Avoiding Atrophy's 100th Blog Post

Today is the day, folks. My 100th blog post. Other bloggers in this world who started much later than me passed their 100th post ages ago without even realizing it. These are the kind of fabulous people who post every single day, write in some kind of day-planner to keep their blogging life in order, and make breakfast smoothies, probably with spinach. I don't do any of these things, so almost three years into this thing, I'm just now getting into my 100th post. Deal with it.

Getting into triple digits is monumental to me. It means that there were at least one-hundred times in the last two and a half years where I sat down with a focused intention to communicate my thoughts through writing. Of course, some posts were a bit more focused and intentional than others.

When I started Avoiding Atrophy, I was in that weird, post-collegiate transitional period, a time which has been the catalyst for certainly thousands of other blogs. I felt wayward and strange, totally unsure of what the next year was going to look like. Here is an excerpt from my first post where I laid out the foundation of why I wanted to write during this time in my life:

Everyone knows this is an interesting transition. I'm not the first to write about it and I won't be the last. Many of the people I know are in this exact same boat, and let me tell you, it is weird. This is the first time where we truly could sink or swim. We could choose to pursue this new life with a boldness and determination that we always dreamed we would or we could sit, lie, wait, and let our muscles atrophy until we don't even resemble human. 

For me, I choose the former. That's just me though. And this blog is to hold me accountable to that. 

Over the course of time, I've been able to elaborate on why I began blogging, but I'm not sure I've allowed myself to explain what this whole thing has truly meant to me. I started out writing Avoiding Atrophy thinking that I might make some people laugh (my mom, at least) and that maybe I'd be able to use it as a distraction from constantly refreshing monster.com. I had absolutely no idea the implications blogging would have in my life, and if you've been with me from the beginning, you probably didn't either. I mean, my first post was titled "A Defense for Cowboys & Aliens." That doesn't really scream successful lifestyle blogger, honestly.

An early photo of myself that I posted on my blog. Wook at duh wittle baybeeee!

Looking back, though, on where I was when I started and where I am now, Avoiding Atrophy has been exactly what I hoped it would be -- a way to keep myself accountable, a way to remind myself and others like me that life can be beautiful even when it's the worst. But believe it or not, it's become even more than that. This blog and the people who support it have given me courage like I never would  have had otherwise. At least, I call it courage. You might call it insanity.

The encouragement I've experienced here has propelled me to change the entire trajectory of my professional life. I left my job and decided to call myself a writer. Some days I even make money doing this. It's all kind of unbelievable.

And none of that would have been possible without you. Yes, YOU! Reader-you. I've got to be honest, as much as I was doing this for my own edification, it would have been tough to write one-hundred blog posts with no comments. Somewhere along the way, people started reading, commenting, and sharing. And sharing is caring, guys. No, but really, it is. It's how we feel understood. It's certainly one of the best ways I have felt understood over the last few years.

This blog is a different thing than it was when it started, and I like to think I'm a different thing too. If I could go back in time and tell Early Blogger Christy what her life would be like over the next couple of years, I think she would be like, "Get it, girl!"

Oh, Early Blogger Christy! There is so much you don't know!

Here's what I would tell her:

-You're still married to your husband, and he is still keeping it tight.

-You eventually find a job...more like five jobs...and you hate almost all of them. Stop crying.

-You move to New York City. Brooklyn, specifically. You get a cat and call him Frasier, for he truly is a pretentious jerk, but you love him anyway.

-Avoiding Atrophy undergoes a bit of a transformation when you write a couple of posts about things you would do-over at your wedding. A bunch of people share it on Pinterest. Oh, you don't know what Pinterest is yet? Oh, honey...

-You struggle with all of this because, well, you're not a wedding blogger. In fact, the only thing you really know about weddings is what NOT to do at them. You worry that you are getting page views for all of the wrong reasons and that when people find out that you mostly just write about cats and your feelings, they will expose you for the fraud you are. 

-This doesn't happen. It's a miracle. Out of this influx of traffic, a handful of fantastic people stick around. They sympathize with your inability to put your hair in a sock bun. And, girl, get this -- they leave comments.

-In the midst of all of this, you make a big decision to totally reroute your career path. And guess what you decide to do instead? Girl, just GUESS. 

-You decide to write. It's the thing that has always made you the happiest, and you've decided to make a life of it. This came about for a whole host of reasons -- one of those reasons being your love of blogging, so girl, seriously, keep it up. 

