we came close to one. They thought it was funny, I'm sure. I mean, who doesn't love a clown? ME. That's who.

Over the weekend, Anna and Nathan got hitched. It was, honestly, perfect. The service was wonderful and so very them. The same goes for the rehearsal dinner and reception. It was meaningful and special- every detail considered. We got to shower some blessings on them. Its hard not to. They're exceptional. Some of the most beautiful music ever. We have really talented friends who just knocked it out of the park (I am looking at you, Annie Heyward, Neal Carpenter and Brett Taylor!). Suffice it to say, it was lovely and I was honored to play a part. I got to read Romans 12:9-18 and it was awesome. I didn't even do the voice waver-y thing when you are so nervous it sounds like you're about to cry. My voice behaved swimmingly and I even remembered to speak a bit higher. (I read an article that maintained people are more comfortable when women speak with higher voices. Who knows if its true? Anyhow, it rocked.) MORE importantly, that scripture covers the bases on Christian living. I was inspired and reminded of some sweet goodness. "Let love be genuine," indeed.

There was dancing. There was an awesome band (side note: I totally sang back up vocals... a lifelong dream... to "Midnight Train to Georgia" with them and it ruled). There was cake. WAS there ever cake. Oh man. Erin (the world's most incredible friend/ Bible study leader/ truth speaker/ nurse educator/fun maker/ CAKE magician) whipped up a little three layer fudgey cake with chocolate mousse in between and topped with a white chocolate butter cream frosting. But who can remember the details? It was nothing shy of deelish.

So, I haven't even gotten to the clown.

If you know Chattanooga, you know there are so many amazing day time options of escapades. An outdoorsmen's dream. If you are dressed up with ten friends and wanting to have a little wedding after-party, you may have some trouble finding a spot. You may also land at Applebees (albeit against your better judgment). You may also order the chicken won ton tacos and a Shirley Temple but that is beside the point.

A dude wanders into said Applebees. He is a bit prematurely dressed up for Halloween. He is a creepy clown. I wouldn't know. That is because I couldn't muster the nerve to turn around and glance his way after hearing friends say, "eeeeesh, that is one creepy clown mask." The rest is a blur. I heard a combination of squeals and FELT HIS BREATH on my neck. Some sort of survivor mechanism kicked WAY in to gear and yours truly started propelling through the air. The only two things that did not cooperate with my escape route were my two trapped cowboy boots. In about .4 seconds, I found myself face first on the crusty Applebee's floor. Dress around my waist. Lingering horror on my face. As soon as it went down, the guy tore off the mask and began profusely apologizing. Poor lug. He just wanted to pass out fliers for a Fright Fest of sorts. I had to go and look like I was rocking a seizure.

In closing, I would like to say that I have now proven I will do whatever it takes to get away from a clown. OK?

Don't. Mess. With. Me.

But *do* surround me with friends, love and goodness. That I'll take again and again.

xo

Concerts.

My first concert was to see Carmen live at the King Street Palace in Charleston, SC. I am tempted to say neither exists any more but I must report that I think Carmen still may. If I'm honest, I am jealous of the kids whose first concert was New Kids on the Block or something incredible like Hall and Oates.

Over the years, seeing live shows would become a priority to me. Maybe seeing Skynyrd that time in the parking lot of a Ladson, SC carnival did it. Who knows? Sure am glad Dad decided it was worth packing Kristin and me up to go soak in the glory.

Growing up in Charleston gave me great exposure to international musicians. One of my favorite memories is the time our group of friends all packed in to the old jazz club (Chef and Clef) on Market Street during Piccolo Spoleto event. We must have stood out like a sore thumb with our tank tops and jean shorts. The next younger patron must have been 15 years older than us. Still, we had a BLAST and dreamt of when we'd go there on very perfect dates and drink in the lovely jazz music all night long.

College would bring an onslaught of singer songwriter (read: maybe-shouldn't-sing... maybe-shouldn't write....ers) shows. You know, the coffee shop vibe. We'd make our way to Jammin Java or some place and endure the cute boys on stage. Occasionally, someone incredible would swing through town and we'd clamor for seats to hear Angie Aparo sing his lovely tunes. Those sorts of folks were a rarity.

And then I moved to Nashville.

