{via Ninjatune on Flickr}

The Friday before the 4th of July, I packed up my bag, left my pup in the hands of two friends and headed out of town to visit my boy for the first time this summer in the booming metropolis of Dallas, Texas.

After two flight delays (thanks, Hurricane Alex), I was on the ground in town, and on my way to see my boy.

We walked across the street from his office and ate lunch at the Nasher Sculpture Center, which was delicious, and I wandered around the museum as my boy finished up work for the afternoon. (Side note: After studying the Renaissance for a LONG time, I am still head over heels in love with GOOD modern art. Side side note: Sketches from a sculptor’s notebook, complete with white out and not straight lines? Not good modern art.)

After he was done with work, my boy and I headed back to his place, spiffed up and changed clothes for our dinner with his co-workers at Nonna.

It was raining as we left his home, and as we were sitting at a red light, his car suddenly lurched forward, startling us both. Someone had skidded into the back of his car. Luckily, we were all OK. Luckily, we all had insurance. And luckily, his car, though severely cosmetically damaged on the driver’s side back bumper, it still works.

We made it to dinner late, obviously, but settled down with a bottle of delicious red wine and chatted the night away. Four of the seven of us ended up ordering the Bolognese — and it was divine — and then we splurged on dessert. The entire evening, minus the fender bender, was perfect.

The next morning, we woke up relatively early. Partly so I could go on a run — even though it turned out that the treadmill did NOT work — and partly because we were meeting my cousins for breakfast. After my disappointing run on a standstill treadmill, we rushed and headed out to the Dream Cafe to meet two of my cousins, my cousin’s husband and their three children.

Breakfast — dream cakes for me and a Monte Cristo for my boy — was tasty, and can I tell you how amazing pancakes are WITH RICOTTA IN THEM?! Seriously. My flapjack recipe is going to need a makeover now.

Seeing my cousins was wonderful and a long time coming. I grew up down the road from those girls, and it was fantastic getting to catch up, as well as introduce them to my future husband. It was nice chatting and seeing the kids — who are my second cousins, I think — even though they had a hard time understanding who I was due to my father and my male cousin having the same name.

After that, we took a driving tour of Dallas. (Of the parts my boy knew.) And then we watched some World Cup soccer. And then? Dinner.

Dinner was definitely a grand slam, thanks for a recommendation from my cousins. We made reservations at Javier’s, and it did not disappoint. From the green and red salsas to the margaritas  to the beef tenderloin stuffed with Mexican cheese, it was by far the best Mexican food I have ever had the pleasure of eating. And could I talk about how the salsas came with a cup of BUTTER that you’re supposed to dip your chips in before dipping them in the salsa? INCREDIBLE. And unhealthy. And OK for just one evening, right? Mmhmm.

We then headed out to a bar in Uptown and spent the evening chatting about our future, where we might move, what we both want to do when we move, what kind of home we want to purchase when we move, etc. I know that conversation might sound a little odd or drab to the casual passerby but I loved every minute of it because I was with my boy and we were out on the town. After a few failed attempts of wrangling some friends into seeing more Dallas nightlife, we headed home.

The next morning — the 4th — we got a late start and immediately headed to the Blue Mesa Grill for brunch. The food was tasty, the mimosas were bottomless, and we spent our time there chatting and taking turns going back to the buffet tables to find more food. And everything I tried — minus the banana filled pastry and the enchiladas chock full of cilantro — was tasty, too.

(Back story on the bananas. I’m allergic to them. Though apparently not as bad as I could be, since my tongue only swelled up. My boy insisted if I felt like I was dying, I should tell him. Luckily, I didn’t feel that bad and was relatively unphased after the incident.)

Then we headed out to a Fourth of July party in Plano. One of my boy’s friend’s friend’s was hosting a party at his parents house, and let me tell y’all, I have NEVER seen a house so large as this one. It was baffling how huge it was, and we spent the afternoon and part of the evening there, hanging out with old and new friends, drinking vino and Cape Cods, cheering (or playing) at a whiffle ball game, winning at washers (who knew I would be good at something like this?! Not me), competing in shuffleboard and eating the most delicious home-cooked brisket I have ever tasted.

The day was perfect, and when nighttime started to fall, we made the decision to head over to my cousin’s house to watch fireworks with her, the kids, her husband and my other cousin.

