251/365

My brother got a wife. I got a sister. We all got a good cry. Congrats, Taytay. Love you.

250/365

They're the Little Bears. And they've yet to score a point this season. You'd think they were Olympians since they've got the positivity of Tony Robbins. And, for that, I applaud them. I also applaud my father for coaching a bunch of 1st time football players. I think I heard someone ask what the score was during the game today. He had to show them how to read the scoreboard. Bless his heart.

249/365

Remember how they knocked the school down? Well, the next chapter has begun. I am happy to report that my hometown has a hot rockin' (thank you, Amy Outlaw) facility, full to the brim with things they've never had before. Like microphones for the teachers. Like Smartboards. Like a legit cafeteria. And, fortunately for my brother, lockers for the 4th graders. Whoa, baby. Get ready for some world domination. Cause this building makes those kids feel like the sky is the limit.

248/365

I am probably disqualified for candidacy for Wife of the Year. Somehow along the way I decided it was okay to fly to Kansas ON my husband's birthday. Lucky for me, he loves me anyway. Lucky for him, I'm resourceful. Happy Birthday to my best friend.

247/365

Dear Strange Neighbors,

It seems as if our chronicles are coming to a close. We were deeply saddened to return from Mexico to find what else but moving boxes in your front yard today. We have grown quite attached to your shady, once possibly polygamist, far too big to be a short-term rental property. I am sad to see you go, but am grateful for your countless contributions to my blog. From our undercover meeting in the driveway to our exchange of chocolate chip cookies to the sheriff’s notice of inspection on the front door, we have truly built something wonderful. How can we repay you for the never-ending pool of content, mystery, and overall fascination in our household. You will be deeply missed.

My Regrets,

Nicolle

246/365

Adios, best shrimp ceviche I've ever had. Adios, badass golf carts. Adios, Casa Mimosita. Adios, Emperadora vanilla creme cookies. Adios, open air hanging bed. Adios, Coca Lights. Until next Febrero....

245/365

They catch it and cook it and throw it on your table. Beyond that it's up to you.

244/365

And on the 5th day they bought drugs. No trip across the border is complete without an obligatory trip to the local farmacia for a winter's stock of Z-Pac's and amoxicillan. The hilarity of going to one pharmacy and being told that we must have a prescription in order to purchase and then walking literally 25 yards down the street and hearing "oh yes! we sell you that!"....well, it was classic Mexico.

243/365

This very well may have been the most monumental thing that has happened all day. Seriously.

242/365

They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone. But I say you don't know where you'refrom until you're gone. Much like the way I didn't understand how windy and flat Kansas was until I moved to Tennessee, I didn't realize how precise we are in the United States until I went to Mexico. I mean, when we build a sidewalk, we actually start and finish the whole block. And when we build a structure, we actually paint the WHOLE thing. And it's not just the economic state down here that is responsible for this behavior. I think it's generation after generation of not knowing any different.

Aside from the obvious luxurious perks of this trip, this week has really been such eye-opening experience as far as better understanding the Mexican culture. We aren't at a resort surrounded by American conveniences. We are immersed in the lifestyle of this island and i am just a sponge. Taking in every single detail of even the most ordinary events, ie the grocery store. And I am not proud to announce that I have since begun a love affair with these Dulci Gamas gummy candies and Emperador vanilla creme cookies. Oh, Lord, help me...

241/365

So you think your firework dreams have all been grounded by rain on July 4. Then you spend the next few months emotionally recovering from the proverbial rug that has been ripped out from underneath you. And you finally accept that all your patriotic energies went down the drain. (Oh, how I love the metaphors.)

Then...BAM....you wake up in the middle of the Isla Mujeras town square with a couple thousand people celebrating the Bicentennial Mexican Independence Day. And all things are right in the world again. A cherry on the top of a day filled with a long run through the back alleys of the island, a little sand volleyball, grapefruit vodkas, lobster quesadillas, Sara Bareilles on the ipod and my feet in the pool.

Viva la Mexico! Happy 200th Birthday-o.

