I think you know by now that I absolutely LOVE living in Nashville. I deeply miss my friends and family in Marietta, but Nashville has gone above and beyond to make me fall in love here.

This week, the city wooed me again with the Nashville Film Festival.

In all honesty, I hadn’t really planned to go. But then we saw our friend Mike Hobert at a coffee shop and he said that produced a movie that was in the Festival. Then he asked us to come. We were all like, “uh… sure….” and when he left the coffee shop, the rest of us watched the trailer.

And then we all were like, “uh, YES. We absolutely want to see this.”

Take Me Home is a film about a woman who hires a taxi to take her from New York to California. I’m oversimplifying, but I’m kinda not.

Here are things I loved about it:

• Written, directed, starring [and all other official things] Sam Jaeger, who we all know and love from Parenthood.
• His wife, Amber Jaeger, plays opposite him and she is genius in this film. She’s bossy but not unlovable.
• Call me a prude if you will, but I love films that don’t make me feel uncomfortable when I’m sitting beside a dude. And this movie (besides a few cuss words) is totally clean and appropriate. That’s impressive to me.
• It’s a simple plot line but a deeply complex story.
• I want to see the sequel. [There is no sequel, but I want to see it.]

After the movie, Sam, Amber, Mike, and a few other producers got up to answer questions from the crowd.

I didn’t ask any questions, but Lyndsay and Mike had a pretty hilarious exchange that for me to retell would do a disservice, but trust me that I was laughing heartily.

We even got to walk on the red carpet and take a picture in front of one of those fancy walls that say words. [I'm the biggest redneck in the world for that sentence.]

I promise there were more boys there. Adam is just the only one who had to [got to?] be in the picture with us.

He was so frustrated from being around so many pretty girls that he wanted to hitchhike home.

And Jami tried to win this car.

Neither were successful.

Anyways.

The whole night was an unexpected joy.

I love my city for stuff like this. I love my friends. I love making new friends. I love that Sam asked me if he could hire me to travel to every screening and laugh very vocally at the appropriate places. Because in case you didn’t know, I have a LOUD LAUGH.  [I immediately said YES to Sam's request and then he began to backpedal.... so.... that's sad.]

Here’s the real sad part for you: I don’t know how you can see Take Me Home. Maybe contact them and beg for a screening in your town? Maybe call Mike and ask him? [At this point, I would LOVE to publicly post his cell phone number because that is an amazing prank. But I won't. But I want to. But I won't.]

Summary of the movie/experience/Nashville = Two thumbs up.

Seen any good movies lately? In a theater or on Netflix? Tell me bout it!

(For starters, we will discuss Matt Wertz’s new album tomorrow [oh yes we will] because it is a beautiful piece of work.)

For today, I want to tell you about Adam and Wes and M&Ms and the Belcourt Theater.

I’m going to use Adam and Wes’s real names because you are going to totally be impressed with them by the end of this post and they are both single and I would love nothing more than two cultured single ladies to snatch these boys up due to the fact that I blogged about their high brow ways.

[They're gonna kill me.]

Lyndsay and I deeply desire to be cultured and do artistic things around town. Adam and Wes have the same desire- they just actually DO the things. They are smart and fun and funny and kind and creative and they like to read and they love God and they are two of the dearest men in the world.

So over the weekend, I begged and pleaded for the boys to let me tag along to the Belcourt Theater where they are playing a series of Southern films. And, to be real honest, I actually selected the film we chose to see. [So what I'm saying is that I'm actually swinging the culture stick on this one.] I flipped through the options, reading the synopsis, and thought “The Sun Shines Bright” sounded like a great story.

The boys agreed.

So we found ourselves Tuesday night sitting boy / girl / boy in an almost empty movie theater [probably forty folks max], with a share size bag of M&Ms.

Then in a moment of pure cultured joy, the film started with the faint clicking sound of the old reels. Not a DVD but the old school film reels. It was amazing.

I haven’t watched a lot of movies set in an early 1900s Southern town. Hearing the characters reminisce about the Civil War, watching the beauty of a community living without social media, and just trying to mentally see the color scheme in a movie that is a black and white film reel- it was such a good time.

