Nashville

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On the move… again

Friday, June 23rd, 2017

This little dream house… I can’t believe it, but I’ll be handing the keys over to someone else in July. My two years in Minneapolis have been abundantly sweet, rich, and healing — and now it’s time to go.

I will miss the amazing friends I’ve made, my perfect fence, and the cheese curds. I will grieve the loss of my trails every single day (although the projected Southwest light rail was going to ruin them eventually anyway, ugh). I CANNOT BELIEVE I’ll miss the chance to rent this house through Airbnb for Super Bowl LII. But I will always, always be grateful that I had the chance to live here. Minneapolis was never on my radar until I started flying here for work in 2012, and I fell in love with it. Everyone should be so lucky to get a chance to live here — not just despite the winter, but even because of it. It makes you tough, it’s pretty darn beautiful, and even if you hate it, the summer makes up for it all.

As for where I’m headed, well… see you soon, Nashville!

Never wasted

Wednesday, June 6th, 2012

I spent last weekend in Nashville, and it could not have been better – not even if Ryan Gosling had given me a puppy.  Not if I’d found a bucket of gold.

I’m at a loss as to how it happened, but in the two short years that I lived in Tennessee, I somehow developed the deepest of friendships with the widest network of people.  It’s like that song that kids sing in Sunday School, “Deep and wide, deep and wide, there’s a fountain flowing deep and wide” – except I won’t make you sing along with hand motions.  There is no dancing on this blog.

I was in town for three days, and every interaction, every conversation, felt meaningful.  Knowing how dry my spirit has been these days, my mom’s hope for me on this trip was that I would “only spend time with life-giving people” – which, given the folks I know in Nashville, is the easiest thing ever.

Miranda Runcie, Catherine Clement, Kelley Kirker, Kelli Liszka, Emily Konouchi, Ansley Quiros, Melissa Sproul, Julie Ott, Joy Beth Bodie, Cara Meissner, Hunter Lane, Duane Stephenson, David Nguyen, Zac Kubilus, Amanda Williams, Meg Souder, Joey & Brynn Sanchez, Annie Downs, Hitoshi Yamaguchi, Meredith Gruner, Paul Zimmerman-Clayton: time with you, no matter how short, is never, ever wasted.

Second place

Wednesday, December 21st, 2011

Today is my last day at Emma.

My sweetie friend Miles – the one who played guitar for my original LÄRABAR song, the one who gave me my most favorite nickname of all time (“Persnicket”), the one who makes work so much more fun – made me this.

That?  Is awesome.  And hilarious.

Thanks for the wonderful years, Emma.  Thanks for introducing me to some of the greatest people in my life.  Thanks for the chance to make Nashville home.  Thanks for acting as training wheels for my transition to Denver, and now launching me out on my own.  Thanks for teaching me how to talk to all sorts of people, and giving me the confidence to confront conflict, and guiding me toward grace under pressure.  Thank you for being exactly the right place during exactly the right time.

I kind of feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Except for… um, her?

Really, internet?  Really?

Well, so, okay.  Second place, I guess.

The time I said “EXPLODE” to homeland security

Wednesday, December 14th, 2011

So there I was at the Denver airport, heaving my bulging black suitcase onto the conveyor belt for the x-ray machine. This was just my carry-on – my REAL bag (a behemoth red Samsonite) had already been found 6 lbs. overweight at the ticket counter, leading me to put on my boots and jacket, stuff my curling iron and jewelry into my purse, and relegate various items of detritus to my smaller suitcase.

As the carry-on inched toward the x-ray machine, the TSA agent observed the swollen vessel, and made a comment that he didn’t know that it would make it through the machine.

“I know!” I laughed. “It’s about to explode!”

And right then and there, all of the air was sucked out of Denver International Airport.

The silence coddled the word like an overindulgent mother.

Explode.

EXPLODE.

I literally clapped my hand over my mouth, realizing what I had done – and then I sprung into action.

“Haha, I mean explode with my stuff. My STUFF – nothing dangerous, nothing sharp. I mean, except for high heels! Haha!”

No one else was laughing.

“Ma’am, we’re going to need to take a look in your bag.”

I was led to a sterile table where a blue-gloved person (man? woman? man?) asked, “If I open this bag, will anything harm me?”

“No! No, not at all,” I rushed. “All that’s in there is shoes. Oh, and a bunch of computer things. And I guess some snacks.”

Snacks is right.

The agent slowly, hesitantly, cautiously unzipped the suitcase, and beheld the contents.  “Ma’am, why do you have so many energy bars?”

Full disclosure: in my bag were hundreds of LÄRABARs.

“Well, those are for my co-workers in Nashville.”

“Okay…?”

And then, without further prompting, it all came tumbling out. “I resigned with the company – just last week, actually. I’ve been working for an email marketing company that’s based in Nashville – but I’m switching jobs. To LÄRABAR, actually. They’re based in Denver – I live in Denver. I just wanted to bring my Nashville friends some bars – as a little farewell, I guess.”

There it was. And there it is.

The suddenly indifferent agent waved me through security and all the way to Nashville, where I’ve given the bars to my friends at Emma – an understated thank you for the three years of support, camaraderie, and friendship they have given me.

