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.