[The dresses. I just always wish I could see the color of the dresses. And there were these beautiful lanterns hanging outside during a party- I wanted to see the yellow glow. Sue me.]

At this point in the blog post, my mom and both of my sisters are shaking their fists at the screen because I have long been the Downs Daughter That Does Not Like Old Movies. But there was something different about this. This film sort of felt like a prequel to To Kill A Mockingbird- it had some of the same Southern elements, courthouse stuff, racial focus, and one of those good-guy-to-the-core kind of characters.

Like Adam and Wes… line up, ladies.

[They are literally never going to speak to me again.]

One of my favorite parts of this film is that somehow the actors convinced me that this one little Kentucky town really understands community. And I haven’t even told you about the soundtrack or when Judge Priest risks re-election to give a respectable funeral to a less than respectable woman.

It was a beautiful storyline.

And gosh darn it if I didn’t tear up a little bit when the band played Dixie at the end.

The best part? Seeing that old movie didn’t make me “cultured” per say, but it sure makes me appreciate a culture that used to be.

Great movie. Great friends. Great candy.

I loved it.

. . . . . .

Do you have a favorite old movie? Share on, friend.

I cleaned my car on Saturday.

First I’ll tell you about a discovery while cleaning. Then I will tell you the reason for the cleaning.

Story #1: A Discovery While Cleaning

My bestie Betsy was in town and we drove through the car wash. Deep conversation. A small bag of M&Ms. Paying a dollar extra for the undercarriage spray. You know, typical stuff.

And then we vacuumed.

[Let me tell you this nugget of history- I have driven my Toyota Camry for 8 years and 160,000 miles. That's relevant here.]

[But you know I've never felt the need to only tell you "relevant" things.]

[Like it is not relevant that my steering wheel squeaks constantly in the winter and the air conditioner squeals loudly in the summer. But that's funny, right? I think so.]

Anyways, back to the vacuum story.

When I pulled out the driver floor mat [aka- my floor mat, where my feet have pushed pedals for the majority of those 160,000 miles], there was a hole in it.

My right heel has worn a hole straight through it.

In the shape of India.

About the size of a half dollar.

I laughed, held it up to Betsy, and said, “Bets, check it out!” while looking at her through the little India half dollar hole.

And do you know what she called me?

Fred Flintstone.

Rude.

Story #2: Here’s Why We Had To Clean The Car.

On December 16, a bunch of ladies went out to dinner for Marisa‘s birthday. I drove four of my friends. It was a rainy night so our friend Melissa brought her rain boots. We went out to dinner, then to see Andrew Ripp in concert [He killed. He's one of the best.], then home. Melissa rode home with her roomies and left her boots in my car.

A few days later, my roomie Laura and I are riding around discussing the fact that my car smelled to HIGH HEAVEN. The rain boots. Lordy. They smelled.

But I kept meaning to give them back to Melissa, so I left them in my car.

The smell had an ebb and flow to it- some days, specifically the warmer ones, the car stunk like whoa. On the cold days, it was practically gone. [That's relevant.]

Friday afternoon, almost one month after the boots moved into the Camry, I finally took them out to give to Melissa.

Wanna know why I had to clean my car?

BECAUSE A CHINESE TAKE OUT CONTAINER FULL OF FOOD WAS INSIDE ONE OF THE BOOTS.

Full. Of. Chinese. Food.

For. One. Month.

I am practically gagging just telling you about it.

And why the ebb and flow of nostril abuse? Because the food kept freezing and thawing.

[Okay, seriously. I did just gag there.]

So. You can obviously see now why I had to get my car washed. And vacuumed. And why there are now two dryer sheets in my car- one in the front and one in the back. Because if some smell is going to be allowed to mature in my backseat, I’d like it to be “fresh breeze” please. Not kung-pao chicken.

I’ve also posted a note for my backseat passengers in hopes of preventing this from ever happening again.

Dear friend,

Please do not leave food in my back seat. Apparently I am slow to identify and clean it out. And leftovers stuffed in rubber boots makes me gag.

