celebrating, loving, and dreaming

If I were to describe the last 5 years I would say they were… eventful, inspiring, challenging, surprising, growing, blissful, hard-won, lucky, and blessed. Kind of like life. Just messy & complicated and amazing all at once. Together we promised to support one another and love one another through the good and bad. The love came so easy, but the real support has grown and progressed into something I'm so proud of. What I loved about Trevor that day as we stood in the grass, holding hands, and saying our vows is the same, but I love him in so many other ways now too. Mostly I love watching him be a dad and making Miriam laugh with her whole body deep down in her belly.

Trev took off work so we got to spend the whole day together - just us two love birds. Our big morning was spent at the doctor. A very special doctor, because our family is growing! I'm 18 weeks now and the truth is we're over the moon. Another baby. I can hardly believe those words, but baby it's happening. Even when you've done it before, seeing that tiny ultrasound is so overwhelming. Life changing. We had the doctor circle boy or girl on a little card I'd written out and seal it up. I wanted to wait to reveal at our anniversary dinner that night. Give us another thing to celebrate! So off we went to lunch at 20 Feet Seafood Joint to take our minds off the envelope. Amazing lobster roll and fish & chips. Oh my gosh it was delish and I wish I had some right this second. We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting shops that aren't so toddler friendly and just enjoying some time together. Our perfect day ended with a special dinner at Oak. We didn't find out what we were having the first go round, but that envelope was burning a hot hole in my pocket and we were both dying to find out. Vino was ordered, glasses were poured, and it was time to open. Dum, da, da dum… it's a B O Y! Oh me oh my!

It was a moment I won't forget and such a happy surprise. Trevor's face said it all. I think I'm still in shock, but I've got quite a while for it to sink in. The next morning we shared the news with Miriam. She was sort of in shock too, then excited, then all she could say was, "but I wanted a little sister." Sad pouty face. It's alright sweets. That's sort of a huge piece of information for a little girl to take in. We spent the rest of the weekend outside enjoying this unusually beautiful Dallas weather. Fleeting, but so delightful. Just the way the breeze feels on your skin makes you want to close your eyes and drift off into daydreams. We've been dreaming a lot around here lately. Here's hoping our dreams and love carry us far over the next 5 years.

carry the load

Our Memorial weekend was filled with the usual… the grill going, lawnmower grinding, baby playing in the sandbox, and ice cream on the front porch. It is such a treat to take that extra day off work and have a real weekend of relaxation. Of course Memorial Day is more than that. We all know its significance, but it's easy to look beyond. The last two years have made me look a little harder and feel a bit deeper for of those who've served our country. We attended Carry The Load again this year to support our buddy who was in the marines. Trevor walked 14 miles with his friends, but there were wives walking with pictures of their fallen husbands, parents with flags from their fallen child, and firefighters carrying hoses on their shoulders, but there were also children walking with their dad who had served and families showing support. It was emotional and joyful and mostly it felt important. Just important to show empathy and offer support simply by holding a small flag and cheering with the crowd. Miriam and her buddy Belle had a ball though we  did have to pry their flags away after a mini jousting match. It was a great day and weekend and great time to remember how much I love my family.

a tennessee scene

The other night I was in the kitchen prepping supper and American Roots came on KXT which was so perfect for a Sunday evening. Some zydeco mixed with Billie Holiday mixed with blues and all sorts of little songs I'd never heard. I love the calmness of Sundays. Wrapping up the weekend and taking time to get things in order before the work week. Miriam was playing with her new baby doll Sue (a gift from May-May) and tucking all her animals in for bedtime. I love to overhear her talking to her "friends" and creating this whole imaginary world. Trevor was outside checking his new smoker and working on the yard, which is looking mighty fab I must say. After our trip to Nashville our weekend was very purposely laid back.
We drove home (won't be doing that any time soon or maybe ever) for a visit and had a ball. Though we did bring in some major rain in with us that first weekend. I was all set to go to see Widespread with a group of friends, but ended up bailing last minute, because the show was outside and it was cold, muddy, and pouring. No thank you. I do believe I have seen my fair share. Of course Trevor put on his full rain gear and went full steam ahead. Tough guy. I retreated inside and had a lovely supper at The Wild Hare with my brother. Smart lady.

The clouds finally broke and nature gifted us with the most beautiful Tennessee scene. Each morning I would cruise to Currier's with the windows cracked and cool air breezing in. Fields of green and bushes blooming… Spring was alive in Franklin. Who knew driving to work could be so durn pleasant?!

