chronicles of naurnie.

Wedge Obsession.

2012-01-27T11:46:00.000-05:00

I have a serious addiction to wedges. They are my most favorite style of shoe... they are more stable than a high heel but still make me extra tall. Not to mention how killer they look with my favorite flared jeans. Plus, I'm always digging the 70s vibe they help me cultivate. Last year, I was obsessed with these wedges from Tory Burch. I'm not usually a Tory fan because those Reva flats tore up my feets. (Lord, Tory. Could you make those things more comfortable?) But these? I could just picture myself in these standing on an imaginary stage with a guitar and a lot of bangles on my arm. But alas, they were out of my price range and now we all know I have a phobia of singing in public. So there went that pipe dream.

But recently, the ever-wonderful Madewell came out with these. And I feel like they are probably more reasonable, both in price and in wedge height. So. Who's buyin'?

Murdah.

2012-01-25T10:33:00.001-05:00

My friend Liz. She is a daily inspiration for me to become a more bad ass lady. Her many talents include (but are not limited to): spectacular graphic design, throwing shit away, encouraging me to purchase gold boots in an effort to cultivate my Alison Mosshart look, and pulling me out of my old music cocoon and into the modern age. On my birthday, she gave me a memory stick loaded with Murder By Death. Now I'm obsessed. If I am being perfectly honest, I thought they were going to be all screamy and metal before I heard him. This skinny man has a deep voice reminiscent of one Mister Johnny Cash. If I were a boy, this is exactly what I'd want to sound like. Ok, fine. Maybe a combination of this guy AND Tom Waits.

Enjoy.

Murder By Death - Fox Glove from LaundroMatinee on Vimeo.

The Truth About Me + My Guitar.

2012-01-21T10:30:00.000-05:00

It is a Saturday morning and I just finished playing guitar in the empty rooms of my house. For some reason, I feel like "Speed of the Sound of Loneliness" was meant to be played in my empty dining room in pajamas and knee-high socks on a rainy Saturday on an old Takamine with a worn down neck. I love the neck of that guitar. The indentions are where my thumb has rested since I was twelve years old.

I write a lot on this small blog about the music I love. I tell you what I'm listening to, the history behind why I love it, and sometimes the history of the music itself. But I never really share the part of me that enjoys playing songs for myself. I have purposefully left this part out. In fact, I hate playing in front of people. I don't know if it is because singing folk songs to myself is my coping mechanism, my vessel for self-soothing, or is a result of years of practicing locked in my bedroom plunking out songs and trying to find a way to reconcile my folk sensibilities with my happy suburban Tennessee upbringing. I guess I felt that in order to be a folk singer, you had to be a tortured soul. I was never a tortured soul. I was well provided for and loved, despite my ability to lean into a dark mood. Yet, somehow I was identifying with these singer/songwriters who were very dark, talented, holy souls. I always wanted to be more tortured than I was. As an adult, I am grateful that I am not. Although, I'm not a songwriter. And I still wish I was. It's not too late for that.

Playing in front of people strikes in me great anxiety. As an adolescent, my mother would have to force me to get out of our family car for my yearly guitar recital. I won't even play in front of friends without the lubrication of wine or bourbon. Unless it is with my sweet friend, Luisa, who can bring out of me things that I never imagined and who's big, soulful voice somehow blends magically with my tiny folksy one. For me to play at our wedding was an act that struck sheer terror in me and I was in a room full of people who love me deeply. For some reason, playing in front of loved ones is harder for me. I want the people who love me to think I'm good. I could care less about strangers.

me, circa 2007.

Playing alone offers me some comfort. If I'm doing particularly well, I don't feel silly thinking, "Wow, Lauren, you sounded REALLY great." And if I don't hit a note? WHO CARES? No one can hear me. Except that's not really true now. I play in those empty front rooms because they are all reverb-y and empty and warm at the same time. And our yellow house isn't very big. William can hear me singing Townes or Bob or even at times Nirvana. And he never says anything. He just lets me do it without praise or criticism. Because he knows that's what I need.

