Hallo-weanie

Can we talk?

I know there will be groans all around from the young at heart, but I’ve got to be honest: I’m not a fan of Halloween.

People everywhere are looking forward to lots and lots of Halloween festivities. But me? I’m glad to have a wedding to go to that allows me the excuse, “Oh no, I wish I could come to your raging Halloween party, but I’ve got this wedding to go to… Shucks!” (and, obviously, I’m genuinely excited to see one of my best friends tie the knot with his lovely bride—it seems like just yesterday that he brought her to my house over Christmas break… but I digress).

Halloween’s just never been that big of a deal to me. As a child, we would dress up and trick-or-treat, but we lived just west of Po-Dunk and my main benefactors were my grandparents and my babysitter. And this usually resulted in a plastic pumpkin full of fruit and those undistinguishable orange and black candies.

I’ve never been allowed to watch scary movies, and for good reason—the one time I went rogue and watched ‘Are You Afraid of the Dark?’ I had nightmares for weeks. As a result, I still don’t subscribe to the horror genre.  I would rather polish the silver and scrub the baseboards than sit through a Paranormal Activity-like movie. I’ve never even seen Scream, and, among my generation, that’s unheard of. So, no Halloween movie marathons for me. This only further exasperates my distaste for Halloween as I am now forced to avoid ABC Family’s “13 Nights of Horror” or whatever. Look, “Hocus Pocus” scared me as a child and it scares me now. Disney or not.

Even the opportunity to dress up doesn’t thrill me. Frankly, I collapse under the pressure to come up with a clever costume. I’m not looking for an excuse to wear thigh-high stockings and bloomers, so that cuts out costume stores with ceiling-high stacks of custom costumes for the “modern woman”: slutty pirate, slutty witch, slutty cheerleader, slutty demon… let’s cut through all this red tape and just be slutty, huh? In my humble opinion, I’d rather be bundled up on a cold October night… but what do I know?

Don’t get me wrong—I love fall. I love pumpkins and mums, and nothing makes me smile like driving down a country road shrouded in trees of orange, red, and yellow.  I love houses decorated with hay bales and country scarecrows and the fact that everything in Starbucks is currently pumpkin-flavored. I like a good fall-scented candle and a juicy caramel-covered apple; I’ll even throw caution to the wind and enjoy a hayride once in a blue moon, provided that it’s not a “haunted hayride.” The crisp, cool air… the sound of Kirk Herbstreit and Lou Holtz in my living room every weekend… a smorgasbord of new tailgating treats… These are the kind of fall celebrations I can get into. Not the ghouls, goblins, and undead.

practically perfect.

Every now and then, at the end of the day, I can't help but grin about how good life is... or, I should say, how good the Giver of Life is. Today's one of those days. This weekend has been practically perfect in every way, if I do say so myself-- as you can see, I'm choosing not to acknowledge a little something-something that went down in the Bayou. Let's just not talk about it.

Friday, Alex showed up around 7. Perfect timing-- I had just woken up from my afternoon nap. A much needed nap after two days of subbing for 8th graders. We-- of course-- pulled a new recipe off of Pinterest and got started tag teaming the eats right away. Taco stuffed pasta shells. Probably my favorite Pinterest find so far. While our food baked, we whipped up a French toast casserole for the next morning (Paula Dean insists that it sit overnight, and I don't argue with Paula) and caught up on Modern Family.

Once we pulled our shells out of the oven, we settled on How Do You Know?, a promising movie with Reese Witherspoon, Paul Rudd, Owen Wilson, and Jack Nicholson. Or so we thought. There's not a likable character in the movie and the plot never seems to really take off, so it's impossible to really connect with the movie. About an hour in, the funniest part of the movie was our jokes about how awful the movie was.

Saturday morning, Dad and Al had a little male bonding over ESPN while I hit the gym. They hardly even noticed when I lunged across the room, dripping sweat and grunting. Dad only acknowledged me long enough to suggest I bring them drinks. Men.

After a work out and a much-needed shower, Alex and I headed to the pumpkin patch downtown. Listen, this was the first time I'd carved a pumpkin since I was in a single digit age group. Read: Big Deal. I wandered around that patch for nearly half an hour pondering over the perfect pumpkin. Alex settled quickly on a tall, skinny pumpkin, an obvious pick for him. But on that ideal fall day, I was on a mission for an ideal pumpkin. Eventually, I settled on a shorter, squattier pumpkin that I thought was pretty much perfect.

