still seaside in my mind

"i get by with a little help from my friends." -the beatles

just got back from a long weekend in Watercolor, Florida with my fav pilot and his beautiful wife- ed & micha- and one of my favorite sorority sisters- K.Kirby! i'll post pics (the pictures on this post are from my birthday in march, just wanted to put faces with names) and stories soon. it was one of the most adventure filled and rejuvenating trips ever. here's one a fun one for now...

scene--- riding beachcruiser bikes at midnight in watercolor. we're driving over a bridge.
me (gazing out over the water): guys, isn't it beautiful here at night?
ed: do you see those people ahead?
me: gosh, it's just gorgeous
kait: ashley, do you see those people right THERE?
(i suddenly fly past a couple on the bridge, missing them by an inch or two)
me (yelling back at them): oops! so sorry! so very sorry
(my friends fall off their bikes dying of laughter)
kait: you almost took out those people! they were plastered to the railing.
ed: i think the girl considered jumping off the bridge...and they thought they were going for a romantic stroll...
moral of the story: watch where you are going.
and don't drink bourbon while behind the handlebars of a beach cruiser bicycle.
or you could end up behind bars- in jail!
eeeeekkkkkkkk

"The best thing you've ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously." -the indigo girls

in cali you don't dilly dally

This one's for my city where I learned my flow
S-A-N D-I-E-G-O, San Diego
-Lil Rob

This past weekend I went to SAN DIEGO! Love that town. Love it. Love it like I love Riley's cheesecake squares, the sound of LaylaDog sighing, and the smell of new Sam Edelman ballet flats(don't ask).

Part of why I love that place is that everyone I've ever met there (been there twice, which is not a lot but enough to make this assumption) is uber nice. Like southern nice. Not just kinda polite nice, but genuinely NICE. Love that when I got homesick for Kentucky, BAM, I was at a horse track (Del Mar) hearing those beautiful words "and they're off!!" Instant cure. Love that the weather is always perfect. Ok, record breaking high temps when I happened to be there. But still, perfect. Love that it's aesthetically appealing, but not pretentious. Like if I were a city (let's use Bowling Green) and I wanted to ask another city to hang out, I'd ask San Diego. I think Bowling Green and San Diego are pretty compatible. Bowling Green and NYC- nah. But San Diego and Bowling Green, yeah they are potential BFFs. San Diego wouldn't judge Bowling Green for not being as popular of a vacation spot.

What I'm not fond of is feeling anxious. For example, I'll be in cab and watching the scenery go by and then all of a sudden we've pulled up to the stop. And what do you know, I don't have my money out and ready to hand to the cab driver. So one of two things happens. I usually short change him, not meaning to, but because I'm in such a rush that I forget to tip. Or I'll get out a $20 and hand it to him, then get out, and think "whoa chica, you just gave that dude a 100 percent tip...cab ride was 10 bucks, you gave him 10 bucks...not smart." But hey, better than the time I accidentally gave a cab driver a 100 dollar bill instead of a one dollar bill. Yeah, that was a bummer.

My favorite part of the trip, well actually any trip, is the time spent on the plane ride there. Interesting things always happen to me on planes, big or small, commercial or private, long flight or short flight. This time the guy next to me says, 10 minutes into the flight, "so, you're from Kentucky?" Of course I was caught off guard that this stranger knew where I was from. So I said, "the accent?" and he said "nah, I've heard worse. the other three were the dead giveaways." and i said "what other three?" and he said "the bible sticking out of your purse, the thoroughbred horse racing book that you're reading, and last but certainly not least- the makers and coke that you ordered."
Born and bred Kentucky girl, that's me.