Long story short, blogging = life-changer. So once again, thank you, guys. Thanks to the new readers and the ones who have been with me from the beginning. Thanks to the countless bloggers who have provided me with a ton of wonderful bloggy advice, and thanks to all of the writers who inspire me on a daily basis. And finally, thanks to the people in my life -- those I can see and touch and smell as well as those I can Skype with-- who have been so encouraging of this endeavor. You just have no idea what you mean to me.

Before I go, I'll leave you with ten of my favorite posts from the last one-hundred (wow, 100!). Feel free to read them or feel free to do literally anything else. Either way, I'm just happy you were here today helping me avoid atrophy.

10 Things I Like About Myself // Laments of a Former Film Student // A Cure for the Sunday Wigglies™ // Smart Girls Have More Fun // Progressively Married at Twenty-Two // If I Had It To Do All Over: Wedding Planning // How to Create a Better Writing Space // New York City: The Fickle Lover // The 10 Best Search Terms That Lead To My Blog // Feelings Friday: Bravery

Here's to 100 more!

The Best Day Ever: Free BBQ from Morgan's in Park Slope

I recently had a most-glorious dream!

Feel free to use this sound effect to put you in a dreamy place.

In it, I was having one of those classic New York bad days where everything just feels unnecessarily hard and slightly gross. I was walking down Flatbush Avenue with my home state, Texas, on my mind when suddenly I came upon the unmistakable scent of brisket. In the distance appeared a warm, familiar neon sign that read "Shiner." As I came closer, I realized that what had recently been an empty storefront in Park Slope was now a fully-operational Texas barbecue restaurant. 90s country music rang out over a happy room where a rocking chair, fitted with a Texas longhorn flag, sat in the corner.

Merely beholding this site was enough to lift my spirits, but I was soon invited in by the restaurant's owner to sit down and partake in massive portions of pork, chicken, brisket, potato salad, collard greens, and cole slaw -- all FREE. OF. CHARGE. I ate feverishly and drank glass after glass of sweet tea. As I left, I thanked the staff profusely, and I wondered if God had put that restaurant there just for me.

And then I saw the Loch Ness monster.

But, guys, get this...

...I wasn't dreaming.

Feel free to use this sound effect to feel the weight of surprise.

TWIST!

Every single one of those things happened to me.

On our way to the subway on a really crappy Friday, Daniel and I stumbled upon Morgan's Barbecue. They weren't even open yet, but they were doing a FREE TASTING. This is what that meant:

ARE WE ALL SEEING THIS?!

Daniel and I were served a delicious dinner that tasted just like home -- totally free. Free, y'all. FREE. 

And by the way, it really was tremendous. We spoke with one of the owners who had recently migrated from Texas (hey, we did that too!). He used to work at Franklin Barbecue in Austin, a place so famous for the things they do with meat that it regularly looks like this:

So yeah, you know they are making some damn good barbecue at Morgan's. We were huge fans of the crazy tender brisket and semi-sweet tea.

Anyway, my life was made by Morgan's, and when they open on September 5th, you should all go there (267 Flatbush Avenue) and show them some love. They don't have a website or Twitter or Facebook or ANYTHING, but when they do, I will make sure to send you all their way. 

Oh, and also, The Elbow Room, an artisanal macaroni and cheese restaurant, will have a counter attached to Morgan's...sooooo life is perfect.

One more BBQ picture for good measure. 

OH, and that thing about the Loch Ness monster....

I found her at Marshall's.

Has anything miraculous happened in your world lately? Free food? Monster sightings? Tell me!

New York City: The Fickle Lover

Today I am writing to you from the Rose Reading Room of the New York Public Library. It is a vast expanse of architectural bliss, roughly the length of a football field, which houses over forty thousand volumes of dictionaries, biographies, encyclopedias, and indexes. For its bright windows and hushed atmosphere, it is a quintessential hotspot for writers in New York City.

Via

I took this from a pamphlet at the library. It would seem I am in good company. I mean, TYRA comes here.

Right now I have a Diet Dr. Pepper and a bag of salt and vinegar chips that are burning a hole through my backpack, but I don't think I'm allowed to eat or drink in here. That's really my only complaint though.