At home, Mom had made brunswick stew for lunch-- always a hit. So we chowed down on that while we watched the first half of a football game that we won't mention here. During halftime, we headed outside for the carving of the pumpkins. As it turns out, I'm a pretty speedy pumpkin carver, so after I finished my own little work of art, I spent my time taking pictures of Alex carving his pumpkin. So you can look forward to an Alex + Pumpkin album on Facebook any day now. It took longer than halftime to finish up our pumpkins, but as it turns out... that's probably for the best.

Next up, I got started on the apple dip for the Alabama game. Alex watched the first half of the game at my house, and I worked on a sewing project for Mom's deck. If you caught the first half of the Bama-Tennessee game, you might can appreciate that it was lucky I had something to keep me out of the room while my Bama boyfriend tried not to pull every hair out of his head. At halftime, we headed to the Brazeltons, and that seemed to make all the difference in Bama's performance. So you're welcome for that, Bama fans.

This morning, we went to church-- Mom's my Sunday school teacher, and it's been a lot of fun to watch the college and career class grow. She's developed quite the little crew of Snead students, which is fairly impressive considering Snead State is two cities over.

After church, we headed for Oneonta for some family time. I've pretty much been looking forward to this little event for weeks. We celebrated my grandmother's birthday-- her 40th, I think-- and spent the day catching up and laughing. And laughing and laughing and laughing. Mallory provided a good deal of the entertainment as she has learned that when she applauds, the room applauds her back. So every few minutes, she'd clap her little hands and scream, and we'd all clap back and yell, "Yayyyyy!" And that little sasspot would collapse in giggles. I might be a little biased, but she's basically the cutest baby on this entire planet.

From there, the parents and I headed to my other grandmother's house for a little visit, where Dad and I promptly started pillaging her stuff. Sometimes we fancy ourselves something close to treasure hunters, so we climbed up in the attic-- I climbed tights and boots and all, thank you very much-- and rummaged through boxes in search of my Papaw's old wide-brimmed hats. The hats were never found, but I did claim a couple of antique suitcases. I also managed to convince my grandmother that her old wedding bands-- the thin one from her engagement at age 15 and the wider one from later in her marriage-- would look lovely on my naked hands. So it was a pretty successful visit indeed.

For the rest of the night, I've laid in bed and watched TV. And I'm not even embarrassed to say that. I watched ABC's new show 'Once Upon A Time,' and I was not disappointed in the least. In fact, I'm really looking forward to another episode. Like now. Patience was never my strong suit.

And now Boyfriend has called, and that signifies the end of my day. So goodnight, friends.

thoughts & things

I wish I had something really thoughtful and clever to share, but alas. I do not.

Instead, I will delight you with thoughts that run through my head as I watch the next-to-last episode of this season's Project Runway.

Pinterest is taking over my life. But unlike Facebook, it's actually been really productive. Instead of perusing album after album of my friends pictures, I'm bookmarking cute ideas and new recipes and then-- here's the good part!-- I'm actually DOING them. I had this big plan to upload pictures and do a very bloggy-blog about recipes and projects with step by step instructions and so on, but I'm like the world's laziest picture uploader... so... we'll see if that ever comes to fruition. In the meantime, I've gotten a thousand pictures of mini Twix cheesecakes on my phone just waiting for the opportunity to be blogged. I have at least gone back and made comments on the recipes I've made (with lots and lots of help from Boyfriend, who actually really enjoys tag teaming a meal, a trait he gets from his lovely parents) so that re-pinners can learn from my experiments. For instance, this will come as a shock, but... the mini cheesecakes would have been better with full-fat cream cheese.

