143/365

"Just do a u-turn up here. It's ok. You won't get stopped."-Brenna Winn

Famous last words. Apparently the fact that we had a preggo on board...or that I was wearing some cool Ray Bans...or that I said i was from Nashville...really seemed to persuade our nice officer, either.

Brenna always seems to get me in trouble. She unsuccessfully taught me to drive a stick shift when we were 15. Lets just say I'm gonna stick to automatic. No pun intended.

142/365

Last year, my grandparents sold their house to move closer to my parents. But it was more than my grandparent's house. It was the first house i ever lived in. It's the house my mom brought me home from the hospital to. That's the bathtub where I took my first bath. That's the stairway I fell down in my walker. That's the backyard where I had my first swingset. It didn't really hit me until we went back to see what the new owners had done with the place--that that house was the home of alot of firsts.

My mom and I made our way up to the attic, and I had the most vivid flashback of me at an old typewriter typing letters to people. Some I knew, some I didn't. And I was all alone just being creative. It's pretty powerful to think how deep our futures run into the past. Who would have thought that my love affair with words would lead to my current life. Who could have predicted that a 5-yr-old with a typewriter would one day be a 25-yr-old with a laptop typing a blog. Or writing songs. I have to say, God is a genius. Who knows what little seeds are being planted right now. The ones I won't see come into fruition until I'm old and gray.

I'd also like to mention (for my own memory's sake), that there was a moment where my mom and i stood alone crying in the upstairs bathroom. She said, "That's where I gave you your first bath." And it was over.

Needless to say, next time I go home, that bathtub will be in parent's house.

141/365

I've been strategically working on my niece for almost 6 months now. She says "mama, dada, mimi, memaw, papa, cooper, riley, halle, sydney" and every other relative's name under the sun. But, lets be honest, Nicolle is by no means an elementary word. Especially with the double L. It just adds a whole new level of complication.

So, alert the media. Memorial weekend 2010. Aunt N (a derivation of Aunty N) was locked down in Rhyan Galyon's vocabulary. The Wizard of Oz origin is well played too. I imagine her in her older years crying in despair for her "Aunty N, Aunty N..." to come save her, much like Dorothy cried for her aunt. Just click those heels, sister, cause it's true. There's no place like home..there's no place like home.

140/365

I meet alot of people that say they were raised in a small town. And by small town they mean 50,000 people. I always have to bite my tongue and not rain on their so-called-rural parade. But, correction: that is not a small town.

If you had a McDonalds, it's not a small town.

If you had more than one elementary school, it's not a small town.

If you didn't date every boy in your grade, it's not a small town.

And, if you've never been to a street dance, you're not from a small town.

Tonight was my dad's 30-year class reunion in a neighboring town called Little River (no, not home to the Little River Band.). So, we made an appearance at their street dance. And we saw our hometown cover band, The Classics, rock and roll. I may or may not have sung a Bonnie Raitt cover with them at some point in the evening. :)

139/365

They are my cousins and they are probably going to win state tomorrow in the 4x100 relay. The first leg and the anchor are Annie & Maggie Galyon, respectively. I've blogged about them before. I am so proud.

We spent all day at the KSHSAA State Track Meet in Wichita. Don't believe me? I have the sunburn (and this video) to prove it. As you can see they won their heat by a landslide, broke their school record, and are the team to beat in finals tomorrow.

On a much less impressive note, I ran track at one point in high school. 800, baby. That was my race. The perfect amount of control and aggression in one event. Frankly, I just wasn't fast enough to sprint and I think they pitied the thought of me enduring the 2-mile, so bam. 4x8. I despised track. I did it "to be a good leader on the volleyball and basketball team". We'd run those dirt roads at 6am and we'd do those interval workouts that were wayyy more intensive that anything the throwers did. I think I even had a piece of athletic tape with "overworked" written on it that I would wear sometimes. (I was and still am mouthy.)

Anyway, back to my point. There we are back at the state track meet today and I was remembering how the state track meet used to be one of the top tier social events back in the day. Fraternizing with all your friends through other small towns, and getting to hang out with your boyfriend in between discus throws. And then those years when you didn't have a boyfriend you'd cruise around in your cut-offs and cheap sunglasses checking out all the boys from the big city. OOOh baby, we were big time...