Anyway, I'm writing from this writers' paradise because it seemed like the most fitting place to reflect on my last year here in New York City. As I mentioned in a previous post, as of Sunday, Daniel and I have now officially lived in this crazy, beautiful town for one year. It has been arguably the best year of my life, and I owe a lot of that to grand buildings like the one I am sitting in right now. I also owe a lot of it to delayed trains, crazy cat ladies, and spoiled bodega milk.

One of the bodegas in our neighborhood where we consistently buy spoiled milk. Via

Allow me to explain.

New York City is a lover with little reciprocation. She is fickle. You are the one who does the falling in love, not her. Many say that New York calls to them, but she doesn't. She has better things to do. It's you that does all of the loving, all of the calling, all of the seeking. You are the one who becomes enamored of her skyline and her spirit. You are the one who says she's perfect when she pushes you down in a crowded subway terminal or gives you food poisoning at a restaurant with a C health rating. You watch her from afar, even as far away as Austin, Texas, and you think to yourself, does she even know I exist?

This is the New York experience. It is a perfect combination of getting kicked in the ass and having the most unbelievably special moments of your life. I've gone down into the creepiest bar basement to listen to a world class jazz singer. My rent has doubled, maybe tripled from my rent in Texas, but I am a short walk away from Prospect Park. I've ridden the subway with my face in some teenager's armpit, but afterwards I had a religious experience at the Met.

"This will all be worth it when I see the Victorian Interiors exhibit" Via

Loving this city is like having a very specific kind of amnesia. It's the same amnesia that exists in marriage, actually, only in marriage you call it "forgiveness." Every day I wake up to a city that spat on me only one day previously, and I tell her she's beautiful.

Because she is. Even those moments where I feel kicked around by New York have been blessings in hindsight. I have grown in patience in ways that I never would have expected. A lot of people assume that New Yorkers are the world's most impatient humans, and in some ways, that's true. People who make the decision to move to this city are often the kinds of people who could not stand to wait another day to start being the person they were made to be. They know what they want. They have to have it.

But really, you can't live in a city like this without developing some kind of system of patience in your life. I don't think I had one before moving here, but I sure as hell do now.

Now when I walk down the street and some random man tells me that I'm looking good enough to eat, I don't cower in disgust or even quicken my pace. I don't go on some long-winded rant about how objected I feel. I simply laugh and say, "No, thank you!" and go about my merry way. This city teaches you awesome things like that. Your wit sharpens and your resolve thickens. 

No, thank you!

But you don't have to move to New York City to learn lessons like these. In fact, if you are not in love with the idea of it, please don't. This city will turn you into a troll. I have seen such a troll. She rides the B Train in the afternoon.

But this is how I was supposed to learn these lessons, and for that, I am forever grateful to my fickle lover. New York City never needed me, but I needed her, and every now and then she throws me a bone. For instance...

There is this moment when riding the Q train where it emerges from its tunnel onto the Manhattan bridge. It is a feeling similar to holding your breath underwater and then suddenly coming up for air. The windows become a display of some of New York's most important landmarks: the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty, which stand atop a glittering East River. The train allows its passengers to ingest this sight for a mere two minutes before plummeting back down into the dark tunnel, as quickly as it emerged.

The first time I saw this, I vowed that the day this sight became mundane would be my last day in New York City. I have ridden across the Manhattan bridge twice a day, almost every day throughout this entire year, and it has yet to disappoint. I guess I'll stick around.


Fellow New Yorkers, do these feelings ring a bell? How would you describe your love for this city?

If I Had It To Do All Over: Wedding Planning

A working knowledge of 90s country music was an essential and inescapable aspect of growing up in Helotes, Texas. In PE, we would run laps to Shania Twain's "Man, I Feel Like a Woman" and we would often quote George Strait's "Check Yes or No" in carefully crafted love letters. No matter what level of hipster you are, if you grew up in Helotes, chances are you know this song by Alan Jackson (don't deny it).

This song came into my mind recently when I was thinking back on my wedding day. Like my good friend Alan here, I would marry the same person all over again. His name is Daniel. He looks like this:

On our wedding day, he looked like this:

Obviously, it's a no-brainer. Given the chance to redo my wedding, I would choose Daniel every single time. However, there are some things that I would definitely do differently. Don't get me wrong -- I loved my wedding. It was the best day ever. Most of my regrets are just details that stem from the fact that Pinterest became a big thing about a minute after we said "I do". Now I have a constant feed of incredible wedding ideas that seemed otherwise unavailable to me at the time that I was planning my wedding. 

