vacation steph, part II

I'll spare you lots of details about my family beach vacation, because, let's face it, hearing about other people's vacations is lame. Likewise, being forced to look at pictures of scenery is cool for about a minute, and then it's lame too.

But I'm taking off for the beach AGAIN tomorrow - (I know, Vacation Steph is SO obnoxious) - and it just wouldn't feel right if I didn't tell you about the latest Gallman Beach trip. 

I'll even throw in a recommendation for a cool place to go if you're ever in Southport, a charming and quaint seaside town near Oak Island where cheesy movies like Safe Haven and I Know What You Did Last Summer were filmed. 

Provision Co., or "Provisions" as we've called it since it opened, is the first place I ever drank a beer (ahem, first place I ever drank a beer with my parents). The owner and head chef looks exactly like Jimmy Buffet and serves up crab cake sandwiches, burgers, and encourages patrons to help themselves to beers out of self-serve coolers on the honor system.

So it goes with visiting the same beach year after year, I was again reminded of how much older I'm getting when I spotted lightning off the coast and legitimately got excited about watching an evening storm from the porch, rocking next to my dad.  The storm never materialized into the show I'd hoped for, but it didn't really matter.

Nothing ever really matters in Oak Island.  It's a "whatever" kind of place.

 

 

 

Nothing, except, of course, except whether or not I'll sit at the pool or by the beach.  I almost always choose beach, much to the dismay of my little cousins, who are always trying to convince me to come to the pool, likely so that they can shoot me with water guns or play other pranks on me. I'm no fool.

They're cute, but they're mischievous, too - and some are already taller than me.  How did that happen?

The young ones don't seem as weary of me as they have in years past.  They know my name, despite only seeing me once or twice a year, and they actually humor me as much as their parents (my first cousins) do, answering my questions about school, girlfriends, and what they want to be when they grow up.    

Molly, my cousin who thinks I'm a teenager (she honestly asked her mom when the "teenager" was going to arrive, so obviously she's my favorite forever), said she wants to be a professional soccer player.  I reminded her that she's my favorite so when she becomes rich and famous, she'll get me tickets to her games and signed jerseys and soccer balls.  

Emma and Tara don't know what they're going to be when they get older, but they know English and Math, respectively, are their favorite subjects.  I told them that it was ok, since I didn't know what I wanted to be either.  They didn't seem all that impressed, considering I'm post-30 and all. 

I told Ryanne she should be a teacher, since her voice is ridiculously loud and she talks a lot.  She said, "No way.  I'm gonna be an archaeologist."

I told her I didn't even know what an archaeologist was.  She rolled her eyes at me and walked away. 

Later, she asked me about my job.  I told her I worked for a television news network.

Her response: "Ewwwww!  Grossss!  Borrrrring."

Ouch.

My mom (aka Mrs. Wizard) bribed the kids to hang out with her, teaching them how to make homemade ice cream in a bag.  I completely doubted this experiment, but it actually turned out well and tasted really good. 
 

It was an extremely uneventful, peaceful, porch swinging, relaxing kind of week.  

 

The very best kind of week there is.

Oak Island on Dwellable

friday randomness.

Hello friends.

I'm back to blogging after a week with my extended family in Oak Island, North Carolina.  Actually I've been back for several days now, but haven't quite gotten back into the swing of things.  I blame it on Vacation Steph.

She was out in full-force.

I completely checked out from reality, which I often have a hard time doing - I even left my Blackberry at work!  Yes, I'm happy to report I stayed locked and loaded on my family.  I played golf, ate good food, sat in the sun, and wore very little makeup. It was marvelous.

And then I came back to another busy news week that has left me feeling exhausted - and not terribly moved to write. Back to reality. So serious.  Boo.

 

I mean, what do I tell you about my little ole life that could possibly compete with the Paula Deen controversy, Wendy Davis' marathon filibuster (that involved a back brace and a catheter) and Wednesday's historic Supreme Court rulings in favor of same sex couples?

 

I can't think of anything that I could write that could possibly add to the multitude of commentary already out there.

But a blogger I admire and respect - Glennon Doyle Melton of Momastery - so eloquently articulated many of my own feelings about the subject in her own blog.  I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE / BEG you to read.  Her words are SO thoughtful, SO very poignant, SO right on.  I wish I had written it myself.

One line in particular shook me to my core and has stirred up all kinds of thoughts I plan to write about, and share over the next few days.

"Maybe we should all be required to pick an issue that requires US to change and not OTHERS to change. I think that’d be good.