Almost as big time as I feel right now. Sitting the floor of my parent's bathroom because my little brother stole the bed I was supposed to sleep in tonight, so I came up the other bedroom and there was no 3-pronged-charger for my computer...yada yada yada....day 139? I just owned you. You tried to beat me down with so many obstacles, but I prevailed. Much like my cousins will tomorrow. Gold medal, here they come.

P.S. Hope everyone took note of our family's cheering section. Yeah, we are the real deal.

138/365

Because it's good. Because it's cheap. Because they have pebble ice like Sonic. Because it was once my summer job. Because I want to. That's why I go to the Dairy Dump within 30 minutes of getting home.

Ready, set, summer.

137/365

It was that point in the conversation where both parties involved knew that all substantial dialogue was over. Dad and I were idly making our obligatory closing statements. The "well...sounds like everybody's doing good" and the "well....I'm getting close to the house". Then dad said:

I gotta let ya go, honey. We just got home and I'm taking Cooper and his friends on a recon mission.

Huh?

And I thought my life was exciting. Upon hearing what was involved in this mission, I began thinking that my night at Burger Up and viewing the American Idol finale on DVR was somewhat underwhelming. My dad defines fun. And he makes a typical Wednesday night in a one-horse town not only exciting, but unique. I used to get annoyed, because certain boys that I was dating or had crushes on would come over to the house to see me. Or. So. I. Thought. Too many times, those boys ended up hanging out in the kitchen eating chips and salsa, listening and laughing, as dad told his famous stories. (While I sat in the bedroom flipping through the channels in an outfit that was more than likely not the first outfit I tried on.) He's a hoot. And he's got a heart of gold. Great combination for an adventurous childhood.

So, lookout, 67579. If you see some 3rd graders and/or a 40-something man dressed in all black with an M16 crawling through you front yard tonight, please don't call Officer Mary. It's just my dad. On a recon mission.

136/365

I pass 3 church signs on my drive home everyday. And every week I find myself chuckling at one particular church's tact. I'm in no way trying to run them down. The last thing I'd ever want is for their messages to disappear. They are one of the highlights of my day. I just found it very ironic that after their obvious invitation to come inside they had chained the drive closed. Oh, Hermitage, how I love thee..

135/365

Nothing says the heartland like a horse & buggy parade on the highway. I made the 439-mile trek across some beautiful backroads on the way back from Carrie's shower. I set the GPS to avoid interstate halfway through the trip. Best decision I've made in awhile, that's for sure. I was driving past windmills, silos, barns and little white chapels as opposed to semis and billboard signs. If I drove through one one-horse town, I drove through 30 of em. It was soothing and therapeutic in the best way possible. I highly recommend changing the preferences on your GPS. Who knew it would provide such a fulfilling experience!

134/365

1 Piano bar + 1 Kesha cover + 1 Springfield, Missouri + 2 am +10 women + 1 pregnant woman + 1 medical emergency = 1 good night of bad music.

133/365

I come to you today from Springfield, Missouri. I have already found myself in the middle of the Sucker Days Festival where families basically take baseball bats out to the river and kill the bottom feeders, head back into town and all celebrate with a fish fry. I have driven down the middle of a hometown parade, asked a hometown cop for directions (to spare the ticket he was about ready to give me) and passed a horse and buggy on the highway. There's a little voice in my midwestern soul that whispers "now that's more like it".

Speaking of the midwest, my two best friends from Kansas are having baby girls within two weeks of each other. (Left out, party of me.) Which is what brings me to these her parts. Today's installment is in honor of too-skinny-to-be-7 months-preggo Carrie Wright. Remember her from Day 17? As I wrote to her daughter in the front of "The Giving Tree" yesterday, if she's half the mother she is a friend, Little Miss Baby Wright has hit the jackpot of mothers. She is so special and well worth the over-dramatic drive (long story) it took to get here.

132/365

I'm currently in the process of the whole laundry/folding/packing/organizing regimen right now, so I'm a little distracted as I write tonight.

Today I wrote a song with one of my favorite writers, Jason Walker, at his new loft in the Gulch. Lets talk about how stinkin bad I wanna live in a condo overlooking downtown. But then we'd have to talk about how stinking bad my better half likes living within a stone's throw of the lake. And, in this case, seniority wins ;) We were writing for his next project that will probably come out later this year. Jason was my co-writer on "Echo" and I am always inspired by his musicality. The guy overflows with melodies all day long. So all good there.