Really, that's where this story could end. How could I list all the musical heroes I've enjoyed as they made their way through town? It would be sort of impossible to remember. I do recall being a resident of just under a week and determined to not miss a second of the scene  Kristin and I headed over to 3rd and Lindsley to take in a showcase. Little did I know, those sorts of evenings happen *most* days here in the Music City. In fact, I will go as far to say that you will probably have to work harder to avoid good music than to find it here.

In my adulthood, I have experienced a few shows that just plain woke up my senses and left me alive with wonder. The first must be seeing U2 perform in Atlanta in the Fall of 2001. It was the day George Harrison died and we were not only treated to the goodness of the Elevation tour, but also the beauty of George's tunes. It was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of evening.

Next, I would be remiss if I left out any of the Patty Griffin shows I've taken in. I don't miss her when she comes to town. She makes me connect to her music so much that I start thinking I can write too. So, I suppose that makes her an inspiration, huh? She is.

Jamie Cullum. That little Brit is such a showman! He brought so much charisma to the stage that I was exhausted afterwards. He jumps around and sings his heart out. All so well! I also try not to miss seeing him. He goes way beyond a pretty voice. Its an experience to be lost in for a couple of hours.

Sure, I LOVED seeing John Mayer and Tom Petty this year. And this past Friday, I saw the lovely Sara Bareilles at the Ryman. She has such a presence on stage that I got the feeling we could be best friends.

But, y'all.

BRANDI CARLISLE. When it comes to a voice so strong that you think the building can't contain it, this girl takes the cake. I barely spoke the whole time. I was plain old moved by her vocal stylings.

There will, no doubt, be other shows that I am moved by. I love music for that reason. I feel sure I've done this before, but how can I not quote "Almost Famous" when proclaiming my love for the written word and melody? I just love the quote at the end when William asks Russell what he loves about music and his response is, "well, to start with... everything".

well put, Russell. Here's to music and the wonder it stirs up.

On childhood pastimes.

We weren't your average sport-playing kids.

In fact, the closest I got to a sport was taking "ballet, tap and jazz" at the Summerville Dance Company. (I joined because I wanted to be a ballerina- like every other red blooded American 8 year old girl. I was going to be a famous ballerina who ate pizza all day every day. What could have been better?). Many years later, I would try to prove every skeptic wrong and, thus, I would join the "Lil Rebels" as a superfluous softball player. But really... I would step up to the plate an the other team would yell, "get ready, y'all. easy out... easy out." Bottom line- I was not what you (or anyone) would consider a "natural athlete."

So, that leaves (childhood me) a lot of time to find something to do.

I would like to go on record as saying I am SO grateful to have had Kristin. Its hard to imagine what my youth would have looked like without a twin/ co-conspirator. How would I have survived summertime, swim lessons (where I first tried a boiled peanut and was sure the nice lifeguard had accidentally dropped it in the pool), school in general, piano lessons, and everything else.

We were notorious for playing "store". That's when my dresser became the check-out station. Is it strange that my dream career was a Kroger check out girl? Oh, 2nd grade self, you were aiming for the stars.

I have to say, my mom did a great job of not letting us just sit around and be bored. In fact, if we pretended to say we were bored, it was usually met with, "why not read a book or write a nice letter to a friend". TO this day, I don't know why the letter got to be "nice". How does she know I didn't write letters letting my 8 year old friends how bored I was? Unfortunately, it also had me associating reading with boredom or, worse, punishment. A real Renaissance child.

All joking aside, the way to a Kirker girls' heart (or attention, at least) was to request a play or dance routine of some sort. We were suckers for the spotlight, people. It didn't matter if it was mom holding two flashlights. I couldn't get enough. Sometimes I wish the Kirker family had owned a camcorder before 1992 and then somehow lost it for the years after those that have video proof. They were not kind years.

You want the names of the characters Kristin and I had recurring roles playing in our living room?

You won't believe me.

"Grandmother Archie" (I don't pretend to know) ... Kristin
and her "Pet Rat Billy" (Its not nice to laugh that hard) ... Me.

I willingly played along every time. Like I was going to make a grandmother mad.

In summation, I would like to point out that most of the above information served to teach me humility at a young age.  *and it continues on.

But you should see my shuffle-ball-change.

carol.

I can't just cold turkey walk away from quoting my mother, ok?

This. just. happened.

carol: Hey bunny... (stuff about marching in an Italian parade with Pat over the weekend), I saw a guy doing an impression of a cricket and it reminded me of you.

There are more questions than answers.

