space cadet.

I have never been a morning person. Sure, I love drinking coffee and starting the day, but I prefer to wake up leisurely and preferably after 8. So naturally, I have always been a night owl, an expression I always found odd but have become rather fond of over the years. After school I want to crash and burn, but somehow once I get back on my side of town and that moon is out, my batteries really charge right back up. And no, I am not a werewolf nor a battery-powered robot. Fact is I do not get the 7 hours of prescribed sleep. I just don’t. I used to, I really did, but then life happened and I decided to count my losses and enjoy my youth. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Isn’t that what they all say? My favorite English teacher used to always tell me – “Katie! Stay up late, go on adventures any time you can, because you can sleep when you’re dead!” And the church said Amen!

But honestly, I have really been embracing this lately, lack of sleep and adventures included. Of course a semi-large part of this has to do with a certain someone that I love going on adventures with, whether it be early in the morning in a little town – which I still find amazing since as I said earlier, I am not a morning person – or late on a school night. Let’s be honest, I wouldn’t just randomly go drink a milkshake at a B- fast food chain for breakfast all by myself, I’m just not that creative. But I did, we did, and it was such a perfect morning. And why go to sleep when you can stay up scheming about writing books and listening to Mumford & Sons on vinyl in the dark? Or sitting in the car singing along to 80’s pop songs and waiting for it to stop raining? Some of the sweetest moments happen when you should be sleeping.

Now to be completely real with you, sleep is a good thing. No, a great thing. I am by no means implying that sleep is not important or that I am somehow immune to a lack of it. Just last Saturday I took THE longest nap I have ever taken, well, since college, and I woke up feeling like a new woman. So ok, this is me encouraging you to sleep when you can, and hey, if you don’t get 6 or even 4 hours, there is always concealer for the circles under your eyes and a Starbucks just around the corner. My case is this: take every opportunity to go on adventures with the wonderful people you can’t seem to get enough of, and hey, it’s okay to be a little irrational sometimes. It happens. I guarantee, no matter how sleepy you are the next day, you’ll be glad you went.


In case you haven’t yet caught on, I teach 8th grade English in a very urban school. My kids say the craziest and most ridiculous things, and often times conversations become their own comedy show. My favorite is when they ask questions about me or something I’m wearing…

8th grade girl: “Ms. Powell, is that your birthstone?”
(pointing to my pearl earrings)
Me: “No, those are pearls. Pearls aren’t any kind of birthstone.”
8th grade girl: “But you be wearin’ them everyday, so I be thinkin’ it’s your birthstone.”
Me: “No honey, pearls aren’t a birthstone, they’re a Southern institution.”

basket case.

Sara really knows what she’s doing. I mean let’s be honest, I could listen to her sing her little heart out until the cows come home and still not get enough of her musical goodness. And yes, I listened to this song tonight in my car with the windows down and may or may not have cried whilst singing every word at the top of my lungs. YES, it is that good. Enjoy.

the power of the clutch.

So once upon a time I was given a small clutch from my grandmom’s vast collection of vintage purses and gloves and such. The woman has more vintage purses and jewelry than she knows what to do with, so every so often I coerce her into letting me have a piece or four. So ok, I have decided that this clutch has some sort of magical-clutch powers or something, because every time I decide to carry it on a whim, something out of the ordinary and wonderful seems to happen. This out of the ordinary-ness usually happens to fall in the form of a celebrity sighting or an excellent date.

Behold, two examples:

Exhibit A: Last fall I went to an album release party at Third Man Records with Chels, and my clutch. Karen played a perfectly lovely set, and while we were enjoying the new tunes we noticed that we had some company to our left – Nashville’s own Aussie power couple – Keith and Nicole. I instantly started thinking of witty and not embarrassing things to say to Nicole to get the conversation started, but I couldn’t get past “I loved you in Moulin Rouge” so I opted for silence. Well the night goes on and all the mingling is winding down, and I am finally beside Nicole as we’re waiting to exit the building…and just like that, we’re chatting about the party and leaving and what not. Although I became painfully aware of how incredibly short I am compared to her model-esque stature, I pulled it together and tell her I love her beyond uhmazzzing dress, and she says it’s vintage. She then sees my clutch and asks if it’s vintage, and that she loves it. I am still shocked at how calm I remained, I told her it was my favorite vintage piece and then we chatted about vintage shopping on the way out as Keith held the door for us. Side note: vintage or no vintage, she is flawless.
Fast forward to this past week: I was carrying the clutch as I ran into Starbucks to get my daily caffeine fix, and who did I end up next to in line? Keith. All the Brentwood moms in their faux workout gear were silently going nuts, their eyes FLIPPING out. I was a bit distracted, nevertheless texting, and Keith bumped into me just a little bit. Like a true gentleman, he apologized, made a comment/joke about how we had both busted out the sandals, and as I laughed I asked about Nicole. She was out of town, he said. I believe my exact reaction was something embarrassing like, “Aww, ok.” BAHA. I thought Brentwood Mom #2 was going to flip her S or break her neck trying to hear our conversation one.
So, the moral of this story? I’m not exactly sure. But maybe Cinderella should have been less preoccupied with her shoe and more concerned with carrying the perfect clutch.
Oh, and HAPPY SPRING! The countdown to summer starts now.

i want something that i want.

