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Hello reader of my blog, If you happened to click over to this blog from one of my profiles or a past post, head on over to my new URL lauramcclellan.com! As of Oct 26, 2011 all of my past & future posts can be found here. Thanks!!

0140: The Empress, Part 2 [Fiction Friday]

This week, I was so excited to have won a writing contest in conjunction with Jackson Pearce's release of her newest book, Sweetly. My submission was called "The Empress," and played off The Emperor's New Clothes. I realize you may have read the above information approximately three times already in the rare event that you are an avid reader of my blog, but I wanted to update anyone else who may be reading this and does not read all of my posts (which, let's face it, is probably most of you). Anyway, I've finally finished editing part 2 of The Empress. The delay is partially due to the fact that I spent many of my waking hours before Sept. 28-29 frantically preparing for a conference at work, partially due to the limitations I put on myself by dubbing this series "Fiction Friday," and partially due to the fact that I edit my writing about 1800 times before I let anyone see it. Let me know what you think--I may keep writing until it actually morphs into something similar to a book, depending on if I can keep a plot going that long. We'll see! Click "Read More" to read it. Hope you enjoy!

The Empress, Part 2

The smell of cafeteria fish sticks and generic cleaning solution wafted through the air as Kristi and I shuffled through the doorway into the Senior lunch room. I made way to our usual seats near the radiator and plunked down on the hard, plastic bench, dropping my lunch bag onto the bright orange table. Kristi brushed the seat off and smoothed her skirt before gracefully sliding into her seat and crossing her legs. We couldn't be more different. “Are you sure you're okay?” I asked her, trying to get a good look at her eyes to see if she was going to tell me the truth. “What?” she looked up from her sandwich. “Oh—uh, yeah, I'm fine, ” she said quietly with a half-hearted smile, her eyes sinking back towards her lunch. “I can't believe she did that to you. One of these days Jessica Bingham is going to get what's coming to her. She can't just strut around, spewing out whatever nonsense happens to pop into her brain about people she doesn't even know, just because people are too afraid to---” “Really, Sam,” she interjected. “It's okay.” I know when Kristi is done talking about something, so I concentrated very hard on keeping my mouth shut. And I succeeded. For about 30 seconds. “But seriously, Kris. It's not okay. Don't you care that people think you couldn't get into this school on your own? That your uncle had to buy your way in? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. When I--” “Exactly. It's ridiculous. Can we please drop it?” I sighed and resolved to focus my attention elsewhere. I opened my wrinkled brown paper bag and dumped out the contents onto the table. An orange, a Diet Coke and a power bar tumbled out. I have got to learn how to get up earlier in the morning and make this lunch thing happen. Suddenly I caught a whiff of vanilla-scented air, followed by the sounds of a hideous giggle about 30 yards to my right. It was her. I had half a mind to walk up to her, throw a left hook at her face, then walk away without any explanation. Kristi would be appalled. Maybe if I was more subtle. What if I just casually walked by to get a napkin, then on my way back “accidentally” bumped into her, spilling her peach Fanta all over her sequined white blouse? Yeah, solid. That should work. “Um, I'm just going to go get a napkin,” my voice quivers slightly as I slide out from the bench. I clear my throat to make up for the voice crack and wait for an answer. Kristi doesn't acknowledge me. I wheel around to my right and start walking—casually--towards Jessica and her followers—I mean, friends. Their conversation gradually becomes more audible. “It's so unfair. He said that my dancing was impeccable but my singing needs major work. Ridiculous. I was born to be in that showcase,” Jessica whined to the other two girls. Suddenly I had an idea. It was kind of in a grey area morally, I suppose, but she had hurt my best (and only) friend, and I will not stand for that. “Um, Jessica?” I poked my head around the shoulder of the taller follower. “Yes?” she said shortly, as if her world had just screeched to an unwelcome halt, clearly peering over my head at the clock on the wall. “I'm Sam. We went to elementary school together?” Her eyes dropped to meet mine. She just stood there staring at me with one hand on her hip, and the other twirling a piece of golden hair. The silence dragged on for what felt like minutes. “Um, well, anyway, I couldn't help but hear as I was walking by—to get a napkin—that you might be in need of a little help, um...vocally?” She may be obnoxious and unintelligent, but she's still scary. “And?” she shot back. “Oh, well—um, my parents are vocal coaches, and they have this special vocal elixir stuff that can make even the worst singers sound like professionals.” I was babbling like an idiot. “Even the worst singers?” Pull it together, O'Shea! “Not that you're a bad singer, that is—I'm sure since you only need a little help, it'd definitely work for you,” I tried to recover the situation. Nice save. “Bring me some tomorrow,” she said tersely, then spun around and sashayed into the distance. And that was it. I was in. Kristi, you can thank me later.

