Unfinished Project

enough.

2016-06-17T14:03:00.001-04:00

My mom has a song for everything.

As in, she's the woman who hums, "Up on the Roof," while on an elevator to a rooftop bar. The woman who sings the lyrics to Jimmy Buffett's "Boat Drinks," while on a boat, having a drink.

While I give her partial credit for my own appreciation and love of good music, I'd be lying if I said this quirk of hers didn't used to bug the shit out of me when I was a teenager. One time, I'd been staring at myself in the mirror for hours making sure every hair was in place and she breezed by my bathroom door, singing Carly Simon.

"You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you." Cue my 15-year old meltdown.

It was no surprise to me then, when, in the wake of last week's shootings in Orlando, I saw that she posted this on Facebook:

Her sentiments are so endearing and despite feeling riddled with anxiety and sadness this week, I couldn't help but smile reading them, thinking about her adorable, perfectly manicured hands typing these perfect words and searching for just the right emojis. It was just so her.

She's so right. We must teach our children well - to love others the way Jesus loves us - without condition, without prejudice. I thought about coming here, to this space, and reminding myself, and you, that we should choose love. Because love wins. Love is love is love is love is love.

I still do believe all those things, and I hope I never stop believing them. But if I'm being honest, I'm just so tired of saying those words, exhausted trying to find the light within the darkness, finding the hope among the despair, and feeling like nothing is every going to change.

Exactly one year ago, I drove all night to my beloved home state of South Carolina - to Charleston - a city that I hold so dear - to cover the mass shooting of nine people at the Emanuel AME church.

And today, on a day when we should be spending in remembrance of those killed in Charleston, we're still sorting through the stories of the victims of one of the deadliest shootings in modern American history.

Here we are. Again.

They say the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. No wonder everything feels crazy.

Mass shootings are a multi-faceted, layered issue far too complex to sort out in a blog entry. From where I sit, Orlando was a storm of many horrible things at once - terrorism, mental illness, hate, homophobia, easy access to weapons.

There isn't one easy answer, and if there was, I certainly don't have it. But standing by, shrugging our shoulders as if to say, "Whoops, it happened again," is so unbelievably insane, not to mention a giant slap in the faces to the hundreds of lives that will never be the same because of these senseless tragedies.

Choosing love is not enough. I love you so much, Mom, but even a sweet song isn't enough this time, though I appreciate it always.

Yesterday, I did something I've never done: I called, emailed and texted my congressman to tell him exactly how I feel and what I want him to do. I plan to pay very close attention to how my elected leaders respond to this crisis and vote accordingly. We can do better. We must.

If you'd like to contact your representatives - you can do so here & here.

To the people of Orlando and Pulse nightclub: I see you. I stand with you. I love you and I am so sorry for your pain.

It's my party and I'll freak out if I want to.

2016-05-20T14:31:00.001-04:00

Well, hello. It's me.

Six months.

That's how long I've been gone - the longest hiatus from writing I've taken since I started this blog back in 2009.

One on hand, it's not surprising that I never made time to write - this has been one of the busiest and most exciting years of my life.

Not much longer after blogging about Dan and his sudden death, Jacob and I got engaged. What?! I know, someone signed on to my insanity for life . . .can you believe it?

Then I started a new job - covering Special Events for CNN - crisscrossing the country, living out of a suitcase, putting on presidential debates and town halls. All of the endless election coverage? You have my department to thank. You're welcome.

Or, based on how things have turned out, I'm sorry, America.

While I suppose work craziness and fatigue from traveling has played a part in my under sharing, I knew I couldn't share anything with you without first sharing the news that I was getting married and since becoming engaged, I've realized I am quite possibly the most awkward engaged person ever.

Example #1: Instead of picking up the phone and calling my closest friends whom I talk to on the phone daily, I instead snapped a picture of the ring and sent it to a large group text with the caption, "Anyone want to come to a dance party in November?" That did not go over well.

Example #2: My coworker Will and I got engaged within days of one another. He sent a picture of himself and his fiance out to our small email group, letting everyone know that he was getting married. I said nothing to anyone. When we arrived back in the office after being gone for several days, people all day stopped by his desk to congratulate him and asked to hear the story. I stood up every time to hear him tell it. But instead of inserting my own good news, I instead took my ring off and put it in my wallet, afraid to steal Will's thunder.

Example #3: My own wedding shower terrifies me. This weekend my friends are throwing a couples wedding shower for Jacob and me. They have been working so hard putting things together, sparing no details. I know it's going to be over the top and awesome because that's what kind of friends we have. But along with my feelings of sincere gratitude for all of their hard work and excitement are feelings of anxiety of everyone's eyes on us.

I'd hardly call myself a shrinking violet, and if you've ever been around to hear me interject a conversation to tell stories, admitting that I'm worried about being the center of attention at my own party might seem unbelievable, if not completely disingenuous.

I also love a good party - just last weekend, I helped my friend Natalie celebrate her upcoming nuptials with a daytime shower that carried into an afternoon-evening bachelorette extravaganza at the Shaky Knees music festival. The whole day was perfect - beautiful weather, great music, so. many. laughs. I was one of the few still standing at the end of the night when My Morning Jacket played their last song, thank you very much.

So, what's the deal?

I've talked to some of my friends and many of them revealed they also struggled with the attention that comes with being the bride. It's completely normal to be overwhelmed, they say. All of the people who love you in the same room at the same time - isn't that supposed to be the greatest thing about a wedding celebration?

Jacob and I waited a long time to get married - I mean, hello?! Didn't I turn 30, like a decade ago?! I've spent years celebrating big moments for other people and now that it's my turn, I just want my nerves to be calm enough for me to enjoy it.

Deep. Breaths. Happy Friday!

thankful, week three.

2015-11-25T13:57:00.000-05:00

First of all, an enormous THANK YOU for all of your generous and kind feedback about last week's post. I am truly grateful for your nice words about Dan.

Since Thanksgiving this week (?!), I'm going to likely taking my lists into December, but here is my latest installment of the 30 things I'm thankful for.

15. Technology

I know, I know . . .first Facebook makes the list, now "technology?" From me, the same girl who until a few years ago, still owned a flip phone? Though I reluctantly joined the smart phone world, now that I'm a crazy aunt, I am so thankful for iPhone features like Facetime and Photo Share. I sadly had to miss Gray's birthday party last weekend, but thanks to my parents who took an obnoxious amount of video and pictures, I kinda felt like I was there.

I would have much rather preferred to hear her say, "meatballs" in person, but watching this on repeat is pretty great too.

16. Bitmoji

Speaking of other things my iPhone can do that my flip phone never could, I love Bitmoji, my personalized emoji that is sometimes my only way of communicating. It's free, it's fun, what's not to love?

17. My Squad

Whenever anyone asks me how I like living in Atlanta, my response is usually some variation of, "Well, I like my job, and I love that many of my college friends are close by." Maybe it's sad that these are the two best things about the city to me, but I feel grateful that some of my favorite people are a part of my life on a semi-regular basis. It's not exactly like being in college - now there are kids and adult responsibilities, so no more entire days on the couch binge watching reality TV (at least not together). But there are impromptu Mexican Friendsgiving Celebrations with cheap tequila, cheese dip and knock knock jokes, so my cup overflows.

18. Christmas Lists

The Gallmans are list people. Scratch that - the Gallmans are Christmas List people. If someone asks us what we want, we tell them, often in explicit detail - color, size, link to buy included. We leave nothing to chance. These lists have evoked some hilarious memories over the years (remember when my dad asked for my brother and me to write our wills?), so much so, that my mom laminated our lists from years past and put them in a coffee table book.

So far my dad is the only person to have submitted his list, which consists of a lot of boring items like socks and sweater vests. He did get a thankful chuckle out of me with #2, however.

After Shave Balm: I have used Pierre Cardin After Shave Balm for years but I believe it has been discontinued as I have not been able to find it anywhere. I would like something that doesn’t smell the room up but when I get a hug from women they can get a whiff of something pleasant to smell

This is classic Chuck and I'm so grateful for him. Anyone got any ideas?

