Weekend with a Twist

This past weekend, my BFF Sara came down for a visit (her first since I've been married... shame, shame) and we crammed as much as fun as possible into a 26-hour trip. (She had to get back for church on Sunday... something about responsibilities. Pssh.) 

 I left school a little early on Friday, ran home to rush-clean the last remaining areas of my house that needed attention (including one final OCD run-through with the vacuum cleaner) and then gleefully waited for her to arrive. Of course, this reunion was made even more joyful by the fact that I had been calling Miss Thing for like an hour and she hadn't answered so I, of course, assumed she was unconscious in a ditch somewhere. Nothing makes you appreciate seeing your friend like a little terrorized worry at the last second. 

 Anyway, she brought me a great big bag of birthday presents (which I opened immediately because I am nine years old) and then we went to Target (because, what else do Ashley and Sara do? Nothing.) THEN we came home, changed, and went to Baker's Kitchen, which was heavenly as always.

 I'd been excited to show Sara around downtown New Bern because it really is adorable and the weather this weekend was perfect, but since it only takes a couple hours to see everything there is to see, I decided to plan another way to pass some time and still be entertained (by something other than our own cleverness =) so I bought tickets to a local production of Cinderella.

 What could be better? A girls' weekend, a historic downtown theatre (with the fancy spelling), a little Rodgers and Hammerstein? I was feeling positively- dare I say?- cultured as I led Sara proudly down the street to the theatre and we claimed our tickets. 

Not exactly the Gershwin =)


Seems legit..
When we got inside, I immediately sensed that something was off. (For one thing, the theatre- fancy spelling notwithstanding- was not much better than my classroom and then seats were older than me... but not in a "I'm experiencing history" way. More like a "I think they performed Cats here in the '80s" way.) Also, the audience around us was decidedly... young. (Think a ton of little girls in tiaras and princess dresses. I won't say I wasn't a little jealous, but still. Not a really sophisticated crowd.) THEN an old lady got up and started talking about theatre etiquette and mentioned "when the kids come down the aisle." Oh, sure... she's like 102 so of course she calls all the actors kids. She is old enough to be their grandma!

 HA. As soon as the first number started, it became very clear that we were watching a production made up of CHILDREN. Not just the roles for children in the play, either... the king and queen, stepmother, godmother, you name it... all kids. (Also the king looked about 10 and was a good foot shorter than his "wife.")

 Now, the kids were cute and they did a great job, but since a) I had no idea this was a kids' show and b) I had been feeling so cultured about taking my friend to a night at the theatre, all I could do was laugh uncontrollably for about the first 10 minutes of the show (which, by the way, only lasted 52 minutes. Rodgers and Hammerstein probably wouldn't have loved for their beloved tunes to be sped up to marching band tempo, but hey. The cast had a bedtime.) And since Sara started crying uncontrollably as she laughed, everyone around us probably thought we were big jerks. We aren't... we were both just in shock. 

 So, after stumbling out of the theatre still dying laughing when it was over (but trying to conceal our giddiness since we didn't want to offend any mommies, daddies, or proud grandmas) we finally made it back to the car and topped off our evening at the children's show with ice cream cones, because we are grown-ups. 

 Oh, man. I'm still laughing about it! (By the way, one of the main reasons we were dying is that the prince was like watching Ted from What Not To Wear at age 13.... seriously.) So, yeah... the whole thing was pretty unexpected but way more memorable than a typical BORING night of watching professionals sing and dance. Where's the fun in that? =) I'm so glad Sara got to come visit... besides experiencing so much New Bern culture, we got to stay up late, get pedicures, shop (naturally), and talk, talk, talk. For two busy teachers, it's not always easy to stay connected like we want to, so even though it was brief, the time together was appreciated. I so love this girl! 

How was your weekend? Also, have you ever forked over money that really didn't turn out to be what you thought? I'd love to compare stories. =)

Ash

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Right Now

Lately my posting has been sporadic at best and it's partly because busyness (wah, wah, shut up Ashley) and partly because I have a box full of drafted posts that I haven't finished. I've been hearing a lot about maintaining consistency in my posting schedule (typical blogger advice, but true) and then I came across this post this morning from my dear friend, Jon Acuff. (He's not really my friend. He does follow me on Twitter, but if that makes me his friend, then I'm one of nearly 70,000 so... yeah. Can't say that we're tight. I just admire him from afar and try not to retweet him obnoxiously.) 