0139: Drawing Lines

I once saw Chris Tomlin wear pleather pants on stage. Dare I say, they were patent pleather. How do I know they were patent pleather? I was sitting on the 2nd row. They had several zippers. Several. Light beamed from them in all directions. I'm pretty sure they were black, and he topped them off with some kind of equally-shiny skater shoes. Though to be fair that was about 4 years ago, so that could just be my caricatured memory of it. I laughed about it. I mean, come on, he was wearing shiny pleather pants. But as I look back on that instance (it obviously stuck with me--see: zippered pleather pants), I was not just laughing at the silliness of the pants, I was trying to distance myself from the "uncool" Christian on stage. The fact is, despite the fashion monstrosity, Chris Tomlin was on stage because he was leading thousands of people in worship that night, facilitating bringing them into the presence of God. I failed to see that because I was too caught up in what separated us rather than what united us. Over the years as I have experienced many aspects of Christian culture, I have run into several other things that evoke a similar judgmental cynicism in me, and it usually has to do with whether I think that person is being genuine or not. Whether its a word-for-word rehearsed speaking style, a sermon story with an undeterminable source (Did this happen in real life? Did this come from an e-mail forward? So many questions...), a worship leader without an instrument (apparently for me there is a fine line between worship leader and performer, and that line is an instrument) or clapping in between every song at church, I start to draw lines between me and them. Recently I have taken note of a couple verses in Luke that has convicted me of this attitude towards other Christians. John answered, “Master, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he does not follow with us.” But Jesus said to him, “Do not stop him, for the one who is not against you is for you.” (Luke 9:49-50 ESV) The one who is not against you is for you. Just because they do not "follow with you" does not mean they are not also part of the same kingdom of God and earnestly seeking to follow Him. While of course there are always things in Christian culture (or any culture I suppose) that misrepresent who we are and don't really merit encouragement (t-shirts that change the John Deere Logo to John 3:16 come to mind), and there is a time and place for rebuking those who are speaking a gospel contrary to the Truth, we should strive to remember we are on the same team. We share the same goal: to proclaim Christ and live faithfully to Him. Instead of making judgment calls on other Christians, I should be encouraging them and supporting them. After all, Chris Tomlin has probably reached more people with his music than I may ever. God may speak to someone through that rehearsed voice at the pulpit. And at the end of the day, I don't know these people's hearts. We of all people, as Christians, should be a united community amidst the chaos of the rest of the world, because we know that one thing matters more than anything else.

0138: Sweetly Writing Contest Results

You may remember I entered a writing contest back in August in conjunction with the release of Jackson Pearce's book, Sweetly. The prompt was to write a modern-day twist on a fairy tale, as Jackson does in her books Sisters Red (Red Riding Hood) and Sweetly (Hansel and Gretel). I've been checking back periodically to see if they've posted winners yet. Today somehow I was reminded of it and went to the website to search the term "Sweetly" and see if they'd posted results. I was surprised first of all to see a post containing the results (I had no idea when they were going to be posted). And...drumroll please...I am a winner! (Proof below.)

It's really encouraging to have someone else who doesn't know you say that you are a pretty good writer! (Which, okay, they didn't really tell me in those words, or any words, but I'm going to take the liberty of inferring it anyway.) Here's a link to the site if you didn't catch my submission when I posted it on my blog. I am in the midst of editing part 2, if anyone is interested. I hope to post it Friday. (I really dug myself into a hole by starting that whole "Fiction Friday" bit. Everytime I think it's ready to post, it's not Friday, and I inevitably end up deciding it needs more editing anyway.) I felt the need to post this update in a timely manner, which conveniently gives me time to continue editing the blog I meant to post today, as I cannot seem to get it to say what I want it to. Anyway--all that to say I am very excited and encouraged by this! Also excited to get my lollipop that I won (and the book but the McClellans already own it, as evidenced by this photo of our excitement in the aforementioned post).