We had a great time there, too, and ended up walking the dog and two of the kids to the elementary school, where we set up for the fireworks. The only thing that could have made it better was actual music playing as the fireworks went off, but we hummed a soundtrack of our own, thanks to years and years of attending the Sunset Symphony in Memphis and knowing the “1812 Overture” by heart. Thanks, violin lessons!

We stayed up late, drinking wine and catching up more with my cousins and cousin-in-law, and by the end of the evening, we slowly made our way back to the city, barely talking and taking in the sights as we drove.

Monday was my last day in town, and we did some shopping. My boy isn’t much of a shopper, but whenever he sets his mind to it, he comes out with a lot of good loot. Seriously.

After the outlets, we packed up all my clothes and belongings, then he drove me to the airport. We kissed goodbye. We said we’d speak soon. And then I walked into the terminal, dropped off my bag, went through security and boarded a plane back to Nashville.

My weekend excursion to Dallas was a wonderful break from my town, and it was even more wonderful to see my boy. In just two weeks, I’ll get to see him again; this time in his hometown; then in August, he will come back to town, and we won’t have to be apart this long ever again!

What did you do for your holiday weekend?

                          

Last year around this time, I boarded a plane to Vegas to visit with friends and make new ones.

This year, I traveled to Indianapolis to meet up with some girl friends for a girls weekend. And it was amazing. (For the record, by the time I realized the weekend of Bloggers in Sin City, tickets were ridiculously expensive. And then I received an invite to Indy from these lovely ladies.)

My boy left last week for Dallas, and this past weekend was the first weekend without him here for the ENTIRE SUMMER. So when I was invited to go along to Indy, which is only four hours from my city, I was all about it. Because who doesn’t love a girls weekend?

We all arrived within an hour of each other Friday night and promptly headed out to Mug ‘n Bun, a local root beer and burger joint. We ordered a TON of food — including a family of fries, fried zucchini and fried cauliflower. YUM. Even though it was a major fail because we didn’t eat HALF of what we ordered. The conversation was amazing, though, and, apparently, Justin Timberlake tastes like sex… or strawberries… or hair gel…

We headed back to the hotel and chatted for the rest of the evening, and we ended up crawling into bed (or creating a fluffy pillow bed on the floor) around 1:30 a.m.

Saturday, we woke up relatively early and then went to the Indianapolis Children’s Museum. And they had a freaking BARBIE EXHIBIT! And a lot of other cool stuff.

After that, we ate lunch at When Eddie Met Salad (which was perfect after all that fried food the night before) and headed over to Spa in the City for some mani/pedis. Which was a perfect relaxation activity. And all our nails look fabulous. (Check out that photo of our toes — sorry to those of you who hate feet — and the NAIL ART! I had never heard of it before, and Hiawatha did an incredible job!)

Our dinner on Saturday night was perfect, as well. We headed out to BARcelona Tapas, were immediately given an explanation of how it worked and then ordered some of the most delicious food I have tasted in a long time despite my dislike of goat cheese. (Side note: Tapas? Sounds like topless. And this caused endless amusement as we spoke about our dinner plans with each other, our significant others and families.) We nibbled on three separate Spanish-style appetizers and gossiped (because the menu said WE HAD TO.) Renee and I drank white sangria. We chatted. We laughed. We talked about ridiculous dates and other things in our lives. And then we headed back to the hotel for more discussions.

There’s something fascinating about meeting people for the first time (or hanging out with them for the first few times), but having so much in common and already knowing so much about each other because of blogging is something I cannot describe. … I know a lot of my friends and family members would think it is strange I went to a random city to meet up with girls from the Internet. But let me tell you, these bloggers are some of the most real, beautiful women I have ever met. Despite the fact that we live in different cities, work different jobs and are in different stages of our lives, we hit it off, and we spent hours talking about anything and everything imaginable.

So when Sunday morning rolled around, I was majorly sad because we all had to leave that day. But brunch at Cafe Patachou brightened my morning with delicious, affordable brunch. In my book, there is nothing more wonderful than brunch, and Patachou delivered. (I really want their sourdough recipe. Mmmm.)

We parted ways shortly after that and headed back to our separate states and lives. However, I have a feeling we will do this again sometime soon. Maybe somewhere more exotic? Like Egypt. Heh. Or somewhere less sticky… And maybe with some more friends, too.

But either way, I know it will be amazing, and I seriously cannot wait.

                          

{via the PEEPS Diorama Contest and Onyah at the Offbeat Bride}

Happy Easter, friends!

I hope today is an amazing day for each and every one of you, whether you are spending time with your church family, your real family, old friends, new friends, or any other person in your life. Us? We’re spending time with my mom, who came in town for the weekend.