Anyway, I don't have it to do all over, but maybe my hindsight could be someone else's foresight. Here now, for your bridal edification, is my list of Wedding Planning Do-Overs:

Do-over #1: I would wear an objectively sane outfit 

whilst getting ready.

If you can't make out exactly what is happening in the above picture, that is because it is a HOT MESS. I am wearing bright pink shorts and a tank top that features a rhinestone octopus. Grace Kelly wore a similar ensemble the morning of her wedding (in a nightmare that David Tutera once had). My bra straps are proudly visible and I am eating Wheat Thins like it is my job. Feel free to Pin this because it's clearly a style you will want to emulate on the most important day of your life.

Wait. I can't even joke about that. Don't save this picture to your Pinterest or anywhere, for that matter. Forget you ever saw it. Always remember that you could be immortalized in a photograph at any moment during the day of your wedding. Just channel Beyoncé and everything will be fine. Flee from bedazzled sea creatures. Hide your bra straps like your life depends on it. Wear a delicate robe like this:

Pssst...if you're totally smitten, here's a link to buy this robe!

and stop eating all of the Wheat Thins (although, seriously, how can you?). 

Do-over #2: I would paint the soles of my shoes blue.

via

I don't really get the point of most wedding traditions (throwing rice kills birds and garters itch like hell), but I wanted to adhere to them because it was like a game for me. I don't think I had something blue, which probably destines Daniel and I for destruction. I could have prevented that if I'd painted my soles blue. Plus, they'd be so cute in pictures! If you're digging this idea, there are also some fabulous slip resistant sole stickers that might be a better temporary solution.

Do-over #3: I would have a videographer.

Ladies (and gentlemen maybe?), I am here to tell you that, regrettably, I do not have video footage from my wedding. 

You are crying for me right now. I know it. This is the saddest thing you've heard all day.

Trying to do as much as possible on the cheap, I thought that moving images from that day would be something I could do without. What a fool I was. I would give anything for any kind of video documentation of our wedding. 

Get a videographer, folks. If you cannot afford a videographer, slap a GoPro on the head of your five-year-old cousin and see what happens (this is actually an amazing idea. Do this regardless of your financial situation.) There is so much going on (drunk people fighting, amazing dance moves, YOU WALKING DOWN THE AISLE). You will miss something, and a video is a great way to relive it. 

You probably already knew this. I'm the only idiot I know who doesn't have a wedding video.

There is a silver lining, though. I had an amazing photographer (Lauren Guy Summersett...book her) who captured so much of my day in great detail. Without video, I am able to leave pictures like the following up for hilarious interpretation:

Do-over #4: I would remember to smile 

when walking down the aisle.

I super dropped the ball on this one. In imaging myself walking down the aisle, I always assumed I might cry a little. I mean, I once cried watching an episode of Full House. To be fair though, it was the episode where Papouli dies, and I had mono so I was a little disoriented. 

Anyway, I was prepared to shed a tear, but nothing really could have prepared me for the moment those doors opened, and this amazing song was being beautifully sung, and my husband was standing there waiting for me. There's just nothing like that.

And it wasn't a pretty cry. Smiling through the tears was the last thing on my mind. I was a mess. 

The picture above is the BEST picture of me walking down the aisle. At best, I look slightly annoyed. At worst, I look like I've fallen asleep midway through. So remember to smile, ladies! Your photographer will thank you.

Do-over #5: I would recommend that my guests use a hashtag (#oshoneywedding) for Twitter and Instagram.

via

I saw something like this on Pinterest like two weeks after my wedding and I was like....

It was very upsetting. Why oh why didn't I think of that?! I love hashtags. I love seeing pictures of myself with an X Pro II filter. It is the perfect marriage of things I love. 

We are now well into the 2000s at this point, people. Unless you do not care about this kind of thing, you have no excuse not to post a hashtag at your wedding. Not to be dramatic, but you might be clinically insane if you do not do this. I'm just saying...

Do-over #6: I would honor, in some major way, everyone who helped with our wedding. 

I could not be more thankful to the people who were a part of our wedding. Literally everyone who was there did something incredible for us. My dad risked his life hanging papel picado all over our reception space. We had four of the most giving women I've ever known literally set up every other decoration. Our musicians were our incredibly talented friends who set the tone for our beautiful ceremony. My five bridesmaids were rock stars. Emily and her now fiance, Michael, put together our entire rehearsal dinner. Kaley wrote and performed a song as her wedding toast. Lara traveled all the way from Knoxville so that I could steal the covers from her in the bed we shared the night before the wedding. My sister, Johanna, fed me grapes like I was Cleopatra or something. Daniel's sister, Jessica made me laugh so hard I almost died. 