0137: DIY, Vol. 3

Ba-bam. One step closer to finishing the project-that-never-ends. But to be fair, it's not really the project's fault. It's totally mine. But weekend time is precious, okay? And between sleeping til 10 and clipping coupons, I can only squeeze in so much. Anyway. I've been following a tutorial I found online, and to my surprise it actually turned out pretty well! It said if you do it right (several thin coats instead of 1-2 thick coats), you should still be able to see the wood grain pattern underneath. And you totally can. So, score 1 for Laura's First DIY Project. Now there's only 1 more step: the glaze. This will probably be the true test of my newfound DIY-skillz (that's a thing, right?), as it could easily end up looking like I just spilled brown paint all over a perfectly good white bookshelf, and all will be for naught. Things I learned in this stage of DIY: >Do not use newspaper in an attempt to be proactive and protect the concrete from drippage (I really did think I was making the right decision here). Fun fact: Newspaper does, in fact, stick to paint, and you will have to rip it off the bottom of the bookshelf after it dries due to the fact that you painted the bottom edges with abandon, thanks to the aforementioned "protection" from drippage. Pieces will be left behind, and goops of undried paint will get on your hands after you have just gotten all of it off from the initial painting. Perhaps trash bags would be less cumbersome? I don't pretend to have all the answers. Just sweet skillz. That's really about it. Short list, but all I did was go outside and paint. And nothing went terribly wrong. So I'm okay with it. Tune in next time [read: any time between now and November] for the exciting conclusion of: Laura's First DIY Project. [Feel free to insert your own epic theme song here. I chose Eye of the Tiger. Did I say "epic?" I meant "inspiring and totally awesome."]

0136: Be Cheesy.

I love random text messages from friends. Why? Because to me, it means that they thought about me that day. To me, it means we are walking through daily life together rather than living separate lives and coming together to talk about them every once and a while. It's such a temptation in this world to be cool, to sound busy and popular, to preserve self-image and self-comfort over inconveniencing oneself to support another person. Something I have been learning lately is that true relationships don't just happen. They are built. They are invested in. It's easy to dismiss an opportunity to reach out, especially when it's just a regular weekday and nothing particularly earth-shattering has happened. "No, that's cheesy. I'm not going to send her a text message just to ask how her day is going." "No, that's stupid, I don't want to butt in." But it's not stupid. Sometimes it makes more of a difference than you will ever know. We need each other, even when we're not sitting at rock-bottom. It's worth breaking the social norms of "checking your schedge" and getting back to someone to instead just say "absolutely; I'll be there," and make it a priority. It's worth going above and beyond. It's worth inviting someone over for dinner when their spouse is out of town, even if you're on a tight budget as it is. It's worth waking up early to take someone to the airport instead of hoping someone else will do it. It's worth following up on something your friend told you they were worried about to see how it went. And it's worth being honest when your day (or week) has been terrible, and you're struggling with a lot of doubt or pain or hardship. Because life is meant to be lived together. Hand in hand. Day in and day out. We're made for it. Be cheesy. Be intentional. Be inconvenienced for the sake of real relationships. No, it's not normal. But who wants normal when "normal" is often lonely?

0135: Keep Calm and...Tone It Down.