Then I made a little appearance at my manager's office to sign the paperwork for pub deal 2.0. Basically, the people I work for want to keep working with me for at least 2 more years. Praise Jesus, Hallelujah! I realize that there are people everywhere whose spirits are crushed by the fact that what they do and what they love are not synonymous. And I look at how for the past 3 years, I've been paid to write songs. And when I stop and put it into perspective (not to get too sappy here), I can't help but think about how when i moved to Nashville, I had never written a song. And here I am. Doing it everyday. Wow. No words.

Then, I spent a little time with my diva coach, did a radio interview for a radio show in Kentucky, met my man for dinner, then stopped by my best friend's house on the way home for a little clothing exchange.

Moral of the story? Life is good.

131/365

Just when I thought my job couldn't get any less conventional. Anne was in a studio in Los Angeles. I was in a writing room in Nashville. We wrote a song. Courtesy of Skype. Welcome to the future.

130/365

For those of you who follow this blog, it comes as no surprise that I am ob-to-the-sessed with Needtobreathe. So you can imagine my excitement when I was in the middle of writing a song at the office today. Probably mid-brainbusting-rhyme-riddle thingy. Or whatever it is I do. When I hear a little knock-knock. Followed by a few other insignificant details. Followed by the only significant detail--Seth Bolt, the bass player from Needtobreathe, walking in the room. Handshake. The words "world's biggest fan" may have been said at some point. Anyway, it was awesome. And undoubtedly the highlight of my day. Pride was the only thing standing between that experience and potential video footage of the encounter.

Instead, you'll have to settle for a song I finished with Miss Musgraves after the rockstar left the building. The funny thing is that Needtobreathe is somewhat responsible for the song we wrote. There's a lyric in one of their songs that says something about being "dirty like corrupted small towns". That lyric really got me thinking about how there is so much good about small towns. No one is more of an advocate for promoting that side of the coin than me. But like everything in this world, there are imperfections. There's pain and guilt and loneliness and I could go on and on. Somehow that lead me to come up with the title "Broken Heartland", which is what we were working on when Mr. Needtobreathe walked in. Isn't it ironic....and awesome!

129/365

TODAY WAS A TRAGEDY

(Galyon)

Today was a tragedy.

We found a roach.

While eating at Copper Kettle.

You took your Converse kicks and you squashed it on the head.

Today was a tragedy.

Today was a tragedy.

I wanted Coke.

But Copper Kettle didn't have it.

They've changed over to Pepsi and now I'm all a mess.

Today was a tragedy.

128/365

On day 28 I introduced you to my sweet friend Tucker Perry. Better known as Miss Tennessee USA. She gave us all a tutorial in how to be a beauty queen. And tonight, she rocked the small screen in nothing but bikini strings. And, for that, I applaud her. (I also feel a responsibility to tell the world that I've watched that girl down fried chicken at Copper Kettle. It's nice to see a girl with a six-pack eat.)

Confession: I have never watched a beauty pageant of any kind in its entirety in my life. Probably because all the girls start to look alike. Probably because I start to obsess about my thighs. Probably because I can't stand watching women being judged on their body. Whatever the reasons, they all went out the window tonight. I maintained my position on the edge of the couch for 2 hours. Tucker made it into the top 10. She said in an interview that her dad told her to never let anyone outwork her, and that she was confident nobody had worked harder than her in the competition. Coming from the "Daughter Of A Workin' Man", I was proud of her. Good old-fashioned hard work is underrated. (As was proven in Tucker's 6-pack-abs tonight.)

127/365

In high school, some people called me Nicola (sung, not spoken, like the Ricola commercial). More times than I can count I've been told I look like a Heidi. A guy I used to know called me Swiss Miss. Moral of the story: I look like I'm from Sweden.

So you can imagine how good it felt to reconnect with "my people" when I heard I got a cut back in my supposed homeland today :) Back in October, I wrote with an amazing all-girl group called Abalone Dots. They're amazing instrumentalists and vocalists. But it was their pale skin and square-shaped faces that I was really drawn to. Anyway, we spent a few hours together, wrote a song called "Lighthouse", they hopped on a plane, left the United States, and I never heard from them again. Until today. They cut the song we wrote, and I cannot wait to hear it. Think Dixie Chicks on crack!