Ain't you glad we ain't all California girls
Ain't you glad there's still a few of us left, who know how to rock your world
Ain't afraid to eat fried chicken and dirty dance to Merle
Ain't you glad we ain't all California girls
-Gretchen Wilson

love at first quack

A couple of weeks ago I found out that my ducks passed away. It has taken me this long to be able to sit down (without getting overly emotional- pathetic i know) to write a memorial to my little foster duckies. These ducks were very special to me. Not just pets. But two little guardian angels who dropped into my life during a time when I really needed to be reminded of the simpler things in life. Finding out they were gone was not on my to-do list, not really what I wanted to hear. But for everything there is a season, a purpose under heaven. The bible assures us of that. And for my furry friends, their season on earth had ended. I was at a Junior Woman's Club meeting when I found out. We were talking about the "duck race" for the annual Duncan Hines Festival. The club members sell ducks forms aka raffle tickets. Then during the festival the ducks (note: they are pretend plastic ducks) race. The 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners get cash prizes. One of the members joked that we could bring real ducks to the festival. A few people who knew I had the ducks said "ashley should bring her ducks!" I informed everyone that I had taken the ducks to a farm. The lady whose parents had "adopted" my ducks was there and ironically , she was in charge of selling the ducks forms. I could tell by the look on her face that she has some news for me and it wasn't good. Long story short, she informed me that Mick and Jagger had been killed, probably by coyotes. She said her parents, especially her dad "the duck whisperer", were very sad. Don't worry, my boss already pointed out the irony that I was at a meeting about duck races, getting my duck forms from the friend who'd adopt them, and then found out my live ducks had died. It's not funny, my friends. Ironic, yes but not funny.

The story of the ducks is one that I will always look back on and smile because it happened very unexpectedly. I didn't plan to ever own a duck. My journey with MickDuck and JaggerDuck really is serendipity. I woke up one day expecting a quiet day and went to bed thinking the day had been anything but quiet. My friend Laura called me up the Saturday before Easter and said "do you want to go with me to buy ducks?" Most people would have replied with a question, thinking it was strange that their friend wanted to buy ducks. But since I love being spontaneous I enthusiastically said "yes! of course! where and when?" Off we went to Tractor Supply Company. I didn't plan to purchase any ducks for myself. But seeing all of those people getting the ducks without purchasing any supplies made me convince myself that I had to "rescue" at least two. I know it was probably ridiculous of me to think I was honestly rescuing baby ducks, but I really did think I was saving them from people who wouldn't take care of them. So three hours and $56.29 later I had two ducks, one metal "habitat", an extra bag of wood chips, a medium size bag of duck food, a watering contraption, and a heat lamp. I spent an entire Saturday afternoon setting up the duck habitat in my guest bedroom in my house. Why the guest bedroom? Well because they were essentially guests and didn't they deserve a bedroom to themselves? I had been listening to The Rolling Stones all day so naturally I pointed at one duck and said "you shall be called Mick" and then turned to the other and said "you shall be called Jagger." They quacked, which to me was affirmation that they liked their names.

The next day Easter came and I took the itty bitty babies to my family get-together. It was a surprise for my cousins. Everyone agreed that Mick and Jagger really were the hit of the day. It was so wonderful to watch the children go from giddy excitement and fear of the creatures to calming down to a time of pleasant contentment--embracing them, cradling them in their arms. Easter, as in most holidays, came and left all too soon. That Monday I quickly realized that while I bought them to bring joy on Easter, I now had to fulfill my commitment to raising them until they could go to a farm.

It was not an easy road with Mick and Jagger. They took up a lot of my time, and turned this jet setting, always on the go girl into quite a homebody. I loved every minute of it though. One of my friends asked me quite bluntly, "why do you like those things living with you? Aren't they annoying" Quite simply, it was a taste of motherhood, a glimpse into a future that I hope includes a child (make no mistake- like in 10 years though). Feeding them multiple times a day, changing their diapers (ok, just the wood chips but this is where they relieved themselves), and rocking them to sleep in my hammock outside. My favorite part of raising them was the time at night they'd spend with me. The two of them would follow me everywhere, in single file. They would try to run as fast as their little webbed feet could take them, to catch up with me. I don't care for the word precious, because I think it's overused. But let me assure you that if their ever was a time to use the word precious, it is now. It was precious.