By now we've all seen the "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster (pictured above) floating around the internet and Barnes and Nobles across the country (that is, if you can still find one in your city.) The first time I saw something in this vein was in a bookstore, but the one I saw said "Keep Calm and Have a Cupake," a sentiment which I fully support. I laughed on the inside, considered buying a notebook, then decided it wasn't worth it and moved on. Since then, and in large part to Pinterest, I have seen countless variations on this phrase, and as of recently I have come to the conclusion that it is wildly out of control. Seriously. I searched "keep calm" on Pinterest, and here are just a few of the hundreds of versions I found: Keep Calm... ...and Marry On (gag.) ...and Play Music ...and Get Tattoos ...Harry is still single (Oh yes, they went there.) ...and Sporcle On (I had to look up what this meant. It wasn't interesting.) ...and Save the Redheads (which, I feel, isn't really coherent) ...and Sew On ...and Know that I am God (Yep. They went there, too.) ...and Gobble On (You know the novelty has worn off when it starts getting holiday-themed. Does this sentence even make any sense?) My personal favorite was one that was simply formatted like the original, but read: Freak out and throw stuff. Now, I'm not mad at these people. In fact, I'm not really even annoyed. I'm just tired. I really don't think I can handle any more, and frankly, does anyone still think this is cute? Also, did no one copyright this? Seems like someone is missing out on a major money-making opportunity here. EDIT: Okay, when searching for the image above, I learned (via Wikipedia, the source of all useless knowledge) that this poster actually originated during WWII from the British government in an attempt to boost morale of the British public. And now the design is in the public domain. Hm. Who knew? And look what it has become. This post somehow just got totally sad. Sorry for the bummer, guys. Anyway. I digress. All that to say, I respectfully submit that the current producers of these posters cease and desist. It had a great run, really. I enjoyed it the first few times. And now that I know the origin, I kind of like the original a little more. But I think it's time to salute and retire "Keep Calm and [insert anything in the world here]." Did anyone else know about the WWII reference? What do you think--time to let it go, or is it still solid?

0134: The King

The President probably doesn't know your name. The CEO of the Fortune 500 company you work at probably doesn't care about your individual needs and aspirations. Why would they? Unless you're Sasha or Malia's best friend or the over-sharer at company-wide staff meetings, these people may not even know what you look like. So it stands to reason we would be inclined to believe the King of the universe would also fall into this category of beings who are too busy, too far removed, and too important to truly care about us as individuals. But in a great overturning of common sense (which Jesus has been known to do), this particular King knows your middle name and how many freckles you have. He knows what you are afraid of and knows what brings you joy. This King would have died on a cross just the same if you were the only human on earth. You. Even though he's well aware of your shortcomings. It's comforting to me to know that though the uncertainty of the future (or even the next hour) can be overwhelming, at least the One who is in charge of it all loves you. Sure, the President cares about the country as a whole. The CEO of your company might want to create a positive work environment and see the company excel. But they probably don't actively care for your heart and soul. They may not have your individual good in mind. So even though we are not in charge and may have little control over what happens during our journey through life (which is a scary thought), at least you know the One who is driving the bus loves you personally and completely. At least we know He is trustworthy. At least we know He is good. And though most of the time I don't act like it, I'd much rather have the One who can see the road ahead driving than try to take the wheel and blunder through the darkness. [Resist the obvious temptation here to start belting "Jesus, Take the Wheel" from your cubicle.] In a world that can sometimes seem like it cares little about your individual life, it helps to remember the One in control calls you "son" and "daughter." Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. Matthew 10:29-31

0133: DIY Update

Apparently my misadventures with Round 1 of my DIY project were enough to deter me two weeks until moving on to Round 2. Round 2 included sanding the shelf (a previously mentioned oversight from Round 1) and priming the bookshelf.

Before After [Note: the tutorial I am using said it's okay if some of the wood shows through. Also you can't really see the top or sides which look a lot more primed than the inside due to the fact that I'm pretty sure that part is just plywood.] Round 3 will be painting the bookshelf white, and Round 4 will be the glaze. Keeping in mind the recent discovery that I am the world's slowest DIY-er, my projected time-frame for my bookshelf to be complete is likely November. Also I am now realizing that by then the weather will probably be too cold to go outside and paint, so I pretty much have to finish it before that happens. I didn't have very many interesting things and/or mishaps take place while I primed the bookshelf, so this is a short post. Here's hoping I run into some speedbumps on the next round so I have more things to write (I am only half-hoping this, as running into speedbumps may make a better story, but it makes the process take twice as long. And let's face it, I'm racing mother nature here.).