19. Ebates

Speaking of Christmas and lists and shopping, I am super thankful to have found Ebates, "Where it pays to shop online." That is the site's tagline, and it sounds too good to be true, but it's not - it really works. When you sign up for Ebates, you get access to all of the online coupon codes for your favorite online shopping sites and when you access those sites through Ebates, you earn cash back on your purchases. We're not talking life-changing money here (10% is the most I've earned on one transaction), but since I've joined two years ago, I've earned a total of $221 on purchases I would've made anyway. So why not? Click the link below and get on board. You will not regret it.

20. A "Normal" Work Schedule

I suppose it's weird that I refer to working on Thanksgiving Day as "normal," but after spending eight days on the dreaded overnight shift last week, I am thrilled to be back in the land of the living. My sincerest apologies to anyone who had any contact with me during that time - I was not a very pleasant person. I've never been so grateful to be waking up at 5:30am.

21. Resilient Toddlers

My niece fractured her elbow at nursery school last week, but she seems to be taking it well.

We've been joking in my family that this was her response when her mom told her that the Gamecocks could pull the upset this weekend against Clemson. Hey - it could happen!

22. Yoga

Like therapy, without it, I would be a much sadder, more anxious person than I already am - something I don't want to even think about.

23. Adele

No explanation needed.

I am so thankful for this community that allows me to call myself a writer. Thank you for making that happen. Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving!

thankful, week two.

2015-11-19T11:22:00.000-05:00

I was so excited heading into the weekend after posting my first week full of things I was thankful for. I received text messages from friends saying they planned on listening to Leon Bridges and were already downloading EveryDollar. I was ready for week two, brainstorming what would be on the next list.

And then, on that following Saturday, I got one of those phone calls. The kind of call that I'll always remember where I was standing when I answered the phone and what I was doing when I heard the words, "Dan died." I knew I hadn't misheard what my friend was telling me, but I couldn't - and in many ways still can't - wrap my mind around the fact that Dan, my vibrant, 35-year old childhood friend, avid runner, devoted husband, and world traveler was gone.

I've been "gratitude challenged" before. But feeling thankful when horrible things happen - like Dan's passing and the atrocities in Paris - is just so damn hard. I know that I can do hard things (thanks to my spirit animal Glennon); I know I must be thankful in the midst of tragedy. The alternative - a cynical, hardened existence - isn't an option I'm ready to consider.

So while I continue to struggle, as I did earlier this year, with God's reasoning and timing in all of this, I have managed to find another week's full of reasons to feel thankful:

7. Dan's life

Dan lived more in his 35 years on earth than most people do with twice as many years. I know it's such a cliche to say that after someone passes away, but Dan really did live large. His obituary was just a snapshot of his very adventurous and successful life. He was enthusiastic about everything - traveling, beer festivals, kickball - and whatever he was doing, he always wanted as many people as possible to come along. I am so thankful that Dan was one of my oldest friends, that he teasingly used to call me "Step On My Gallbladder." I'm thankful for the ridiculous yearbook entries he wrote about the time we spent working in the school store at Harbison West Elementary and for the six weekends in a row we went to see Wayne's World. He will be so missed by everyone who loved him.

8. my hometown guys (and gals)

Dan's death and funeral brought together old friends from near and far. There were lots of tears, but thankfully also a lot of hugs from guys, who like Dan, I've known since I was little. Through unfortunate haircuts and questionable fashion choices, they, along with my dad and brother, have set the standard for the kind of men I've allowed to come into my life. They're all married now (to really cool women, thankfully) and have families of their own, so it makes getting together and staying in touch more difficult. But I'm so grateful that regardless of how much time has passed, they'll always be in my corner, and I in theirs.

9. Veep

On Sunday when I woke up and realized the phone call about Dan wasn't a terrible dream, I spent most of the morning lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, in and out of tears. When I wasn't sleeping or crying, I'd find myself laughing - out loud - at this hilarious show. Each episode is only 30 minutes, so it's easy to binge watch. Julia Louis-Dreyfus is a comedic genius and we should all be thankful for her.

10. Facebook

Yep, you read that right. I'm actually thankful for "Facebook." Or, at least, I was thankful for it in the days following Dan's death. Besides being an effective way to let people know plans for his memorial service, I felt such a sense of camaraderie among friends and classmates of Dan's and mine, who reached out to offer prayers and condolences and left lovely notes of remembrance. For all its eye-roll inducing posts, humble brags, and seemingly endless cries for attention, Facebook was a place I looked forward to going to see old pictures and read memories from Irmo. Until, of course, the Paris terrorist attacks happened, and now everyone is back to being experts (aka disgusting assholes) on foreign policy, refugees, President Obama and college football. It was fun while it lasted, FB.

11. Therapy

When things are going well in my life, therapy becomes less and less of a priority, which almost inevitably sets the table for things going south. I should treat therapy like exercise - something I do on a regular basis, but I've definitely been known to neglect my mental health. I'm so very thankful that my quarterly meeting with my psychiatrist fell in the middle of last week. I always feel lighter and more at peace after spending an hour on her couch, telling her what I've been up to and how I'm feeling.

12. Jacob

He's just really great. And I feel really lucky that he's mine. I also have a hard time articulating it, and feel so weird even trying, which is something I am not thankful for.

13. early birthday celebrations . . .

. . .with this cutie. Gray is TWO. I can't believe it.

I am so thankful that I was able to drive to Charleston last week to spend the day with her - just the two of us. She grows cuter and smarter each day. I'm so grateful that she calls me "Fi Fi," that she loves Peppa Pig, that she repeats everything I say, even when I told her to call her dad a "creep." I'm even grateful for her fake laugh that she was doing to impress the older toddler next to her on the swings.

14. Stevie Wonder & Dead & Company

They performed together and I was there! Haha kidding. Now that would've been something to be thankful for. I'm still grateful, though, because I was able to see Stevie Wonder on Saturday in Charlotte, North Carolina and then Dead & Company (a collaboration between members of the Grateful Dead and John Mayer) in Atlanta on Tuesday. Both shows were musically masterful and lively, not to mention a much needed escape from all the sadness lately. Stevie Wonder paid tribute to the victims in Paris with a moving rendition of John Lennon's "Imagine" and I couldn't hold back the tears.

How do you stay thankful when you aren't feeling up to it?

thankful, week one.

2015-11-06T15:47:00.000-05:00

Helllllllllo friends. I'm getting back on the blogging train with my own version of the "30 Days of Thankful" project. Others are listing their gratitude daily on Facebook, but my idea, other than to light a fire under my lazy blogging ass, is to blog each week a list of the things I'm thankful for - one for each day of November.

1. Halloween success.

I hesitate to go as far as to say, "I'm thankful for Halloween," since I've never been and am still not a huge fan of the holiday. I'll celebrate if the opportunity presents itself, but unless there is an obvious reason (like, Phish, for example) to celebrate, I usually don't bother. Enter my friend Shelley inviting Jacob and me to a couples costume party, forcing me out of Halloween retirement for us to recreate Duckie and Andie from the 1980's cult classic film, Pretty in Pink. I think we nailed it.

My own amazing mom, aka "Becky Homecky" made my dress, for which I'm also extremely thankful, despite the fact that being asked by her 35-year old daughter to make her Halloween costume was probably at the very least disappointing, if not completely upsetting. Thanks, Mom.

2. This video.

I am so very thankful for my niece and this video. (And pretty much everything she says and does ever and always for the rest of time.)

3. Family Feud.

I've been a fan of Family Feud since I can remember. I even went to see a live taping of the show which definitely warranted a blog post that I sadly never wrote. Ask me for the hilarious details the next time you see me. Though he claims he was a fan before he met me, I've now dragged Jacob down my weird game show-watching spiral. We like to play along with the families and enjoy the antics of host Steve Harvey.

The entertainment value of the show rose exponentially this week, when a contestant gave the answer "private parts," and this is the answer that the board showed:

I am so thankful for the belly laughs this has elicited out of me. I guess Family Feud isn't so "family friendly" anymore? Can you guess what the question was based on these answers?

4. EveryDollar.

I'm a closeted fan of the syndicated radio host/financial guru Dave Ramsey. While I don't talk about my own journey with financial independence and being debt-free, I'm a very thankful for and very happy to share that I think Ramsey's budgeting tool "EveryDollar" is fantastic. Since I live alone and am single, I make all of my financial decisions for myself, by myself. For better or worse, I've never really felt a need to make a "budget." But after downloading this app and keeping track of my money each month, I've never been more aware of how and where I spend my paycheck and as a result, I'm saving more than ever. Even if you're not a Ramsey fan, I highly recommend.