Ahhh. So. Many. Thoughts. 

But it's the weekend, and I haven't the brain cells left to take it on.  So, I will leave you, instead, with a few random and awesome thoughts. 

First, in the awesome category --

One of my oldest, funniest, and most talented friends Cindy has two pieces of her artwork featured in this year's Coastal Living Show House in Daniel Island.  Anyone in the Charleston area can tour the house (all proceeds go to charity) or check out Cindy's artwork here.  In addition to loving her and her family, I'm so impressed with her artistic talents and proud of this huge accomplishment.  Her paintings are so colorful and happy - a lot like Cindy herself.   

Also awesome - this Relix article with Ed Helms, aka Andy "Nard Dog" Bernard from "The Office." One of my favorite television characters of all times also plays the banjo and shares a mutual respect for Phish?  YES!

And Spanx is coming to Atlanta - and by that I mean the flagship Spanx store.  My stomach hurts just thinking about all the binding and sucking in that will be happening there come November 2014.  But seriously, thank God for Sara Blakeley for making us look good. 

And on to the random - if you need me this weekend, I'll be at home figuring out a way to cook and eat the $210 worth of groceries I bought at the DeKalb Farmer's Market on Tuesday.  Six bottles of wine are included in the purchase, but I think I was briefly hypnotized by all of the fresh produce and I went a little lot crazy?

Did I mention I live alone and am leaving town again on Wednesday?  If anyone has suggestions for things to cook with leeks, I'm all ears. 


What are you doing this weekend?

Happy Friday! 

stevie: my love, my hero.

To anyone with taste in music, there is only one answer when someone invites you to a Fleetwood Mac concert.

That answer, of course, is an enthusiastic yes.

 

Yet, when my friend Chuck asked me if I was interested in taking his ticket because he was going to be out of town, I actually hesitated for a bit.

Not because I don’t love Fleetwood Mac; not because I don’t think Rumours is one of the best albums ever recorded; not because every time I hear one of their songs I’m not instantly filled with nostalgia.

But because I felt guilty about attending this concert with anyone but my Dad, who introduced me to the band and who, since I was very young, has called me “Stevie" after the one and only Stevie Nicks.

I’m not entirely sure why he started calling me that – I mean, my name is Stephanie, so Stevie isn’t really much of a stretch. I also have an abnormally deep voice, wear long flowy skirts and have always loved to twirl, so the comparisons are certainly there.

Now completely aware of what a bad ass Stevie Nicks is, the name that used to bother me when I was a kid, I wear proudly as a badge of honor. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be nicknamed after a woman who writes meaningful (and beautiful) music and still looks and sounds the way she did 35 years ago?

Yes, I did feel guilty about not going with the man whom I give most credit for introducing me to good music. But if someone literally drops a ticket to Fleetwood Mac in your lap, you go.

Especially with fun people like Martha and Jarek, who happily invited me take Chuck's place.

You MUST go.

And so I went.

 

Based on the outrageous ticket prices, the huge venue, and the myriad of Fleetwood Mac hits, I knew going into it, there was a good chance that the show would be like every other typical, “I’m-so-famous-and-everyone-feels-lucky-to-be-here-so-I-don’t-have-to-try.”

But like Eric Clapton and Hall & Oates (two other big shows I enjoyed this year), Fleetwood Mac was on my live music bucket list and shouldn’t be missed. Unlike Eric Clapton and Hall & Oates, though, Fleetwood Mac was phenomenal.

In addition to being completely complimentary of Atlanta and the fans here, they played for 2.5 hours, speaking to fans in between songs like they were taping an episode of VHI’s Behind the Music.

They performed as if they were doing so for the first time and to a crowd they were sincerely trying to impress. Hearing songs I’ve grown up listening to and loving is always an emotional experience for me –the return on investment I get from the money I spend on concerts always makes it worth it, even when the show is just okay.

Fleetwood Mac far surpassed my expectations.

 

Also, I'm completely fascinated with the relationship of Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham and have wasted at least three hours over the last couple of days doing Google searches about them and watching videos on You Tube (read: loser). Their love, their breakup, their decision to keep performing together despite their personal history – it adds an extra layer of intrigue and awesomeness. 

I really wanted to tell my dad, who texted me during the show his sincere disappointment we weren’t enjoying the show together, that he didn’t miss out, and that the concert wasn’t anything to get excited about. But that would’ve been a lie.

So I told him the truth.

I told him how amazing it was, how happy I am that he still calls me Stevie and promised him that when Fleetwood Mac tours again, we have a date.