Grease. Or, Not Washing My Hair Every Day.

Man, oh man, have I had an embarrassment of riches this week. First, Jordan took over the blog with his epic rafting/Deliverance tale, and now my precious friend Mary Frances is taking over to tell a slightly less adventurous, but equally as harrowing, tale. I bet most women who read this blog will relate: the process of training your hair to not be washed every day. 

Since the pictures of her in this blog post are...we'll say "less than flattering," I pulled some pictures from her website so you can see how adorable she is (and how adorable her dog, Porter, is. I mean, COME ON with that). 

Mary Frances is a jewelry designer whose studio is in West Asheville (visit her incredible website here). Jordan and I met she and her boyfriend, Hobbs, at church one Sunday. Since then, Fran (as she's called by the cool kids) and I have bonded through our three-times-a-week Pure Barre dates. One day a couple of weeks ago, a few of the PB girls were discussing hair care regimens. I'll let her take it from here. 

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I wash my hair every day, or at least every time I shower. Apparently it’s not good for your hair. At my last haircut, the stylist gave me a big “shame on you” speech about how I shouldn’t. What.Ever. Sometimes I skip a day, but honestly, it’s rare. Unless I’m camping or without access to a shower, these locks get shampooed almost every single day. I have pretty thick hair, or so I think, so you’d think it wouldn't get greasy easily - well, you’d be wrong.

For a while now (okay, like, a week), Mary Catherine and a friend at Pure Barre have been telling me that they wash their hair just a couple times a week. So, I decided to try it. I washed my hair the night before “Day 1” began.

Day 1. 

7:30 AM - Hear alarm go off. Look at the clock and realize it’s too late to get up, get dressed, pour coffee, feed the dog, take said dog to daycare, and get to Pure Barre by the 8:30 class. Look at PB app and see Mary Catherine is teaching the 9:45 class. Book it and roll back over.

9:40AM - Get to Pure Barre.

10:00AM - In the middle of plank position, remember what MC and I had talked about last week. Decide today’s the day I’m going to try it - I won't wash my hair every day this week. I figure, I’ve got nothing to do this week, so why not? I mean, let’s be real, I work for myself, usually from home - who do I have to impress?

12:00PM- Take a shower post-PB. Stand there wondering what the heck I’m supposed to do in here if I can’t wash my hair. Wash my body twice for good measure.

12:46PM - Text MC asking what she suggests I do in the shower since I can’t wash my hair. She tells me to stand there unmoving and then buy dry shampoo.

4:40PM - Feel my hair that I decided to air dry and notice that it’s still not dry. Text MC again.

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5:00PM - Pick up dog from daycare and discover that he somehow has gotten some poop on his back. Remember that Porter only shampoos his hair when he gets groomed, which is only every 6 weeks, and his hair is angel soft. Thinking more and more about how that stylist may have been right. Consider bathing Porter when we get home to remove said poop. Remember that we just moved into an apartment that is mostly carpeted and decide against it. 

5:15PM - Get home and use baby wipes leftover from my niece’s visit a few weeks ago to wipe away poop (it was just a tiny bit, I swear!). Decide beyond a doubt that Porter will not sleep in the bed with me tonight.

10:50PM - Look at hair one more time in the mirror. Decide that tomorrow, I'll dry my hair post-shower rather than air dry and see if it makes a difference.

11:00PM -Throw hair on top of my head. Snug with Porter in bed.

Day 2. Woof. 

7:30AM - Wake up raring to go. Snug the pup one last time before getting up and dressed for the 8:30 PB class.

7:45AM - Check hair in the mirror. Notice “cute” top knot from previous night has turned into a top knot mullet. Take hair down to brush + redo for PB and see large crease in hair a few inches from my forehead. Cringe. Throw hair back up in top knot.

8:45AM - Midway through plank, remember I’m not allowed to wash my hair in my post-workout shower. Cringe again.

10:00AM - Go to “Luke’s” with Mary Catherine.

11:00AM - Get home, ready to shower.

11:25AM - Lay on the floor with Porter remembering that he only washes his hair every 6 weeks. Try to convince myself that this is actually a good idea. 

11:45AM - Turn the shower on and get a little sad remembering that I’m not allowed to wash my hair again. Consider doing it anyway because #yolo.

11:47AM - Get in shower and decide against the shampoo. Stand under the water wondering, once again, how people who don’t wash their hair every day waste the appropriate amount of time in the shower.

11:52AM - Get out. Kidding - I stood, unmoving, under the hot water for at least 10 minutes.