5. My sweet South Carolina.

This has been a tough year for my home state. I've shared my immense pride for how we've handled ourselves when forced into the spotlight of major news. From the Charleston shooting, of which I've already shared my thoughts, to the recent Columbia flooding, the people from my state continue to impress me and make me so thankful for the community where I was raised.

My friend Liza lost nearly everything in the flood, but continues to exude a positive attitude, resilience and an unbelievable sense of humor, posting pictures on Facebook of the clean up:

It's no wonder so many people came out in support of Liza, donating to a fund to help her and her family rebuild. If you're so inclined, you can still donate.

6. Leon Bridges.

One word: swoon. Leon Bridges is everything that's good about music right now and if you haven't heard this soulful singer that even your parents will love, I implore you to download his album immediately, or just watch this video.

If you're sold, and why wouldn't you be (?), he's coming back to Atlanta in March at the Tabernacle. Get your tickets. I promise you won't regret it. Jacob and I took his mom to the Variety Playhouse and we were floored. He's the real deal.

I hope you're full of gratitude this Thanksgiving season. I'll be back next week with seven more things I'm very thankful for - I hope you'll be back too.

Have a great weekend!

my first boss.

2015-09-09T23:35:00.001-04:00

This weekend, I'm headed to Charleston to celebrate the 30th anniversary of my dad's company, Gallman Personnel Services. I hope you'll indulge me by sharing my feelings on the occasion, which is also what I wrote about him in a surprise book his staff will present to him tomorrow night.

Don't worry that I'm ruining the surprise. If he reads this blog - and let's be honest, that's a big if - it'll be months from now.

When I was little, whenever anyone would ask me what my dad did for a living, I always answered the same way, "He helps people get jobs."

I really didn't know what I was saying or what that meant, I just thought it was so cool that he was the boss. He had his own leather chair that spun all the way around and pencils with our last name on them. I was proud. He also had a paper shredder that he let my brother Jeff and me "play" with, which I'm pretty sure put him in violation of most child labor laws and all parenting handbooks.

My understanding of what Gallman Personnel Services does and what it means to the people who work there has evolved over time. After all, it's where I earned my own first paycheck, stuffing envelopes, copying applications and yes, shredding boxes of documents that needed shredding. At GPS, I learned the importance of a firm handshakes, solid relationships, and about the pride that comes from a hard day's work.

I don't know that I'll ever truly understand the courage it took for my dad to start his own business 30 years ago. And I'll never fully comprehend the sacrifices he and my mom made over the years to create and sustain a successful business and a loving family, ensuring that Jeff and I never wanted for anything.

But I do know how fortunate I am that my first boss has - so far - been my greatest boss - my own amazing Dad.

Thirty years of helping people get jobs - not too shabby. Congratulations on this tremendous accomplishment. I am so proud to be your daughter.

fare thee well, good eyes.

2015-07-10T17:48:00.000-04:00

Back in March, when I took my parents to the Fleetwood Mac concert in Charlotte, Jacob and I found ourselves half horrified, half amused when soon after taking our seats, my dad reached into my mom's purse and produced a pair of binoculars.

He immediately put them to his eyes and began scanning first the crowd, then the stage, his arms at a perfect 90 degree angle. For several minutes, while Jacob and I chuckled about how this was our first "concert with binoculars" experience, we'd hear my dad randomly shouting out all the things he could see.

When he was done, he handed them over to me and I reluctantly and embarrassingly took a turn, pointing the lenses directly at the stage. There, in crystal-clear vision, was my love, my hero Stevie Nicks. I could see the sparkle on her dress as she twirled and could tell what shade of red lipstick she was wearing. Our seats were pretty good - but this view was magical.

Then Jacob, likely resigning to a "can't beat them, join them" mentality, also had a look.

"In all my years of concert-going and obsession with good seats," he admitted, "I can't believe I've never thought to bring binoculars."

And it wasn't just us - just like other "enhancements" often passed around at shows - we passed my dad's binoculars around to our seatmates and quickly made friends. They were a hit.

So for an early semi-ironic-but-actually-I'm-sincerely-excited-to-have-them birthday present, I bought Jacob a pair of his very own binoculars. Actually I've had to buy him two pair since the first pair I bought were the size equivalent of two telescopes fused together and hardly appropriate for concert viewing. That pair had to be returned. Whoops.

Since the purchase, we've taken these new set of eyes to see the Rolling Stones at Bobby Dodd Stadium in Atlanta and to see the Grateful Dead kick off their Fare Thee Well tour in Santa Clara, California.

None of these bands needed any kind of enhancements - especially not binoculars - and describing these events as simply concerts feels like a gross injustice. Nostalgia-evoking, tear-producing, life-altering musical experiences more accurately represents my feelings about seeing, possibly for the last time, the bands that helped lay the foundation of my music education.

And a reunion of old friends.

And also middle-aged people wearing bear costumes.

There's nothing quite like showing up to a concert's farewell tour with binoculars to let everyone, "I'm old, folks and I've pretty much given up."

Thankfully, though, there's also nothing quite like the perspective of getting older to help us stop caring what everyone else thinks. I may be going to hell in a bucket, but at least I'm enjoying the ride, with my binoculars in hand.

charleston.

2015-06-26T14:42:00.001-04:00

I've been ruminating for a week and a half on how I feel about Charleston and what happened there last Wednesday. I have started writing this post several times, only to be overcome by complicated feelings so intense, I had to literally get up and walk away from my computer.

As a journalist and proud South Carolinian, my emotions have truly been all over the place.

After getting the call Wednesday and the instruction to drive all night to be ready to report Thursday morning, I thought only of the editorial job I had to do, the logistics of where to park and making sure the correspondent I was producing for was prepped and ready to be on television. For the first few hours of the day, I thought only about getting the story and all of its horrible details.

But when the sun came up on Calhoun Street in a city I love so dearly, I couldn't help but notice that the stately and gorgeous Emanuel AME church looked different. Or, I wondered, was it I that was different, knowing that I'd have to add "church" to a list of other places (elementary school, movie theater, grocery store) where our safety from evil is no longer guaranteed?

To the families of the Charleston 9 - There are no words to express the grief I feel for your extraordinary loss. The stories I've heard about your loved ones who lost their lives will stay with me forever and I remain profoundly disappointed that the world will no longer benefit from their exceptional gifts. May you find peace and feel love from a nation that grieves with you.

To Charleston - I'll never stop singing your praises and you have made me so very proud to have lived there and to be from South Carolina. Thank you for showing your compassion and your hospitality and for showing America how a community grieving can come together in ways that have made my heart swell at least a thousand times. I'll never stop lobbying to become CNN's first and only Lowcountry Bureau Chief, but I hope the next time I'm in town covering a story, it's one highlighting your beautiful spirit.

To the rest of the world looking at South Carolina - This state is special. The people here are special. We are not perfect, and there are a few bad apples that still remain walking our streets, but that's no more or less than any other place on earth. We've made some mistakes in our past that thankfully we seem to be on the path to correcting. We'd love for you to come visit and we'll show you a real good time, but spare us your lectures or the assumption that we're lesser than you.

Have a great, peaceful weekend. Choose love, my friends.

south africa, part four: the main event.

2015-06-04T17:01:00.000-04:00

After a week and a half of experiencing new things in an exotic country full of gorgeous views (Part One, Part Two, Part Three), the time had come for the real reason we'd traveled so far - Emily and Justin's wedding weekend.

Because this is the kind of (amazing) couple they are, the duo didn't just arrange for transportation to take us to Morgansvlei Country Estate for their wedding, they also arranged wine and cheese-tasting at Fairview winery on the way.

I've been known to get excited at wine tastings and have confused my taste buds into thinking I should purchase a lot of wine that I didn't actually like. Yakima Valley, anyone? But Fairview was different. I bought a case and have enjoyed every bottle of it and if I could've shipped the cheese home, I would've done it.

Then, we were all invited to a traditional South African braai, held poolside next to mountainside views, because of course it was.

And then, it was Emily and Justin's wedding day. The Main Event.

I'm not sure how Emily managed to look so beautiful, so at ease after having entertained her American guests for several days, shuttling us from one tourist attraction to the next and making sure we were having a good time. She was flawlessly stunning and glamorous, while still looking like her laid-back self. Justin looked pretty handsome too.