0132: DHOTD - Rural Tennessee Edition

I'd originally planned on doing this post about the introduction of a "Martha Stewart and Friends" cartoon depicting her as a small child (disturbing enough on its own), but when I saw this headline the other day via Nashvillest, I had to use it. Wild Hogs Taking Over Tennessee Counties Here is what I picture when I read this headline: a herd of mangey yet fierce animals, reminiscent of Pumbaa though hardly as lovable, waving torches in the air whilst rampaging through corn fields on their hind legs. Their yellow beady eyes (all scary animals have yellow eyes, don't they?) are lit up by the moonlight, (I also imagine it is night time, because otherwise why would they have torches?) and shouts of "rawrrrr!" (all scary animals also say "rawr") fill the air. This scenario also reminds me of the angry mob that goes after The Beast in Beauty and The Beast. You'll notice most of my imaginary-scene references are to Disney characters. This is an accurate representation of my inner self. Anyway. Here is the real story if you are interested in reading it (though it is not nearly as exciting as the vivid dramatization I have just laid out before you). Perhaps my favorite part of the real story is this quote: "They're here, and I imagine the rest of my career I will be fighting them here in the county," Ventura said. I love the imagery that he sets up (albeit unintentionally) by saying "the rest of my career I will be fighting them." Let's imagine again, shall we? Ventura, standing atop a hillside with one hand on his hip and the other holding some sort of spear (noble hunters use spears in my imagination), cape flapping in the wind, dedicating the rest of his life to protecting rural Tennessee from the havoc-wreaking wild hogs. Stepping up to be the self-sacrificing hero. I am now realizing that the type of hero that carries a spear is probably not the same type as the one that wears a cape, but I never said my imagination was congruent. But not to worry, the great state of Tennessee is on it, having reclassified the wild hogs as "nuisance animals" earlier this year. As if "nuisance" even begins to describe the mob of scoundrels barraging the corn fields as I have previously related. A "nuisance animal" would be that mosquito that you know is still floating somewhere in your house because you bug bites keep mysteriously appearing in random places like the bottom of your foot (which makes no sense whatsoever as you have been wearing socks all day). I feel like a 400-pound wild hog should be considered a "panic-and-call-the-Hog-Hunter" type of animal. Hog Hunter. I like the sound of that. Reality show anyone?

0131: For Blake Lynn

This post is dedicated to Blake Lynn (far left) and the Springwood class of 2006. For those of you who might be reading this and don't know, I received the tragic news yesterday morning that one of my classmates from high school had passed away. Our graduating class was made up of only 34 people, and most of them I have known since I was 6 years old. Blake was one of those 34 people. I wasn't close friends with Blake, but when you go to school with someone for 12 years, you easily get to know them. He was an integral part of our class and was always making us laugh. I can honestly say I have only positive things to say about him. He was kind-hearted and full of personality. My heart sunk when I found out, and I can't help but keep thinking about all the memories I have of him throughout our 12 years at Springwood. Some of the first memories that come to mind when I think of Blake are all of the funny things he used to say, particularly in high school when I had two biology classes and an anatomy class with him. Some of you may know that I used to keep a running word document of all the ridiculous/silly things our classmates said. Approximately half of these are from Blake. Just going back through them right now, I was amazed at how many of our funny class moments were because of Blake. Carlin suggested I put these together and share them with you. I hope they bring back happy memories of Blake and the life he lived. “If I was a ciliated larva, I don’t think I’d make it, Mrs. Combs.” -Blake “You gotta be more pacific.”- Blake “Can we digest a worm?”- Blake “I guess so, they’re full of protein..”- Mrs. Combs “He meant dissect.”-Scott “Mrs. Combs, they’re makin’ fun of me cuz I’m black.”- Blake (Note: Blake is not black.) “If I was laughing, I’d be in trouble!”- Blake “And don’t you forget it!”- Mrs. Combs “Scott! I moon-walked back to my desk!”- Blake “Anson uh...started to hate himself ‘cuz he kept missin’ ‘em.” - Blake, in reference to frog digging “I wanna be a frog, Mrs. Combs. That looks like a hi-potomous!” - Blake “There’s no such thing as a hi-potomous.”- Andrew “I like turtles and I don’t own a turtleneck!”- Jason “That just means your not a true turtle- lover then!”- Blake “Jason, you’re such a nice caboose." - Blake “Why is growth important?”- Mrs. Allyson “You’d stay short! You’d become a midget!”- Blake “That’d be fuh-ny...”-Slade “If you didn’t digest, all your food would build up and you’d have like a combustion or something...”- Blake “Did you say I was 50?”- Mrs. Allyson “No! I said you were 25! I would date you!” - Blake “Why did they want to know how the body works?”- Mrs. Allyson “Because they had a body, and they were like, ‘how do I work?’”- Blake “Couldn’t your whole hand become a callus?”- Blake “I think it’s sexy for them to have hardened hands.”- Blake

We'll miss you, Blake. If anyone else has any great stories or quotes from Blake to add, feel free to add on in the comments.