12:15PM - Begin drying hair. Get halfway through and realize that it’s not drying. Oh, right. Grease. Throw it back up in a top knot, half dry and all.

12:17PM - Notice hat in the corner of room and decide that should I choose to go in public today, that hat will most certainly be on my head.

12:30PM - Consider buying dry shampoo. Forget and go to work.

12:45PM - Get to work and remember I forgot the hat. Hope I don’t see anyone I know today.

4:45PM - Feel face and realize that not only is my hair greasy, but somehow my face is as well. Remember I washed my face in the shower this morning. Consider if it’s possible that grease from hair has traveled.

5:30PM - Get home, see roommate, hope she doesn’t notice the greaseball on top of my head.

10:15PM - Examine hair one last time before confirming that tomorrow will be the day I stop this nonsense. Remember that dry shampoo was supposed to be a key element in this experiment. Forget about it and go to bed.

Day 3 - Shampoo Day. Holler. 

7:30AM - Wake up, look in mirror, see greasy top knot mullet, and wonder if it’s weird to shower before a workout class. Decide that yes, that would most certainly be weird.     

8:30AM - Get to Pure Barre. Sit next to a woman who tell me she just ate a donut before class. Make a mental note to be this woman’s friend.

9:15AM - In the middle of plank (when apparently I do all my serious life-contemplation) remember that today I get to wash my hair. Smile. Then fall out of plank and go back to my huffing and puffing until class ends.

10:00AM - Race home. Take a quick pic of my greasy hair for all you dear readers.

10:02AM - Jump in the shower. Wash, rinse, repeat* for approximately 20 minutes while dancing and singing aloud to Leon Bridges, confirming that this is 100% worth a second noise violation from my overly finicky downstairs neighbor.

*I understand the whole wash rinse repeat thing is a huge marketing ploy to get oblivious consumers to use up their shampoo supply quicker therefore having to buy it more often. #what.ever. I am their ideal consumer.

10:15AM - Brush hair and realize it still feels a little greasy. Understand that it may take a few days of going back to my wasteful hair-washing-every-day routine for said hair to lose all grease.

11:58AM - Finish writing blog post and come to the conclusion that washing my hair only a few times a week is not the life for me. I'll leave it to the rest of Asheville’s hippie population. Though maybe next time I’ll actually buy the dry shampoo. 

The end. 

The Best Story Jordan Knows.

You know that moment at great dinner parties or cocktail gatherings when everybody's good and liquored up? You know what I'm talking about. 

The stories are flowing and so is the wine. Everyone is feelin' real relaxed. Someone has probably accidentally spilled or dropped something at this point (it's usually me). Raucous laughter is booming through the house. 

That's the moment when Jordan usually tells this story. 

To be fair, he does not tell it because he wants to. He tells it because I whore him out. I think this is partially because, though Jordan and I went to college together and I know all the players in this tale, I didn't know this story until a year after we got married. I heard him tell it at a dinner party. So having experienced it as a listener, I know that it's a pretty good story. 

Of course, there are two downsides to this: 

1. I have now already broken the cardinal rule of storytelling, which is: UNDERSELL. 
2. We have no stories to tell at dinner parties. 

Nevertheless. I will press on. 

Ladies and gents, my husband. 

Okay, so here's the deal. This story is not only 100% real, but also relatively uneventful. That's right – I'm telling you that this story may not even be worth your time.

I really think that what makes it interesting is not that it was exceptionally scary/dangerous/educational, bu that it even happened at all. Just weird. I haven't seen Twin Peaks but, from what I understand, this is very Twin Peaks. Anyway, here we go. 

It was sometime in mid-Summer 20...08? 09? One of those. I was an upcoming junior or senior at Birmingham-Southern College. I was staying at our fraternity house that summer along with a few others and, as college summers can be, it was hot and it was boring. One afternoon, someone had the idea to go floating down a nearby river which conveniently ran right through the hunting camp of one of the brothers. We'll call him, "Jay*" to maintain his anonymity. 

*Jay, I can already hear you whining about how that's your real name and it's not anonymous. But if you just keep quiet, no one will even know, man. 

So we loaded down a few cars with cold beer and inner-tubes and...oh God, this is a bad country song. But seriously, we had some beer and floats. And really not that much food as I remember it. Not that it's relevant, but I'm just kind of free writing here. In fact, another character - "Bill*" - and I were sharing this really great double tube with a cooler in the middle.

* Psst. Will, you're Bill. In case you were wondering. 