I did circuit training tonight because-- duh-- I'm eating mini cheesecakes on the weekends-- and it nearly killed me. I fully expect to be crippled by morning. If you're unfamiliar with circuit training, it's basically five different moves for 30 seconds each with no rest in between, rest 20 second, repeat two more times. We'll call that a block. Then you jog for 30 seconds, run for 30 seconds for 5 minutes. Then it's back to a different block with the same formula: 5 moves, 30 seconds each, no rest in between until all five moves are complete.... and back to the jog-run switcheroo. You get the drift. You do 3 circuits of workout blocks and 5-minute cardio blocks. Then I hit the elliptical for 25 minutes because last week's episode of Project Runway had come on and I didn't want to leave it and I didn't want to just sit in my sweat. And believe me-- I'm a sweater. Girls that can work out and still have a bouncy-beautiful ponytail just disgust me. When I'm done working out, I have strings of wet hair sticking to my neck and a bun on top of my head that's dripping. Cute, huh?

I talked to Alex about being a "running couple" one day. He vetoed that idea. I'm thinking it has to do with the sweat problem...

I subbed today and actually got to teach, which is rare for a sub, and I loved it. Loved. It. Usually, we subs are stuck with a video and a worksheet. Well, today was no exception, but by the time 7th period rolled around, the projector and the VCR were no longer speaking for whatever reason. As luck would have it, the subject matter was something of a specialty of mine.
My dad and I have always been very into sci-fi/fantasy kind of stuff, much to my mother's chagrin and a lifetime of eye rolls. So it's no surprise that Greek mythology has always been a big part of the literature of my life. And today I got the chance to actually teach a class about something that's really interesting (when appreciated as literature-- don't freak out). And for one of the first times in a teaching situation, I really felt like I connected with the students. They were engaged, they asked questions, they put the pieces together. It was fantastic-- a truly proud moment for me. For a split second, I considered that I should pursue (yet another) degree in secondary education. Fortunately, it occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to only teach the things I'm interested in, so that dream ended there.. But maybe I'll land a guest speaking gig from time to time.


When I got home from the gym, my dad had brought me dinner from Gunter's Landing, including a fantastic French onion soup and their signature salad, and-- drum roll, please-- a chocolate covered apple. I mean, hello-- could I be more spoiled? It was pretty much the perfect way to end my day-- my favorite pajama pants, my giant armchair, delicious dinner and a delightful dessert (I saved half for breakfast tomorrow!), and my favorite reality TV-- ahhhh, I wish everyday could be so good.

And now, after a long day of teaching and a hard work out, I'm going to reward myself with some pinning and then hit the hay. And I won't be mad if I'm snoozing by 10.

homecoming.

This Friday, the Guntersville Wildcats celebrated their annual homecoming football game with a definitive victory over the DAR Patriots. There was a parade, a queen, and revelry all around... but this Guntersville alum wasn't there.

I was having my very own homecoming of a different kind.

Saturday morning, as I flew down 280, I called my mom with a big, "Good morning and War Eagle! I'm heading home!" Home to the Loveliest Village on the Plains, that is.

This is the second year in a row that the pledge sisters and I have gathered at Jo's apartment for a girls' weekend on the campus where we all met. I've been looking forward to it for weeks, and I must say, it didn't disappoint.

I started off Saturday morning with a chicken biscuit and a Diet Dr. Pepper from McDonald's, so it was a good day right away. And as soon as I pulled on to 280, I joined the Auburn Family caravan. Every car on that endless 4-lane highway was decked out with Auburn flags flying from car windows, Aubie tails hanging from trunks (admittedly, a decoration I've never really understood because it doesn't turn your car into a quasi Aubie so much as look like you stuffed unconscious Aubie into your trunk... but to each their own. It's the spirit that counts, I guess), personalized license plates and an Auburn sticker. There was no doubt where we were all headed, and those that were just out running Saturday morning errands were passed by a weaving snake of Auburn fans, one by one.

As I rolled past the first official Auburn University sign, I rolled my windows down and jacked my music up. After a year, I was finally home again.

When I got to Jo's, all the girls were still lazing around in their PJ's after a night out on the town. Saturday morning mimosas were the perfect compliment to a morning of doing each other's make-up, borrowing each other's clothes, and catching up on every detail of each girl's life.

The weather was perfect with a cloudless sky, warm sun, and cool breeze, and by 2:00, we were officially established at our tailgate on campus. Barbeque, brownies, dips, and cold drinks abounded as we played corn hole, latter ball, and War Eagle'd every passing fan.

