What a man.

I'm glad that Alex lives with three guys. Now, most girlfriends might be a little grossed out by the frat house atmosphere and lack of home decor. Not me: I rejoice in it. But for good reason.

On weekends when Alex visits me at my parents' house, he is subjected to a flood of estrogen-fueled activity. There are marathon Say Yes to the Dress and What Not to Wear viewings-- so far, I have spared him from the Real Housewives, but I may or may not have forced the finale episode of The Bachelorette. There are kitchen table talks with my mom about weight loss tactics and bad haircuts. There are shopping adventures and lots of self-taken photo sessions. There are chocolate binges followed by hours of lamenting and complaining about the snugness of my jeans. Instead of picking me up for a date, there's quite a bit of channel surfing while I scream from my closet that I have nothing to wear.

You can see why my dad escapes into projects in his workshop and endless rounds of golf. But Alex doesn't have that luxury, I'm afraid.

I have come to this conclusion based on two comments made this weekend:

While watching Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta, Alex commented on Monty, the resident Gay Man in the salon, saying, "What's happening with Monty's hair? Tim Gunn would not stand for this." Tim Gunn is, of course, the resident Gay Man on Project Runway.

After using my bathroom to shower, 'I feel different after I use your shower. My roots are "awakened." My skin is "exfoliated" and "invigorated." My shower stuff just says "shampoo" and "body wash."'

I might would worry that I'm creating my very own Tim Gunn-- not that I would mind a resident Gay Man hanging around to pick out my clothes and style me perfectly-- except that I know my man to exist almost solely on red meat and live almost solely for the Crimson Tide. I also know that he plays a different sport every night and celebrates life's various events with a good cigar and a cold beer. I know too that I'll get what's coming to me once Sports Center starts its endless coverage of college football; then I won't be able to casually flip the television to my beloved TLC.

Meanwhile, I'm glad that Alex gets to return home to a house saturated with testosterone, where he can quickly regenerate any masculinity he may have sacrificed over the weekend. When you put four men in a house, you can smell the musk of manliness as you walk through the front door. At least... that's what I'm going to assume that smell is.

Weekend Update.

- Friday: Cooked a pretty rockin' dinner for our men with Erica and Anna. A few rounds of Pass the Pig and Phase 10 and more than a few laughs. Yeah, we're a pretty crazy bunch.

- Saturday: Back roads from Guntersville to Atlanta courtesy of the GPS equals a historic tour of Alabama; there were multiple museums along the way, but sadly, no time to stop. Braves vs. Diamondbacks with Mom and Boyfriend: club seats, Mom's first game, three home runs, and a crazy fan attempting to run across the field and being taken down forcefully by security. Oh, and of course stadium dogs and nachos. And then there was another GPS adventure home.

- Sunday: church through the bleary eyes of one who has driven home from Atlanta at midnight, a most excellent Sunday afternoon nap, brownies, and a solid workout with the b/f. Couples that sweat together, stay together. And to further a tradition we've kind of developed, an Uno marathon into the wee hours of the night.

Today, back to the grind. I colored and baked cookies with the students at extended day-- it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it. Then it was off to the gym to work off said cookies. Lele and I tried out the Backs, Butts, and Guts class; we were the youngest by three decades and probably the slimmest by 30 pounds, but somehow our classmates laughed and cut up through the entire class while Lele and I blew sweat off the tips of our noses and reminded ourselves to breathe. So, as appearances can be deceiving, it seems that we have some catching up to do. But right now, I'm just going to lay here until my legs stop trembling.

Rebel without a clue.

'We spurn our Creator's authority over us. God beckons storm clouds, and they come. He tells the wind to blow and the rain to fall, and they obey immediately. He speaks to the mountains, "You go there," and he says to the seas, "You stop here," and they do it. Everything in all creation responds in obedience to the Creator... until we get to you and me. We have the audacity to look God in the face and say, "No."'

-- Radical, David Platt

Class is in session.

Monday morning, children all over this lake city started back to school. Some-- the Lindsey's of the world-- had been anxiously looking forward to this day for weeks, pondering over the most perfect First Day outfits and double checking the school supplies list, while others viewed the big day with a little less excitement... Weirdos.