In hindsight, I should've realized that two semi-adults and 30 Keystone Lights weren't going to make much headway on this river. Which, by the way, was not at all a river. A creek after a rain, maybe, but it hadn't rained in Birmingham for at least a few weeks because the water was low. Low enough for us to question Jay's previous assessment of a 3-5 hour float time.  

"But I don't want to get in the way of a good time! Let's go for it." 

-- last words of the first guy to die in any teen horror film 

Along with Will, Jay and I, we have a few other characters. Let me set them up using as few adjective as possible: Mark – ginger, outdoorsy. Lindsey – female, relative stranger to me, athlete. Rob – diabetic, resourceful. Jerome* (tall, fratty) and 3 lady friends of his from another school. Don’t know the names of the three girls he brought, but let's go with Alvin, Simon, Theodore. There were other people there (like Keith and Thomas/Ford) but they played a relatively normal and uneventful role. Good God this is taking so long to type out. How does my wife do this every day? 

*I wish I could tell you this guy was actually named Jerome but he's someone else and I'd never get a chance to use Jerome if I didn't use it now. Sorry, man. 

We ended up putting in on the river around 1 PM -- a little later than we'd like, but given our projected float time, we were thinking we'd be back at least an hour before sunset. Everyone inflated their tubes and started getting into the creek. Which was barely even moving. Not hyperbolically And since we were two people plus beer for us and Mark, we were way slower than everyone else. Right when we hit the river, the group began to spread out - some folks swimming ahead and others dragging along the bottom. Before long*, Mark, Lindsey, Bill and I were far behind everyone else. We were all chipping in to lighten the cargo weight of our cooler tube and, really, the next thing I remember is it starting to get dark. 

*In fact, it was very little time. Kind of suspiciously little time? 

Earlier, we had entertained the "What if the creek forks and we don't know which way to go?" scenario, but had decided it useless to worry about. Besides, it probably wouldn't happen anyway. Or whatever.

But when darkness fell, things were a little different. So, to recap: strange creek, wilderness, swimsuits, plastic toys. Not a great situation. But then we rounded a bend in the creek...(seriously.) 

Standing there was a guy in cargo shorts, an old t-shirt, glasses, and a hillbilly haircut. His two boys, maybe around 4-8 years old, were playing with PIECES OF GARBAGE in the stream. That's for real. And this isn't sad - they were perfectly happy and having a great time. But it was weird. As we got closer (of course he was staring at us the whole time), we tried to engage him in conversation to help us find the group. 

"Hey sir, have you seen some people floating down the creek recently?" we asked like white idiots. 

"Oh yeah! Y'all with that group? They must be two hours ahead of y'all." 

"...great." 

"Say, do y'all need a ride?" 

In case you were wondering, now is when things got weird. I think we can all immediately recognize and dismiss the "Oh, what a good neighbor! He sounds like such a gentleman and a hero," angle. 

Not today, Walt Disney.

This is real life and this is how you end up on 60 Minutes. In my head, it was safer to gamble on floating at night than go anywhere with Cletus* here. Mark pipes up that we absolutely would, which I didn't like at the time but, again, in retrospect, was the right move. And then Cletus adds a condition: "Well, I think I'm gonna need them tubes then." 

*Cletus, I didn't change your name. But I don't think you have the internet so you'll never know. 

To be clear, our trade was: a ride somewhere with a backwoods stranger or floating down a stranger creek at night. I feel like this could also be used as a commentary on our current choices for President, but I digress.

So we get out of the water, hand the man our tubes and climb into the back of his old pickup truck. Again, it's Mark, Lindsey, Bill and I, and we're lost in the woods with a stranger who just took our tubes (only means of escape?) and is now driving us somewhere. It's starting to get pretty dark now and we make a quick drive up to his trailer home – tarp on roof, moldy sides, the classic terrifying dilapidated trailer in the woods. In the dark. 

He pulled into his driveway and left to go get something out of his house. No clue what. I would've thought about that more had we not looked down to see two things of note in the truck bed with us. 

1) A rusted machete. No, you shut up! I am not kidding. 

2) Several torn up little girls tennis shoes. Recall: this man has two children. They are both male. 

Four college kids. Lost in the woods. In the dark. Stranger picks them up. Rusted machete and dirty kids clothes in truck. If that doesn't sound like some new scary movie, you're an idiot. In fact, I know it is like a scary movie because then they guy's wife comes out. I don't remember much about her looks but her interaction was brief but powerful. 

Walking out of the trailer and not really talking much to us, she came over to the cab of the truck, opened the door to grab a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it. She was staring into our eyes as she drew and exhaled. Duh. Terrifying. As she breathes out, she says, "Hey, this is kinda like Deliverance idn't it?" And then just walks away back to the trailer. End scene. 