There's not enough time to ask why the man was impersonating a cricket, in fact.



Mom... I can't quit you.

This one time...

I played xylophone in the marching band for four years.

Now, mind you, there was no marching involved. So, if you're keeping track, I was a joke even to the band nerds. As far as the totem pole of date-ability goes, I was wiping the dust off the bottom of it, ok? Technically, our section was called "the pit". Oh, I'm sorry... didn't I mention Kristin and I did this together? Twin, brace-faced (well, she was), eager, obnoxious friendly, xylophone playing nerds rocking the side lines of a football field day in and day out.

There was such a system to it. For starters, one had to audition (my first experience in the world of self promotion) for the honor of being part of the marching Greenwave band. Again... I'm sorry. That was our mascot. We were a big deal in coastal South Carolina, people. Made famous by our football coach, John McKissick. (My freshman year he broke the record with 406 wins and this article was written. Rumor has it, he was going to be the cover story but Michael Jordan came out of retirement and snagged the cover. The luck.) So, to say that Friday nights were electric with school spirit is a huge understatement. I think it is the reason I love the show Friday Night Lights so much- its nostalgic.

Back to the band. Our fear-inducing leader was a man named Marty Lyles. In my 13 year old estimation, he could have scared Stalin. The man ran a tight ship... well, he probably had to. There were something like 250 of us. You know the movie "Mr. Holland's Opus" where Richard Dreyfuss plays this amazing dude who shapes the futures of so many young musicians' lives by lovingly pushing them to be all they could be? That's not like Mr. Lyles. He ruled with an iron fist and, to this day, I'm not entirely sure how he got away with it. Technology would never allow it now. You humiliate a trumpet player armed with an iphone and your name is mud. He'll tweet your ass outta town. Then, we were armed only with the large, first generation bag phones our dad kept in the glove box of the '87 Toyota Supra we drove. Hardly a town crier.

So, you can imagine how mercilessly we mocked the man behind his back. No one would have ever had the nerve to actually talk back to him. Still, we showed up on time (early) for everything in order to earn the much-coveted letter. Y'all. This letter (for the jacket I never got) was the hardest to earn at our High School. Seems backwards right? Well, we were a fine program. We marched our way through dozens of games, competitions and state finals. We even marched in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in 1994 (is that right, dad?). What? You watched it that year? You saw Kristin and me carrying the banner at the front (just behind Joey Lawrence on an enormous octopus float)? I Figured.

If I left you thinking it was all ridiculous, I'd be lying. I actually had fun in the band some times. Its where I learned how to stick to something long after I wanted to quit, how to polish brass buttons til they're shiny as gold and how to nearly burst with pride while pouring my heart in to something. I could tell you about the band's annual Cupcake Day wherein a couple hundred high schoolers would eat their weight in homemade cupcakes or how each August was cut short because we spent two weeks (yes, technically "band camp") practicing before school began. We traveled all over and some of my funniest memories are from that time. I even learned to play that sucker with four mallets, but who wants to brag?

I smile with equal parts joy and sympathy when I hear the familiar cadence of a local high school band. One day, I may even get up the nerve to show you the tasty photos taken each year... just me and my mallets. You know? I bet I'd go back for a day if I could. I'd probably spend the whole day laughing at how badly I wanted to fit in and the choice of clothing I selected. I'd probably also understand Mr. Lyles a lot more. And I'd smile.

New leaf.

Today is the first day to feel like Autumn. It leaves me feeling equal parts invigorated and hesitant. Sure, there are parts of Fall that you'd have to be comatose not to enjoy. The air smells like pumpkins and football. And hope. And love. Nevertheless, I know what it brings and it makes me resent this lovely season. Like shooting the messenger. How can the season that brings me nutty lattes, new seasons of 30 Rock, brisk walks and pencil skirts have the nerve to affiliate itself with the likes of Winter?

How can it be time to move away from Summer already? It doesn't feel like it. I haven't seen the first leaf fall. It is officially Fall (as of last week) and I've not seen the first sign... until today. Today barely crept into the 70's- a welcome reprieve for all. We managed to have weather cooler than North Dakota, for goodness sake. Mark that down some where. Today also brought darkness shy of 7pm. Truth be told, my distaste for the Winter months has mostly to do with Daylight Savings. Sunlight just does something for me.