Sincerely,

Fred Flintstone

. . . . .

Sidenote: I’m headed to Scotland today. Whoa.

1. How much do you love Annie Parsons? I. KNOW. Me too.

2. I leave for Scotland in exactly 2 weeks. People keep asking me if I have a list of what to pack or a long list of things to complete before I go. And I keep saying no. Which is concerning. If other people think I should have a list, does that mean I should have a list?

3. Also. When I wrote that post about Scotland, I thought I left on the 19th. When I checked my itinerary, I realized I actually leave on the 17th. Good thing I checked.

4. I saw The King’s Speech last night. And please, do yourself a favor a see it. It is rated R because he says the F-word a lot. But no nudity or violence. Absolutely fantastic movie that I’m ready to see it again. Beautiful acting. Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush, bravo.

5. Afterwards, my friends and I went to dinner and we talked about “2011: The Year of ____“. I gave a boring [but truthful] answer about how I want it to be the year where I read the Bible, the year where I get to know God better, the year I set aside time to fast and pray. I have lots of questions swirling in my mind and I don’t want to find the answers as much as I just want to know the One with the answers.

[Which, by the way, I am going to read the Bible this year for realz. I've printed off this Bible Reading Plan that has 25 days per month, so that you have 5 days to be a slacker. Right. Up. My. Alley.]

6. Outside of those things, I have no clue what 2011 holds. I have bubbles of excitement in my belly about it, but I don’t know how to make eloquent words out of that, so take it as you will.

7. I literally cannot believe that I am running ["running"] a half-marathon on March 5. What doesn’t kill me will make me stronger, I know. I just think it may actually kill me.

8. When I think about 2010, I smile. I am grateful. [Maybe because I didn't have to run 13.1 miles in 2010? Yeah, that's part of it.]

9. I absolutely love the Cowart family. Like, so so much. So to be at a wedding on NYE with them was sweet. Every time I look at this picture I think, “Downs. You are a lucky girl.” [You can say "blessed" if "lucky" ruffles your feathers... you know what I mean.]

10. People keep asking me how I’m going to continue to “market” my book. Um, here’s my plan. Ready? I’m going to trust that if you guys like the book, you will tell someone else. I have some giveaways and guest posts and articles and the like, but the real win is if you like it enough to tell your people. Okay? Thanks.

[Quick reminder: Leader's Guide comes out on Friday! Totally free download- even if you haven't purchased the book yet, you can have the Leader's Guide.]

11. I have a handful of emails to reply to that were sent over the Christmas holiday. If one was yours, fear not. A well-deserved reply is coming today! [Public inbox accountability? Check.]

—–

Catch me up, friends! What’s been the highlight of your 2011 so far? Or… do you have an answer for “2011: The Year of ______”? I’d love to hear it!

I’m just writing. [for (in)courage....]

And holiday-ing.

And spending time with family.

And partying.

And dancing.

And writing. [some new stuff....]

And resting.

And writing. [That leader's guide is killin' me.]

And hanging with friends.

And enjoying all the musicians being home from their tours.

And running. [ugh.]

And laughing.

So all that to say…

I’m here.

I’m just living.

See y’all soon.

Dear Shelby Jennings Boatman,

I don’t know when, if ever, you will actually read this. But I’ve gotten in the habit of writing letters to my friends’ babies and well, you are my friend’s baby.

Like, a really brand spankin’ new baby.

Shelby, I want to tell you something. For the rest of my life, when I think about God answering prayers, I will think about you. I cannot tell you how many nights I sat and cried with your mama, praying that someday, she would have a child. I can’t tell you how many roadblocks tried to keep you from ever being a being. Ask your parents that stuff- it’s a lot of technical medical mumbo-jumbo.

But I can tell you the minute your mom told me you were coming, I knew that God heard us. I knew that you were the one He made, the one He picked for such a time as this, the one that didn’t need to be a day earlier but couldn’t be a day later. I am as sure as the sun rises that your life has purpose. Live like it, Shelby. Live a life with purpose because I knew you before you were you and I am certain the girl I prayed for is a part of God’s story for this world.