As the mom walks in, the dad walks out and, pointing directly to Lindsey, asks, "Hey girl, you gotta pee?"

You are getting all of this, right? I mean, come on. Some man just pointed at the only woman in a bikini top and shorts and asked her if she needed to pee. Again, out of the situation, it's only odd. But here, it really only is good as a psychologically destabilizing comment. Did you really care if she had to pee, man? 

She says no, he comes over and climbs in the truck. We end up tearing down this dirt stretch of road, legitimately reaching 30-40 mph. Which is pretty fast on a dirt road with kids in back. We make a pitstop and buy him some beer as a token/bribe. As we get back in the truck and continue to hope we won't be murdered, one of the guys (can't remember which) looks at me and says, "Hey man, if you want to jump out of this moving car right now, I'm with you." Incredibly, we stay in the truck and get dropped off about at the entrance to Jay's land. And we lived. 

That's the end of the suspenseful stuff. Seriously. That's it. I told you it wasn't going to be worth it. I mean, if it was really a great story we probably wouldn't have survived, so I guess, really, it's as good as it could be without me not being here to tell it.

After hiking about ¾ mile, we see the lights of Jay's cabin. At this point, I'm ready to kill Jay. We walk into the cabin, expecting everyone to be frantically looking for us or maybe cheering our return, but there's only one person there. We tell our whole story which, although scary, is at least over. We quickly realize that's not the case for everyone else we were floating with. 

No one else had made it back and, by now, it's nearing 11 PM. That's about 10 hours of time on the water, if they were, in fact, still on the water. As decisions were made on whether or not to call Jay's dad (we did) to bail us out (he did), we hear something crashing through the woods.

We run out to find Rob the Diabetic bursting out of the thicket, all cut up and looking for insul... I mean, water. He tells us that he floated between our groups and ended up getting a flat tube. He left the creek, aiming for the road. He ended up finding the house first but not before FASHIONING HIS TUBE INTO SANDALS. Real life Bear Grylls stuff here. It was and is still an awesome thing that no one talks about. Resourceful Rob! Or Resourceful Rob the Diabetic, if you want to keep the medically-relevant name. At this point, we finally decided things had gotten bad enough for us to call Jay's dad.

It's now around 2 AM. We hear someone hollering for help from up the creek. We run out to meet the voice, Bill cutting his foot in the process, only to find Jerome's ass complaining that he needs water. He probably did, but considering we were almost murdered by meth-heads and Rob almost died in the woods with a tube for shoes, needing water was hardly a "help"-worthy scenario. Especially when you're surrounded by fresh creek water. I'm just saying.

At this point, Jay's dad arrived with a friend, both packing mad heat and cargo shorts and ready to kill something or save Jay or whatever. They take a canoe to our put-in and disappear. After a few hours, Jay's dad and his friend  arrive back at the cabin. At this point, it's just after dawn. They basically tell us everyone is fine and is just going to float back to us. Not a lot of info but, hey, we did ruin his weekend, so I get it. People end up showing up in a few groups.

Once we all regroup, we get to hear what happened to the other folks. One group ended up spending the night under the deck of an abandoned shed in the woods (I am not making this up). To add even more crazy spookiness to that equation, in the middle of the night, someone randomly walked up the porch steps into the shed - all while this group was sleeping underneath trying not to be noticed. Or that's what they told us. 

And Jerome's lady friends? Alvin, Simon, and Theodore? They ended up totally separated from what was already a group of total strangers and huddled on a rock in the middle of the stream. All night. So they were pretty thrilled when they got back.

Anyway, we're all okay, the story's over, blah blah blah. Whew. 

All in all, helluva weekend. 

Things That Made Me Cry Last Week.

Hi, I'm Mary Catherine, and I'm a crier. 

(Hi, Mary Catherine.) 

It's always been this way. I think I inherited it from my mother, who is a particularly cry-y person as well. Growing up, there would be times when she'd start to tell a story or describe a moment she'd had during the day. She'd begin, then suddenly stop. The vein in her forehead would start pulsing. She'd frown. "I'm gonna cry talking about it!" would always be her next line. And then she would. 

See, people? I didn't stand a chance. I don't mean I'm sobbing all the time, but a little "tear-up;" getting misty; a few subtle tears dropping onto my shirt - and, okay, yes. Sometimes an actual, real, full-on cry. 