Nor do I understand how Mo pulled off officiating their nuptials in such an appropriately humorous and completely meaningful way - especially after planning the entire trip and enduring one of the most vicious sunburns I've ever seen.

The wedding was, in a word, gorgeous. In two words, gorgeous and HOT. I'll spare you the sweaty face dancing pictures. Yikes.

I don't think I'll offend Justin or Emily when I say as sweet and fun as their wedding was, it was just another great day among all of the truly spectacular days we had in South Africa. A beautiful highlight in an already very crowded highlight reel, for which I am extremely grateful.

In that regard, I hope their wedding is a metaphor for the life that they will have together - one that is full of laughs, new experiences, beautiful views, gin drinks and sweaty dancing. One perfect day among many to come.

Cheers and Congrats Justin and Emily!

south africa, part three: circles of life.

2015-05-29T14:28:00.001-04:00

Thank you all so much for your very sweet comments regarding my last post. I am truly touched and I know Julie and everyone rooting for her appreciates your prayers.

I thought before my South Africa reunion happens next weekend, I'd try and finish writing about my trip to South Africa, because, well, it's good to have goals and finish what I start.

I mentioned in Part One that going on safari with my coworkers was a lot like going on a field trip; Part Two in Cape Town was like studying abroad in college - cultural experiences during the day and complete debauchery at night.

This part - Part Three - is all about the cultural/educational part of the trip, which probably explains my reluctance to write about it and which probably means that you might not even make it to the bottom of this post.

Spoiler alert: there's penguins ahead, so you better keep reading!

Because getting married just wasn't quite eventful enough for Emily and Justin, they decided to add to their stress levels by also playing tour guide to a couple dozen Americans, most of whom were visiting South Africa for the first time. I do not understand this overachieving behavior and I would like to go ahead and tell all of you future potential guests at my hypothetical wedding at TBD location, I will not be offering these tourism services. You're on your own.

First on the list of our excursions, and perhaps the most important for anyone visiting Cape Town, was a ferry ride and tour of Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 18 years.

The week I really wanted to tackle this post happened to be the week of all of the unrest in Baltimore, following the death of Freddie Gray. I thought I could somehow use the tense emotions and actions of my fellow Americans in Maryland to open up a conversation about life during apartheid in South Africa.

Then I remembered that I can't even pretend to speak intelligently on such complex issues. Everything started to feel so difficult and so big and I just got overwhelmed, so I stopped.

Then yesterday, one of my most favorite bloggers, Glennon Melton Doyle, inspired me. After her thousands of fans begged her to respond with her feelings about Baltimore, she finally did, saying, "There are times in our shared human history that are so serious, so deep, so important, so painful that the only response from someone who is ignorant of the roots of this pain is quiet learning." As if a sign from the blogging Gods and the real God, I sort of felt moved to write about Robben Island.

I can tell you some of the facts that I learned from our tour guide, Sparks, who was also a former prisoner at Robben Island, whose delivery and spectacular ability to roll his "R's," when he said, "Rrrrrroben Island," will stay with me forever.

Mandela lived on Robben Island for 18 of the 27 years he was imprisoned after he was convicted for conspiracy to violently overthrow the government of South Africa for his role in the anti-apartheid movement. While there, he lived in a maximum security part of the prison - in a cell that was just 7 feet by 9 feet. He slept on the floor and used the bathroom in a bucket. He did hard labor in a rock quarry with other prisoners in the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter wearing no shoes. The dust stirred up in the quarry sometimes caused blindness. Prisoners would cut tennis balls and slip notes into them before hitting them over the wall to communicate with one another. Mandela began writing his memoir, A Long Walk to Freedom, while living on Robben Island and he would hide excerpts in a garden area.

Those are the facts - the ones I remember.

But to go deeper, to fully comprehend apartheid and then try to explain the complexities of race relations that I can't even unwrap in my own country - where would I even begin?

Before I tried to tackle this poignant part of our trip, I spoke to Emily about growing up during apartheid. She said it was quite similar to life during the Jim Crow era in the US - forced separation of blacks and whites by a small, but powerful political party. White people and black people attended separate schools, used separate bathrooms, ate in different sections of restaurants. While apartheid ended in 1991, many of the disparities between blacks and whites still exist today - most visible to us in the miles of slums we passed on our way to the house we rented for the week.

I have so much to learn, as you can see - and Emily recommended reading A Long Walk to Freedom, along with movies like Invictus and Mandela, which she said do a good job of depicting that time in South African history. If you haven't already left my blog for hers, Glennon also recommended reading The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness.

Our cultural experiences also included a trip to Cape Point, which contrary to popular misinformation is NOT the southernmost point of South Africa. It is, as advertised, "One point. One million points of view." We aggressively hiked to the top and enjoyed the spectacular views. Did I mention South Africa has some pretty amazing views?

To complete the "seeing new things" part of our trip, PENGUINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ON A BEACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Boulders Beach, to be exact. I don't know how they got there - I thought penguins only lived in cold climates, but I was wrong.

Hard to imagine by these pictures, and by the various stages in the circle of life that we saw while we were there, these little cuties are actually endangered. I could've watched them all day.

March of the South African Penguins

from Stephanie Gallman on Vimeo.

You made it all the way to the end. Congratulations! And thank you! Let's all keep learning and seeing new things. In cool places like South Africa, preferably.

struggling.

2015-05-15T14:03:00.000-04:00

This has been a trying week and I'm struggling.

Struggling, because I decided to take a different route out of my office yesterday. My mom got a FitBit for Mother's Day (she asked for one - my family and I aren't completely terrible people) and I've been trying to turn up the heat on my own steps in hopes of encouraging her. So instead of taking the escalator, I opted to take the stairs.

Only as I began my descent, the right heel of my shoe got caught in the cuff of my left pant leg and I instead of walking, I more or less pulled myself down - hard - on the steps falling toward the first landing. My phone and water bottle went flying and my knee banging all the way.

At work.

In front of people.

In front of coworkers.

I've taken quite a few spills in my day, so I actually have a strategy on how to handle them. Maybe "strategy" is too strong - more like a response that involves, simply, get up, keep your head down, laugh it off and LEAVE THE SCENE AS QUICKLY AND INCONSPICUOUSLY AS POSSIBLE.

Unfortunately falling in my building is like falling at a hotel in Las Vegas. Even if you want to run away and are physically capable of doing so, a swarm of company security guards will surround you and convince you otherwise. I truly thought I was okay to keep walking out, but everyone asking me, "Are you surrrrre you're ok?" made me question if I really was. Soon a guard with a first aid kit showed up with ice packs and an ace bandage wrap and I wanted to cry.

In hindsight, stopping to take a seat on the stairs to collect myself as the security guard suggested was a good idea, but I could've done without all of the attention and fanfare.

By the grace of God, even at my 5:15 pm departure time, there were but a few people who saw what happened and I knew none of them.

That is, until television attorney Nancy Grace comes down the escalator to my left and shouts at me, "Girrrrrrl, are you ok?!" in her signature southern draw. While extremely kind of her to ask me, a complete stranger, if I was alright, her question attracted the attention of what felt like everyone in the building ( I mean, she's Nancy Grace?!) and with all eyes on me, sitting in the middle of the stairs, I wanted the floor to swallow me immediately.

My left knee is in a lot of pain, and walking today is a bit of a challenge, but the realization that I may no longer be cut out for high heels and/or am probably turning into my accident-prone mother has also bruised my ego quite a bit.

Worse than the fall, which seems so small in comparison to other huge things happening right now, is the emotional struggle I'm having over a special woman facing a troubling diagnosis.

Julie was a senior at the University of Georgia the year I was a freshman. Though we were in the same sorority and would see each other at chapter meetings and fraternity band parties, I did not know her well. But I remember her sweet disposition and kind voice and I can't recall anyone every saying an unkind word about her.

Since 2013, Julie has bravely fought triple negative breast cancer that has spread into her lymph nodes. After being diagnosed a week after giving birth to her second child - a reality that truly takes my breath away every time I think about it - she has been fighting.