240/365

Hola mis amigos! I come to you today from the salsa-rich culture down here in May-hee-ko. If my posts are brief this week it's because I'm busy bathing in Sangria and ending every sentence in "o". Today was primarily spent traveling, but I just overheard someone say we were taking the golf carts down to eat ceviche. So adios amigos! See ya later-o!

239/365

By far my favorite part of my job. Recording piano. It's like I'm at home base. The singing, the performing, the rhyming....I like it all. But I have to really stretch myself to claim those as my natural being. The piano part just flows. Don't quit practicing, kiddos. It'll stick with you a lot longer than football.

238/365

Glorious. Just glorious. Due to a VERY late return home from Knoxville, we had a lazy morning and then had a GREAT day at home. We're only here for like 3 of the next 15 days or something like that, so if there was something to be cleaned, bought, organized, paid, exercised.....it needed to happen today. The flowers on the front porch made me smile. The sound of the boy down the street practicing his trumpet made me smile. The fact that my running shorts felt a little too snug even made me giggle. Nothing about my day was out of the ordinary, except for the fact that the sun was shining, football was on and I had the priviledge of paying my bills and buying groceries and backing up my hard drives...oh yeah, and getting our monthly his & hers pedicures. Ahhhhh....

237/365

There used to be a day when walking miles in the rain to watch a team I didn't even follow play was out of the question. Those days are gone. I guess it's a combination of maturity, perspective and who knows, maybe even in small part, this blog, that's responsible for it. But somewhere along the way I've started assessing situations based on their worth in memories rather than convenience. And today was an example of that.

Normally I'd consider the time, the money, the fact that I don't know the name of but 1 UT player. Not to mention that I look hideous in orange. But there was a moment today where I was shoulder to shoulder with 100k plus people in the walkways of Neyland Stadium taking cover from a torrential thunderstorm....trying to hold a hotdog and 3 bottles of water....and protect my camera...peeking through the hood of my fishing jacket turned raincoat....dodging very "touchy" college guys....navigating my way back to the group.....when I thought....

what a memory.

Now I have to mention that it wasn't much of a game. But after the game, we hoofed it back up Cumberland like a bunch of freaking locals, nonetheless. Because all is fair in love and college football.

[Nicolle would also like to mention as a sidenote that not even the 100k plus attendance could compare to a Big XII game. Her attendance at this game was mere entertainment, not fan loyalty.]

236/365

I guess this was the equivalent of stopping by my husband's "office" on the way home from "work" today. Oh, thank the Lord for the lives we lead...

235/365

Another hard day at work*.

*work: term used loosely

234/365

I will never tire of looking up at a restaurant and seeing our friend on tv. Go Ben! And Go Rays! (I know you're out there reading this, via your Safari bookmarks.) And Jules....come back soon.

233/365

You thought it was over? Think again. Since our last neighbor installment, things have gone from creepy to creepier. The sheriff and the landlord are making frequent visits to the property, asking us where they are, and if we've seen them. There has not been a light on in the house for about a month and a half. The cars have not moved. But the dogs are being fed, let out, etc. I don't know what they're hiding, but it is creepy. And I've become a creeper.

So when we spotted them in the driveway yesterday....I documented it. Just in case the sheriff or the yard guy or the landlord have further inquiries. I hope we have a real life Lifetime movie on our hands.

232/365

The holiday weekend came full circle with 80 people eating barbeque, smoking cigars and playing poker with Rocky Mountaintops in clear view. And, of course, me. Singing for my supper. Tonight I talked to three sharp-dressed men from Aspen about playing a piano on the streets of Breckenridge. They were fun. And I apparently inspired them to start an official tourism blog for Breck. It's probably a sin for me to have knowingly lead them to such a a tortured activity. Good luck, boys.

231/365

"Do you know you're exceptional?"

I was mid-casual-conversation with someone I really respect when I was blindsided by those words. I've been walking on air ever since. We don't have a clue as to how much power we have in our words, do we? They're like matches. They can light somebody's way or burn somebody down. I just hope that I don't waste my life keeping my belief in people to myself. Because too many times, one person's sentence has changed the trajectory of my life for the better. I wanna change the world one bit of encouragement at a time.