0130: A Love Letter to Fall

It seems all is right with the world when Fall rolls in. It's a (very) short season, almost gone as soon as it begins (thanks for nothing, South.) but it's easily my favorite. The temperature is perfect, the air is crisp and refreshing, and I echo my husband's sentiments when I say that it seems like I can just feel God's spirit renewing my soul when outside in the Fall. Things I am looking forward to about Fall: 1) Pumpkin-flavored things. Pinterest has been no help in this area. Pumpkin-flavored treats abound. Bring it on. My bright red Kitchen-Aid mixer needs some things to mix. 2) Anniversary. I am so glad we decided to get married in the fall. What a perfect season to get married in. It just adds to all the joys fall already brings. I'm so excited to take a long weekend trip to Chattanooga to celebrate! 3) Clothes. Fall attire is the BEST. You can pretty much wear whatever you want because the temperature is so perfect, but I always welcome the shift from shorts (ugh) to jeans and boots (yay). Plus, I don't have to sweat while wearing the unnecessary scarves that I use as an attempt to make an outfit out of a v-neck t-shirt and jeans (double-yay). Fun fact: I love scarves. 4) Caramel apples. 'nough said. 5) Farm-related festivities. Is there anything better than reliving your childhood by going to a pumpkin farm to pick out the best pumpkin to carve and eating the aforementioned caramel apples, all the while taking in the smell of the leaves and hay bales (there is inevitably a hayride)? I submit that there is not. 6) Football. Now, if you know me, you may be surprised to even see that this made the list. But over the last couple years I have grown to understand (don't judge) and actually enjoy watching football. It doesn't hurt that last year Auburn was awesome. And that eating lots of chips and drinking lots of Diet Coke is totally acceptable while watching football. Seeing as I usually have nothing to do on Saturdays nowadays, I am excited to get to watch most of the Auburn games! War Eagle! Can it be Fall all the time? Maybe we should eventually move to Vermont. I feel like it's probably Fall the time there. What's that? That would be meteorologically impossible? Fair enough. And high-five on using "meteorologically" in a sentence. (By the way, I googled "Fall in Vermont" and the picture above is what came up. Amazing.) What's your favorite thing about Fall?

0129: Halfway to a Career in Hip-Hop (Plus Free Ice Cream)

As fate would have it, I have already begun my foray into hip-hop dance. Well, that's a slight exaggeration. What that really means is I played with a Kinect for the first time on Saturday and attempted to learn two dances from a cool-kid avatar that said things like, "that's tight!" and "yeahhhh that one's tricky, we'll come back to that." (I'll let you guess which phrase I heard more frequently.) Craig and I went over to my friend Nicole's boyfriend JL's house and danced the night away. Well, dance-tutorial'd our night away. Dance terms I learned: the "boop boop" the "torch" aka the fist pump. (I mastered this one.) the "chill" (basically just snapping with one hand while looking cool) the "nudgie" among many, many more. I'm pretty sure these are all fictional terms and not actually used in the hip-hop community, but really, how would I know? (Please enlighten me in the comments if you are more in-tune with this terminology.) Playing on the easiest difficulty means that the aforementioned cool-kid avatar will lazily do the side-step for 8 bars while you try to figure out which foot to move first, all the while staring at you with what I could only assume was a bored, patronizing expression on his face. Though to be fair, I couldn't really tell due to the fact that his hoodie was obstructing most of his vision (see below.).