I know sororities don't always get the best reputation, but the true "sisterhood" that I have experienced from AOIIs of all ages rallying around Julie's during this time has been nothing short of inspiring. There have been fundraisers, prayer circles, offers to babysit and bring meals. While undergoing an experimental trial in Texas, sisters have donated airline miles and hotel points all to make her battle a little less stressful.

I've participated when able, following from a distance her ups and downs of her health, never once believing that she would be anything but victorious in her fight.

This week, Julie's doctors advised that the "time for fighting and treatment has passed and it is time for her to focus on going home, on her comfort and on her family." While I remain inspired by Julie's grace and bravery and what her sister-in-law described as, "an abundant concern for others," this news leaves me struggling.

Struggling with how I'm supposed to feel - that everything happens for a reason and that God is in charge - versus how I actually feel - that this is colossally unfair. I thought God never made mistakes, but this all feels like a huge mistake - that He got it wrong, in choosing this young, vibrant wife and mother to suffer such a diagnosis.

For Julie and the many people that love her, I am heartsick.

I believe in miracles and I believe in one for Julie and her family, while wishing for them peace and as much togetherness as is allowed. I believe in God and good vibes, so I pray and dedicate yoga practices to Julie and her children and husband, her parents and brother and extended family.

I also pray for those who are close to Julie, who like me, are trying to understand why things like this happen to good people.

This is a little heavy for a Friday, and for that I'm sorry, but I ask of you, if you could take a moment this weekend to send up to whatever higher power you believe in prayers of peace and healing to Julie and her family.

Peace and love and Nancy Grace shout outs,
SG

south africa, part two: cape town unfiltered.

2015-04-24T14:03:00.002-04:00

Leaving Kruger Park after four days was bittersweet.

Bitter because Buhala Lodge was breathtaking and awe-inspiring and so much fun. We'd seen and done so much in the short time we were there. Sure, we'd checked, "See huge wild animals in their natural habitat," off our proverbial bucket lists, but leaving meant saying goodbye to these amazing views and that was sad.

But also sweet because we traded safari views for Cape Town views, and, well, those did not disappoint.

If going on safari with my co-workers was like going on a really extravagant field trip, then going to Cape Town with those same co-workers and meeting up with the other Americans going to Emily and Justin's wedding was a lot like the study abroad trip I took to Spain when I was in college - a few dozen people, all roughly the same age converging on the same foreign place at the same time.

I'd like to think it was a tad more sophisticated and grown up than the six of us laughing at animal dung. Our days were filled with group tours and cultural experiences; our nights were filled with sunset cocktails, dinner parties, and OMG LOOK!!!!!! THIS BEER HAS MY NAME ON IT!!!!!!!

Ok, so maybe only slightly more sophisticated.

I'll have more on the cultural experiences in a separate post, but I called this essay, "cape town unfiltered" for a couple of reasons.

First, if there was any filtering happening while we were on safari, after several days of nonstop togetherness and now in our own house with our own fridge stocked with alcohol, we'd stopped being polite and started getting real. We were a little less forgiving of one another's quirks and a lot more willing to call them out. We stayed up late, our intimate peaceful conversations at Buhala turning into, "let's heal open wounds from five years ago" and "let's make each other laugh so hard we cry and pee our pants" conversations.

Also Cape Town is so very beautiful that there is no need for any kind of photo filter - each view, each sunset, was more spectacular than the last.

Every evening we'd gather on our porch and watch the sun sink lower, capturing its marvelousness with nearly every device possible - cameras, iPhones, GoPros.

It was a typical tourist move that could be expected by us first timers. But one evening when they joined us for "sundowners" (aka Happy Hour in South Africa), I watched Emily, the bride, and her sister Helen taking as many pictures as the rest of us - a place where they've watched a thousand sunsets in their lives still so grand, it warrants photographic evidence.

More than once during our trip, someone would ask Emily some version of the same question: "Why did you ever move?," "How could you ever leave?" or "When are you moving back?" I mean, her high school literally sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean in Camps Bay.

But besides the glorious landscape, I suspect Emily also views South Africa and these Cape Town sunsets through the lens of a "home filter." The one that fills her with nostalgia and intense pride and gratefulness for her people and the place she is from, making these scenes even more beautiful to her than they are to us.

Filters often get a bad rap for misrepresenting reality and more and more we're calling each other to start keeping it real, but aren't we all guilty of viewing and presenting the world through a filter? Are we kidding ourselves or just accentuating the positive?

I mean, I doubt I'll ever meet up with my Irmo friends at the Olive Garden on Harbison Blvd. and start snapping sunset pics, but every time I'm home, I'm filled with nostalgia and feel so very thankful for the place I grew up. Thanks to my home filter, I don't remember how my undiagnosed depression and anxiety made high school such an unhappy time. I don't remember how insecure I felt.

I'm equally thankful for a relationship filter, that helps me remember most of my exes fondly for the time we shared, instead of remembering the utter dysfunction or douchey things that they did. Filtering out the bad makes it easy to chalk it up to a learning experience and move on.

Though likely not to the level that Emily feels about South Africa, I find myself often in a conundrum about returning to Charleston, South Carolina, a place I once lived for a short time. I miss the beach, the history and the people and every time I return - which is as frequently as possible - I wonder why I ever left. I seem to have forgotten how impossible it was for me to start a career, much less find a job that put me above the poverty line. Perhaps to my detriment, I view Charleston through a "vacation filter," and have lost the ability to be impartial.

On the other hand, Charleston is where my niece lives and I'm pretty sure the "aunt filter" is the strongest of them all. Gray, like South Africa, needs no filter.

sorry not sorry

2015-04-17T17:10:00.000-04:00

I've always loved Robert Fulghum's book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.

Full of common sense, basic principles, Fulgham reminds us that being a decent human being is really elementary: play fair, don't hit people, say you're sorry when you hurt someone.

All of the other stuff we learn in school and as we get older - is just extra.

Like learning to be grateful, I think I learned how to apologize long before I went to kindergarten, thanks to my parents who were quick to deescalate tensions over toys and television shows by demanding that my brother and I "say sorry" to one another.

I'd like to think my apologies have grown more sincere and heartfelt since those kid-style "sorrys" that were usually mumbled under my breath and rarely included any eye contact. And though I have my moments, I'm still as quick to apologize when I know I'm wrong, even if there isn't an adult telling me to.

I never considered that saying "I'm sorry" was anything other than the right thing to do, until last year when Pantene came forward with a campaign encouraging women to STOP APOLOGIZING so much.

"Wait, what?," I thought to myself when I saw an article about their efforts.

The video makes their point, brilliantly I think, portraying women in various scenarios apologizing for things they shouldn't be sorry for. I immediately identified. I've apologized for asking questions I thought might be stupid. I've apologized for speaking up in a meeting at the same time as someone else. I even apologized to some one who got in line behind me at the water cooler while I was filling up my large cup. Letting these "sorrys" fly makes true apologies less impactful and undermines my desire to portray myself as the confident, intelligent, capable person that I am.

Last week at work, I was a part of a project that at the last minute fell a part. I was frustrated. A lot of my colleagues were frustrated. Mistakes were made at several levels - not just mine - but because of my involvement in the project's failure, and because of what I learned in kindergarten, I immediately wanted to apologize.

And I started to, but then stopped myself, remembering the Pantene campaign. I agonized over how to proceed in a way that satisfied both the kindergartener in me who learned to own up to her mistakes and apologize for them, and the career woman who doesn't want to roll over or appear weak and defensive.

The ability to take responsibility for my actions and sincerely apologize has served me well in personal relationships, yet I'm unsure how to translate that to my job.

Is it ever okay to apologize in the workplace?

south africa, part one: field trip follies.

2015-04-09T16:50:00.003-04:00

Having attended (and documented) nearly 100 weddings in my lifetime, I truly thought I'd seen it all when it came to witnessing so many "big days."

But when my South African friend and colleague Emily began planning her South African nuptials to my other friend and colleague Justin, I realized I'd soon be invited to attend an elusive genre of weddings even I'd never been to, a hybrid if you will:

The International Destination Wedding of a Co-Worker

Now if Justin and Emily were the kind of "co-workers" with whom I merely exchanged daily pleasantries, I could've easily declined their invitation, and wished them well with a nice gift.

But they're actually my friends. Like many of the people I work with, they're really good friends. In fact, because of (or maybe in spite of) the stressful nature of our jobs that we have to perform, in close, communal working quarters for long, and sometimes weird hours, we're kind of like a family.