 So, back to Jon's wisdom: essentially, every post is important. Why? Because whether it's encouragement that someone needed or humor someone related to or whatever, I have no idea who is going to connect with each of my posts, and they're not written for me. They're written for you, the reader. So rather than procrastinate or talk myself out of posting altogether, I really should just hit the plunge and hit "publish" because who knows? That might be just the thing someone needed to read today. 

 All that being said, I know that not every post is going to resonate with every reader. I don't envision myself nobly publishing a blog post and then basking in the Shekinah glory of righteousness when just the right person is talked off the ledge of their emotional basket case because I wrote about Disney movies. However, I do need to get my butt in gear and start writing more consistently, so keeping the reader in mind (that's you!) and not just my own selfish self is a good motivator.

 *FANFARE* And now for the actual post after a sweaty evangelist-length introduction. ("The porch is big but the house is small." Ha! Both are far too large. Sorry.)

 It's one thing when I hear a word or phrase and it pricks my conscience a little bit, but remains an isolated incident. It's another thing when that same idea or principle is presented to me in multiple ways and various formats over an extended period of time. Then, it's like, "Okay, Lord, I get it. I'll listen!" For a couple of months now (actually, since I chose my word of the year) I've been hearing/reading/seeing a lot about the idea of delight. Delight was my word of the year. I'm not sure how I came to choose it, but the idea of really being excited about life was behind it. Then I read this book, which is all about the word thrive. While most of us simply survive from day to day, Jesus wants us to thrive- to really dig deep into our relationship with Him, reach out with His truth, and experience His blessings daily. 

 So, I'm supposed to be delighting. Okay... that whole word of the year thing was kind of like a New Year's resolution, and we all know how those turn out. Then I'm supposed to be thriving... similar idea. So I can't really get away from this concept, and I'm feeling convicted about not living it out like I should. But, like all good Christians, one of my spiritual gifts is taking conviction and putting it a special place that is like the "free box" in a yard sale of emotions. (I know, my spiritual maturity is astounding.I'm available for counseling! )

 Then I join a ladies Bible study group (which you probably know isn't typically "my scene"), and the first couple of weeks are good. And then the third lesson is on... get this... the abundant life. Jesus told us that He would give life exceeding, abundantly ABOVE all that we ask or think. But not when this season of life ends, not when the next one comes, but NOW. 

 What? I've supposed to delight, thrive, and live the abundant life NOW? Right now? This very moment? Eh... how about when all my ducks get in their neat little row and I have life exactly how I want it? 

 Nope. Paul wrote in Ephesians, "Now unto Him.. be glory." Well, there goes my reason for delay. It doesn't matter what you're waiting to get over: a financial crisis, a health problem, a season of frustration. I'm not saying "get over it" like it's just going to go away, but even in the MIDDLE of these times, God wants us delighting, thriving, living abundantly because... why?

 Why do we always get told to power through the problems? "Praise You in This Storm" is a great song, but why do we need to live that way? Because Paul also writes that God's strength is made perfect... when? In my weakness. Oh, snap! (Sorry, I'm around teenagers all day. Sometimes it slips out.) There is no better time to thrive/delight/live abundantly than when it's hardest! Woah! 

 So, it sounds great to delight in every circumstance, to thrive no matter what, and to live abundantly even when it doesn't really make sense. Is actually carrying out those actions easy? No, but I believe that "the best things, the richest things, aren't supposed to come easily. "(Okay, that was totally a Psych quote and I'm not sorry.) Seriously, though... we can thrive in our relationship with Christ, we can delight in His goodness, and we can live abundantly in His endless blessings... even when it's hard. Because, actually, that's the best  time. 

 Are you delighting? Thriving? Living abundantly? You can! Now is the perfect moment to start. =)
Ash
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Hello There

Hello, friends. It's been a few days and I've been quiet... mostly because I've been reading a lot and feeling... not really uninspired, but for once tossing around a whole bunch of ideas and since I still haven't picked one I chose the reliable old "everything but the kitchen sink." So, what's new? Let's say hello...

Hello, Monday. Nice of you to be relaxing without any pressing plans.

Hello, downtown New Bern. You're totally my favorite... and the Pepsi store has the best Mountain Dew in the world.


"Did ya see that sky today? Talk about blue!"
"Yes, Kronk, riveting."

Hello, Psych Season 1. Even though I'm still heartbroken that it's all over, I'm thoroughly enjoying watching from the beginning. 