I saw on Facebook a few months ago that a husband had cataloged all the times and reasons his wife had cried in a week. Since that would make Jordan's hand cramp up, I'll just do it myself. Be prepared for the mixed bag of totally reasonable and totally unreasonable things to come:  

MONDAY. 

• Re-watching Julia Louis-Dreyfus' Emmy speech in which she thanks her recently deceased father. 

• Reading a Facebook status written by a Black girlfriend of mine about how she was being harassed in an airport for not giving up her seat in the terminal. It was close to an outlet and someone else wanted it. She was told she and all Black people are "entitled" and that it was a "race thing." (By the way, this actually happened in 2016). 
• New York bombings. 
• This precious daddy's affirmations with his daughter before school each morning. 

TUESDAY: 

• Marc Maron's interview with Robin Williams, which was fantastic. 

• Finding out an older friend of mine had been diagnosed with cancer. 
• Tearing up with joy because the first signs of fall + a great song on shuffle + throwing the ball to my dog = wonderful moment. 
• LOLing at this hysterical piece about Hilary's First 100 Days written by the writers of Veep.
• Watching the helicopter footage of the police officer in Tulsa who killed Terence Crutcher. 
• Waiting until I got into my house to cry a little over the sexist construction workers on my street treating me with total dismissal and rudeness. 

WEDNESDAY: 

• Choking up on the way home from a bluegrass band rehearsal, thinking about how lucky I am to sing great music with sweet people and live in the mountains in this new chapter. 
• Tears of frustration after spilling coffee on the chairs Jordan and I worked so hard on (don't worry - I got it out!!). 
• Listening to Nadia Bolz-Weber's sermon podcast and appreciating the truth-bombs she drops. 
• Laughing so hard I cried because the dress I ordered on Rent the Runway was giving me the appearance of having a large, loose layer of skin around my midsection: 

• #skinflap

THURSDAY: 

• Watching the First Lady tear it up and realizing they're actually leaving The White House.

• DYING laughing watching Jordan watch this video, which he had somehow NEVER SEEN (?!?!):

• Chopping onions. 
• Tom Hanks accidentally clawing a bruise into my left thigh when things got too rowdy as we were playing. 
• My car alarm malfunctioning outside an outdoor event I was attending, causing everyone there to stare at me despite my efforts to seamlessly integrate myself into the party. This happened once, I drove away, thought I'd resolved it, then I drove back. The second I opened my car door, it happened again. I eventually fixed it, but it was M O R T I F Y I N G.

FRIDAY: 

• This piece of comedic brilliance.

• Beaming with pride over my friend Emily Heller's feature on Ivanka Trump's #womenwhowork section. SO impressive and so well-deserved.  

• Noticing that a ladybug was trapped and half-eaten in a spiderweb. I tried to free it. It did not go well. 
• Listening to the sweet toasts given to a great couple at my friend Caroline's rehearsal dinner. 
• And finally, to round it out, at the awesomeness of this excellent baby, who can't talk yet, but can rap: 

5 Reasons Logan Huntzberger Is the Best.

Everybody has an opinion about which guy Rory should've ended up with. But as the new series (!!!!!!) gets closer to its premiere date, it's time to set the record straight: Logan was, and always will be, the best. 

Here's why. 

1. Without Logan, Rory wouldn't have become Rory. 

Hear me out on this one, because I already hear the Team Jess/Team No Guy people coming after me with pitchforks. Sure, every boyfriend had an impact, but this was different. 

Without Logan, Rory never would've taken the internship with Mitcham. Without Mitcham, Rory never would've had anyone nay-say her. Without the nay-saying, Rory never would've dropped out of Yale and spent a year with the DAR, only to return to Yale with the fire of a thousand suns, more sure than ever of her career path. 

Logan's dad was a grade A ass, but that interaction and hiccup is what pushed small-town, goody-two-shoes Rory Gilmore to be the ball-busting world-beater she turned into. Without that hardship, she wouldn't have learned what she's made of. (She would have, just maybe not as soon.) Because of it, she knew she could overcome anything. 

2. He's cocky, but has good reason to be. 

Mmkay, yes. I'll admit it. He's kind of an ass sometimes. 

BUT. 

He is crazy smart! Like, sure, his daddy is rich and he has access to everything on this planet with a snap of his fingers, but he also actually learned things at school. He's quick-witted, well-read, and can totally hang with Rory conversationally. And YES, he takes it a bit too far sometimes (see above photo), but if you think about the privilege he grew up in, he's really not that bad. And he does always realize when he's been a "buttfaced miscreant," as our girl would say. 

(Clearly I'm getting into this as though this are real people. Just go with it.) 