Little did the third, fourth, and fifth grade afterschool program participants know, Monday was also their first day with Yours Truly. There I sat at the faculty table as my tired little friends dragged into the lunchroom after their respective bells rang. This age group hasn't quite mastered the art of subtlety, so I was greeted with many an openly curious stare and not just a few, "Who are you's?" Along with a few more pointed questions like, "You're not a real teacher, are you?"

To answer your question, let's think of me as your afterschool fairy godmother. I will be here each day to greet your smiling faces, distribute your daily snack pack, and usher you to the seat of your choice (within the defined parameters). Once seated, I will remind you every 7 minutes or so that you are entirely too loud and that there should be no talking during reading time. After you do your homework, I'll be the one with you in the computer lab who reminds you every 7 minutes or so that your volume has reached an unacceptable level and you are mere decibels away from total silence being imposed upon you. Then I'll take a quick break to tell you what a decibel is. From time to time-- approximately every two minutes-- you may approach me with your most recent request to go get a book you left in Mrs. So-and-So's room, go quench your desperate thirst, or make your third absolutely necessary trip to the restroom. I have also been commissioned with the great responsibility of determining when it is time to go out to the playground. What time is it?, you ask. It's about a degree to 98, so no, still not time to go outside. But, miniature friends, do not despair, for I will also be granting your requests to color and assigning line leaders (HUGE deal for those of you not in the "know"). And should your head hurt, your tummy ache, your tooth start hanging out of your mouth, or your knee start inexplicably hurting, I will take you to the magical water fountain that miraculously cures all ailments.

After school fairy godmother or cat herder, you decide.

Thursday Thoughts

If I had to sum up my life at this moment in one word, it would be... content.


For one, I'm reclining with Macy in my favorite chair with a tummy full of Guntersville's finest Mexican cuisine, but aside from just being physically content, I'm just content... all around.

Not too long ago, I went to an AA meeting to do an observation for class. Aside from being one of the most inspiring, eye-opening experiences I've had in my field, I benefited in my own therapeutic way. It looks like what you imagine: a group of 8-12 people (my experience was an all men's group other than the leader and myself) sitting in a circle of fold out chairs in an empty classroom. At each meeting, you open up by doing rounds where each group member tells where they're at mentally, spiritually, physically, socially, and emotionally. The group leader had asked me to participate, and right away the group members called me out: you're not allowed to say fine or any derivative of it... that is, no good, great, bad, etc. Instead, for instance, you might say, "Mentally, I'm feeling... engaged..." Or "present" or so on. It was an interesting little "temperature check."

So you can guess what's about to happen...

Mentally, I'm feeling... restless. Throughout the school year, I dream of being able to rest and relax, but as the break comes to a close, I can feel myself readying to start a new chapter. I'm ready for a routine, a set schedule. I've spent my days reading and working out and napping and cleaning and organizing and napping, but I'm ready for a reason to set my alarm clock and put on make-up (hello, I fixed my hair today for the first in a week. A week!). Oh, and a paycheck would be good too.

Spiritually, I'm feeling... hungry. In Tuscaloosa this summer, I was blessed to be part of an incredible Bible study that fed me weekly, but back home in Small Town, Alabama, there's just not as much offered. I read commentary after commentary, but I wonder if I'll ever read Scripture and see the applications that Bible scholars like Beth Moore and John Piper and John MacArthur pull out. The Lord is so rich and so deep, and I don't even know where to begin knowing Him sometimes.

Physically, I'm feeling... pooped. Erica and I have-- shockingly-- been faithfully doing p90x on weekday mornings. Sadly, I'm not doing all I should to eat right so I'm not seeing incredible results right away, but I'm definitely feeling the effect even when I don't see it in my waistline. And speaking of not eating right, I'm full of chips and salsa and quesadilla right now, so I'm feeling pretty worthless (in the best way possible).

