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