We gave some small gifts to everyone, but I wish we had done so much more. As much as a wedding is about the bride and groom, it is so much also about all of the beautiful people that God puts in your life. There are two things from that day that will always be crystal clear memories for me. The first is when I walked down the aisle to Daniel. The second is this moment:

All of these selfless, wonderful people who have my deepest respect and love decided to dance like fools around us as Daniel and I danced to "Dream a Little Dream of Me". It was kind of perfect, and it was a moment that embodied exactly how loved we felt on that day. 

When we get famous, we'll probably buy all of these people corvettes or at least Target gift cards or something. 

Lastly, Do-over #7: I would have bought something nice on which to hang my dress.

Plastic hangers make the most expensive item of clothing of your life look like it was bought off the rack at Marshall's (no judgement if it was). 

Get yourself one of those pretty wooden hangers like they have at Anthropologie. Better yet, get one of these fancy hangers where the wire identifies who you are. You'll be glad you did. 

Buy this one here! 

There you have it. These are just a few small regrets from a day that brought me so much joy that I still can't stop talking about it. Just so you don't leave this post thinking that I regret my marriage, it is probably a good idea to show you some things from my wedding that I got right.

My Wedding Do-All-Over-Agains

1. I would wear this dress.

and I would make this same I-know-I-look-good face

2. I would spend the day with these beautiful women.

3. I would have a whimsical theme and not care if anyone thinks it's weird.

4. I would shake this maraca.

5. I would do my own makeup so that I don't end up looking like this:

6. I would have it in Austin, Texas.

Vintage Villas

7. I would marry this guy...all over again.

Please share this post on Pinterest and elsewhere so that future brides can learn from my not-so-terrible mistakes! If you'd like to learn about more ways to avoid weird mistakes in life, feel free to follow Avoiding Atrophy (in the column on the right side) because seriously I write about this junk all the time. 

Move on to Part Two of this post for even more Wedding Do-Overs! 

Lastly, I've compiled some product ideas from this post below. Hope these are helpful in prepping for your super stellar upcoming wedding!

What are some of your wedding planning do-overs?

Waiting on a Friend

Today I am going to talk about something that I think is true for a lot of people that move to New York City, or any new city for that matter. Let's start this one out with a song.

This is the Rolling Stones' "Waiting on a Friend", and it is basically my life story right now. Here we have Mick Jagger standing in a doorway watching some ladies pass by. He's all "ooo ooo oo OO ooooo", but you know that is just code for something really heavy that's weighing on his heart. Then he starts singing and you eventually hear him repeating over and over, I'm not waiting on a lady. I'm just waiting on a friend. Then it hits you. Mick Jagger isn't waiting on a lady...he's waiting on a friend.

You and me both, Mick. I wouldn't mind if that friend was a lady, by the way. I'm not picky. I'd probably prefer it.

Let me explain. Daniel and I have been living in New York for almost two months, and we have been having a blast. We've been to museums and zoos and parks and musicals and Coney Island. We are a daily audience for an inconsistently impressive dance show on the Q train. We've eaten cupcakes, ridden on ferries, walked by historic landmarks, sighted celebrities (Clinton Kelly...I had just been watching What Not To Wear before I saw him). This place is great. Listen to Alicia Keys. She's not kidding.

But here's the thing about moving to New York that I hadn't completely realized until we actually got here: when we moved, our friends didn't move with us.

This revelation probably isn't as shocking to those who have moved before, but I don't have a lot of experience with moving, so give me a break. From the time I was born, I lived at the same address in Helotes Park Estates in the same bedroom with the same bunny light switch for nineteen years. The first time I really moved away was college, but I was still in Texas and when I got there they had something called Welcome Week where they basically assigned us lifelong friends. Thanks for the bridesmaid, Baylor bubble!

My wonderful friend Lara and I, freshman year at Baylor.

On my wedding day. The comparison seriously makes me cry. 

From there, Daniel and I got married and we moved to Austin where most of our friends were anyway. I got used to a lifestyle of going out to dinners, having occasional sleepovers, checking in on each other, having real in-depth conversations, and simply doing life with my best friends. I was spoiled.