Socially, I'm feeling... blessed. Every morning, I work out with Erica and get a solid dose of girl talk. Last night, I had dinner with Tyler and David then headed up the mountain to see Lee and Lele's new house (hello, are we grown ups?!), and I couldn't help but feel a quiet contentment at being back home with the people I grew up with. And tonight, I got to double that feeling as I had dinner with Spence, Keelin, Grace, and Jordan at El Camino. Two different social sets from two different parts of my life, but two very good nights with very good friends. And this weekend, I'll spend time with the Boyfriend and catch up with Ben and Hannah after church on Sunday (and maybe even Saturday, as it turns out! sorry for inviting myself into your plans, Nan!).

Emotionally, I'm feeling... content. My dad invests in my interests, fleeting as they sometimes are, and my mom is my number one confidant. Last weekend, I spent time with my best friend from high school and her husband in Nashville, and we picked up just where we left off. And Boyfriend, he just gets me. And when he doesn't, he tries really, really hard to figure it out. And honestly, sometimes it all seems too good to be true, like I'm living in some sort of a Matrix.

And if that's the case, and I'm just plugged into some sort of Matrix machine, just leave me be. I've got a good thing going on.

How Can We Be Sure?

"A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic-- on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg-- or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not to intend to."

C.S. Lewis

I don't know why...

... summer always goes so quickly. It seems like just yesterday that I was ringing in the New Year in Asheville, NC.

... every ounce of my will power melts away when I encounter chocolate or baked goods. You'd think I'd get burnt out, but you'd be wrong.

... I can't stop playing Sudoku on my phone. Seriously, no matter what I'm doing-- on the phone with Boyfriend, riding shotgun down the road, watching TV-- I always have a game pulled up. Something about solving the puzzle is so calming to me.

... I can't get a job being a book reviewer. Dream job: reading and getting paid for it. Throw in a cozy wrap and a cute mug of Earl Grey, and... I'm too excited to even finish that thought.

... nostalgia is taking over my life. Two of my girls from when I was a Recruitment Pi Chi three years ago wrote on my wall this week about how they missed me, and I could've cried. My cousin leaves for my alma mater this week (or next?), and I get emotional just thinking about it. There is precious little more exciting than your first weeks as a freshman at Auburn.

... my cat refuses to be a snuggler. She goes through a five-minute phase of purring and kneading my lap, acting as though she might settle in for some quality bonding time, and then she's off on another adventure... always leaving me wanting more, that one.

... we don't speak like they did in the times of Elizabeth I. Those that know me know my irrational fascination with the Virgin Queen, her dad Henry VIII, and all things related to that time period, so it should be no surprise that Erica loaned me a book about Shakespeare for my summer reading binge. As I read, I can't help but wonder what's happened to the English language. In a generation where abbrevs (abbreviations, for those who aren't in the know) are the standard, we're along way from the Bard's artistry of language. It won't be long before we s.t.i.a. (start talking in acronyms).

I guess that sums up my unanswered questions for now, but I would like to send out a very special Howdy-do! to Sam and Jeremy. Thanks for stopping by, guys. I'll get the report from Alex when you're done.

Summer Reading

As a student, it was a pain. Somehow, it always snuck up on me, and for some reason, I always figured I could read all three or four books the week before school. In a panic, I'd even take summer books to work at the drug store and read in the slow times.

I never did get Employee of the Month.

I've always been a nerd, and that's something I've always been proud of. When other girls' daddies were calling them Princess, mine called me Nerdo. The truth is, I love to read... but something about being forced to read really got under my angsty, "rebellious" (how rebellious can a self-proclaimed geek be, really?) teenage skin. I wanted to read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, not The Great Gatsby or A Separate Peace.

In the same way that you don't appreciate nap time until you're in high school and well beyond cots and mats and vinyl records that play lullabies-- at least that's what we did at First Baptist Oneonta Preschool-- I'm just now really coming to appreciate summer reading. Dad comes to my room and asks how my unpacking effort is going... Oh, it's going. Or at least it will be once I finish this chapter of The Help. Alex calls to say goodnight, but I'll need to call him back just as soon as I find out what happens to Sookie Stackhouse.