One big, inappropriate, dysfunctional family.

Perhaps it was that feeling of family that moved me to decide quickly when Emily and Justin's wedding invitation arrived, to just say yes. I have a feeling my sense of adventure, love of traveling and overwhelming and constant sense of FOMO (that's Fear of Missing Out, Mom) also played a part, but without considering any of the specifics, I was in, and more or less assumed the details would work themselves out.

The details did work out (no thanks to me) and in February, alongside seven members of my work family, I flew halfway around the world - that's roughly 16 hours and 8419 miles - to spend 12 days in South Africa.

"Whoa! What was that like?!" seemed to be the most popular question asked when I told others about my journey.

I'm not sure if the "that" referred to South Africa or traveling with coworkers, but my response was always the same: "It was awesome . . ., and a lot like going on a school field trip."

Permission Slips and Payment Plans

Like every successful field trip, ours had an instant and natural leader, Mo, who in addition to planning every. single. detail. of our trip, also had the distinct honor of officiating Justin and Emily's wedding.

Right out of the gate, he saw to it that the five of us traveling with him turned in our "permission slips," or cleared our simultaneous 11-day vacation with our managers. Seeking permission for so many of us to be gone at the same time was somewhat awkward at first, especially since we were asking for vacation more than a year in advance. We told them our plan and remarkably, and much to my concern that we could all easily be replaced, management quickly approved our days off.

With our "permission slips" signed, Mo proceeded with meticulous planning, which was almost immediately followed by asking everyone for money.

I'm not going to sugarcoat it, going to South Africa isn't cheap - at least in the way Mo planned it, which in my humble opinion, is the only way. The flights are expensive, going on safari is expensive, golfing at Leopard Creek (aka the "Augusta National of South Africa") is expensive - but like every good class trip, completely worth every penny.

The American dollar is strong in South Africa, but in order for us to be able to afford to go, we saved, we skimped, and we did what all field-trippers would do - we fund-raised. I cannot take credit for this purely genius GoFundMe page that raised more than $1000 in fun money and also raised a few eyebrows from people who thought it was inappropriate to ask for money from our friends to go on vacation.

To those people I say, if 90's R&B group TLC can raise money to make a new album, then why shouldn't we?!

For a year, everyone paid Chaperone Mo in installments, which meant I still don't know how much the trip really cost. I do know it was paid for before we even left. Plus, multiple payments meant multiple opportunities to be praised by Mo for turning our money in on time or publicly shamed for not turning it in at all.

Buddy System

As if collecting money from six clowns for an international trip wasn't punishment enough, Mo's decision to take charge of planning the trip meant that once we arrived, he also became solely responsible for telling us what to do, what to wear, how to act at nearly every hour of everyday.

While I'd like to think he enjoyed his role as our group leader - I mean, he carried an itinerary - I think he probably could've handled us asking questions like, "What's for dinner?" and "What time do we need to be ready in the morning?" a hundred less times than we did.

Mo also encouraged the buddy system, which meant, "Look after your roommate," and make sure he/she is where they need to be when they need to be there. This strategy worked for the most part, especially because my buddy was Leigh, the only other female on the trip. She ranks pretty high on the "awesome travel buddy" list. She's laid back, up for anything, and best of all, she indulged my "school girls on a field trip" desire to run back to our room after our scheduled activities so we could gossip about the stupid boys we were traveling with.

Complete Stupidity

You know how school kids love to "call seats," as if the back of the bus or the right side of a vehicle is some coveted ground where only they should be allowed to sit?

We did that. Right side for life!

You know how adolescents always seem to find the smartest one in the group to tease relentlessly for seemingly everything he does?

We did that. Sorry, Devon. But you shined a safari floodlight on a complete stranger's neck for the entire night drive!

You know how when your most favorite teacher named Oupa, who had always been a wealth of information about Kruger National Park and animals, told you a joke but he did it with a straight face so you thought he was serious and you believed every word he said?

We did that. And we shared what he told us with others, as if it was fact. (FYI, newborn baby giraffe hearts don't just start beating when they hit the ground after falling from their mother.)

You know how when you were younger and someone would mention poop or sex and you'd completely lose your mind and giggle like an idiot?

We did that. However I'm fairly certain if I was ever forced to identify safari animal dung, I could do it. We also said things like, "Is that monkey mounting that other monkey? Oh. My. Gahhhhhh. Are those monkeys doing it?!!! You guys, those monkeys are doing it!"

Then we would all laugh and take a thousand pictures like this one:

And you know how sometimes on school trips when you got forced into tour groups with people you didn't really know that well or maybe didn't like and you swore you'd separate the minute your group merged with another group but you never did because you found out you really liked your group the best?

We did that.

Wonder & Awe

One of the suckiest things about getting older (besides hangovers, responsibility, wrinkles and gray hair) is that I also feel myself becoming more jaded. I suppose that also has something to do with also being a journalist, but anymore, I feel like it takes a lot to excite me, a lot to rile me up.

Yet, there were so many moments on this trip that I found myself rendered speechless by the beauty of what I was seeing around me, the opportunity I'd been given - by God for giving me such a great life, by Justin and Emily for inviting me to this wonderful place, by Mo for planning it all.

As I'm sure you can imagine, there wasn't much quiet time with this group, but I'm certain my travel mates felt it too, for there were moments when we'd all be silent together. I guess it takes going to South Africa to impress six journalists enough for them to shut up - and not just because we didn't want rhinos or elephants to charge us.

There were times toward the end of our safari experience, we got used to seeing impalas and zebras on our drives and began looking for more. We got spoiled and wanted to see families of lions or National Geographic-style attacks, but mostly we were amazed, feeling the wonder and curiosity I thought only happened to school kids on a field trip.

At night, back at the charming Buhala Lodge where we stayed, we'd drink good wine and delicious food under the stars, served to us by our favorite bartender Moses. We'd talk about personal stuff like the last time we cried, then quickly go into lighter things like what our favorite part of the day was. Then we'd spend the rest of the night making fun of each other.

Best. Field Trip. Ever.

bad luck's a-changin'

2015-03-20T08:54:00.003-04:00

According to a study last year by the Department of Agriculture, the average cost to raise a child in the United States is $245,000.

Now $245,000 is a lot of money by any standards, but when I consider all of the "oops taxes" I cost my parents, I became increasingly aware that the cost to raise Baby Stephanie into Teen Stephanie was likely much higher than average. Thanks to case of ADD, a lead foot, and just general bad luck. I've wrecked cars, boats and a lot of other expensive toys over the years - some of which belonged to me and others that did not.

So naturally, when I discovered a dent in the back bumper of my car that was parked in my parents' driveway, I immediately assumed it was my fault. Because it usually is.

I scanned my memory and tried to come up with a time and place when I might've caused the damage. Could I have hit something and not remembered? Did I hurt anyone or anything else when I did? I couldn't come up with anything. I was confused.

I was also amused at just how much bad luck I have had when it comes to cars, considering I'd picked up my car from the shop where it was having another dent repaired just days before. The last dent was courtesy a valet driver in a hotel parking lot. Getting it fixed took several months and involved dealing with the parking company's insurance company. Really fun stuff.

Last weekend's new dent brings the total times my car has been damaged in the last five months to two.

When I went inside to tell my mom, I couldn't hide the look of complete bewilderment on my face. Two dents in five months is really bad - even for me. She stepped outside to take a look and when she returned, she had a mischievous smile spread over her lips and a twinkle in her eye.

"Do you think your dad hit it?," she said.

My mom, like me, has had some unfortunate incidents with cars so she knows, like I do, that where there is bad luck with vehicles, disappointing looks/sighs from Chuck (dad) will most certainly follow.

My dad, on the other hand, is the complete opposite from my mom and me. He takes extra special care of every toy he's ever owned, and while I do remember him receiving some speeding tickets over the years, I can't recall him ever getting into an accident or causing damage to his vehicles. And despite having no financial stake in my car, he never wastes an opportunity to remind me to get mine washed, my tires rotated, and my oil changed.

Finding out that my dad - the same guy who has driven 220,000 miles on his current car and still manages to keep it looking brand new - was the culprit of the latest dent brought my mom and me so much joy, so much redemption.