Today was a great day.

I know I sound a bit like a Dear Diary entry but humor me for a moment of happy reflection. I slept in until a blissful 9:30, had some coffee and then played desperate housewife by tidying up the house while singing along to every word Michael Jackson was singing. Small confession: I might have broken into dance during “PYT.” Alright alright, so then I went shopping, and if you know me, you know I count shopping as simple cardio. So never fear, I covered plenty of ground and acquired the perfect over-the-shoulder bag that I have been looking all over Nashville for, and a few other items that weren’t necessarily necessities but hey, it’s spring break. On my warm weather and excellent shopping trip high, I went to see my favorite nanny and baby M at the park. I watched all the sweet families and their adorable kiddos frolicking around the park in the sunshine and perfect 72 degree weather and could not be anything other than superbly happy. Oh, and baby M loves guacamole. Have you ever heard of a baby who eats guacamole? I mean, I was scared of avocados for the longest!
Blah blah blah.

Fast forward to tonight.
I cooked for a certain boy, who henceforth shall be referred to as N, and I must admit I was a bit on the nervous side. Sure, I am semi-confident in my cooking skills, but I always have this fear that I will either a.) burn whatever it is I am cooking, thus deeming the meal inedible OR b.) cook a less than impressive meal that we both just end up pretending to enjoy. And let’s be honest, every girl wants to show that she can be domestic and cook a solid meal. Ex: The one and only time I cooked for Alaska I tried to get fancy with the mac-n-cheese and somehow ended up with crunchy noodles and rubbery cheese. We both suffered through a few bites before I released him of his manly duty to pretend to like my cooking experiment. He then proceeded to go on a 10-minute diatribe about how much better his mom makes it and what I should have done so it would be “like they do in Alaska.” THAT should have been when I told him to go ahead and go back to Alaska with his mom. Ah, hindsight. ANYWAYS, Trader Joes and I really came together and pulled out a lovely Asian-inspired meal, complete with vanilla ice cream and fresh berries for dessert! I felt both domestic and accomplished, and stuffed! From this day forward I solemnly swear to be more confident in my cooking abilities, and to keep cooking. Valid goal.
Also, N brought over 28 spanking-new copies of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” – I’ve been wanting to have a class set so I can teach a book my 8th graders are actually asking to read, and it was no sooner that I had told him of this little dream of mine that he had ordered 28 copies from his true love, Amazon. I’m staring at the box full of books and I cannot stop smiling. Such a sweet and selfless act. He’s pretty wonderful. And the best part? My kids are going to flip!

Boys, take note.

If you want to make a girl smile, bring her Joe-Joe’s.

Sure, roses are beautiful and they make us feel all girly and the object of your affection and what not, but they die pretty quickly. A box of all natural goodness that trumps the traditional Oreo picked up special for me – now THAT is the gift that keeps on giving.

Disclaimer: Roses are pretty great, too, especially when given at a seemingly random time and without any pretense.

And so it begins…

Ok, I’ve got to be honest.

I always thought there were two types of women: those who blogged every detail of their day and those who did other things with their few moments of spare time, such as sleep or do good deeds for others or something. I always saw myself as a journal-writing gal, more of a keep-it-secret type who was content scribbling down my own thoughts I assumed only I would be interested in. Oh, and I’ve always had this romantic notion that one day I’ll give all of my journals to my husband-to-be so he can literally know ALL my secrets, and then he would fall even more in love with me and we would REALLY live happily ever after, blah blah blah. Sweet? Too much? Anyways, after reading a few blogs of friends and giving the idea about 5 minutes of consideration while my students were for once quietly working, I decided to take the plunge. That’s right, I’m trying this whole blog experience. Thoreau said to “write while the heat is still in you,” so what better time than the present?

I am really quite lousy at introductions, so I’ll just jump right to the good stuff. I’m a 20-something Southern girl who believes pearls go with everything and yes, I wear them when I go running and grocery shopping. Music is what makes life so beautiful, and it is commonplace for me to speak in lyrics – you have been warned! As for the wonderful people in my life, get excited, because they are such a source of light and laughter – there is never a dull moment and I can’t wait to share all of our shenanigans. Oh, and I guess I should go ahead and mention that I am a sap when it comes to romance, and YES, I really do wear my heart on my sleeve and my feelings are written all over my face. Tis’ a blessing and a curse.
As for everything else, you’ll see.