These people spoiled me rotten.

Now we've moved to New York, a city where I know only a handful of people and none of these contacts are preexisting best friends. This situation has NEVER happened to me. And I mean for that sentence to sound as dramatic as it looks.

When I think about how I even accumulated the friends I have in my life, I realize that I have mostly made new friends with a few older ones by my side. Then I have to think about the first time in my life that I made a friend which was probably in pre-school, and that was probably the result of Tinker Toys or some other friend-inducing toy of the early 90s. Kids are awesome at making friends. 

I know I am getting ahead of myself, and I am absolutely making it look like I am totally socially inept (which I'm pretty sure isn't the case). Daniel and I only just recently joined a church and while I have a job, we haven't started taping yet, so I haven't been around any of those folks. These are very logical places to meet people, and I probably will and everything will probably be more than okay.

The problem (as always) is my expectations. I am seeking in strangers what was cultivated through years of experience with my close friends. I want discussion and honesty and accountability. I want to skip right on through the politeness and primary tension of meeting someone to true, real friendship. 

That's not how life works. I know that. I know I am being selfish in not wanting the work of starting new friendships. The truth is I have been pretty fortunate to have had such great relationships despite my propensity towards over-thinking absolutely everything. And it's not like I am looking to replace any of them. They are still there, though miles away, whenever I need a dose of thoroughly-marinated, real conversation.

Still, as Mick Jagger says:

Don't need a whore
I don't need no booze
Don't need a virgin priest
But I need someone I can cry to
...
I'm just waiting on a friend

My thoughts exactly, Mick. Who needs virgin priests when you've got friends?

WAH would you EVER wanna go THAY-ER: Part 1

Too much to talk about. Long story short, Daniel and I moved from Austin, Texas to Brooklyn, New York creating one of the most epic journeys we have ever taken. We road-tripped through nine states, landed in Brooklyn, bought Metro Cards, and it's finally all starting to become slightly real. There is simply too much to cover in this entry, so I'm just going to start posting pictures.

THE ROAD TRIP:

We left bright and early at 6 AM. This was the last (also first) Austin sunrise 

we will see for quite a while.

  Road Trip snacks (not pictured: Mini Oreos and Wheat Thins)

We stopped in at Shipley's in Waco where we were given the exact donuts we asked for (false) and we got to spend time with the ever-beautiful Kaley Eggers. She really is beautiful as is evidenced in the above picture where she looks like Barbie's friend, Teresa, while I look like Barbie's forgotten sister, Tutti (1965-1971). I had just woken up...

 

                                       Teresa                                            Tutti

On top of her Teresa-like beauty, Kaley also has the most beautiful heart. She made Daniel and I this gift that we will so treasure forever. It will certainly be a part of every home we ever have.

Anyway, enough about how beautiful Kaley is. Moving on!

These are the places Foursquare suggested we go in some small town outside of Little Rock...

No thank you.

Passing through Memphis. 

Daniel got way too psyched about passing by this pyramid. 

So all of that was Day 1. 6 AM to 9 PM. Austin to Nashville. Radisson Hotel. Celebrity Apprentice finale. Room service pizza. Sleep. 

DAY 2

We found this pretty graffiti outside of the restaurant Phat Bites where we ate a lunch of mixed-reviews. Side note: there were so many grossly-named restaurants in Nashville. I loved it. I can't really remember any of them, but probably like...Butt Back Burger or something. These restaurants went for it. 

This is where President Andrew Jackson is buried. We went to his plantation, "The Hermitage" where we were led in a tour by someone who looked EXACTLY LIKE ANDREW JACKSON. I wish I had taken a picture of him, but he basically looked like this.

It's not like he was an Andrew Jackson impersonator. He just worked there. His life had become so immersed in thinking about Andrew Jackson that he literally took on his physical characteristics. That, or our tour guide was a ghost. I choose the latter. He winked at the end and then sort of disappeared....

I know this picture looks like the essence of freedom, but this was actually a field where Andrew Jackson's slaves worked. It was really humbling to be there. The people who worked at the Hermitage would casually mention Jackson's violence against his slaves amidst elaborate depictions of how great he was. That was kind-of-super offensive, I think. Get real, Ladies Hermitage Association.