126/365

People outside of Nashville probably think of the "music business" as an intimidating environment. I am here to tell you that it's nothing more than balloon animals, cornhole, snocones and moonshine. Yay for never growing up and writing songs everyday!

125/365

Some would say that true character is revealed in times of struggle and tragedy. But I would argue that it is equally evident in times of success and great wealth. Tonight we were at a #1 party for "Hillbilly Bone", honoring Craig (Wiseman) and Luke (Laird), the co-writers. I think anyone who has dreams of having a hit song wonders what it feel like and what it would look like at THEIR #1 party. And I would want mine to look like the look on Luke Laird's face. He has had 4 #1 songs and got choked up as he spoke of his family and his fiance, seemingly in awe of what has happened to him. And I think, therein, is what separates the humble and the proud. You either believe that it happened TO you or you convince yourself that it happens BECAUSE of you. Luke Laird, who is an incredible talent, looks like he doesn't take much credit for the journey he is on. I wanna be like that if I'm ever in that position. Heck, I wanna be more like that NOW.

124/365

Out of respect for everyone within eyesight of my legs, I resorted to artificial measures. Please don't send me parental messages using the words "cancer" or "aging". I get slim to zero sun year-round, yall. Nothing 5-6 trips to the bed will cause. The temperature is rising. So it's time to harvest some freckles. Frankly, I'm just tired of being called white girl by my husband.

123/365

Merry Christmas in May! We just happened to be writing when we got a call that Point of Grace cut "The Giver & The Gift" today. 3 things we love: Jesus, Point of Grace, and Christmas. Wrap them all up with one big bow and you have a nice little package, if I do say so myself.

All cutesy narratives aside, we are both overflowing with gratitude. To think that on any given day God chose to put those particular words and that particular melody in our heads and let us put our names next to it is pretty wild. As you well know from my previous entries, songwriting isn't always a breeze. Sometimes it's a struggle and you run headfirst into a brick wall. But on this particular day, a song wrote itself as fast as we could type the lyrics. But EVERYDAY will keep you humble. Write a dud? Humbled. Write a hit? Humbled. No matter the outcome, its bigger than you. And both are reminders of that.

I would also like to mention that 3 years ago, Molly and I signed our first pub deals within a month of each other and have spent every other Monday since together. (If you do the math, I think that's roughly 72 Mondays.) We have spent many of them writing songs. Some we like. Some we don't. Some we love. And some not even worth finishing. But what's more, is that we've spent those Mondays crying about missing our family, dreaming of hearing our songs on the radio, sharing our inner-most-insecurities about love and music with each other. There is a transparency and an intimacy there unparalleled anywhere else on my writing calendar. We even wrote a song one day after Molly had a potentially big cut pulled out from under her in the final hour that says "the longer it takes, it's gonna be that much sweeter." Well, Molly Reed, this is 72 Mondays sweeter because it was with you, my dear friend.

122/365

Would you believe me if I told you our church sent us away today because there were TOO MANY volunteers? (Either that or they didn't like Rodney's camo.) I guess that's a good problem. And I guess that says something about the passion of our church.

Plan B? 15-mile bike ride. It was gorgeous (even when we were off-roading, dodging trees that had fallen in the pathway). As we stopped on the bridge and looked down at the Cumberland, I couldn't help but think about how the same river that was calmly flowing beneath my feet was the same river that tore through our city and left all this destruction. I soooo do not have the answers for why some lose it all and others are spared. Lots on my mind tonight where that river is concerned.

121/365

Her name was Diane. And when I met her she was wearing the same mask and gloves as I was. But when I asked if she knew who lived in this house, I saw tears building up behind her glasses as she said "my mother". When I met Diane she was pushing sopping wet pieces of ceiling into a pile in the middle of the kitchen. The kitchen she grew up in.

This property was considered a complete loss, since the water level was well into the attic. Her 80 year old mother evacuated twice, leaving 8 decades of belongings behind her. As you can see in the video, nearly nothing was in tact. Diane told me that everything in the house was to be thrown away EXCEPT for two items. 1. The stained-glass light fixture that hung above where the kitchen table used to stand. And 2. a cookie jar.