Alas, the day came sooner than I expected to put Mick & Jagger up for "adoption." They grew, and grew, and grew. What I had been informed would take 10 weeks actually took 3. My little overachievers were flying the coop, trying to leave home sooner than I'd expected. I'd get home from work and much to my surprise (and admittedly, delight), my furry little roommates would meet me at the door. It was time for the ducks to move from their foster home to their forever farm. I lucked out when my friend Tammy suggested that Mick and Jagger move to her parents place. It was paradise. I knew they'd be happy with a big pond, horse friends, and wide open spaces to roam. I hoped deep down they'd miss me and wouldn't forget me, but I knew I couldn't be selfish (or silly) and try to keep them in my city casa. I still know it was the right decision. I know they lived a good life, although shorter than I hoped, still a good life.


I may not have the desire to go to a turkey farm this Thanksgiving to purchase a mascot for the holiday (something tells me that turkeys will be a wee bit more high maintenance than the ducks were). Let me assure you though that when Easter rolls around again next year, you may find me leaning over a box in the middle of Tractor Supply Company, straining to hear which ducks seem to have a rock and roll inspired quack.

the journey to the view.

Yesterday I went with two of my favorite guys to Climb Nashville. It's a gym where you can climb walls. I kept saying to one of them leading up to going "I don't think I'm going to like this. I don't understand the point? Why do you climb if you're not climbing outside for a beautiful view at the top?" He just kept saying "you'll like it, I promise you you'll like it." Being combative me, I went on to say "I just don't get it. I mean I get climbing to see a sunset, but climbing to see concrete on the floor of a building? Whatever floats your boat though. I mean I'll go, but don't expect me to like it."

So I climbed. And I didn't just like it. I loveloveLOVEDit! And this is what I discovered. You don't climb solely for the view. You climb for the journey to the top. It's the journey that counts.

How many of us have received some recognition, award, diploma and were flooded with memories the moment we received it? That's because everything that led up to that moment was just as important, if not more important than that moment. When I ran a marathon a year and a half ago, I didn't go on and on about what the finish line looked like. Of course to finish was the goal. But I talked about the journey. I talked about the people I ran with along the way, the pain I felt, the monuments I saw in DC, the pain I experienced, what ran through my mind, the pain that lingered, what people said to me as I ran by, have I mentioned the pain yet? :)

Now don't get me wrong, of course I was thrilled to finish. Finishing anything in life is a beautiful thing. Following through on commitments is so underrated. I'm learning that slowly but surely. You start anything with the anticipation of finishing. But what I'm saying is, it was the pictures I took along the way I treasured, not the medal I got at the end.

My mom read me a poem a long long long time ago about how people view life. The poem was about this person on a train ride, with a lot of stops before the final one. It was basically about how we are always anticipating the next stop, thinking that the next stop will surely bring us bliss, happiness, contentment. Examples of these stops are getting to college, starting a career, starting a family, becoming a grandparent. Instead of enjoying the scenery, we strain to get to the next phase in life, attain the next materialistic thing, or achieve level a higher level of social or professional status. Then we get to that, and we are disappointed. Yes, it's good for awhile, but then we start straining for the next stop. So the cycle starts all over again. The final stop is of course the point when life ends. Her point wasn't that I shouldn't look forward to things or want things, but not to be so consumed with those desires that I miss the ride entirely. As a child listening to her, I kind of furrowed my brow, nodded, and smiled when she read the poem to me. Now I get it. I get the poem. I want to enjoy the ride.

And can I add that I actually did have a view yesterday? My friends smiling up at me. Honestly that's the best view I can think of. Seeing your friends proud of you trumps all other views. Even a sunset.

"When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge." -Constantine Peter Cavafy