In 2004, I was still a college student. It was a warm spring night, and I sang three songs in MTSU's studio B. I was barefooted and wearing jeans and a hoodie. I am grateful to have these recordings and cannot deny their sweetness. So in an effort for me to be bold, brave, and conquer a fear I hold deep, I share this with you. Only a few people have heard it including my family, my husband, and Liz, who encouraged this blog post. Be kind, internets. Even though I am not a tortured soul, I am a sensitive one.

Catch the Wind by Naurnie by naurnie

Me and My Dog.

2012-01-20T13:21:00.000-05:00

As most of you know, about 4 years ago I was fortunate enough to adopt the sweetest pup in all the land. Some family friends had decided they weren't quite ready for a puppy, and with a name change and a little potty training (done by my dog whisperer of a mother), he turned out to be the best dog. His name is Truman (after Capote, not the president), and he has become quite popular amongst my friends and some of my sweet Twitter followers. When we talk about him, refer to him, or narrate what we think he might be thinking about, he has a dopey little voice with a slight lisp. In fact, this voice is running rampant amongst friends of the Branson clan. In fact, when my best friend Megan and I are talking to one another, one of us may accidentally slip into the voice from time to time.

When I first got Trums, I was a single lady in a tiny apartment. Then I met William. Truman fell instantly in love with him, thus reaffirming my choice in a partner. Now Truman is no longer a bastard child.

Every night, Truman gets in bed with us. (He starts in the middle. Then he gets annoyed and moves to my feet or into the crook of my leg.) He is quite the snuggler. Last night, we caught him mid-yawn. Then, as usual, I told him what a good dog he was. And he licked my face.

Ol' Trumie-Pants Branson. What a pal.

Hit What You Aim For.

2012-01-18T15:28:00.000-05:00

via wit + delight.

Sometimes you do. If'n you practice real hard. Today, I'm hitting what I'm aimin' for, if you're smellin' what I'm steppin' in.

Moonrise Kingdom

2012-01-13T09:31:00.001-05:00

Every blogger and their brother's best friend's grandmama will be posting about this. I, however, could not resist in sharing my excitement for the upcoming Wes Anderson movie. Here's why: I have a soft spot, always, for summer camp. I also have a soft spot, always, for boy scouts (long story). I love portable record players, personalized stationery for children, and Frances McDormand. Also, Jason Schwartzman is looking kind of Episcopal priest-y in that camp chapel.

Count me in.

Thirty.

2012-01-11T09:35:00.000-05:00

first picture as a 30 year old. in my bathroom.

I woke up this morning as a thirty year old.

I woke up with a speckled dog snuggled warmly to my belly and a freckled husband against my back. I got an early morning phone call from my mother during which she sang me the "happy birthday" song from the El Chico restaurant in Shreveport, Louisiana and ended it with a rousing "OLE". She also reminded me that thirty years ago at that exact moment she was in a world of hurt, but that I was worth it. I got an amazing birthday tweet from one of my best bitches, Liz, who coincidentally gave me a Murder By Death cd last night. I blared it as I barrelled down I-85 towards Haw River. I ate a blood orange and drank a very delicous coffee.

I am very happy to be in my thirties. I am very lucky to have made it out of my twenties unscathed. I am lucky to know you all. I am lucky to live the life I lead.

Nothing's Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now.

2012-01-10T14:30:00.000-05:00

Justin Townes Earle.
Nothing's Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now.
Out March 27, 2012.
Short Film by Joshua Black Wilkins.

A Weekend in Instagrams.

2012-01-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

Our weekend? Very laid back.

1. I took a little time to write some thank you notes.
2. Truman got himself a new tag. You know. Just in case.
3. A late evening emergency run to the ABC Store for some Bulleit.
4. Cocktails by my husband paired with a little reading. (I read while Willie watches sports).
5. Leftover manicure from New Years Eve.
6. Chase. My sister's sweet fiance. He came to our house for a little refuge. His wonderful granddaddy passed away on Friday. (Can I tell you how good it makes me feel that our house is one where people feel they can come when they need it?)
7. Coffee.
8. We took Chase to brunch at Geer Street Garden, our favorite brunch place in all of Durham.