Come January, I’ll join the marketing team for LÄRABAR, a brand that I have been evangelizing on my own for years. I am leaving an incredible company for another incredible company, which is not lost on me: this basically makes me the luckiest girl in the world. This is one of those moments where I can look back and see how the complicated, jagged-edged pieces have fit together perfectly, creating a gigantic flashing arrow, pointing me toward this next step.

So my suitcase may be emptier – but as much as my heart is tempted to feel the same (after all, I am giving up what has been a very good thing), it’s actually full to overflowing. I will spend the next week with some of my favorite people in Nashville, and then gently close the door on what has been a beautiful season in my life.

The goodbye is bittersweet, but the future feels warm and bright. In fact, my heart is exploding with sprinkles.

Just don’t tell TSA.

Row boat

Monday, August 15th, 2011

I’m back in Nashville this week, working in the office and seeing friends.  Every time I come back to Nashville, I’m struck by two things: how much this place still feels like home – and how things can’t ever be the way that they were before.

The longing for “the way things were” is my Achilles’ heel, and it has the power to sink me like a cinder block.  It doesn’t matter what my present looks like, or what the past actually was like – nostalgia is a revisionist, and cuts out the tough things so that only the best memories remain.

But I’m in my little row boat on the river of life, and time is the current that’s pulling me forward, forward, forward.  I’m thankful for the places I’ve seen, and the the people I’ve met, and the opportunities and adventures that have surprised me along the way.  I’ve survived rapids and waterfalls and the occasional overturned boat, only to find that the stream just keeps going.  Paddling back the other direction doesn’t get me very far, and leaves me frustrated and tired (not to mention hungry for a hot dog).

So I choose to be content in this little wooden vessel, oars at the ready to help determine my course, but ultimately trusting that the river is pulling me in the right direction.  This week, it’s looped me back through Nashville – and as always, I’m grateful.

Talk about my booty on the internet?

Thursday, February 24th, 2011

Don’t mind if I do.

And in case you think I’m a fraud because I’ve said I’m not training anymore, I ran 5 miles on the treadmill last night, and 7 outside on Saturday.  So, see?  I’m still doing my thang (although last year at this time, I was running 12 miles, so YES I KNOWWWW).

East Nasty really is something special.  If you live in Nashville and are a runner – or have any interest in becoming a runner – these are some of the greatest folks you could ever meet and run with.  They meet on Wednesday nights at 6pm on the corner of 11th & Holly in East Nashville – I think you should go.  Tell them Booty Girl sent you.

O-Emma-G

Friday, December 17th, 2010

Fanciness, merriment, and roistering.

Bacon-wrapped jalapeños stuffed with cheese.

And then, as if the night couldn’t get any more awesome, KARAOKE.

And even better, twirling at ROBERT’S.

I didn’t even look like a hobo.

Today, though?  I totally do.

Lordy.

Holiday hobo girl

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

This is the week, the one that happens every December, the one that I always tell myself that I’ll do differently next year but I never do.

It’s the week before Christmas, which always seems to be busier than the week of Christmas.  Parties, people, events, high heels, big hair, sugar, wine, beer, money that slips away like a hand full of water.  It’s the most fun, most crazy-making week.

I haven’t worked out since Sunday, which makes me feel completely deranged.  There is a pile of clothes, shoes, coats, and bras on my bed, and I just keep pushing it over to climb under the covers at night.  I haven’t been getting enough sleep.  I’ve eaten cookies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  My toenail polish is chipped.  I haven’t responded to emails and texts and phone calls (I probably owe you one – I’m so sorry).  My level of busyness is making me a gigantically cranky stress ball.

Tonight is our company holiday party, and last night, I pulled out the dress I was planning on wearing.  It’s wrinkled and dirty from last year.  Why do I never learn to have the dress dry-cleaned at the end of the season so it’s fresh the next year?  Now I’m going to look like a hobo.

So yes.  If you see a cranky, deranged woman in a stained satin dress wandering the streets of downtown Nashville tonight, hobbling in her high heels because of her broken toe and carrying her lipstick in a bindle instead of a purse, that’s me.

Or it’s Mindy McCready.

It’s either Mindy McCready or me.

Moving on up

Thursday, December 9th, 2010

Nashville – #10
Denver – #9

Apparently, I’m getting prettier.

Also: woe to Memphis.

Please don’t claw your face off.

Friday, September 3rd, 2010

I’m a creature of habit, a woman of routine.  I take comfort in consistency.  I like knowing what is “for sure” and to be counted on.  When I show up somewhere, I want to be prepared, to know what to expect, to be ready.

Are you like that?

When you show up here on Fridays, do you expect a new entry of (Bosom) Friend Fridays?  And if a new one isn’t posted, do you want to claw your face off?  Because when I have an expectation that isn’t met, I want to claw my face off.

Now, I have an arsenal of amazing chums just waiting to be written about.  I love writing about these friends, because it makes me happy, and it reminds me of how lucky I am to know such remarkable people.

But some weeks, life gets crazy, and I have two different out-of-town guests, and work is busy, and I try to keep exercising so I don’t go nuts, and I pack 71 pounds of luggage to fly across the country, and I’m too busy EXPERIENCING my friends to WRITE about them.

And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

So – hello, Nashville.  It’s so, so nice to be back.