When I talked to my dad, he apologized profusely for hitting my car and gave me several reasons why the mishap occurred: he said it was dark and he forgot I was coming home and parking in his driveway. He also said when he saw the damage, he assumed I'd never fixed Dent #1. He knows me so well.

I really didn't need an apology. The satisfaction that bad car luck happens to us all - even my dad - is worth all the money and hassle it'll take to get it fixed. Besides, the money that I've cost him and my mom over the years, he could put a dozen dents in my bumper and not come close to making things equal.

But still, let's recap:

FOR THE SECOND TIME IN FIVE MONTHS, DAMAGE DONE TO MY CAR WAS NOT CAUSED BY ME. TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW.

This is cause for celebration.

Also, despite his annoying car reminders, my dad is still pretty much the greatest person ever and we recently made good on our promise to go to Fleetwood Mac together. Stevie will always be number one girl-crush and hero, but I'm so glad Christine McVie is back with the band. We danced, sang, passed my dad's binoculars back and forth (yes, he brought binoculars and why haven't I ever done that at a concert before?), and had a great time.

And we didn't talk about cars once.

the great equalizer.

2015-02-05T13:06:00.000-05:00

Several years ago, my mom and her friend Ellen were in Charleston (for reasons they now say they don't remember, but I suspect had something to do with shopping) and around lunch time during their trip, they started to get hungry. With neither of them carrying smart phones to search for nearby restaurants, they chose another strategy to find a place to eat.

"We saw a line and we got in it," my mom told me. Then she burst out laughing.

Without paying much attention to where they were actually going, my mom and Ellen saw other people in line for food and assumed all those people couldn't be wrong, right?

Only mid-meal, the ladies both became hysterical upon realizing that the line they waited in to eat, in a city with an overwhelming amount of award-winning restaurants and delicious southern cuisine, was for Jason's Deli.

Jason's. Deli.

No disrespect to Jason's Deli - they are one of the few places that puts edamame on salad bars and for that I'm supremely thankful - but eating there, in Charleston, South Carolina when there are so many other wonderful places to go? It's borderline criminal.

The "seeing a line, getting in it," mistake my mom and her friend made has stayed with me (and with her.) Every time I find myself in a line, I try to make sure I fully understand just what it is I'm waiting for. When it comes to traveling, this involves researching places ahead of time and asking locals what tourist destinations to skip. I've even gone as far as to ask others waiting in line, "Have you been here before? Is this worth it?," afraid that if I don't, I could follow the popularity train right into Times Square to listen to a Nickelback album.

On the other hand, not all things that are popular are bad. I rode out a two and a half hour wait at Momofuku in New York on New Year's Day in 2014 and I haven't stopped talking about it since - it was one of the best meals I ever had. Taylor Swift's popularity transcends several generations and I happen to love her catchy songs.And against my better judgment, I caved and bought an iPhone like everyone else and aside from it completely zapping my productivity, I've never regretted it.

Still, when Jacob and I visited Nashville last week, I was hesitant when, in three separate scenarios, we found ourselves facing long lines and long waits.

Great Equalizer #1: Edley's BBQ

The first was at Edley's BBQ, which was the suggestion of my friend, Nashville native and former colleague Jeremiah. Of all the lines I'd waited in, I was least concerned about this one, because this visit was as much about catching up with Jeremiah and his wife Mary Claire and our former boss Lucia as it was about eating. But also the place smelled heavenly from the parking lot and I knew Jeremiah knows good food because we pretty much ate every meal together for six months when we were on the road and we were both considerably fatter then.

Great Equalizer #2: The Bluebird Cafe

Later that day, Jacob and I arrived at the Bluebird Cafe to a line of at least 100 people outside the door. If you're a fan of the show Nashville, you're probably very familiar with the Bluebird - it's a Music City staple.

I don't watch that show, but I did know about the Bluebird before going there thanks to the 1993 film, The Thing Called Love, starring Samantha Mathis and the late River Phoenix (with supporting actors Sandra Bullock and Dermott Mulroney).

Remember that movie? Anyone?

Located in a strip mall next to a children's consignment store on Hillsboro Pike, it's probably the last place you'd think a music venue would exist - much less one that has launched careers of singers like Garth Brooks and Kathy Mattea, as well as countless other songwriters.

If the movie is true to life, prospective performers try out during the day for the e and if they are picked, they return to perform for an audience later that night. On Sundays, the Bluebird hosts singer/songwriter night.

There were lots of things to consider regarding whether or not we should wait in line - first, it was cold. Second, there are only 90 seats in the Bluebird Cafe, and they don't allow standing room only. Third, and most important, what if we waited for two hours only to find out this was the biggest racket/tourist trap and not worth it? I mean, the only people who may have time to wait in a two-hour line to see music are people who are vacationing, right?

After a lot of back and forth, several conversations with the door man to understand exactly what our chances were, as well as some heartfelt, albeit strange involvement from our cab driver, we decided to wait. Actually, first we decided to buy a few beers from the gas station next door and then we got in line to wait.

Once we made the commitment, it was easier to submit to waiting and just make the best of it. We made friends and shared beers with some newlyweds who live in New York and they made the time pass quickly. Two hours later, we were in, and were led to our seats at the bar.

The Bluebird, as far as venues go, is really not much to talk about. But the energy inside was palpable, and I felt like we were witnessing these artists making their dreams come true. I've had the privilege to see this before - watching individuals doing exactly that it is that God intended for them to do. It's special.

I would be a fool to try and predict which of the artists that we saw might become a big name like Garth Brooks - the music business is predictably unpredictable. But I definitely had my favorites so just in case, I want to go on record as having said, I saw them back in the day, before they were famous! Janet Hattabaugh is an effortlessly beautiful singer who reminds me of Allison Krauss. David Ashley looks and sings like every guitar-playing guy I went to college with. My favorite - Jessa Taylor could be the next Miranda Lambert. She's got a raspy voice and is edgy . . . and she's all of 15 years old.

Others we saw, if you're interested in following them - Skip Robey, Matt Prater, AJ Schubert, Eric Burgett, Dixie Jade, Dan Bowman & Greg Wilson

Great Equalizer #3: Arnold's

The last line we maneuvered was for Arnold's a meat-and-three restaurant that came recommended by our Uber driver a couple of nights before. "Get the roast beef," he advised. Jacob and I skipped breakfast and walked over around 11:30am on Monday to find a line already outside the door.

Full disclosure, I never met any country cooking served buffet style by old ladies in hairnets that I didn't like, so I never doubted Arnold's. Fried chicken as big as my head, green beans cooked in so much grease they lose all nutritional value, creamy mashed potatoes and gravy and pecan pie so delicious, it'll make you want to slap your mama.

One of the many complimentary articles about Arnold's hanging on the wall called waiting in line, "the great equalizer." How poetic, I thought, to assign the same comparison used for concepts like education and death to waiting in line for southern cooking.

The theme completely fits. Every time I'm in a line, regardless of how impatient I feel, there's some grander sense of justice and community - like we're all in this together and no one waiting is any better or worse than someone else. We all have the same advantages, or disadvantages and we share in the exciting suspense that comes in the uncertainty of what awaits at the end of the line.

I hesitate to simply follow my mom's plan of seeing a line an getting in it, but if my trip to Nashville is any indication, very often good things do some for those who wait. In line.

five things I love today.

2015-01-23T14:57:00.000-05:00

It's raining. Again.

Might I suggest a bowling trip if you're in Atlanta and are looking for something to do this weekend to escape the cold and the rain?

I'm channeling my inner Andy Cohen today to tell you the five things I'm obsessed with right now.

Nashville

More about this long-weekend trip Jacob and I made to Music City in later posts, but what a cool city that continues to grow up and evolve since my days of working for CMT. Our weekend was full of music and good food, and therefore waiting in long lines, but that which made both that much more enjoyable.

There were also selfies, including this one which so accurately demonstrates the two worst offenders of all selfies - the "Duck Face" and the "Taylor Swift - OMG I can't believe I won?!?!?! Surprise Face." Nice job, guys.

Amy Poehler

I know, I know, this is an easy one. I mean, who doesn't love Amy, right? And her work wife Tina Fey, who completely slayed at the Golden Globes a few weeks ago. But I just finished reading Amy's book, Yes, Please, and I love her even more. Annnnnnd, Parks & Rec's bittersweet final season is now underway, which means more Leslie Knope in my life. This show is genius and I laugh out loud every time I watch it.