The cookie jar originally belonged to her grandmother and was the ONLY item that still existed in their family that was hers. She described it as a pale pink depression glass jar about 6 inches tall by a 6 inch base. And I'll confess, that when she was telling us to keep an eye out for it, I was looking at the situation and had little to no hope it'd show up. Let alone, in 1 piece.

Seeing as how a river had run through the house from west to east...and everything from the house had floated and drained into basically two bedrooms..... and settled like sardines in a jar....well, the odds weren't great. But about an hour later, Diane and I were sitting on the tailgate of a truck drinking water when my friend walked outside with it in his hands. The next 60 seconds will be tattooed on my brain for a long, long time. You would have thought that he had just rescued her child from a burning building, the way she shot up, ran over to him, grabbed the precious item from his hands, gave him a giant hug and starting saying "God is good. God is so good. while she embraced the cookie jar.

The magnitude of someone standing in the face of such loss and declaring "God is good!" with such conviction was a vision. A real-life snapshot of gratitude.

It gave me a lot to think about.

120/365

I'm a full-on German, blonde-hair, green-eyed, pale-skinned sistah. But I'll have a Mexican popsicle anyway.

I thoroughly enjoyed my write today. Lovely girl. Lovely voice. Kacey Musgraves. And we had a good dose of lovely girl talk before we wrote. Although she's not married and I am, we still found some common ground on the topic of trust. That's a mighty big word when it comes to men. I won't reveal the topics of our convo, because what happens in a co-write is much like Vegas. It stays there, unless you produce a lovechild in the form of a song, and that goes home with you. Long story short, she said "Love without trust is nothing more than lust." Maybe that's a common saying that I've never heard before, or maybe it's not as brilliant as I think it is. But I loved it. So, there ya go, girls. Chew on that until tomorrow's post...and happy Cinco de Mayo!

119/365

If you live in Nashville, it can go without saying that sunshine has never looked so beautiful as it did today. I am very fortunate. My biggest loss was that my Target is underwater (which is probably a good thing for my bank account anyway). I found myself riding around a very dry, and a very quiet Music Row today in a jeep with no top or doors. Had to stick my leg out the door just because I could. I also walked around barefoot in our basement tonight just because I could. It's amazing what perspective comes from tragedy; what clarity comes from such devastation.

118/365

....and the rain came down and the floods came up....

This will be a day to remember. We went for a drive to investigate some of the damage done this weekend. Keep in mind that we primarily stayed out on our side of town, which is probably the least of Nashville's worries right now. And I couldn't help but think about how temporary everything in this life is. Friday evening I was stressing about cleaning my bathrooms. But for some reason, today, as I was reading friends' Facebook posts about sorting through lost family photos in their flooded basement and watching as their vehicle floated down the block upside down, my toilets didn't seem as urgent as I thought they were.

It's all temporary. The closet full of clothes. That garage full of cars. That living room full of furniture. So I better not hold on to it like it is.

117/365

Peaceful little showers, huh? Little did we know....

116/365

Write, write, write. Taking it one song at a time.

115/365

Some days my blog content is up in the air. But this day was, undoubtedly, an easy one to figure out. We were out tonight with some good friends and out of nowhere, Jessica says "I want a tattoo. I've been thinking about it for a long time. And this is the night." There were adult beverages involved, so I was a little skeptical at first. But she proceeded to get an operator on the line until she found a tattoo parlor that was still open at that hour. She walked in, told them what she wanted, sat down, got the tattoo, and we went on our way. I could NOT believe it. As of "the morning after", she is 100% happy about her decision. And, I have to say, it's one of the classiest looking tattoos I've seen. The initial C for husband's first name with an H on the inside for her son's first name. I am so glad this memory was made. It will continue to be relived everytime I see her right arm :)

114/365

This week has been vocal boot camp. I've been working with my "diva instructor", as he prefers to be called. And he lives up to his title in every way. I will forever be indebted to him for teaching me how to sing, and how to make songs come to life. In the process, he is quickly changing my life. This is a whole new world to me. What doesn't feel new are the nerves. Much like back in the day of piano lessons, I'm finding myself nervously practicing, not wanting to let my mentor down. It's a healthy amount of nerves, and I never wanna lose the challenge that comes with pushing myself to be better.