Hello, spring weather that has finally decided to show its face. Nice of you to show up!  (Although, I was wearing leggings, boots, and a scarf last night, so... we'll see. Mother Nature is a fickle woman.)

Hello, my new favorite sweatshirt. Finally getting it was quite an ordeal that I'll have to share sometime. (Also, hello to my new favorite shirt. Hello, sales from Old Navy.)

Hello, gorgeous spring flowers. I love gerbera daisies! 
 

Hello, my new favorite picture:



Hello, my other new favorite picture:


Hello, my sweet husband that I love so much...


Hello, amazing dinner that he made tonight: 


What are you saying hello to this week? 


Ash

P.S. Sara, sorry this post is probably far less than inspiring, but... it's what I've got.

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Dear Psych: It's So Hard to Say Goodbye (to Yesterday)


If you have never watched Psych, or if you're not a fan, then this post is really not for you. At the least, it will make you curious about a great new series to watch on Netflix... but at the worst it will make you wonder why on earth I'm so devastated over the end of a show that is, in fact, fictional. Don't worry... my people understand. =) They also understand that the title of this post comes from one of the best episodes, High Top Fade Out. 

Growing up, I watched TV, but I wasn't that great about knowing all the new shows or keeping up with them. So, it wasn't that unusual for me to have not heard of a particular series, even if it was super popular. Sometime in 2011, my Uncle Mike (or Uncle Awesome, as he prefers to be called) kept telling me about this hilarious show called Psych. Since I am a loser I kept putting off watching it, and finally one night fate intervened it happened to be on and Uncle Mike insisted we watch an episode. After that one episode ("In Plain Fright," Season 5), I was hooked. I immediately went home, did a happy dance when I discovered that the first five seasons were on Netflix, and promptly started binge-watching to catch up. I finished season five just in time for season six to begin, and I have been a faithful Psych-o ever since. It had finally happened. After 24 years of casual television viewing, I joined the elite club known as "fandom." 


And oh, what a fandom. As James Roday, star of the show and one its executive producers, has said, "Other shows have viewers. We have fans." Especially with the interaction available on social media, Psych-o's have become a force to be reckoned with, regularly "blowing up" Twitter with trending topics, particularly during the airing of new episodes. Fan-based awards are a shoe-in for this show. I really don't know of another show with a more fiercely loyal following. (Also, I just re-watched the cast's "thank you" videos to the fans, so I'm a little teary-eyed even now.)

But this is sounding a little like a TV review, and it's not. It's a farewell letter from a true fan (albeit one late to the game). As we all know, Psych is ending this Wednesday. After eight spectacular seasons, our favorite Santa Barbara family will be saying goodbye in a series finale that will have me, for one, in (gushing) tears. But what is it about this show that's so unique that its fan base is, seriously, "psycho"? What makes us so devoted? There are other comedies on TV, other crime shows. What sets Psych apart? I could write an entire post (or several) dedicated to aspects (a fake psychic! a grumpy but lovable head detective! the world's creepiest coroner- in the sweetest way possible!) that I love about this show, but combined, they've made it an incredible experience for a whole lot of people. 

First of all, it's hilarious. As in, every single episode makes me laugh out loud multiple times. And some of Psych's best jokes have now taken on a life form of their own, from the hidden pineapple to Shawn's nicknames for Gus (Lavender Gooms? SillyPants Jackson? Hollabackatcha?) to Lassie's "I would rather" statements ("I'd rather date a vegan.") to my favorite: "Gus, don't be..." (a myopic chihuahua, Pete Rose's haircut, this crevice in my arm). Of course there's plenty of physical comedy, and few people go at it like Dule Hill and James Roday. But the clever wordplay is what makes the show so "quotable"; one of my favorite lines ever is (Juliet) "Detective Lassiter is literally on fire today." (Shawn) "Literally as in Michael Jackson in the Pepsi commercial or as in a misuse of the word literally?" I could fill this post with lines like that, but I digress. It's hysterical and never fails to make me laugh. My husband and I find ourselves using "Psych-isms" all the time. ("Big fat kisses.") 

And while a lot of shows are funny, not very many shows are so cleverly written that all this physical/verbal comedy is actually centered on an actual police case with suspects and motives and murder weapons and all that. And since solving the case always depends on Shawn's observational skills, all the details have to work together. In other words, the writers are extremely clever and actually think these cases through instead of just putting together vague backgrounds to set the jokes up on. 