May today be wonderful for you and yours, no matter where you are and what you are doing.

                          

When I picked up my first camera in the fall of 2004, I just knew that was what I was supposed to be doing.

Ever since then, I’ve been chasing that dream of being a full-time, professional photographer.

I started work at the student newspaper as a staff photographer, and I loved it. I was challenged on most assignments, and I was getting a different perspective than the fine art photography I had come to adore.

At times, it’s seemed out of reach. Like my junior year when two pompous grad students told me I didn’t have the chops to be a photographer. I struggled and struggled because of their harsh critique, convincing myself to take a step away from people — my passion — and focusing more on natural beauty. I struggled with inspiration for the rest of the semester, and my final project was just OK because my heart wasn’t in it.

The following summer, I spent time in Italy. And I fell in love with photography all over again. I hesitantly embarked on a portrait project, and it spread like wildfire. Inspiration caught, and I was an artist again. I was connecting with people through my lens again. And, most importantly, I wasn’t dreading picking up my old Yashica twin lens anymore.

{One of the pieces from my “On the Radio” project that was completed in Italy.}

When I got back to the States, I continued work at the paper. I started freelancing for anyone and everyone I could, including a few local magazines. I tried to take another fine art photo lab, but my supplies didn’t arrive in time, and I had to drop the class.

I continued plugging away with my photo work up until I graduated in 2008. And then, I went to work for a paper, something I thought was my dream.

I left a year and a half later, bitterly disappointed.

I had some amazing experiences there and made some beautiful images, but more often than not, my creativity and spirits were squashed because of a certain someone not pulling his weight and someone who didn’t believe in “creative photos.” I didn’t have time to pursue any personal projects because I felt I was always running around.

I came to the realization this past fall that I wasn’t living my life: I was merely biding my time. And when circumstances took a turn for the worse, I put my foot down, packed up all my stuff and moved to a new town without a job in sight.

And that simple act made all the difference.

In January, I started working a job that has NOTHING to do with photography. It’s refreshing, and the work environment is top-notch.

I oftentimes find myself daydreaming about projects I want to embark on whenever I have a spare moment. Like documenting a couple battling infertility. Or a teenage girl overcoming an eating disorder. Or a farmer working on his crops and documenting the process he takes from the seeds to the harvesting. I think these would all be fascinating in their own regard, and I really look forward to having the time to start exploring these topics with my camera in hand.

I miss what I did at the newspaper. I miss running out in the newsroom after hearing the all-call sound over the scanner. I miss spending a day or two documenting a hard-hitting story with a reporter. I even miss people approaching me in the grocery store and saying they saw me on assignment earlier.

However, there are some things I don’t miss. And the things I do? I am beginning to build for myself here without the negatives.

This past weekend, I took my first assignment for a local newspaper and then I helped another photographer shoot a wedding.

I fell in love with photography all over again. I fell in love with the impact you make on someone’s life after having spent your day documenting hers — her wedding day. I fell in love with chatting about a person’s craft and snapping photos as they explain. And I fell in love with holding a camera in my hands again for an entire day without a break.

I dream of the day where I can spend all my time and energy on photography again, but this time, be my own boss, be in control of my own destiny and be able to focus on the projects I find important to share.

This is my passion: documenting and sharing stories.

And, while it’s taken me a while to get to this point, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I know the direction I’m headed is the right one for me. And I cannot wait to see where it leads me.

                          

That was this weekend, my friends.

Friday night, I didn’t do anything. I was exhausted from a long day at work, and the meaty pasta sauce I created was perfect.

Saturday, we went to meet up with my oldest friend, Jordan. She and some friends decided to visit Nashville for the weekend, and we ended up walking around downtown and spending time at a local brewery, eating, drinking and catching up about everything. After leaving Jordan and her friends, we headed to a local bar to cheer on Vanderbilt against Kentucky. Unfortunately, the ‘Dores lost, but we had a fantastic time watching the game. And then we celebrated Valentine’s Day, complete with seared scallops and a blueberry gastrique. Saturday? Was perfect.

And then today, I woke up late and was served breakfast in bed. Instead of spending the entire day inside, we headed out into the balmy, sunshine-y day to start figuring out what gadgets, housewares, etc. for our wedding registry.  Afterward, we headed home to take a run with Lucy for the first time in ages. I spent the rest of the afternoon editing photos, and the boy watched the Olympics. Tonight? We’re watching ice dancing, and we think it is absolutely ridiculous. Today has been perfect.