Your parents are going to absolutely make you crazy. Your dad is going to take too many pictures and your mama is going to make too many lists and she will teach you be so polite it will make you sick (and well-mannered). And at some point, I know that you will say how glad you are that Ansley and Adam are your parents. Your grandparents are going to want to talk to you on the phone. Do it- they are amazing and you have a lot to be thankful for in your gene pool. Your aunts and uncles are going to buy you lots of stuff. That’ll be awesome.

And me? Well, I’m going to want to bake lots of cookies and laugh at your jokes. I’m probably always going to ask you what book you are reading and expect a real answer. I may hug you too much because I’m trying to squeeze out some of that faith that your parents have sown into your life. I’m also going to cry a lot. Cause, Shelby, that’s how I roll.

Finally, I want to say thanks. Thanks for being such a tangible reminder of God’s faithfulness. Thanks for showing up, just in the nick of time, before hope was ever off our lips. Someday, when you are old enough to need to hear a story, I’ll tell you mine. And right smack in the middle when you start to wonder if I give up hope that God can hear us when we pray, I’ll say, “here’s where it gets good, Shelby. See, here’s where you came along.”

With so much love,

Honorary Aunt Annie

(Aunt in charge of entertainment)

As in, renovation. You say it like “reh-no,” not “ree-no.” Just so you know. I learned this from Sarah. Sarah has a house. And a show. On HGTV. It’s called Sarah’s House. And I want to be her friend. [Sarah, can we be friends?]

As you know, I am currently nesting.

I have no idea why. Maybe it is because two good friends are having babies in the near future (example – Adam and Ansley) or maybe it is simply because I’m tired of living in a house that looks exactly like my third apartment at the University of Georgia. Either way, if real “nesting” is much worse than this [shall I ever be with child], you are all in a WORLD of hurt- I mean, window treatments have been my staple conversation for three weeks. When I’m actually “nesting”? Lord help the mister who comes between me and my reno.

Back to reality. Last weekend, I called in the professionals.

Caroline and Katie B.E. came to the rescue. Well, it wasn’t exactly “we’re driving from Atlanta just to measure three windows,” but that’s the quickest explanation.

So we measured and brainstormed. We laid down a rug, which makes a world of difference in the living room.

[Baby items courtesy of Katie B.E.'s new traveling companion, baby Lydia. We like her. Like whoa.] And while I was taking that picture, they were doing this….

They would. Then, with a flip of a wrist and a toss of a few beams, my bedroom went from this….

to THIS!

Are you dying or are you dying? I know. I’m dying. Every time I walk in my room I totally swoon [to use a fav word of my fav friend Mary Catherine- and this post about NYC is, well, my fav].

I’m a renter, much like my sweet friend Nester, so I took much advice from her blog. And I figured that if I couldn’t paint, I needed to use fabric to bring in color and wowsa. It has totally changed my room. And I heart it. Mucho.

The window treatments? Well, here’s the thing. Katie B.E. and Caroline aren’t settlers. They don’t settle. So. We are going fabric shopping in Atlanta in a few weeks.

Good things come to those who wait. And those who nest at abnormal points in life.

I’m going to let the pictures do the talking. Because truthfully, I can’t talk about my birthday dinner/party without crying. In fact, I didn’t even make it through the creation of this glorified slideshow without boo-hooing.

Because I am overwhelmed. Still. A week later.

Enjoy the gorgie-poo decor… and the delicious food… and the beautiful hearts of the men who served … and the genuine laughter on the faces of a few girls who really love each other.

The song is Home by the most wonderful Dave Barnes. And when this song drifted from the speakers into my ears during the party, I stopped, listened, and teared up. Because these lyrics say it.

Photography by the dearest Skip Hopkins. He not only captured the beauty, he captured the emotion. That’s a gift.

I’ve tried to write thank you notes, but they fail to tell the depths of my appreciation for what my friends did for me. Even as a writer, the English language is failing me. I just know that my heart was massively moved by this night.

I will never be the same.

I’m not going to tell you about last week. From start to finish, it was rough. I mean ROUGH.