As much as I love to laugh, I wouldn't be that emotionally invested in a show that didn't really appeal to my... emotions. Psych makes me laugh, always, but we know that it has made us feel so much more than that. I have laughed my head off watching this show, but I've also cried (wept, actually), been scared out of my mind, concerned, worried, excited, happy, overjoyed- you name it. How does a comedy make you cry? By creating characters and relationships that you really care about. So many relationships in this show have evolved over time, from Shawn and Henry's (that moment at the end of Season 6? When Henry kissed his head? Weeping) to Lassie's slow, begrudging acceptance of Shawn and Gus, to Gus and Shawn's friendship (the end of "Yin/Yang" when they almost died together... tears) to my favorite, Shawn and Jules's journey all the way from Season 1... I care about these people! 

I cry when they're sad (Season 7 just about killed  me, thank you Psych writers), I am happy for them when they figure things out, I worry about them when they fight. Naturally, most of the cases involve dangerous situations that put them in harm's way, and that can be scary, but the most painful moments have been watching them experience hard personal moments, like Shawn finally learning that his mom left when his parents divorced, or Gus acknowledging his need for Shawn's friendship, or Juliet leaving the force (um, I cried like a baby during that episode.) Those classic moments (Juliet and Lassie's hug at the end of Season 5, Shawn avenging Henry's shooter) are proof that this show is far, far more than "just" a comedy. It's taught us about love, and true friendship, and loyalty, and essentially we've been able to watch Shawn and Gus "grow up" onscreen. 

It's pretty obvious that even with fantastic story lines and scripts, a show isn't going to be great without a great cast. James Roday, Dule Hill, Maggie Lawson, Tim Omundson, Corbin Bersen, and Kirsten Nelson- these people nailed it every single time. And not only do they sometimes have us terrified, occasionally make us cry, and consistently make us laugh hysterically, they also take the time to interact with fans online and do all kinds of fan events. Most hit shows don't have stars who will chat it up with fans on Twitter or have an entire "Fan Day" event, but the Psych cast is just that awesome. They are good at what they do, but they've also been having a ball for eight years, and it shows onscreen. They're so talented (um, the musical episode, anyone?) and have been able to pull off literally any scenario from a "Clue" remake to a '60's themed episode because they are just so good. Sure, they've had some unbelievable guest stars (like William Shatner!) but the core cast (with a few extras we adore, like McNabb and Woody!) is what makes the magic happen. 

I don't like writing this in past tense, like the show is already over and gone. There's one episode left, and I'm sure it will be unforgettable. I'll laugh, yes, but I'll definitely be ugly crying shedding some tears on Wednesday night. There are still some questions about the future up in the air, especially for Shawn and  Gus. I've tossed around the possible endings, but no matter what happens, I won't like it. I can't like it. I'll still be heartbroken over the end of the show I've planned my Wednesdays around for the past three years, the show I've turned on every time I needed a laugh after a long day, the show I've quoted more times than I can count, the show I've pinned a few hundred times on Pinterest, the show that has helped me smile on some really rough days, and the show that will never, ever be replaced. (Although I wouldn't say no to a spin-off about the Lassiter family.) Over these eight (eight!) seasons and over one hundred (!!!) episodes, it's been an absolute pleasure to watch these characters grow and develop, not just as detectives or cops or pharmaceutical salesmen (it's a very noble profession!) but as people that we genuinely care about. 

To Steve Franks, you giant genius, I say thank you. I thank the cast, and the writers, and my fellow Psych-O's. Let's finish this series out with a bang... I love you all!

From me to you, here's a fist bump and a big serving of delicious flavor. 


Ash
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Fighting Back...

I don't know when this became a thing, but I've been seeing tweets and memes about it lately, so I'll just go ahead and address it... stuff like this:

 "It's a miracle that people who correct others' grammar have any friends."

 "Just remember everyone hates you when you correct their grammar."

 "No one likes a grammar nazi."

 ... and so on. Let me start off by saying that I rarely if ever correct anyone's grammar (other than my students', since that's kind of my job) and I don't because I know that it can come off as insulting, condescending, rude, etc. And I'm not a very emotionally mature person so the thought of ticking somebody off usually is enough to quell my burning desire to point out their glaring grammatical errors. (And what if I said those things in reverse? "It's a miracle people who use incorrect grammar have any friends." "Just remember everyone hates you when you use incorrect grammar." That wouldn't be very nice, eh?)