Emmylou. Gram, too.

2012-01-09T09:41:00.000-05:00

This band, First Aid Kit, has been getting crazy buzz for awhile. Mainly around here since they're on Wichita Records, which is distributed through Redeye, which is who owns the label I work for here in North Carolina. But I hadn't paid much attention until sweet Jamie sent this song to my inbox. It breaks my heart. And how sweet is her voice? Not to mention this video isn't doing much to quell that pull inside me that is always callin' me west to Joshua Tree. Gram and I need to meet officially. Maybe I should add that to my list of New Year's Resolutions.

Keep Hoping Machine Running.

2012-01-03T10:00:00.000-05:00

woody guthrie's resolutions.

Happy 2012, ever'body!

Last year, I posted goals for the new year. Some of them I stuck with, some of them I didn't. But I think it's always a good idea to make goals for yourself. It helps to stay focused and I don't know about you, but I've always got room for a little self-improvement.

Woody made a lot of goals. Some of his are pretty simple. Some are pretty lofty. (Help win war? Kill fascism?)

Here are mine, on a much smaller scale. But I'm not as important as Woody.

1) Write more.
2) Continue in the never-ending effort for a more healthy lifestyle.
3) Be a sweeter wife to the always sweet Willie.
4) Community service. I was incredibly inspired by the service projects that my younger sister was involved in recently. We should all strive to make things better for someone else.
5) Furnish house.

I think I'll stop there. Those are difficult enough for me to work on.

Are you workin' on goals/resolutions this year? What might they be, pals?

Happy Christmas.

2011-12-24T13:54:00.000-05:00

Guess who's mother was in charge of children's church at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Shreveport, Louisiana in the mid-1980s? That's right. Mine. So guess who was the donkey during the annual Christmas pageant one year? That's right. ME. I can remember desperately wanting to be Mary. I felt I needed the part of a leading lady. But guess what? I clearly stole the show from that Mary up there. If I had not been deemed "the ass", we would not have such a funny photograph. One year, however, I was the Star of Bethlehem. I wore a costume of white with gold tinsel on my head and carried a tin-foil covered star down the aisle. My grandparents told me I was the "star of the show". Somehow, I can't find picture from THAT year.

Either way, I'm wishing you all a Christmas of joy and laughter with all of your family members near and wide. I feel so fortunate to have you all as friends. Thank you to all of my favorite internet ladies for sending me Christmas cards. You have no idea how happy it made me.

Happy Christmas.

**UPDATE: My mother informed me that this particular photograph was printed in the Shreveport Times. I am totally famous.

Old Man Crushes.

2011-12-20T14:00:00.000-05:00

I really have a thing for what my friend Matt refers to as "them rickety ol' bastards"*. Like really. My favorite mens are older than or as old as my parents. All of them are musicians. All of them are also actors. It's not these common threads that make me adore them, but it has everything to do with the KIND of music, movies, plays, art, etc. they happen to produce. These are my top three. Just in case you were wondering. Also, we can blame this on my mother. I was raised to love them.

*Please note: I do not think any of these men are rickety. That's just what MATT says. I just happen to think it's funny.

jeff. bad blake.

no one beats kris.

sam.

Weekend.

2011-12-16T12:30:00.000-05:00


sassy mick + little ronnie wood. via MILK.

I hope your weekend rocks. Check out that SHAG on Little Ronnie Wood up there.

My weekend plans involve:

Finishing our Christmas shopping.
Wrapping the loot.
A movie with Liz.
Stones on the turntable.

Big Bunz, via East Side Bride.