And like I mentioned yesterday, I was lucky to have my dear friend Marie-Claire come hang for a bit. It was much needed and much enjoyed.

When she left on Sunday, I grabbed my pool bag and made a bee-line for the Green Hills YMCA pool.

[If you aren't from Nashville, this may be a phenomenon to you, as it was to me. But the YMCAs here are awesome and they have outdoor pools and everyone goes to them. It's weird and cool. And super nice to have access to a pool. Because, did I mention?, IT IS HOT.]

And y’all. It is HOT in Nashville right now. So the pool was packed, including many fun friends with whom I was honored to share the water with, though the pool was only about 2 degrees cooler than a nice warm bath.

Emily was there. Laura was there. Allen and Adam joined as well. And after only about 30 minutes in the chairs, we all hopped in the bath pool and circled up and we began to talk.

Now this probably won’t make any sense without further explanation, but I’m gonna try. You cannot possibly know how refreshing and relaxing it was just to bob around in the pool and talk. Worry free. Work free. Drama free.

I loved it.

We talked about relationships, beaches, vacations, and our favorites cities in Europe. Then Adam said, “you know, I think I’m going to live in Europe at some point.”

And I said, “Adam, why don’t we just go ahead and get married and move to Scotland?”

[People. I am less than 30 days from turning 30. I have the right to propose marriage at any appropriate juncture. Do not judge me.]

Adam is cute, funny, sweet, loves God. Really, the only problem is that we aren’t in love and don’t ever plan to be. But then he announces that he wants to live in Europe?!? I can get past the little bump in the road [meaning that we have no romantical feelings at all] if a man tells me he will move me to Europe.

Which, I guess if you want to get “technical,” Adam never offered to move ME to Europe, just himself.

So maybe the proposal was a bit rushed.

Well, no matter. He said no anyways. Something about “it’s not you, it’s me” but we all know that line is as old as the highlands of Scotland.

Thunder rumbled over our heads and the lifeguards [who are easily half my age] insisted we leave the pool AND the pool area completely. Wimps.

So we moved our party to Fido and I sat in my wet swimsuit with a navy blue coverup and ate a berries and cream popsicle.

And I don’t know that my friends know this, but Sunday rescued a part of me.

It was a really great day.

Even if Adam and I aren’t engaged.

Yet.

I could tell you about the piles of personal items out on the streets.

Or I could tell you about the sore muscles from ripping out cabinets, walls, insulation, and every other thing in a water soaked home.

I could tell you how I teared up as I cleaned out Terry’s linen closet, as he apologized for the mess. I could tell you how I was embarrassed for him as strangers emptied his bathroom cabinets and took every private item into the public front yard.

I could tell you that I have never seen anything like this. Bellevue, a suburb of Nashville, looks like a third world country. No home was spared from the rushing Harpeth River. I could tell you about the smell. About the devastation. About the fact that this broken community has a long way to go to recover from this disaster.

But you can see for yourself.

What you can’t see? The spirit of the people. The massive amount of volunteers moving from house to house, following the bright yellow “VOLUNTEERS NEEDED HERE” signs.

You can’t see our hearts breaking and being restored in the same instant. You can’t see the devastation and remain unaffected. But you also can’t see my neighbors serving each other and not be strengthened.

You can’t see the stories. You can’t see the moments when everyone in the home stands still and listens to the owner tell of the days before the flood, not because it matters, but because it heals.

You can’t see the piles of laundry or the piles of dishes because when the Nashville government asked us to conserve water, people actually DID IT. And we avoided a water crisis because everyone actually conserved water.

I hope your community NEVER has to endure something like this. No, it is no where nearly as massive as Hurricane Katrina, but it is painful none the less. It is loss. It is heartbreaking. It is life-changing.

But in some ways, I’m grateful. We would not know the heart of Nashville if we wouldn’t have seen it for ourselves.

- – - – - – - – - – -

What can you do to help Nashville?

Pray for us.

Donate to help flood victims. [Or get some swag- very cool.]

Come visit- either to volunteer [Mission Trip Summer 2010 anybody?] or just to hang out. [We can meet up at Frothy Monkey- you know I love that place.]