And just like this mentioned conversation, I'm sure Zoe (above) will never forget her VIP treatment by the PGB. Because just like one little bit of encouragement, one little kiss on the forehead can make a girl's world a whole lot brighter.

230/365

It started off with big sweatshirts and leggings and lattes down in the village. Then it was 3 chatterboxes in flannel shirts burning holes in our pockets in downtown Breckenridge. We told John Waite how much we loved his hair and then we hopped on the ski lift like a couple of 4th graders. It was in this moment that I thought to myself "this day can't get any better". Then my old boss called and said that Pat Green was cooking a big dinner for everybody back at the house. And, once again, the day got better.

You wouldn't think a beer-drinking, barefoot-singin', good old boy could whip together much more than a bologna sandwich. But life is full of surprises. Our day ended with baked tilapia, bacon-wrapped-asparagus, and some mystery pasta with a highly-caloric, yet highly-satisfying white sauce.

Why is any of this warranted as blog material? Because a day like this can so easily be forgotten. The food, the people, the music, the mountain air, the laughter. And I just want to know that there's the slightest chance that someday I'll be perusing ye old blog and something I just wrote will help me recognize what a lucky I was to have a day like this.

229/365

That John Denver knows what he's talkin about. I mean, my heart just breaks wide open when I get in the mountains. They make me feel small and powerful at the same. Small because I see something so big only the hand of God could create. Powerful because I know I'm something only the hand of God could create.

And as I sit here with a brisk breeze coming off the mountains and kissing me on the face, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Obviously because of the beauty, but also because of why I'm here. I was invited out by the old crew that I used to work with [before I was a full-time songwriter]. And I love them. They knew me when I was bouncing up and down the halls of William Morris in my running clothes and a messy ponytail. Back when I was just feeling my way through the everyday life of being a full-time college student and full-time employee. And now we have this unique bond that is hard to explain. Sometimes I'm like the daughter their boss never had. Sometimes I'm like their little sister. Sometimes I'm like an ex-employee. And maybe sometime I'll be their official client. But more than anything, they are dear friends.

The first night here at Copper Mountain we shut down Endo's, so we had to relocate to the OTHER (yes, there's only two) bar, Mulligan's. And, let me just tell you. There are some interesting folks here. Take Crystelle, for instance. A perfect stranger. Who basically volunteered her whole life story to us for no reason. It might be one of those "you had to be there" moments, but I'm pretty sure it was worth sharing. She basically told us how she was engaged. But from what we gathered, her so-called fiance doesn't even remember that he supposedly proposed in a drunken stupor from across the ocean.

Only in Colorado.

228/365

Football season is here. We were so excited on the first night of college games that we justified the drive to MTSU. Those guys are good. There's no reason that place shouldn't be full of fans.

227/365

If you ever find yourself surrounded by words of wisdom, read them. Probably one of my favorite trips to the ladies room of all time.

226/365

When I first moved to Nashville, it seemed like everytime I turned around I was in a situation that made me pinch myself. Like riding in a limosine. Or sitting in a guitar pull with hit songwriters. Or playing a song for Kris Kristofferson. Or getting to hang in a studio for the first time. Or cutting some guy in an SUV off in the Maggie Moos parking lot and it turned out to be Keith Urban. I can name a million examples, ranging from the most simple to the most acutely unique, where that internal voice said, "did that just happen?" or "wow" or "how did I get here?"

That's the voice that over the years has faded from a childlike scream to a distant whisper to a dull nothing. As my years in this town become more numbered and my pages become more full, the easily excitable girl turns into a more jaded woman. One who often takes for granted the overwhelming abundance of priceless experiences that come my way.

But tonight was an exception. I guess the scene was way too fantastic and the music was far too good and the company was far too bizarre to take for granted (I'm not naming names). And any fool would've looked around the room we all stood in and sang in and drank in and thought "how did I get here?"

Moral of the story: my life does not suck.

Second moral of the story: look around.

Most important moral of the story: I don't deserve any of this.

P.S. Happy Birthday Chris Tompkins, the most inappropriate person I've ever met in my life. We love you for that. :)

225/365

And sometimes she gets distracted when she's trying to rehearse.