When the moment came to enter the stadium, I got chills and a smile I couldn't suppress. It's really beyond words how I love that town, that team, that stadium... that moment. You walk into the concrete colossus where you're separated from the sun for just a minute before walking up the tunnel and emerging into the stadium, where a blanket of green grass and thousands of "family members" wait to cheer with you. Ah, there are those chills again.

Chasley's family scored us prime seats in the lower bowl on the 40-yard line, so we settled in just time to see Nova take flight from the flag pole. Let me tell you-- if you've never seen that beautiful bird soar around the stadium to the soundtrack of thousand screaming War Eagle, you can just go ahead and add that to your bucket list right this very moment.

So okay-- real talk. That game was ugly. Painful even. Every time the refs gathered with the teams, I couldn't help but think he was saying, "Now you guys get the ball and take it that way, and you other guys try to stop them. Got it?" But as football fans around the nation love to say, a W is a W, and I'll take it either way.

After the game, we stood by and cheered as the football players jumped into the student section to cheer with their adoring fans. We hugged and swayed as we sang the Alma Mater. Okay, none of us know the Alma Mater, but we hugged and swayed and hummed along. And as we walked through campus, we War Eagle'd complete strangers and cheered that, "It's great to be an Auburn Tiger." And the truth is, it is.

Even if we don't win every game. Even if we didn't win a single game. It would still warm my heart and thrill my soul to walk through that campus, to relive those memories-- those of one of the happiest chapters of my life. It's hard to be the feeling of being a proud alum. You can believe that my Auburn University diploma will hang proudly wherever I end up. And along with it, I hope there are pictures of me and my girls on that campus... no matter how many new buildings spring up or how many businesses close their doors or how many games or won or lost.


From the hollowed walls we'll part,
And bid thee sad adieu;
Thy sacred trust we'll bear with us
The ages through.

We hail thee, Auburn, and we vow
To work for thy just fame,
And hold in memory as we do now
Thy cherished name.


And that, my dear good friends, are a few of the actual Alma Mater lyrics. How fitting indeed.

A day in the life.

Before the semester began, I plopped down at the kitchen table where Mom was sitting and Dad was lounging behind the kitchen counter, and declared that I was going to have to come up with a hobby. I had already plunged through 4 books in two weeks, and I was having a hard time focusing my eyes on anything outside of a one-foot radius after squinting at book after book for hours on end.

So I agreed to teach Extended Day as well as extend my substitute teaching range to the elementary schools. And then I took up violin. And joined the gym.

Then there's my practicum hours once a week when I'm the counselor's intern at the middle school. And there's the drive to Tuscaloosa on Wednesday mornings, class from 4-5 and clinic from 5-8 and individual supervision meeting from 8-9 on Wednesday nights, and the drive back home on Thursday mornings.

And it just so happens that Alex and I have joint-custody of our relationship, swapping weekends back and forth between Birmingham and Guntersville with a few trips to Nashville, Tuscaloosa, Huntsville, Muscle Shoals and so on thrown in here and there. These little trips take away from the general "relaxation" feel of a weekend-- somehow driving hours on end never seems to give me that good rest I need. Although, I do often find it hard to keep my eyes open once I hit those county roads.

When you add football season on top of that, I'm just all booked up. Even weekends when Al comes to me are filled to the brim with tailgating galore-- cooking, baking, traveling, and making merry with friends from all around. Auburn games with my friends, Bama games with his. And it is truly, truly very fun-- but, again, not exactly restful. Although, I may or may not have snoozed through the second half of the Bama-Florida game at Eric and Molly's house-- but trust me, they did more than enough cheering with or without me.

So tonight is a rare night when I didn't have a dinner date with a long lost friend or a hair appointment or work out buddy to meet. Since I took care of getting my oil changed and tires rotated yesterday, I thought I would make tonight equally as productive. Yesterday, my plan for tonight was to come home from teaching Extended Day, put my workout clothes on, work on a sewing project that's taking up a considerable amount of our basement floor, and then hit the elliptical while I watched Biggest Loser (fitting, yes?).

Well, my intentions were good... and they say it's the thought that counts.