By the end of the day I was coated with spray mount and my fingers were stuck together, but we got so much accomplished. Momma was the perfect babysitter and not once did Miriam put up a fight when I walked out that door. She was over the moon. A busy little gal, picking peonies, feeding carrots, and searching for critters outside. Life was good. Obviously Brando made himself right at home as well. I swear he smiles when his paws hit that open field. Sweet buddy cakes.

We fit in a rainy day playdate with the cousins and I can't tell you how much I love seeing them together. Warms my heart.

Our final weekend we packed a lot in and made it to Steeplechase at Percy Warner. It's by far my favorite event of the year. We hadn't been in a while so I was extra ready for the races. We were graced with picture perfect skies, cool air, and glowing afternoon sunshine. There were some thrilling races and folks were deep in the sauce by days end.
The weekend finale was a Mother's Day cricket match at the farm. We lounged around outside and enjoyed time with friends stopping by. Fried chicken, rolls, artichoke dip, and gazpacho was the hair of the dog for those still weary from a long day of revelry.

Dogs wandering, the percherons hitched and giving kids a ride. The match was won by the Brits which started rounds of Pims all over again. But we retreated inside, ordered pizza and collapsed after all the fun. One of my favorite weekends in a very long time. Then it was packin' time. Time to head back to Texas. Sad to leave and sad to say goodbye, but I was ready to say hello to our home and life in the Big D.

starbucks in bed

It's been sort of a big week here in Dallas. The news has been buzzing with coverage of the new Bush Presidential Library. It looks beautiful so I actually can't wait to go poke around, especially since it's right down the street at SMU. My own life is a lot less exciting these days. Miriam got sick with a nasty cold last week and ended up with her first ear infection which was a bummer. Of course she got sick the day we were leaving town. That's how it always works right? Trevor and I had to make a very quick trip to Atlanta for his grandfather, Pawpaw's, funeral. When you live to 91 those of us left behind are at some sort of peace about the circumstances. He was a precious man and lived a wonderful life with (most importantly) the love of his life. What was hard about it was reliving Marilyn's death all over again. I felt like we'd just been there. Like we'd just been in that same funeral home, making impossible decisions, and feeling numb all over. And we had. It'd only been six months and here we were now mourning her father. But you cope and you just put one foot in front of the other and make conversation and pretend to keep it all together. It's still very painful. Still very raw.
We came home to a little gal who was very, very excited to see us. She was dying to go to her school carnival, ear infection and all. It was the first time I'd left her with our nanny Herminia so I felt a little nervous, but of course she was totally cool as a cuke. It felt so good to be back home. Though a teeny tiny piece of me could have curled up in that "heavenly" hotel bed just a wee longer. Lounging with Starbucks in bed was sort of dreamy. How sad is that? We've gotta get away soon I tell you! I mean really away on a proper vacay. For now I will toddle around the backyard, barefoot and soaking up the smell of smoke coming off the grill.

this is for you momma

The other night I called my mom to hear all the details and stories from a large, fancy wedding that had just wrapped up in Nashville. Large as in like 900 people. All sounded nice and rather tame until she told about the dancing. Apparently she had cut a serious rug up front on the dance floor. Some Michael Jackson moves along with my little brother doing the worm. I can just picture her out there now. Hair shaking, finger pointed, and gettin' down. The woman has the moves and boy does she love to dance. So from one little rock n' roller to another, this article is for you momma…

Songs of the South 

By Julia Reed

In January, I attended a sixtieth birthday bash at the House of Blues in New Orleans, and since the birthday boy happened to be a billionaire, the entertainment was especially stellar. My buddy Harry Shearer, a very funny man (and the voice of about half the cast of The Simpsons), emceed the proceedings, which kicked off with a version of  “Happy Birthday” by his wife, the Welsh chanteuse Judith Owen, that made Marilyn Monroe’s seem wholesome. Dr. John cut loose with “Right Place Wrong Time,” and Chrissie Hynde, looking and sounding at least as hot as she did when she first broke through with the Pretenders, did a set that included “Don’t Get Me Wrong” and “Back on the Chain Gang.” Gregg Allman was up next with “Statesboro Blues,” “One Way Out,” and “Melissa,” and the great Joe Walsh (who sang an especially ironic “Life’s Been Good”) closed the show with a rousing set that rocked the house. Or at least it should have.

Before I go any further, I should confess that I have never actually met my host. I was a guest of a guest, and a very lucky one at that, so I am trying to be very careful not to cast aspersions. But it was…weird. No one seemed to take much joy in the proceedings, or if they did it was seriously internalized. Though the party was held in what is essentially a big bar, the audience seemed airlifted in from Carnegie Hall. I mean, I learned to make out with the Allman Brothers on the stereo; there’s no way to listen to “Melissa” without the hair on the back of your neck standing up. I first heard Joe Walsh when I was ten and he was in the James Gang. Until he joined the Eagles, no one in that band could have pulled off that central guitar riff in “Life in the Fast Lane,” which he also played that night. There was some serious history—and not just my own—on that stage.