2011-12-15T14:00:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, East Side Bride posted this hair tutorial on her blog. Since she doesn't often posts much in the way of hair tutorials, I paid close attention. I have pretty thick hair. Actually, it's really thick and it is ALSO really coarse. I typically straighten it once a week and wash it probably every 7-9 days. The more I wash it, the bigger it gets. Therefore, I have to keep the warshin' to a minimum. I got a really great hairdo over the summer that works with my waves, but I have decided to grow out my bangs. I tend to forget I have a cowlick RIGHT in the very front of my head and then I go and cut some bangs. Then... BAM. Cowlick. I plan on keeping the shag but just getting rid of the fringe. Since I am in the midst of this growing out process, I have had a hard time figuring out ways to style my hair that don't look ridiculous. Also, since my hair is really thick, it's also really heavy, thus causing any bun I attempt to flop over sideways or come undone under the weight of it all.

Last night, at the advice of another lady pal, I cut the toe off of an old ski sock and made the following hair donut:


if you ask me, it looks like a chocolate cake donut.

After I made the donut bun holder, I went into the bathroom with a shitload of bobby pins. And I only used 12. For me, that's not a lot and that bun didn't move all night! I've even decided to wear one to work today. When I took it out before bed, however, the husband did laugh heartily at the sock affixed to my head. I believe he said it "looked like a scrunchie". Whatever works is what I say.


side view.

top view. a little lopsided, but it was my first try.

Sorry for the grainy iPad pics. The husband was out with his dad and I couldn't figure out how to take pictures of my own head. Either way, I highly recommend the big bunz.

Want One.

2011-12-13T13:41:00.002-05:00

If anyone was wondering, I would really like one of these. You know, just in case.

Books.

2011-12-13T07:30:00.000-05:00

Ever since 1982, I have received a book from my parents for Christmas. Every year, without fail, my mother picks out a book each for me and my sister and gives them to us before Christmas. It is one of the things I look forward to most of all about the Christmas season, both receiving the book and pulling out the old ones to love on once a year. They smells so good, like old paper. I wish I could bottle up the smell of books sitting in a Rubbermaid box for a year. It is a smell that puts my heart at ease and never fails to make me feel "home".

This year, my mother sent my books home with me. We separated out the ones belonging to me and Caroline and I brought my stack of them home to the Yellow House. I sat on the floor in our living room, opening each one and reading the notes inscribed on each of the first pages. I am so grateful that my mom thought to start this tradition when we were young. It is so lovely to be able to look back and see how old I was when I received each book and to see the evolution of story I received the older I became. They are somewhat a repository for memory: the purple Crayon dot I drew on each page of my first Christmas book because I was too scared to have a full-on scribble fit or the year my sister learned to write her name and claimed each book as her own with a red magic marker. Really, it's like visiting with old pals that happen to smell of books and contain my parents' and grandparents' handwriting.

my first book. caroline's red magic marker.

my favorite page from my first Christmas book.

my granny's handwriting.

for a few years we thought we lost this one. it found its way back somehow.


a note from dad.

a well-worn, taped together copy of the best christmas pageant ever.

older books. sedaris. capote.

the note from mom inside of holidays on ice.

New York.

2011-12-12T15:00:00.000-05:00

Rivers & Roads from Ryan&Heidi on Vimeo.

There are days when parts of me really miss New York, my friends who live there still, and my friends who have also moved away but were a part of my daily life in the City. Today is one of those days.

Christmas Tree.

2011-12-12T07:30:00.000-05:00

Since I shared our Christmas tree with y'all last year, I figured I'd make it a habit. We got our tree last weekend and I adore it. It's kind of short and very portly. William's job is to put the lights on while I carefully unwrap all of my beloved ornaments. He sits by patiently (or on Facetime with various family members) while I put the ornaments on strategically, and then he puts the star on the top for me since I can't reach it and it involves twisty ties from garbage bags. (It's class all the way up in here.) Either way, it is makin' me happy and it makes the house smell oh, so good.

I realize this one is dark. I just like the shadows it was casting on the wall.

Caitlin Rose Christmas Tune.

2011-12-08T13:00:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of this Christmas playlist I just shared with y'all, I thought I'd keep the quality Christmas music comin'. Nashville singer-songwriter Caitlin Rose and her Nashville neighbor Keegan DeWitt have pinned a lil' holiday ditty for your listening pleasure. Capturing the loneliness some folks feel during the holidays, this song is 100% guaranteed to make you want to grab the nearest bottle of whiskey. Click that widget thingy below to listen and enjoy!