In reality, I came home, shed my dress pants and let the exhaustion of 7 hours of teaching kids about bullying and 3 hours of managing the zoo extended day classroom roll off my body. I hopped into my work out clothes-- intentions still good!-- and sat down to dinner with my mom before heading down to work on my sewing project. I sat down on my bed for a minute-- just ONE minute!-- the next thing I know, Macy is snuggled up next to me and we're halfway into Biggest Loser's NFL week. My man Tebow is leading the workout, and I'm lost in an internal struggle of how I would break it off with Alex in the even that Tim Tebow asked me out (just kidding, dear... or am I?). I did get out of bed just long enough to guide my mom-- rookie gym rat-- through a workout, during which time I ran on the elliptical. So it wasn't a total waste-- but it wasn't even a third of what I had planned.

But you know what? I'm seriously enjoying a little down time with my cat and my favorite reality TV show. And if it wasn't for the presence of sweet Alex, I would think this was a preview of my future: cat lady with a reality television addiction.

Who am I kidding? This is a preview of my future. It just happens to include Alex. Lucky guy.

Birthday Bliss, Part II

As if my birthday present on Saturday night wasn’t enough, Sunday completed a weekend of birthday merriment.

On Saturday, Erica had mentioned that she regretted not telling me to head up to Nashville early enough to eat at one of her favorite eateries—The Loveless Café. I had heard her mention it and its wonders before, so I was immediately disappointed as well. Wouldn’t you know that Sunday morning, Lauren pokes her head into my bedroom to say, “Hey, there’s this place just down the road called the Loveless. Were you planning on sticking around for lunch?” As it turns out, the restaurant closest to Lauren and Ivan’s is the Loveless Café.

With this little piece of fate sliding right into place, I knew it was going to be a good day. We headed on our merry way over to the Loveless to begin our one and a half hour wait. At some places, this would be outrageous, but at the Loveless it’s pretty standard business. With that in mind, the café has turned the parts of its campus that were once an adjoining motel into a country store and other merchant booths. So we spent our hour and a half sipping Coca-Cola from an old-fashioned glass bottle and sitting on the porch of the country store. I also picked up a few little happies there—a combo package of a Moon Pie and RC Cola and a trio pack of the Loveless’ famous fruit preserves.

Inside the Loveless, I at last encountered what Erica must love so much. They start off the meal with made-from-scratch biscuits that could give my Great-Grandma Vice a run for her money—she’s past on now or I wouldn’t dare say that aloud—and a sample dish of preserves: peach, strawberry, and blackberry. Alex and Lauren agreed that their favorite was the strawberry, but I leaned more toward the peach. I think my mom’s going to love the blackberry, though, so I splurged on the trio pack, as mentioned. After an appetizer of biscuits and preserves, I slid right on into my chocolate chip pancakes. Oh. My. Word. I love you, Huddle House, but please get with it. Alex created a sample platter of breakfast-meat biscuits from the a la carte menu, and Lauren had the steak biscuit with a side of hashbrown casserole. I helped myself to a little sampling of both of theirs, and I was pleased with all of it. Well done, Loveless. It was worth the wait.

It was hard to move after our lunch-gorge, but we pressed forward with our next big adventure: the Nashville Zoo. Alex and I have been talking about going to a zoo for some time now, but we’ve been waiting for a weekend that wasn’t sweltering hot. On this Sunday, the weather was, of course, ideal. ‘Ideal,’ in fact, seemed to be the theme of the weekend.

When we arrived at the Zoo, Alex wanted to park in the elephant parking lot, and I insisted that we find the tiger parking lot, so we compromised with the gibbon parking lot (that’s a monkey, if you haven’t brushed up on your zoo animals lately) and made our way to the entrance. As we waited to buy our tickets, I stood by and listened for a moment before realizing that everyone else was speaking another language. As my eyes drifted toward the memo kiosk, I saw that it was Latin Family Fun Fest day at the Nashville Zoo. With mariachi bands playing over the PA system, Alex and I felt right at home all day long.

My greatest take away from the zoo is this: I can’t wait to talk to God about it. Throughout the day, Alex and I tried to guess what God was thinking about when he made these creatures, like a tortoise that looked like a s’more with marshmallows bubbling out of its shell. We marveled too that it was no wonder that the snake was the vessel of Satan in the Garden—every slither of this particular animal looks deceitful and intimidating. I get shivers just thinking about it. And I would have loved to have discussed the spiders with Alex, but someone had to skip to the next exhibit each time we encountered a spider. But I won’t name names.