 HOWEVER... Why are people hating on those who prefer correct grammar? I didn't realize that speaking/writing like an illiterate third grader was now considered socially acceptable, while those correcting people who regularly abuse (or ignore) basic grammar rules are considered jerks? Really? (Apparently, I'm not so afraid of ticking people off, am I?)

 I'm not suggesting that everyone post to Facebook with fear and trembling because of the risk factor of eliciting the wrath of the grammar police, but come on, people. Is it really too much to ask that you remember that "your" is possessive and "you're" means you are? I don't think so. And if someone points out your mistake, that doesn't make them a jerk. Maybe they're like me and they're extremely weary of reading ridiculous mistakes from educated adults.

 (Side rant: thanks to the incorrect grammar of so many adults, it's now nearly impossible to teach my students correct word usage because "it doesn't sound right!" Thanks, previous generations. My kids don't even recognize good grammar when they see or hear it!)

 I can't really say that I blame technology or the "digital age" for this decline, either. Sure, people are lazy with their spelling and punctuation while texting, but I'm pretty sure people have always used incorrect grammar; we just didn't know it until we had the privilege of being privy to one another's thoughts and feelings on social media every day. 

 And beyond improper grammar and spelling- what's with the blatant disregard for punctuation? I mean, I'm aware there are a bunch of comma rules (trust me, I spend the first several weeks of school teaching them) and it's such a drag to actually include a semicolon now and then but you don't have to take out your frustration toward your high school English teacher by completely leaving punctuation out altogether! *Exception: the poor overused apostrophe, which never, ever makes a word plural. So, when you talk about all the "errand's I have to do today" I'm guessing one of them is "make people cringe."

 Again, am I saying that this is a spiritual matter? Are you a terrible person if you don't use correct grammar? No, but I can (and do) make a judgement about someone who is too lazy to even bother to communicate correctly. And I certainly am not okay with being made to feel like some kind of criminal for expecting people to follow the simple rules I taught my third graders. As I tell my students, if the rules don't matter, then why have rules at all? There you have it: use correct grammar or society will descend further into anarchy.

 I know what you may be thinking: "Your a jerk." And you'd be wrong- that's "you're." =)
Ash

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Making the Connection

Any teacher (especially high school teacher, I think) will tell you that "special" moments are not exactly a common thing in our everyday classrooms. You know, a cluster of students gathered around you, soaking in your wisdom, while violins play in the background and you recreate a scene from Boy Meets World with Mr. Feeny. But every now and then, you get the opportunity to really share your heart, and I had one this morning.

Things have been crazy at school these past several weeks, with the snow days, schedules thrown off, and some personal tragedies happening in a number of families. It's just been kind of yucky, and add in your typical discipline issues and I'd say we've had a pretty challenging winter. But there's a class of mine that I've really seen some growth and maturity in over the last year, and while they certainly haven't "arrived," they're getting there, and I'm proud of them. I've been wanting to tell them so for a while, but it's not really the kind of subject you bring up between sentence diagrams and I have the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old, so... I didn't really know how or what to say it. (I'm really good at being light and so awkward when it's time to be serious.)

But the Lord laid a story on my heart (I'm not a television preacher- He really did!) and it just so happened to coincide with our literature lesson (again!) so I first assured them that I had not taken any "happy pills" this morning and then told them I had a story. I'll share it with you as I did with them.

Our story from last night is about Helen Keller. We all know Helen Keller was blind and deaf, and we know that she eventually learned to read, write, and speak, but can anyone tell me the name of Helen Keller's teacher? (Naturally, they couldn't.) Helen Keller's teacher was a woman named Anne Sullivan. She was brought to teach Helen a new system of reading for the blind, called Braille, when Helen was about six years old. But the Kellers, who had no idea how to handle Helen or reach into her dark world, had allowed her free reign of the household for all those years, and she was a little monster. Before Anne Sullivan could teach her anything, she had to break her will. The Kellers, and Captain Keller in particular, were horrified at what they considered Anne Sullivan's cruelty toward a child who could not understand their language, but Anne Sullivan was firm. 

 Finally, weary of their interference but confident in her methods, she insisted that she have time alone with Helen to work with her without distractions. Since the Kellers were wealthy plantation owners, they owned a small bungalow on their property where Helen and her teacher could stay. They were given one week together. During that time, Anne Sullivan, who was teaching Helen sign language first, desperately tried to think of a way to make the connection for Helen between the words she was spelling into her hand and the things those words represented. She could spell "H-e-l-e-n" over and over, and Helen, a natural mimic, could copy the movements perfectly, having no idea she was naming herself. Anne Sullivan knew that connecting the movements and words with concrete images was the breakthrough Helen needed. 