This might also be a good time to talk about how this is where we met our first New York naysayer. His name was Larry. He asked why we were traveling through Nashville and we told him we were on our way to move to New York City. He looked like he had just seen a ghost (which he probably had because the tour guide was right there) and said, "WAH would you EVER wanna go THAY-ER?!" I was immediately frustrated with this man, but Daniel was super polite. He explained he was going to be in the New York Teaching Fellows Program, and Larry responded with a story about how his son and daughter-in-law had done Teach For America. "Worst. Experience. Of. Their. Lives" Yep. It's always good to discourage someone from making the selfish decision of teaching inner-city children. Thanks, Larry!

After leaving the Hermitage, we drove around downtown Nashville. Fun place.

We ate dinner at the Bluebird Cafe. Really fun. There was a songwriter's jam (I don't know the technical term) happening. The guy with the guitar wrote Eric Clapton's "Change the World" and some song from The Fox and the Hound 2. I'm not sure which one I was more impressed by. 

After this, I was jonesing for something sweet, so in a desperate decision, we decided to make our first trip to Waffle House. We've just never lived where this place exists. We drove up and were almost deterred by this sight: 

Some lady's barefoot feet! She wasn't even wearing uncomfortable shoes. They were flip flops. I was so bothered by this. I hold Waffle House responsible.

Regardless, we ate there.

Proof.

DAY 3:

Sweet potato pancakes from Nashville's famous Pancake Pantry!

Bookstore!

Daniel with a Dragon!

Some kitties in a storefront. Fun fact: my past four blog entries have included pictures of cats, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

We decided to take a little detour in our trip and head to Greece! Kidding. This thing is IN Nashville. Why? We don't know. It cost $10 to go inside, so we might never know.

This is a picture of me on Daniel's shoulders. Why did I get on Daniel's shoulders to take this picture? The short answer is that I wanted to be taller. The even shorter answer is that 

I lack logic. 

This is our departing picture of Nashville taken with the Nashville filter in Instagram. 

Clever, right?

From here, we went to Knoxville, Tennessee to stay with our phenomenally gorgeous and wonderful friend, Lara. 

Lara and I at Aubrey's (it's a restaurant). 

Look, guys. I love this girl. I love her more than I love black olives and Diet Dr. Pepper. I can't believe I didn't take a picture of this, but she gave us the most intense basket of road trip goodies. I can't even talk about it. It was incredible. From candy to sermon CDs to Star Wars toothbrushes, this girl nailed exactly what we needed. We stayed up talking while Daniel did homework (he already had homework at that point!).

DAY 4:

We left Lara, sadly, and then took this final picture which is an homage to the following picture taken our freshman year of college.

AAAAAAAAAAAW! BABIIIIIIIIIES!

We left Knoxville, armed with Lara's goodies, and traveled the long stretch to Pennsylvania.

This is from a crane machine at a gas station in Virginia. 10 points if you know what this is from. Anyway, this is a testament to how severely out-of-touch this town was.

We finally made it to Carlisle, PA to stay with our good friend Clint.

He lives in a fancy apartment, but he doesn't make you feel like a loser if you don't. 

DAY 5:

We said our goodbyes to Clint and headed for New York City. It was business time. We drove the rest of the way, listening to Ted Talks and getting quietly nervous. 

I want to back-track to a picture I forgot to include from Day 3.

This is Daniel at the Pancake Pantry. I didn't include this picture earlier because I wanted to save it since it is the perfect depiction of exactly how we were feeling the entire time. By the way, to fully understand this, you need to know that when Daniel gets nervous, he yawns.

We loved this trip. We saw three of our favorite people on earth, the ghost of Andrew Jackson, and that guy who wrote the song from The Fox and the Hound 2. We will never forget it, but we were full of nerves and excitement the whole time. It was weird because we so wanted to enjoy our vacation, but I think every morning we were just ready to be there already. 

That Saturday, as we approached Manhattan, our nerves calmed to a simple manic excitement. We were finally here. Just look at this surreal image we took in.

As is the case with most all of these entries, I've gone on way longer than I meant to. This was kind of the equivalent of when your uncle sat you down in the '90s and made you look at his slides from his trip to Boise, Idaho. Sorry about that, but if you have any investment at all in Daniel and I, we just want you to know that we had a blast on that trip and we are having an even greater blast living out this new adventure in New York.

You knew it from the beginning. I'm splitting this entry into two parts. Next time, I'll talk about our new, crazy beautiful life. Get ready.