Though my favorite part was probably watching Nicole do Soulja Boy. All the way through. Also this weekend Craig and I got free ice cream at Pied Piper Creamery in East Nash. Being newlyweds on a budget, we more than welcomed this deal from ScoutMob. If you don't have this app on your phone and you live in Nashville (or any other semi-large city), get it. It has restaurants and stores actual locals want to go to instead of the plethora of laser-hair removal services Groupon throws at you daily. Flavor I got: Mocha Chocolatta Ya Ya. (Yes, they went there.) Coffee ice cream with brownies and chocolate ribbon. (drool.)

It was so delicious. And even though it was free, they definitely did not skimp on the 1 scoop. If you haven't been to Pied Piper, go try it. (There's also one in Berry Hill about .5 miles from our house but they aren't open very late. Know that the East Nash location is actually open later than the website says.) Done with the Pied Piper/ScoutMob plug. Off to practice the "nudgie."

#Kinect #Dance #Hip Hop #Pied Piper #Scout Mob

0128: Boxed In

Sometimes I wish I could dance like Justin Bieber. It's true. But long, long ago I decided that I am not a dancer. This is in part due to my experiences at the Dance Team clinics I attended as an elementary schooler at my school in which I could never seem to remember the order of the steps (or probably execute them properly), and as a result I was always a half-step behind, watching the backs of the more talented girls in the front meticulously, pretty much just copying what they were doing. This decision could also be due to my small stint in the musical theater circuit (read: small town community theater) in which I played the role of a flapper-esque dancer and had to perform in front of a large group of people alongside girls who actually had some sort of experience. I made it through, but I still struggled at remembering what steps came next. I'm also confident that I was the only girl in my elementary school that had never taken any form of dance lessons. Not an exaggeration. Every time I see really awesome dancers I secretly wish I could make my body do the same thing, but then resolve to believe that I could never do that, and that's okay. But how did I come to that conclusion as a default? I mean, every dancer had to start somewhere. Sure, natural talent is always a factor, but it's probably safe to say almost every professional dancer has undergone some sort of formal training to get to that point. Why couldn't I do the same thing? At what point in our lives do we start giving ourselves reality checks and just deciding we can no longer try something because we didn't start early enough? I've heard this story lately (it keeps coming up, though I don't know where it originated) that someone did a study wherein they went to a kindergarten class and asked "Who here is a good singer?" and most of the kids raised their hands. When that person asked the same question to older kids, perhaps in elementary school, only some of the kids raised their hands. By the time they asked the Jr. High/High School students, very few of the kids raised their hands to the exact same question. How does this happen? The world tells us that if we're not "good" at something, we can't do it. And you aren't good at it now, you're probably not going to become good at it, so just keep doing what you're doing. Who ever said you had be good at singing in order to sing? Why can't you just sing because you like it? Because I've now noticed that I think that way, as many of us probably do, I'm trying to box myself in less and less. Just because I've never done something or am not currently "good" at it doesn't mean I'm going to completely count it out anymore. Not that I'm going to seek out a hip-hop dance class any time soon. But I could be the next Beyonce. You don't know. (Note: There are perhaps one million reasons why in all likelihood I am not the next Beyonce.) Is there anything you've been wanting to try or learn but thought you couldn't?

#dance #hip hop #justin bieber #dreams

0127: Why I think people get Adele

There's a lot of noise out there. People screaming so loud just trying to be heard, as if they are waving their hands wildly in the air, all the while each wearing a crazier outfit than the one before... to be noticed. But in a weird sort of irony, the one who stands out amongst the chaos is actually one who speaks softly (yet strongly). I think this is one reason Adele appeals to so many. (Besides her obvious talent musically.) I recently watched her MTV VMA performance and couldn't help but notice that her subdued yet powerful and honest performance cut through Chris Brown's acrobatics, Lady Gaga's male alter-ego, and the array of flashy dancers accompanying Pit Bull. Amidst all the noise, Adele just keeps soldiering on, doing what she does day in and day out. I can't help but think she probably wouldn't mind if all the fame went away tomorrow. She would keep standing there in front of a mic, wearing a classy black dress and singing her heart out, even if no one was listening. People resonate with that. I think sometimes there's so much chaos going on around us that when someone is just standing there singing with a genuine heart, eventually the noise fades out and we stop and listen. People want to see genuine. They connect with it because it is no longer the norm but it's something we long for in a world full of mask-wearers (ourselves included). It goes to show that though it may seem like our culture has just completely checked out when it comes to depth, honesty and truth, people will still respond to those things. We just have to give them the opportunity to hear it. Why do you think our culture has welcomed Adele amongst the Gagas and the Nikki Minaj's? [Note: I do think both of these people are still very talented.]