 Finally one day as their week came to a close, they were walking through the garden together and came across a fountain. Anne Sullivan, seized by a sudden idea, grabbed Helen's hand and thrust it under the water, letting it pour over her hand and all the while spelling into it, "w-a-t-e-r, w-a-t-e-r" over and over again. It finally dawned on Helen that the cold, wet feeling on her hand was the same thing as the letters being spelled. Anne Sullivan described it as "a flash of electricity" that shot through Helen as she immediately began laughing in delight and demanding to know the names of everything around her. In that moment with the water, Helen got it. 

 Guys, that's what I'm doing here. I want you to learn grammar and spelling and literature, sure; that's my job. But if I don't love you and try to make you into good people, I have failed you. And you wonder why I'm hard on you and why I demand your best, but it's for you. We teach you about God and the Bible and Christianity, and day in and day out we spell these words into your hands. And whether it's today, or tomorrow, or this year or next, we want to be part of the moment when you connect the words in your hands to the water that is Jesus Christ and you get it.

  I just want you to know that I'm proud of you, because things aren't easy and I know your lives and families have problems. I know your friends don't always stand for right. But you guys are making good decisions. You're slowly learning that doing right is worth it. The light is coming on as you connect the words and the water and you are getting it. I don't just see you as kids who don't always do your homework or study long enough for a quiz. God doesn't either, and I (try to) see you how He does. I see you in ten years as nurses and businessmen and leaders and good people who have made this connection. You made sense of the motions, the words, and put actions and reality alongside them and now they aren't just something your mean old teacher ranted about- they're your life. That's what I want for you. If you never walk out of here a grammar expert, that's okay. It really is. There's more to life than that.

 I know you roll your eyes when adults talk about your "potential" but you guys really have it. You have limitless potential. If you live what we're teaching you about the Lord and his righteousness, if you're making that connection and "getting it" then there is no telling what He'll do with it and with you. And I'm going to keep spelling into your hands and I want that connection between what I teach you and what you experience for yourself to grow even stronger. I don't tell you enough, if ever, but I am proud of you. That's it.

 And yes, I cried a little bit. But it's all true. And I love these kids, and I'm slowly coming to realize just what all of this is about, and it isn't English. The most important words that I can spell into my students' hands are about the Savior of the world. And the most unbelievably rewarding thing I can experience as a teacher is that moment of connection, when the lights come on and the words have meaning.


Ash


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A Hodgepodge

This is totally and unapologetically a poor man's blog post of a bunch of recent pictures and happenings cobbled together to resemble something interesting...

 What's that I hear? Snoring? Right... back to the excitement.

I love FaceTiming this big boy. He's become HUGE all of a sudden. It's like he turned three and BOOM- instant adolescence. 


Only my version of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.


I love choir music arrangers (lookin' at you, Mike Speck) who think that the average church choir member has the lung capacity of a whale. (I don't know if whales can sing, but I know they have huge lungs.) 


It's been a good week for my disturbingly large necklace collection; I picked up this little beauty for $4! Yay!


I've wanted an oversize rose gold watch for a while and I found this one at American Eagle for seven bucks! It's nice to find something there that doesn't make me feel like an ogre... my days of fitting (literally!) into their demographic are long gone, I'm afraid. =)


And the grand finale... I pinned the necklace on the right from J.Crew on Thursday, but I wasn't willing to cough up over fifty dollars for it. On Friday night, I found the (very similar) version at Cato on clearance for $6.99! Score! I was just slightly over-the-top excited about this... I have wanted some kind of jewelry with pastel colors for the spring and this was perfect. =)


There are few things I love more than time spent with Mamaw. I love this lady!


We've finally had a few spring-y days in a row and so a bright floral skirt, shiny shoes, and my new sweatshirt  seemed appropriate (even though it was still 40 degrees when I left the house this morning.)


RA blogged about this book last year and I've loved these words ever since. She shared the same post today and I was reminded of them and how true they are... "the track you took in must also go out." Inspiration from a children's book? The best kind.

So, just a few snapshots of what I've been doing and buying and eating... not pictured is the beautiful sunshine I enjoyed today (walked three miles- yay!), a stack of library books I'm sure I'll get around to boring you to tears over soon, and Reese's Egg wrappers lying around. (Take that, three miles.)


Ash

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