Still, its moments like these, sitting on a cozy couch near an open window, that I cannot help but smile. For me, Fall is always the season of beginning. Its the time each year when Katherine, Julie, Heidi and I get together to dream for the coming year (as well as pay respects to the following). It is the start of a new school year (which I cannot convince my 31-year-old self does not apply to me any longer) and I just feel like the reset button gets a nudge when the weather cools down. I think its fair to say that most folks feel it in Spring or at the beginning of the year. Nah- this time of year draws me to contemplation.

So what? Well, for me, in this space, it means a bit of newness as well. As I look back over the last year, I feel like I've showered you with silliness. Which, lets be real, is somewhat who I am. But not all. I think I am going to spend some time telling stories. Don't worry- I assure you this will not become a serious place where we discuss the globalization of health care... but it will likely also not be what I did last night. That's what Facebook is for (when will I become too old for that statement?). I will really write here. I figure, if you love a story as much as I do, this will be a fun little detour.

old people injury

I think I have one, that is.

Let me back up.

Last night, I had an extremely energizing evening of organizing (mostly preparation for organizing) with my friend Alice. I really love order, so it left me with so much energy! I decided to go home and use some of that energy for good.

ON MY WII!

And, thus, I think I've pulled something in my right shoulder playing Wii tennis.

But that backhand was. worth. it.

xo

carol.

Mom had a bad day today.

Heres how I know:

me: hey, mama
carol: hey bun, did you try to call me?
me: no....
carol: well. ok. hi!
me: hey mom.
carol: today has been a day from H-E- hell.
me: that is the best thing you've ever said.

I just love her.

Sorry for your bad day, mama. Prop those feet up and have diddy make you dinner. xo

misty, water-colored...

memories!

Things that were just remembered by me:

- How I got good grades in 3rd grade and got to pick out the bed I wanted. Any bed. I chose.... a water bed. That's right. A water bed. It ruled.

- Dad (Diddy) and I had a ritual. Once a month, we would empty said bed of air bubbles. I would roll from one corner diagonally to the opposite corner. I loved it.

- My room was the one on the front of the house with a gardenia bush. It smelled lovely when the windows were open.

- One time Kristin got locked out and she knocked on my window til I came to the door. It took so long (it worked its way in to my dream) that she was in tears by the time I arrived to let her in. She was starting to think she'd be left to sleep in her car. Oh man.

- In middle school, my most often packed bag-lunch was simply a bag of microwave popcorn and a juicy juice. Gross. (kind of).

- I used to sleep nap in pink curlers because I was convinced I looked like Julia Roberts when I fluffed out my insanely thick ringlets in the morning.

Last, but not least, I thought Ronald Reagan was a grandparent of mine as a kid. We prayed for him every night and I just thought he was a relative... and he was old. It made sense to me. (True story: I flew in to the Dallas airport the day he died and I cried a lot.)

adieu.

case of the mondays.

woke up to a headache.
writhed around a while.
gave up and just got ready for the day.
still got to work late.
lots of emails.
monday.


at least I'm going to Coco's for dinner. :)

Team Evans

WHAT a blissful weekend!

Julia wed Jeremy on a beach in the Outerbanks. It was perfect weather, a constant breeze, a weirdo tourist who snapped pictures from 8 feet away during the ceremony, and oodles of gushy love stuff- EVERYthing a girl could hope for!  It was simply beautiful!

Julia is probably the friend I've had the longest. Aside from Kristin. But she doesn't count... she has to love me. Its in the twin bylaws. Julia, on the other hand, chose to. We met in Summerville, South Carolina as leetle girls. She has been a constant friend (and delight) my whole life since then. It was nothing less than a total honor to stand with her on her most special day!

Jeremy and Julia have actually known each other longer! Life-long family friends, they got reacquainted after Julia got back from spending 2 years in Tanzania. It look about 2 dates to realize they were going to make a lifetime of this thing. And thank goodness they are. They make each other laugh. a lot (a non-negotiable in my book). They both get a little giddy when the other is around. Julia seems to have just relaxed in a really beautiful way. That's what love does, I guess.

So, there are a ton of gorgeous pictures... I just didn't take any of them. As soon as I have them, you'll see them. Another amazing part of the weekend? Two new friends that are just amazing. Mary Katherine and Karen. All I have to say is DUH. These two were just an absolute riot and I am already planning to visit both. It will just have to happen. ;)

What fun to enjoy the dreamy backdrop of the beach for such a lovely occasion. Here's to you, Team Evans! Love you!

what?