A Very Naurnie Christmas.

2011-12-07T07:30:00.000-05:00

Since I love y'all so much AND it is the holidays, I decided to make y'all a playlist. Most of these songs are country, some of these songs are about Christmas, some of these songs aren't really about Christmas but about your wife leavin' you at Christmas, and some of these songs just have Christmas in the title or just mention Christmas one time throughout the entire song. But these are songs I enjoy during the holiday season that I thought I shared with you. Judy Garland will forever make me miss my sister at the holidays, and Bing Crosby + David Bowie singing "Peace on Earth" will always be my most favorite Christmas time song. However, all of these other songs run a close second. Click here to listen to the playlist.*

Also, a huge thanks to Jamie for making my playlist look purty. Thanks for being my internet BFF.

*Please note: I work in the music industry and do not condone music piracy, which is why I've decided to use a streaming service for my playlists. I support all of these artists and their work, so IF you like these songs, I heartily encourage you to purchase them for yourself.

Pit.

2011-12-06T07:30:00.000-05:00

Back in September, I made dip for a party. More specifically, I made my favorite dip which includes an avocado. For some reason, they had the most gigantic and beautiful avocados at our otherwise shitty grocery store. I took the pit out and placed it on our kitchen sink for a few days. Of course, I ended up sticking toothpicks in it and sprouting it in a Ball jar in the kitchen. I didn't really expect the experiment to work, but lo and behold, it did. So I let it hang out in the jar in the kitchen for a few months. It grew so quickly... I was quite surprised. Over the weekend I decided it needed to be potted. I think it looks quite nice in the sunny corner of the kitchen in the Guy Wolff pot that has become its home. Maybe in five years we'll have an avocado. Or not. But I like it either way.

Blogs I Love: Lauren McClure.

2011-12-05T15:00:00.000-05:00

I really should be better about sharing the blogs that I love. I'm always looking for things to brighten up my Google reader and I get so tired of looking at the same crop of images that seem to rotate throughout the blogosphere. I am a sucker for original content, and some blog ladies out there do it better than anyone. I am currently obsessed with the photography blog of most lovely Texas-based Lauren McClure. Her images bestill my heart daily... She has a wide variety of style, color, and format and I never tire of scrolling through her archives. Sometimes I wish she was around to make my life look beautiful. She also often links to cool stuff... I dig her. You should, too.

As a side note (and a very important one might I add), Lauren has opened a print shop for the month of December. Actually, I believe it will stay open until January 2. The shop will contain prints, note cards, and calendars; all of the images were shot on Polaroid cameras with Polaroid film between 2002 and 2011. I'm sure you'll want to stock up on goodies to make your house more beautiful than it already is. Stay tuned on her Twitter feed, too, as she'll be releasing special discounts throughout the month for you followers out there. Click here to head over to the print shop. Surely you will not be sorry.

All photos by Lauren McClure.

Country Music Fun Time Activity Book.

2011-12-05T07:30:00.000-05:00

I really do have the best friend in the world. Last week, I got the best surprise in the mail... A Country Music Fun Time Activity Book. It's full of mazes, word searches, and pictures to color and they ALL involve country music. Could this be any more perfect for me? I think not.

And the even better part about getting a package from your best friend? She includes a prize for your husband, too. (They love each other like siblings. It makes me incredibly happy.) Guess which pack of gum belongs to William?

Abandonment.

2011-12-02T14:24:00.001-05:00

I have a thing about abandoned buildings. Also, I am completely obsessed with abandoned amusement parks. Something about how lonely and overgrown they look intrigues me and I can't help finding myself wishing to climb around and see what I can find. Being creeped out is one of my favorite emotions. So today when my friend Dipayan posted these pictures of abandoned water parks around the world, I was sucked in. They are striking and beautiful and lonely and they truly capture my imagination. Click here to see them all.

What captures your imagination?