#adele #music #MTV #VMA

0126: Things I learned in my DIY Adventure, Vol 1

I am now a user of power tools. Well, one power tool. The handheld orbital sander. Pictured above on my soon-to-be-awesome bookshelf. I used said power tool this past Saturday in my first-ever attempt at redoing a piece of furniture. As you may know, mine and my husband's newfound love for HGTV/a need for a place to keep my photo albums and Disney Princess picture frame spawned the idea for this project a few weeks ago. You can read about that here. Here are some things I have learned so far: 1. Call ahead before you drive 20 minutes to what you believe is the only tool rental store in the metro Nashville area, because you may find out that not only do they "not rent those anymore" (even though it is clearly pictured on their website), but the Home Depot a 1/2 mile from your house has one in stock (which they did NOT have it pictured on their website). Moral of the story: do not trust websites for tool rentals. You will waste gas. 2. People at Home Depot are eager to help you when you first enter the store and are set on attempting to find your items on your own first--until you inevitably cannot find it in that mammoth of a store and decide you do actually need their help. All 1200 of them then either disappear or are too busy helping customers who do not, in fact, insist on scouring 8 aisles for sandpaper before asking for help, and you must then wander around trying to find someone in an orange apron who is not occupied and/or hiding. You will also mistake several men in orange t-shirts for Home Depot employees at first glance because you are desperate for help and just want to get out of there. 3. Always check the weather forecast before you rent an orbital sander for a 24-hour period of time in which you MUST use it or you have to pay more money. If you don't, you could be outside in 100 degree heat trying to sand a bookcase and get the sander back to Home Depot before 2pm. (Read: midday sun.) This is especially important if you are as pale as me, because you will realize halfway through that you need to stop and apply sunscreen. You will also not be able to wear sunglasses due to your protective eyewear. (See below for red-faced, squinty-eyed feigned excitement) 4. Make sure you turn around when you are examining the bookcase for portions you may have overlooked while sanding. The yet-to-be-sanded shelf could be sitting in the chair behind you. You may not notice this until after you have cleaned the sander (so as not to incur charges from Home Depot) and have put it away. Seeing as you are now sweating profusely and frustrated from the impossible task of cleaning an orbital sander, not to mention under a time crunch, you will resolve to sand it by hand later. Today I fully intend on finishing the sanding and getting the priming done. I will probably learn more things like these.

0125: Disturbing Headline of the Day

TSA: Man had reptiles in his pants First I would just like to say: REPTILES. PLURAL. Not just one reptile, which I think is safe to say would be plenty, but reptiles. In his pants. Questions I would like answered: 1. Where is he going with these reptiles? Is his mission so top-secret that he feels he must attempt to hide said reptiles in his Dockers? What about pet carriers? 2. Where has this man been for the last year and a half? Has he just completely just checked out when it comes to TSA body scanners and pat downs? Did he not think that even if he opted for a pat down, the reptiles may actually be provoked by the TSA agent's gloved hands tap, tap, tapping on their heads? Did he not consider what to do in the event that one of these iguanas (I'm picturing iguanas) went rogue and blew his cover by trying to bite the agent's hand and/or escape the pantalones? 3. Has no one stopped to think about the poor iguanas in this situation? Seriously, they had to hide inside a heavy man's pants (I'm also picturing a heavy man because he would obviously have more room in his pants for the iguanas) where he is inevitably sweating because he is trying to casually stroll through airport security with prehistoric creatures strapped to his legs. Which would never work. They don't even let you take 3.5oz of Head and Shoulders through security these days, heavy man. Iguanas? Really? (Note: If you find out that the reptiles were not, in fact, iguanas, nor was the man heavy, please don't tell me.) Poorly thought out; poorly executed. But I suppose it took courage to saunter up to the security line, snickering to yourself because the person next to you has no idea there are living, breathing animals in your pants. So, kudos to you, heavy man. Kudos to you.

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