I just started to google "bob's work out" (in an attempt to locate an awesome work out care of Biggest Loser fame) and the list of suggestions made me laugh.

There are a lot of questions that come to mind... but none more intriguing than "Bob's Your Uncle".

It turns out that is a phrase oft used in the UK.... wh wh wh whaaaaat?

Refer HERE for a giggle... and bob's your uncle.

this just in...

For those of you wondering...

I got my blood work back and DO NOT have the crazy neuro condish I was tested for!!!!!

bliss.

Supreme thanks to Holly for introducing me to this little nugget of visual peace. Behold, Things Organized Neatly.

Carol at a mall.

Its been a while, so I'll toss you a Carol story.

We (Kristin, Chad and me) met up with them (Mom, Dad, and my grandparents- Big Daddy and Judy) at the Southpark mall. I had just flown in and we were all about to celebrate birthdays with a nice dinner together. Four birthdays between 7 of us.

So, after relaxing in a comfy chair chatting (while we wait for our reservation), mom leans over and says this:

carol: So, how are things? Are you feeling good?
me: (taking a breath to start to answer)
carol: (leaning in) do you want a pet?
me: are you drunk?
carol: *uncontrolled laughter*

two things:
- I have never wanted a pet. Of any sort, really. [I once had guinea pigs that I gave away less than a year later.] That is.. UNTIL i watched a documentary on the sweetest assistance dogs the world over. A dog named Salsa (a trained seizure-detecting dog!) won my heart. I am just saying... the tide may have turned. Stay tuned.
- You should know how quickly and hilariously Carol rattled off those questions. She's a wonder to behold.

Then we ate upscale pasta. And it was awesome.

xo

Gifted friend.

Intentionally, that can go two ways. Yes, Sarah Mathias Brodine is wicked talented and creative but she also bestowed me with a gift. So there you have it!

Sarah (or Kara, as she is referred to in the Kirker fam) shares September 7th for a birthday. We are kindred spirits. We lived together in Columbia, SC while both doing full-time ministry and bonded quickly. In fact, I think we knew we'd be dear friends the moment we met. :)

Sarah and her hubs, Luke, live (with their son Nealon) in San Fran. Pretty dreamy, huh? Well, Sarah spent the month before her 30th bday accomplishing her own list of 30 challenges... a girl after my own heart, to be sure. Hers were amazing! Check them out here. Somehow, I lucked out and became the beneficiary of the most beautiful hand-decorated note cards EVer. Just look:

I mean, does that ribbon not just melt your heart? 

Thank you, dearest Sarah for the lovely gift and EVEN more for being the kind of friend every girl should be so blessed to have! Love you, little triplet. :)

xo,

k

oh SNAP.

... what a difference a year makes.

 circa 2009

circa 2010.

Crazy Cat Eyes

I had just gotten dilated and had to get some blood drawn. As I sat down in the chair, I was greeted by my phlebotomist (sp?) who was MOST definitely from the Caribbean. She said, "oh girl, yo dress look so com fuht ah bull" (it was). She chatted for another moment and then let out a little gasp and said, "YOU got some crazy cat eyes". A funny statement at the Emory Eye Clinic, to be sure.

Then, I saw the picture and you know what?

She's right.

(mom laughed a lot).

Santa Rosa Beach

I hate to sound like a broken record, but...

Y'ALL.

I am a ridiculously blessed girl. Who gets to go to the gulf coast TWICE in two weeks? (In fairness, before then, it had been 4 years, but I digress). First, we went to PCB then, last weekend, we went to Santa Rosa Beach.

Catherine, Miranda and I loaded up our worldly goods and headed south for an epic Labor Day Weekend. Many adventures ensued. Such as, getting so involved in story telling that three control freaks did not notice our missed turn until stopping to use the restroom an hour later. We laughed for the following hour.

I have said this numerous times, but it is true. The trip was enchanted. Every single element was the *best* it could have been. Perfect weather, great food, incredible company, fun excursions, etc. We had a blast and here are a couple pictures to paint the picture for you. (But only a couple... the rest are just for us to remember.)

xo,
k

A week lost, but not forgotten.

No, I didn't lose it.

You did.

Because I haven't blogged in that long. Sorry.

Just so much to cover and you and I both know that shuts me down. Over the next few days, I'll fill you in on my blissful trip to the beach, assorted things and a tribute to my beloved godfather, Pete, who went to Heaven over a week ago. I haven't been able to collect my thoughts quite yet. When I do, you'll be first to know.