Can tonight just last forever? Because this weekend has been too good to be true.

How was your weekend? What was the most exciting thing you did?

                          

I had no idea what was in store for me when I drove back to Memphis on Thursday afternoon. I knew we were going wedding gown shopping, I knew we were going to look at bridesmaid gowns, I knew we were probably going to book the reception site, but I had NO IDEA just how much we would knock off this to-do list.

1. I went shopping with my mother at a bridal shop in Arkansas. We found and purchased my GOWN! (I’m still so surprised and oh-so-squeal-y about this that I’m sure it will get obnoxious quickly. But seriously? YAY! I have my dress!)
2. I made a decision on the church AND reception site! I called the minister who I would love to be our officiant. And we met with the executive chef who has some fantastic ideas for the evening! (And we can have kegs! AH! Because we’re totally classy.)
3. Along the same lines, we OFFICIALLY have a date.
4. My mother, sister and I made fast work of many bridal stores in Memphis. We learned that a certain, nationwide chain’s bridesmaid gowns aren’t so nice. We discovered that another chain’s gowns were more lovely in person. And we narrowed down the style we want. And pretty much figured out colors, too.
5. Last night, we started discussing music for the ceremony. Since I’ve played in many, many weddings, I’ve scrapped a lot of the traditional favorite pieces and am digging into my musical repertoire to find different songs, especially to walk down the aisle.
6. I’ve been asked to be a Bloggette! And my first post is officially up on the site!

This weekend? Has been so freaking productive it’s almost unbelievable. And I hope things continue to move forward smoothly.

This wedding planning process, while it has already made me cry a few times, WILL be an adventure, and I am so excited about everything pertaining to it.

Nine months to go, lovelies, and I cannot wait for October 30!

                          

When I started blogging, I never imagined becoming a part of a community. I never really even imagined making “friends” through it. I was a bored college senior, and I wanted to document the weird things people said to me. True story.

And somehow, it evolved into so, SO much more. It went from weird Internet people to meeting new best friends, thanks to the World Wide Web.

Today, I have friends around the globe. Some, who I have spent hours with, and others who I have never met, but hope to one day meet. I don’t think I could have survived in my little town without these friends. The outpouring of support and love from bloggers near and far got me through some tough times when I lived alone in a town where I didn’t know a soul.

When I first started blogging, I joined a 20SB on a whim, not really knowing what to expect. It has been an interesting ride so far, and I look forward to all the future commentary members of the community will provide.

Last week, I learned I was nominated for not one, but two 20SB Bootlegger Awards –Blogger We Wish Would Blog More and Least Likely To Be “Marked As Read.”

I’m at a loss for words and can only say…

THANK YOU!

I am completely shocked and honored to be listed among the other fabulous nominees. I never imagined I would be nominated for one award, let alone two. Never in a million years. It’s an incredible feeling, and I am continually, (almost always) pleasantly surprised by this blogging community.

I won’t ask for your votes, but I will encourage you to go cast your ballot if you’re a member. If you don’t know the bloggers nominated, check out their site. Read a few posts. See what the buzz is all about, maybe reach out to a new friend. And then vote.

Got it? OK… go!

                          

A view of our family Christmas tree. Notice the purple and gold ornament in honor of my alma mater...

While things have been a little crazy at my house (and let’s be honest, whose house ISN’T crazy around this time of year?), it has been a lovely day, and I hope today has been amazing for all of you.

Merry Christmas, y’all!

                          

A week ago, I moved away from my little Mississippi town and into a fancy schmancy condo in a booming Tennessee metropolis.

While I may have been a bit snippy while (re)organizing the kitchen, things at the new place are finally coming together, thanks to the boy and my mother.

I couldn’t be happier that I am finally where I need to be and that things are somewhat coming together.

My boy finished his exams last Wednesday, and I wanted to fix him a nice final dinner of the semester Tuesday night. The dinner, itself, was delicious. The preparations leading up to the meal? A minor disaster.

I don’t know what happened, but something fell beneath the burner of the smashed potato pan, and, umm, the entire thing basically caught on fire. Like, flames were coming out of the burner. We quickly moved the pot (and the potatoes weren’t scalded, thank goodness!), but it took a while for the flames to go down. And all our fire alarms were going off.

Luckily, the dinner was tasty, and we chose to put the potential kitchen fire behind us, never to speak of it again. (Or so we thought.)