My favorite exhibit, as it has been since my parents took my brother and I to the Atlanta Zoo, was the meerkat exhibit. Cutest. Animals. Ever. These adorable little creatures vacillate between supremely alert—sitting back on their haunches with their little arms drawn up to their chests, peering around at the intruders in their midst—to lazy and lounging. We watched as one meerkat reclined on his back on a sunbathed rock, his eyes slowly shutting every few minutes just to fly open when his head snapped back with full-on sleep—it reminded me of trying to sit through “Big Church” at my grandmother’s church as a child.

I had looked forward to seeing my Tiger brethren all day, and was delighted to alight upon them just in time for the keeper’s talk. Unfortunately, my bubble of interest in these giant kitties was burst when the keeper told me that the tigers, ripping and shredding chunks of meat in their little “jungle” home, were dining on horsemeat. I asked him where the zoo found said horsemeat and was told that, since horse slaughterhouses are illegal in the U.S. (for good reason!!), they imported the horsemeat from Toronto. Apparently, the horse meat is closer to what the Bengals would be eating in the wild, but I was happier thinking that they dined on some equally delicious mystery meat, harvested painlessly from a non-existent animal.

By the time we got to the African section of the Zoo, where the giraffes, zebras, and elephants were waiting for us, we had hiked what we guessed was about 3 miles. Before, we had thought that parents pushing their kids in strollers were promoting slothfulness. Not so—these parents were, in fact, preventing hours of whining and complaining. Three miles or so is quite the little journey for such little legs. Duly noted.

After a short break in the bamboo forest to rest our weary feet, we had only the African safari left to conquer. The elephants were truly breathtaking. They look so gentle, and yet they’re so large and magnificent. They get an extra large section of the zoo since they need that much more roaming space, so we were able to view them from multiple vantage points, and I was fascinated and each and every stop.

Our last stop in Africa, and before the exit, was the giraffe exhibit. Their bizarre proportions make them absolutely fascinating, and their affectionate behavior had me ooh-ing and ahh-ing before we even came to a complete stop. It wasn’t long, however, before I recognized this “affection” for what it really was. As the smaller female giraffe stood innocently by, the larger male would cozy up behind her. He stood there quietly for a moment, like he was giving her time to acclimate to the closer vicinity. Then he would nudge a little further forward, at which time the female would casually walk away. At first, I thought that the male was about to force his will on her, but it soon became apparent that the female was flirting, as she nuzzled the male’s neck as she walked away. After a few moments of this mating dance, it seemed that a little, shall we say, “animal husbandry” was inevitable, and Alex wasn’t sure he could stand by and watch. After having my own tiger dreams crushed, I decided his perception of the animal kingdom as sweet and miraculous was better left spared.

So as far as we’re concerned, tigers eat giant kitty treats and giraffes are brought by enormous storks and zoos are the perfect way to end a perfect weekend.

Birthday Bliss

Ladies and gentlemen, drum roll please…

The winner of the 2011 Boyfriend of the Year Award goes to… my very own, Alex Ruggles!

For my 24^th birthday (technically, September 28), Alex gifted me with two tickets to see one Taylor Swift in concert in Nashville. If you know me, you know that this is a really, really, really big deal. From the moment he told me, I knew this was going to be a ridiculously cool birthday present. And I just had no idea.

On the last weekend of August, Alex and I had gone to Muscle Shoals to visit his parents. On the way home from church, I suggested that we have some of my friends who Alex hadn’t met yet over on a weekend that I knew Alex was going to be in Guntersville. Immediately, he said no, don’t plan anything. Perturbed by my endless need to plan weeks in advance, he told me that “the cat was halfway out of the bag,” and further illustrated that the cat’s back legs were out and now it was just going crazy with its head left in the bag. Hello, internal struggle.

A few hours later, we had made our way onto a jet ski and into the middle of the lake, and Alex could take it no longer. The cat in the bag was apparently getting frantic. So we stopped there in the middle of the lake and he dropped one of his signature truth bombs on me: on Saturday, September 17, we were going to see my girl Taylor in Nashville. He had already talked it over with my best friend Lauren, and we were going to crash at her and her husband’s home in Nashville. Taylor Swift and my lifetime bestie in one weekend? Could it get any better? Oh yes, indeed it could.