3. He does man things. 

When Logan is wrong, he apologizes. He goes to his girlfriend's mother (not an easy thing to do) multiple times to prove his love for her daughter. He buys Rory gifts for no reason (#birkinbag). He whisks her off on fun dates and surprises her by unexpectedly coming into town from another country. He gives Luke his second Valentine's day present, originally intended for Rory, so that Luke doesn't look like the goober he is and has something to give to Lorelai. He shows up at the hospital after Richard has a heart attack and stays to help as long as he's needed. He made VERY SURE that Rory was ready before they slept together. 

The list goes on and freakin' on, people. 

4. He works hard and plays hard. 

This scene in particular is so awesome to me. I loved this goofy little display, even though Rory was kind of mortified by it. 

Though he certainly doesn't work at all during his first stretch on the show, when Logan finally hits his stride, he works really hard. His plans for he and Rory in California are evidence of how seriously he took his job and his relationship. But even in the midst of work, chaos, and sometimes disaster, Logan knows how to lighten the mood and just laugh. The party he threw Rory after she was bailed out of jail was a classic. Sure, it was a touchy -- dark, even -- time in Rory's life, but Logan managed to take something dismal and help her see that it wasn't the end of the world. 

5. OKAY YES, HE'S RICH AS HELL. 

Somebody had to say it. 

This is a factor. Not because money is everything, but because money buys you oppurtunities. Rory could easily spend her entire life jetting around the world, covering story after story for whatever publication she wanted. She could CREATE a publication. She could give millions of dollars to charities that put books in low-income schools, or start programs that foster more women in STEM, or build an entire city out of junk food. 

And, you know, there's also the whole "Go on a European vacation once a year and have a killer closet" thing. Not that she'd care about the second part so much. 

My point is, she'd have the world on a string. And I know she'd use it wisely. 

COME BACK, LOGAN. Hope we get to see more of you in the reboot. But, for now, let's just all agree: Logan is the best. 

#teamlogan

My First Camping Trip, Part II

Catch up on Part I here. 

SO. 

• We boarded a bus that took us upriver. Before we'd gotten on the bus, our rafting guides were announced, and we were placed with the only female guide on the river, Emily (henceforth known as Guide Emily for clarity). 
• When we got to the river, we realized why Guide Emily was the best one: most passionate and strong as a freakin' ox. Seriously, her arms were like tree trunks. 
• James and Brittany, our fifth and sixth riders, were placed at at the back of the raft. Emily and I were in the middle, Parker and Jordan were up front. 
• Right when we put our raft in the water, Emily started giggling uncontrollably from pure joy. 
• Within about 3 minutes, we hit our first major rapid and got sucked into some kind of terrifying whirlpool vortex death machine. 
• Brittany, back right, started choking a little on the water that was cascading in and over our raft. 
• "LEAN LEFT! LEAN LEFT!" 
• We followed Guide Emily's instructions and finally managed to free our raft from the pocket of suction, but not without everyone having been SOAKED to the bone and a little frightened of just how powerful water can be. 
• We learned that white water rafting was a niche sport until the movie Deliverance came out, which started a booming tourism industry. 
• I will NEVER UNDERSTAND why anyone would ever ever ever ever want to white water raft after seeing Deliverance. 
• That's like saying, "Space travel?? SURE!" after seeing Gravity or The Martian. 
• That's like saying, "Dinosaurs?? YES, PLEASE!" after seeing Jurassic Park. 
• That's like saying, "Abandoned hotel through the winter?? WHY NOT!" after seeing The Shining. 
• What part of that movie makes you say, "Hey, YEAH! I'd like to do that!" 
• Is it the part where that little inbred boy follows them down the river? 

• Is it the part where the only nice and conscionable man on that trip gets his arm snapped in half while rafting? 
• Or was it this charming fellow that people wanted to see more of? 

• Or MAYBE people were hoping to see these dance moves instead. 

Just adorable. 

• Or maybe it was Burt Reynolds' open scuba vest that, to my 2016 eyes, looks like something that a gay man would wear to a nightclub on Bear Night. 

• Either way, I don't get it. 
• We got about halfway down the river when Guide Emily asked if anyone wanted to "ride the bull." 
• This entailed someone passing their paddle back to her, climbing to the very tip of the raft, grabbing onto a little piece of fabric, and going through a Class 4 set of rapids with nothing else to anchor them to the boat. 
• Obviously, I was game. 
• I will now provide you with a series of pictures taken by the Ocoee Rafting Photographer - please note the change in everyone's faces as we start, then actually see the rapids, then get hit by them. Jordan is a particularly good one to watch. You can actually see him realize that his wife is probably going to fall in (I didn't) and start death-gripping my vest - meanwhile, I'm smiling like an idiot. 