In contrast to the rest of the group, my friend and I spent the evening jooking around like maniacs—or, indeed, like normal people listening to a kick-ass lineup of some of the greatest and most storied musicians in the world. And we weren’t just the only ones moving, we were the only ones on our feet—except, of course, the musicians, most of whom were the oldest people in the room. Greg Allman is sixty-five and has a new liver; Dr. John and Joe Walsh have put enough bad stuff in their bodies over the years to kill a herd of water buffalo. But all three of them exhibited far more energy than the people they were playing for. But then, almost nobody in the audience, which included Bill Gates, was from the South. Apparently, folks in other regions do not spend the bulk of their youths in cars and bars learning about life and love and lust to the beat of a constant sound track.

Which leads me to the definition of Southern music. You could make the case that most music is Southern since the South gave the world jazz, blues, rock and roll, country, and the songs of Johnny Mercer. But I think you can also define music as Southern by the way you listen to it. In the car, of course, with the AC blasting and the windows rolled down, while banging out the beat on the steering wheel. Or in a club, while dancing the shag or the funky chicken or the gator or trying to do James Brown’s splits. It was the Godfather who said, “The one thing that can solve most of our problems is dancing.” My friend Humphreys McGee does an indescribable dance during the instrumental break in Rufus Thomas’s “Walking the Dog” that is such an intense expression of the good stuff in Humphreys’s soul he only does it every five years or so, lest he have a heart attack. When André Leon Talley saw Humphreys “walk the dog” at my parents’ house once, he pronounced it a “piece of Appalachian folk art” and said he ought to be in the Smithsonian. Humphreys himself says simply that the song allows “an opportunity to abandon all inhibitions and release my body to my id.”

The world would definitely be a better (or at least a more exciting) place if we all tried that every once in a while, but for starters you’d have to get up out of your seat. When I was eleven, I came home from school to find my mother dancing through the house while “American Pie” blared from our brand-new quadraphonic speakers. She was so into it and so oblivious of my presence that I was in awe and maybe even a tiny bit afraid, and I didn’t tell her I’d seen her until years afterward. My mother is a great, great dancer. I am not, but that has not kept me from dancing on bars and tables and in my kitchen by myself late at night. Mostly, though, I listen to a lot of music, and below I’ve created an entirely arbitrary Southern Playlist. If it were remotely comprehensive it would include additional acts ranging from Irma Thomas to the Avett Brothers, but I’ll get to them. Fortunately, I have a bit of time before I start planning my own sixtieth birthday concert (which will likely be broadcast via iPod).
 
via Garden & Gun

by my bedside

This is only a partial pile of what's on my reading list. Cookbooks, Austen, comedy, and Paris. All have a lot in common, non? I just finished The Paris Wife and all I'm going to say is go buy it… like now. Then come tell me if you liked it as much as moi!

hunting eggs

So, since my last post I obviously jinxed the weather, because here I sit wrapped in a cashmere sweater with the heat cranked in my drafty office. Wah. I beg of you Spring, please come back very soon. Last weekend we crammed in a bunch of activity while my brother was in town for a visit. We took him to Neighborhood Services after having such perfect experience last time. This was not a 10, but it was still mighty fine. We went to the Bishop Arts district one afternoon to peruse some shops like Pebble + Pine and grab a slice o' pie from Emporium Pies. This is what I do after all when people come visit - EAT. Will found some very cool pants that he's hoping no one else in Nashville owns. They're mint green and sort of like moleskin so I'm pretty sure that won't be an issue.

Easter Sunday came around and there was much to be grateful for, especially the company of friends. We went to a service with the Schicklings and watched the girls get giddy with excitement. I was just as excited Miriam fit into last years Easter dress. Score. After a rainy morning, the sun greeted us just in time for an egg hunt after brunch. I have such vivid memories of hunting for eggs in Mimi & Granddaddy's backyard. It was a serious affair with all the cousins dashing around looking for the one elusive prize egg - actually a giant gold pantyhose container. Miriam loved it and was sneaking jelly beans any chance she could get. She was so excited that a nap was unfortunately not in the cards which meant mommy didn't get a nap either. Instead we made a big palette of blankets and pillows and camped out to watch Ratatouille. At least I got to close my eyes… for a minute.


don't you love this… Miriam knocked her knee on the table right as we were trying to get a pic & as soon as she started whaling, so did Belle… little copy cats :)