And I wish I had a good excuse-- "I'm sorry, but I only have until next week to finish these books... or I'll fail." Now, what dad or boyfriend would want their loved one to fail? As that is not the case, though, I get exasperated sighs from anyone expecting me to get out of my warm chair, remove my cat from my lap, and put my book down to do something productive.


The moral of the story is... Productivity is overrated. If you need me, I'll be reading. Do Not Disturb.

Tis the season...

... for weddings.

Six weddings, to be exact. (See what I did there?)

This weekend Alex and I closed up our wedding season with not one but two weddings in Huntsville. We started off with a bang at a rehearsal dinner at The Ledges Friday night (fancy-schmancy to the extreme: cocktail hour, four-course meal, champagne toast... although, I poured mine into Al's glass when I realized sparkling grape juice was an option because, as it turns out, I'm 5). Saturday, we went to a noon wedding at First Presbyterian in downtown Huntsville.

Let me tell you, being late has it's perks. We walked into the vestibule just as the bride and her maids were lining up, so we were ushered up to folding chairs in the balcony. Seats closest to the exit = quickest exit. And you know what quickest exit means? First in line at the reception buffet, that's what. And we just happened to choose the tent that, unbeknownst to us, was next to the building that housed the cake... so once again, first in line, and this time for lemon pound cake with fresh raspberries and whipped cream and, in a fun twist on the groom's cake tradition, blackberry and peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. We couldn't have planned it better... and of course, we enjoyed being part of Laura's special day.

We had approximately three hours to kill before our 6 o'clock nuptials-- not ours, per se-- so I took drug Alex to Ulta, where I checked out every make-up sample available... including a lip gloss akin to what you might see on Barbi. And yes, it stayed with me for the rest of the evening. Alex dutifully played on his phone and tweeted his displeasure.

We arrived early for the six o'clock wedding, feeling certain that our luck wouldn't stay with us twice in one day. This wedding was First United Methodist in downtown Huntsville. Both churches were truly stunning and, although I love my church, I couldn't help but yearn for a church as old and traditional as these (my church was quite possibly just as old and traditional at one time, but it burned down the year before we moved to Guntersville... so the current church is large and modern, but still beautiful... but I digress).

We returned to the Ledges for this wedding's reception-- the previous night's rehearsal dinner had been for the noon wedding, which neither of us was actually in-- and we were once again impressed. This country club sits atop a mountain that overlooks the Huntsville skyline. And the address is Castle Down Drive because the clubhouse itself is, in fact, a castle. The cakes-- I'm becoming quite the wedding cake connoisseur-- were terrific, which is not always the case with wedding cakes but Saturday we had great cake karma. This time, the bride's cake was traditional vanilla, but not the stiff, dry kind you might encounter occasionally. The groom had two cakes: one chocolate, one caramel, both incredible. The band played MoTown, and we danced the night away overlooking Huntsville. Not too shabby.

Weddings are really the perfect date, we've decided. We get to dress up, have a nice meal-- or two-- and lots of cake, and dance until we're on the brink of socially unacceptable sweatiness (and sometimes usually we toe that line).

And as far as wedding dates go, Saturday made numbers five and six for Alex and me. We've really mastered this whole wedding date thing: I hold the table, he brings the bunch; I wear the heels, we dance less awkwardly; and sometimes, our outfits even coordinate.

So we've seen it all this summer... Presbyterian, Baptist, Episcopal, Methodist, indoor, outdoor, dry, full bar, no music, great bands, high church organs, and acoustic guitars.

I know Alex worries that when wedding season ends our date nights will suddenly be less appealing to me; I know I'll wonder why he doesn't wear a tie to drive-thru Chick-Fil-A on our way to rent a movie, for sure. So I'm sad to see this delightful-- and free!-- season of dating and dancing and dining come to an end-- once again, it should be noted that I have been genuinely pleased to be a part of every big day we've went to; I won't go into it, but I give Alex a sentimental talk about how we "were just part of the biggest days of their lives so far... have you stopped to appreciate that yet?!" after every wedding.

So I'm already excited about the out-of-season weddings ahead in October and March, that I know of right now, and hope that a few other unexpected ones might pop up-- is that selfish of me? Probably.