• So it was really, really fun. By the end of the trip both Emily and I had ridden the bull, though sadly her time didn't get photographed (which is a real shame because she had it way worse than I did). 
• After rafting, we tried to go get lunch at the Tanning Salon/Pizzeria (no, I am not making that up), but it was closed. 
• So we went to the only other restaurant in Ducktown: Hardee's. 
• There, a very surly teenage girl took our orders. And when I say "took our orders," what I really mean is that she took one order and then walked away mid-sentence of the next one. 
• #ducktown 
• After we ate (and got milkshakes), we stopped by the gas station for some cold beer and headed back to our little home in the woods. 
• Parker immediately resumed his work of trying to start a fire. 

• Emily and I were more interested in lounging. 

• Jordan went fishing and actually caught a fish on his first cast. But we still picked on him a little bit because he was dressed like a mix between Prison Mike and Survivor Man Michael Scott from The Office. 

• Finally, after about three hours, the fire starter Parker bought, that had come pre-loaded with 1,000 strikes, broke in half. No more strikes. Struck out. So stricken. 
• So Jordan came over to offer his support, and within minutes, the two of them had a fire started. 

• We FOR SURE were singing "Parker started the fiyAH!" over and over. 
• Just look at that thing! 

Such pride. 

• For the rest of the afternoon, we sat around, drank, made s'mores, talked, ate hot dogs, talked some more, drank some more. 

• As night fell, we started to hear this long, high-pitched scream that sounded very human. 
• Every 30 seconds or so, we'd hear it. That was scary enough until we heard the second scream from behind us, far off in the distance. 
• Whatever these things were were talking to each other. 
• WERE THEY HONING IN ON US?! We (Emily and I) were very unsettled by this. 
• Jordan theorized that they were coyotes. But they sounded like women. Or like maybe this guy. 

• We didn't hear anything for about ten minutes, then, suddenly, the howl was RIGHT BEHIND OUR TENT. 
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ...
• ...it was Emily. Trying to play a prank so she wouldn't be so scared. But then she scared herself by imitating the coyotes, which was funny, but when the laughter died down we were all scared again.  
• We all carefully crept into our tents and prayed for no coyote attacks. 
• They spared us. 
• The next morning, Jordan made "cowboy coffee" (pouring the ground straight into the boiling water) and, surprisingly, it was some of the best coffee I've ever had. Very impressed. 
• We packed up the campsite and thanked it for providing such a great weekend. All I could think about on the way home was how thankful I am to have such an awesome husband, and sibling, and for Parker to have chosen a significant other so well. The four of us always have a great time together. 
• 'Til next time, Ducktown! 

Emmy 2016: Fetch or Wretch?

It's that time of the week. Let's recap a night full of, as Amy Poehler once put it, the rat-faced people of television! 

Can I just say something before we start? I saw this headline today: "Amy Schumer Shut Down the Sexist Question, 'Who are you wearing?' Once and For All!" 

Mmkay. 

First of all, what Amy actually said was who she was wearing, she just happened to make a joke about how she was also wearing an OB tampon. #classicamy 

It really bothers me that the question, "Who are you wearing?" is being deemed as sexist. Y'all, these celebrities don't own any of these clothes. These gowns were loaned or were custom-made for them by design houses as a means of promotion. When Kerry Washington steps on the red carpet looking FIERCE AS HELL (we'll get to that in a minute), she's a walking advertisement for Brandon Maxwell. It's not sexist to ask women what designer has created the look they're wearing - it IS sexist to ONLY ask them about that. 

Whew. I feel better. Okay. Let's get to judgin'. 

FETCH. 

1. Felicity Huffman

Girl, I don't know whatcha man is wearing, but you look great. This is simple, understated, well-fitted - hair and makeup are on point. I also love her, which never hurts. 

2. Padma Lakshmi

I mean, it's Padma in a skin-tight, slinky, silver, sequined gown. Do I really need to say more? Fit is fabulous and she looks super striking. 

3. Priyanka Chopra

The actual definition of "feeling myself." Priyanka is such a knockout 100% of the time, but everything about this look makes me want to applaud. That color on her is to die for, and she clearly  l o v e s  how she looks in it, which makes it that much better. She was twirling all night, including when she came out on stage to present an award. You go, Priyanka. 