BUT.

For today...

I AM 31!

Which means that I am officially a "thirtysomething". ;)

xo,
k

PCB...what what!

Here are a couple pix....

8.24.10- 8.26.10: party time.

Tuesday meant the celebration of one Anna Hildebrand's golden birthday

(never you mind that her actual bday is today)

Naturally, we had a progressive dinner in the 'hood!

Appetizers at the Marth's.

Dinner on Ashwood.

Dessert at my place! 

I made ice cream cupcakes (which went along with Caramel Brownies and Pound Cake)

**yummie**

Its the most people I have had in my house ever. Allison counted 16 people who were comfortably seated, so my dreams have come true! Comfortable house guests! 

Wednesday meant a goodbye dinner with my dearest Chelsea.

Its hard (and i mean HARD) to imagine Nashville without her. She heads home to Charleston today (via Clemson, of course) and I feel like a little piece of my heart is going with her. She's been a wonderful roommate and the kind of friend everyone needs. I'll miss her every day.

Here we are at Burger Up- Nashville's premiere local beef/veggie restaurant in the 12th South area. Naturally, there was a wait for such a place. We took the time to try our hand at a band photo. 

Magical, if you ask me. 

* I particularly like how Nathan and Chels are doing the same thing... mirror-image like*

OK OK OK.... no more sad. I have to work and I can't cry at my desk. I LOVE YOU, CHELSEA!!

Today (Thursday) means hopping a flight to Panama City Beach, baby!!

Thanks to Southwest's new direct flight, a crew of us head out after work today! Let's hear it for airbrushed t's and no tar balls!

xo,

kk

8.23.10- Cherry Pickin'

Woke up to find this lil beaut hovering over my hizzle.

What you don't see is the HUGE stump grinder truck on the other side of the house. I would so prefer they remove the two trees that serve as an obstacle course for me every time I go in/out of my driveway. Instead, they trim the nice one. a warning might have been nice. Ah well, probably for the best.

pick on, picker.

8.22.10- Catch up!

No, lovies. I won't leave you hanging. These will be pix for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I was too busy having fun and relaxing to snap away the way I usually do.

Over the weekend, a group of us went to a lake house to get away with our favorite bride to be- Hilda!

Fun ensued, ok? Here are some pix. But not many. 

 getting the room ready for the parTAY

 standard.

 Hostess with the Mostest #1

 Hostess with the Mostest #2

 Hostess with the Mostest #3

 Hilarious misspelled lil signs

The goods..... like you thought I'd show the actual goods? puh-leaze.

Love you, Hilda! What fun!

xo,

k

8.19.10- Grown up.

This is Chris. He's a grown up. You know how I know? He's finishing Medical School and knows things. He came over to my house last night to take a gander at my MRI films. He answered some questions and taught me some stuff. What a guy.

see?

8.18.10- MRI Madness

FIRST thing in the morning, Chelsea drove me to Diagnostic Health to partake in one of these:

Don't let this graph fool you. It is like a cocoon. A very tight-fitting cocoon that is loud and requires me to simulate blindness, deafness and lack of memory to survive it.

My body plays dead.

And I made it! Now, I just wish I could read the damn thing...

Later this evening, I get to meet Gus Wonder (blessed addition to the Gresham Family). Its a good day, indeed. :)

8.17.10- Sara the Birthday Girl!

Happy Birthday, dearest Sara! You are adored.

ps. duh- we took it to Tokyo for the event. We don't play.

8.16.10- Simple Pleasure

Look what came in the mail!! It doesn't take much.

8.15.10- Waffle House

Why wouldn't we?

8.14.10- Tomato Art Festival

...was so fun HOT.  I love East Nashville. They get how to festival it up.

Fun was had by all. Mostly during the set played by these hotties (obviously, I mean that literally as well).

8.13.10- Jake's last day

So, you know I work at a MOST ridiculously fun place, right?  Well, you may remember Jake. Well, today was his last day at Emma and, to pay tribute, we all wore his "uniform" of a white tshirt and jeans. Ironically, today he wore a blue tshirt. Here we are (top is our Nash* office and bottom is our Portland office):

What a fun crew. :)

Jake will be sorely missed. Here's to you, friend!

- k

*yes, I'm wearing the patch in the picture.