We arrived in Nashville on Saturday just in time to have a cheeseburger at an Irish pub just off Broadway in Downtown Nashville. The smell and the sparse crowd weren’t promising, but the burgers were surprisingly good—I guess low expectations can go a long way. Afterward, we trekked back up Broadway to the Bridgestone Arena.

I had carefully not allowed myself to get too worked up until this moment. As we approached the arena—dressed just like the rest of Nashville with me in my sundress and cowboy boots and Alex in plaid and dark jeans—my heart began to race and my camera took on a life of its own. I took snapshot after snapshot of downtown, the arena, the tour bus, us in downtown, us in front of the arena, us in front of the tour bus, us on the escalator… you get the picture.

The show started out by opening with a band called Needtobreathe. All I knew about this band is that it is a good friend of mine’s favorite and the only part of the show that Al was really looking forward to (although he put up a good show for my sake). Needtobreathe didn’t disappoint—the band was truly talented from the musicians to the lyrics.

And then…. The Main Event! After a brief intermission, Taylor came out in a shower of theatrics. She worked a metallic gold dressed and belted out ‘Sparks Fly’ before letting the crowd know how happy she was to see us. Obviously, she meant me, but I understand that she felt like she needed to acknowledge everyone else. It’s just good business.

Taylor has this delightful way of coming out on stage with this “Aw, shucks” look, as though she’s truly shocked to find us all here watching. After almost every number, her jaw drops and she looks around in awe as the crowd goes wild around her. This could seem a bit contrived if you think about it—I assume she does this same routine at every show she does—but if it is, I would like to nominate Taylor for an Oscar. Even Alex agreed that she seemed completely and truly humbled to have so many people there supporting her.

In between “sets,” when Taylor was being changed into her next costume and the stage was magically morphing into a new scene, a chimney sweep tapped his way across the stage in an extremely entertaining show of talent. And then Taylor popped out of the floor, seemingly from nowhere. In her white flowing prairie dress, she picked up a banjo and joined a string band for a few numbers, including the first Taylor song I ever really loved—Our Song.

I could describe every set change, but then this blog is getting long enough as it is. Bravo if you’ve stuck with it. So I’ll just hit the highlights. Among them, a tree made up of twinkling Christmas lights descended into the audience in the back of the arena, so Taylor made her way—escorted by multiple guards—through a crowd of fainting teenagers desperately reaching out for a touch from their idol. And she obliged, over and over. At the back of the arena, she sat at the base of the tree and played Fearless, Last Kiss, and a few others while the tree turned slowly, giving all of us in the back a closer look.

After she made her way back to the stage, there many more memorable costume changes, but the most excitement was brought about by the “special friends” Taylor brought out. First, she introduced a man known and loved throughout the South for his songs about youth, football, and summertime… “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Kenny Chesney!” Kenny came out to a roar of applause and played a duet with Taylor—of course, he seemed to be a bit intoxicated and seemed to lose his way around the second verse, but he eventually caught back up and finished strong. Apparently, this is a pretty common happening with ol’ Kenny.

And then, the grand finale. As all stars do, Taylor brought down the curtain and the crowd went wild for an encored. The curtain opened once more to an open stage—out of the center of the stage, a couch was rising slowly. Perched a top in a yards and yards of tulle, was Taylor with a man in a black cowboy hat who could be recognized even at my seat in the upper deck.

“Is that TIM MCGRAW!?!? Oh my gosh, that’s Tim McGraw!!”

At this point, I just lost my mind. I leaned forward with my jaw dropped for the duration of Tim’s song—Just to See You Smile—and for nearly an hour afterward. Now, at this point, we lost most of the 10-18 year old audience. They looked around at each other confused as to why their parents and other adults were going nuts, but I immediately morphed into a teenage girl at an N*Sync concert. At the peak of his fame when I was 13, the man’s still got it at 23-going-on-24.

So there you have it—what is quite possibly my best birthday present ever. And to think, my “birthday weekend” (a little early though it was) wasn’t even over yet.