4. Kristen Bell

Beautiful. My only quibble here is that the makeup could've been a touch more punchy, just so everything wasn't quite so beige, but that dress is SUPER fabulous and really unusual. I love that all four dresses featured so far are totally different, which just goes to show - it's not about fitting into a mold, it's about finding what works for you. 

5. Emilia Clarke

That fit. WOW. She looks like she was poured into that dress, and I mean that in the best way. Totally beautiful. Again, could've punched up the makeup, but I love that she kept her hair back so that all you see is dressdressdress. 

6. Kate McKinnon

Jordan's girlfriend Kate doesn't always get it right, but she really nailed it last night. Sure, there are some minor fit issues around her waist, but overall, that dress reads as lovely. She is glowing, which, once again, makes a huge difference. And she won! Love her so. 

7. Tina Fey

So really I have a couple of bones to pick here, but I loooooove this color and love that Tina knows what works: her tiny, not-a-real-human waist is showcased. It does read as a little "bathing suit cover-up" if you're not careful...man, I don't know anymore. I may have just talked myself out of this being Fetch. Let's move on. 

8. Sarah Paulson

I waffled a little on this, but ultimately, this dress is pretty spectacular. The craftsmanship of the dress alone is pretty incredible, but when you pair it with Sarah Paulson, who I find to be particularly fabulous, it really sings. Perfect color on her. Not completely in love with the plunging neckline, but whatever. More than anything, this was a great night for her because DAMN did she ever deserve that win. If you haven't seen American Crime Story: The People vs. OJ Simpson, you need to RUN, not walk, to your computer and start. It's worth every second, and its cast (rightly) cleaned house last night. Watching Marcia Clark get absolved on stage by Sarah Paulson was tear-jerking. 

Now, for a declaration.

The winner of the night: 

Kerry "Slay All Day" Washington!

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the Fetchest of them all? KERRY KERRY KERRY. 

I mean, come ON, right?? Every angle, every photo, everyTHING about this look is so fierce it's almost hard to look at directly. I can't even form a full sentence so here are some fragments: pregnant. Glowing. Natural hair. Goddess. Perfect skin. Cutouts. Fit. 

She is not of this world and we are lucky to behold her. 

Le sigh. Soak up Kerry, because now it's time to rot your corneas with these MESSES. 

WRETCH. 

1. Sarah Hyland. 

Sarah's dress got caught in the limo door on the way here, so she borrowed a friend's workout leggings to make do. Really, though, it's pretty terrible. I understand the idea, but everything about it is aging and unflattering, from where the bodice hits her midsection to the two giant, floppy dog ears she's wearing as a skirt. It's not good, girl. Reconsider. 

2. Giuliana Rancic

Giuliana looks like a small mammal who got caught in a wind tunnel outside a bridal salon. She is tangled up in that tulle and she can't get out. SOMEBODY HELP. 

3. Sofia Vergara

I know I know, I said that thing about knowing what works, but y'all - it's just tired. She wears the same tight, bustier, corset-backed, ass-featuring dress to every event. Come on, Sofia. You're gorg. Find something else. 

5. Gabby Hoffman

This isn't really fair, but I can't get Gabby's character on Girls (has long underarm hair, takes baths in front of her brother) out of my head when looking at her. Know your audience, Gabby. This men's shirt is just not cutting it. 

6. Alia Shawkat

Oh - sorry! The barbeque is down the street. No, you're totally fine - happens all the time! You can leave your heels here and grab some flip flops from the basket at the back door. Thanks! 

7. Michelle Dockery

Hot take, I know. Listen, the overall look is gorgeous. The level of formality is exactly right, she's perfectly accessorized, her head styling is on point. This is a personal preference. I reeeeeeeeeeally don't love tiered (or pick-up, for that matter) skirts. But what's bugging even more about this dress is the two little boob ruffles. Each breast looks like a hooded head. Not my thing. Sorry, Michelle. Love you though. 

8. Aziz Ansari

This is what you should look like at the end of the night, not the beginning. Not here for the tie-less look. Also, those pants are too tight. ...I feel bad, because I love Aziz so much, but it's true. 

And the Wretchest goes to...

Anna Chlumsky! 

*needle scratch*

Um...what?? 

My Girl has been playing dress up in her grandmother's trunk. Tonight, she's wearing a brocade quilt she found. The little ring of elastic around the hem of the skirt was her favorite touch, because she did that herself with her own sewing machine. It says, "I'm here to look classy, but if I need to drop at low at the after-party, this skirt gives me the freedom to do so." 

Wince. 

You know JLD personally, right?? Take some style tips from her. And ask her what her skincare regimen is because THA BITCH DOESN'T AGE.