On Friday, we came back to my hometown, and things have been going splendidly here. The boy has left for his home, and I’m spending time here until after Christmas. My mother and I have shopped ’till our hearts content.

And firewood was delivered to our house yesterday afternoon.

(I know y’all can see where this is going.)

Today, I was deadset on having a fire in our fireplace. Something to warm up the chilly family room on a cold winter night. Something to make us both smile after a long day of shopping. Something that would feel Christmas-y.

My mother and I tinkered with the flue and came to the conclusion that it had been open ever since we bought this house. (Hint: We were wrong.) I carried in a few pieces of firewood, tossed in some crinkled up newspapers and lit the fire.

And smoke immediately started pouring out of the fireplace into the house. And since it’s a two-sided fireplace, smoke was pouring into two different rooms.

Both smoke alarms were screaming by the time I could get the smoke under control. All the fans were turned on to high-speed and the doors were opened. And my mascara is still blotched because of my eyes watering as the house was filled with smog.

The house cleared out in about thirty minutes, and when we spoke to my sister, my mother revealed that I almost burned down her house.

Correction: I almost smoke damaged the front portion of the house. Nothing was in danger of actually being burned.

The good news? We figured out the flue, and there is now a roaring fire in the fireplace without our home being filled with soot.

The bad news? The entire home still smells faintly like a fire. (And probably will for the next few days.)

…

So, between this and the semi-kitchen fire this past week, my boy came to the conclusion that I shouldn’t be allowed around any more open flames this holiday season. Something (else) bad could happen.

Agreed.

What is one of the craziest things that has happened to you during the holidays this year?

                          

Within the past week and a half, two men, neither of whom I know well, have asked me if I have lost some weight.

I’ve laughed, then told them kindly that I don’t think that is the case.

(In fact, I believe I have gained some weight ever since I started my job here because of the stress. C’est la vie.)

While I have a scale in my bedroom, I never weigh myself because it’s started to piss me off. I don’t care about the number, but I find if I weigh myself daily or weekly, I begin to focus on those numbers. And that’s not what I want.

I just want to be healthy.

… And I want my pants to fit.

(There, I said it.)

Also, I want to look fierce in my wedding gown.

By fierce, I don’t mean suddenly dropping 20 pounds and becoming a stick of my former self. I want to look the same, but more firm, especially in the arm-region.

Recently, I’ve noticed some ads Facebook on my page stating, ‘Wedding Weight Loss.’

So… since I just changed my relationship status to engaged, that clearly means I need to lose some weight for my wedding. Because, obviously, every recently-engaged girl is thinking about dropping some pounds for her wedding. And because we all need to at least thinking about losing this said weight, no matter what the scale actually says.

It pissed me off at first because Facebook was essentially calling me fat. But then I started thinking more about it and began to wonder how many brides-to-be had to click on that ad for it to show up on my page. How many girls thought since it was suggested, they should check out Bridal Weight Loss? How many seeds of doubt were planted in the minds of future brides about their waistlines? And how many of them are self-concious about their weight now?

While I know many people don’t buy into advertising, especially advertising like this, you have to wonder how successful it is. And why they continue running the ad (I see it once a day whenever I log into Facebook, sometimes more) if a lot of people don’t buy into it. Surely that means it is working on someone, right?

There is major pressure in our society for women to be skinny. We’ve all seen photographs of celebrities and super models who are skin and bones. We’ve seen the magazines advertising, ‘Peek inside to see the celeb who gained *gasp* 20 lbs!’ (When they actually might look better with those extra pounds.)

And that makes me really sad because I know so many girls (myself included) who have struggled with their weight. And to be told you need to lose some pounds from a Web site… well, that’s just not fun.

I wish, instead of tearing us down and making us feel like we need to be all legs and bones like some supermodel, we were encouraged to embrace our curves and our size, no matter what it is. That we were encouraged to be comfortable in our own skin instead of being torn down by images and whispers and stupid ads on Web sites.

We are all so beautiful, inside and out, but because of outside factors, we begin to doubt. We begin to wonder if maybe we should start a diet. We begin to wonder if we should take up running to shed some pounds. We count calories. We sign up for Web sites. We get more and more discouraged…

Let’s stand up together on this one because if I’m feeling this pressure, I know many of you are, too.

Let’s spread love instead of self-doubt and hatred.

You’re beautiful!

And never let an outside source, whether it be an advertisement, a magazine, a photograph, a snide whisper, etc., make you feel that you need to change who you are.