Fixer-Upper

With the exception of House Hunters, I pretty much love everything on HGTV. I definitely have my favorites (Love it or List It and Flip or Flop), but when it comes to home improvement shows, I'm an equal opportunity offender. My MOST favorite show, Fixer Upper just started a new season and I'm completely obsessed watching husband and wife team Chip and Joanna Gaines find the worst house on the block and turning it into something beautiful. Sometimes the show frustrates me, considering they're buying homes sometimes for less than $100,000, but the housing market in Waco, Texas is a little different than most places, I guess. Regardless, I think I have a woman-crush on Joanna. She's so cool.

I'm not sure my personal style is quite as rustic as hers, but I think she has such decorating vision and impeccable taste - in home furnishings and in clothes. I also find her relationship with her husband Chip completely charming. I have big dreams of finding my own fixer-upper and completely gutting it, Magnolia Homes-style.

My Amazing Niece

She found her shadow this week and the two became fast friends.

This article. This study. This idea . . .

. . . that love is something you do, not always something that you feel. For someone whose cold, black, cynical heart has only thawed slightly over the years, I connect to this on so many levels. I may not always feel the sticky sweet, gooey love stuff all of the time, but love as an action? A verb? In the words of my BFF Amy, "Yes, please!"

Go do love this weekend. Enjoy yourself.

a cure for your rainy day blues.

2015-01-15T22:02:00.000-05:00

The meteorologists in Atlanta are saying the sun is going to come out Friday, but I'm not sure I buy it. Lately everyday feels like Groundhog Day if Groundhog Day were misty, cloudy, cold, damp, gross and depressing.

Last weekend, my friends Maribeth and Scott, Jacob and I pulled ourselves off our respective couches in favor of some rainy Friday night fun - and stumbled upon the new and improved Midtown Bowl. I say "new," but Midtown Bowl isn't new at all - but since the last time I'd been there before last weekend was in 2008, it was most certainly improved having undergone a major renovation in 2009.

Here are three reasons you need to go there immediately (besides the whole weather sucking and needing something to do besides eat, sleep and binge watch Netflix, all things that I also enjoy):

The bar: Three words, Bourbon lovers: Pappy Van Winkle. They have it. I'm not a Bourbon drinker myself, but I know enough people who are to know that PVW is the most coveted bourbon of them all - like get on a waiting list to buy it kind of coveted. I didn't have any and I'm not sure how much it costs for a glass, but the fact that Pappy Van Winkle exists at Midtown Bowl has been the number one way for me to explain to people how much this place has improved since 2008. They also have dozens of great beers both bottled and on draft and I had plenty of those.
The tunes: I was surprised to see Pappy Van Winkle on the bar shelf. I was shocked and elated when I heard "Reba" (I don't mean McIntire, though she's great too) come over the speakers. Scott and Jacob immediately looked at each other and said, "Did you play this?" Finding Phish, the Grateful Dead, Stevie Wonder, Rolling Stones on the same jukebox means hours of fun. We spent as much money, if not more, on music as we did on bowling, including paying more money to skip other people's songs because we think we have better taste in music than them.
The bowling: Bowling is fun. Even if you suck. And trust me, no one sucks at bowling more than me.

People watching is another great reason to go - but let's be honest, that's certainly not specific to Midtown Bowl.

Have a great, warm, sunshiney weekend.

highlights (aka huge photo dump).

2015-01-09T16:10:00.001-05:00

My mom sent out her 2015 holiday card this week, and even though I knew what was going to be on it before I received mine, I had to chuckle when I saw the picture.

My niece Gray has completely stolen our hearts, which I guess warrants Jeff and Katie's and my complete elimination from the family card. In my mom's defense, the Gallmans didn't exactly "nail it" at our family photo shoot, so she was left with no choice but to go with a winner.

Gray's position in the card merely serves as a metaphor for how much she was the highlight of our year.

I mean look at this face.

There were plenty of other highlights for me - both personal and professional - including, but not limited to:

Lots of music - Lionel Richie, George Strait, Garth Brooks, Phish - just to name a few.

Beach vacations in South Carolina, North Carolina, Gulf Shores, Alabama and Mexico.

Plenty of weddings and babies.

2015 is shaping up to be another year full of adventures and more travel - some already planned for the first three months of the year. I make no promises, and I have made no resolutions to write about these adventures. All I can say is that I will try. I always begin the year recommitting to my writing life, as it is such an exercise that makes me happy and peaceful.

I'm treating this conversation like I would with an old friend you just pick back up with regardless of how much time has passed. There aren't any excuses for why I haven't written - no good ones anyway - so I'm just gonna omit that.

What was the highlight of your last year? What are you most looking forward to in 2015?

Let's make it a good one!

goodbyes suck.

2014-10-24T11:50:00.000-04:00

Forgive me today, everyone, for I have broken the cardinal sin in the workplace by ugly/swollen/red face crying all day.

After rounds of emotional buyouts and difficult layoffs at Turner Broadcasting and CNN, today is the day that I say goodbye to my mentor and friend, Paul Caron.

Paul has worked for CNN for 28.5 years - in two countries, four bureaus (Detroit, Miami, London and Atlanta) and he's done more or less every job television has to offer - from an On-air Correspondent to Assignment Manager to Unofficial Expert on Detroit.

His unparalleled experience, sound news judgement, and managerial style is something of legend around here. His quick wit, lead by example attitude and unceasing loyalty made him adored my many - as both a colleague and friend. Without a doubt, he is one of the best bosses that I've ever had.

When I told him I was dealing with depression, he told me if I needed anything, he would be there and then he said, "This doesn't mean I can't still make fun of you, right?"

I burst out laughing - it was exactly what I needed to hear. I have a book full of "Paul Caron-isms" just like that - I will cherish it always.

When he celebrated 25 years with the company, my friend Jackie and I made a video tribute with words of praise and roasts from our colleagues. There is no way we could ever top that video, but all of the sentiments and tributes still stand.

Paul, we love you. We will all miss you. CNN wouldn't be what it is without you and it won't ever be the same when you're gone.

In the words of the man himself, "A tip of the Old English D," to you, Paul! Best of luck!

And seriously, I know it's a long shot - but if my dad, brother and all male family members pass away AND I ever get married (BIG if, I know), I really hope you'll walk me down the aisle.

funny girl.

2014-08-12T11:13:00.002-04:00

This picture was taken in 2011, a few weeks before my 31st birthday and two weeks after I was diagnosed with depression. That's a shower cap on my head and I was surrounded by my friends and colleagues while out for a drink after work.

"Look at me," it screams, "I'm the funny girl!"

I often was the funny girl.

I was also severely depressed.

I wrote about my diagnosis for CNN.com - about being the life of the party, the girl who tries new things, a Wal-Mart hula-hooper. I denied that I could be a depressed person - because I didn't identify with what I thought a depressed person looks like. In light of Robin Williams' death, the article was resurrected last night. While I'm a little embarrassed at the attention the old article is getting, so many of the points I made back then still apply now.

The irony (that's irony, right?) that someone who brought us so many laughs was himself so depressed is a concept with which I am all too familiar.

Like so many other diseases, mental illness does not discriminate - it affects people young and old, black and white, rich and poor - even the people who make us laugh the hardest and most often. Sometimes, it's the funniest people who are in fact the saddest, as Jim Norton points out in this poignant Time article.

"The funniest people I know always seem to be the ones surrounded by darkness. And that’s probably why they’re the funniest. The deeper the pit, the more humor you need to dig yourself out of it."

I'll reserve words like "devastated" and "heartbroken" for my family and friends - people I actually know and love and don't just watch in movies, but I feel so profoundly sad that mental illness has claimed another - and this time someone as spectacular as Robin Williams.

He will live forever through the iconic roles that he played - as the genie in Aladdin, as Mrs. Doubtfire and Peter Pan, as Doctor Sayer in Awakenings and Professor Sean McGuire in Good Will Hunting.

May he finally rest in peace.

If you are depressed or have had thoughts of suicide, please seek help. Here are a few resources:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
National Alliance on Mental Illness
Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance
American Psychiatric Association

You are not alone. It does get better.

And like Professor Sayer said, "You'll have bad times, but they'll always wake you up to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to."

chasing dreams.

2014-07-10T11:36:00.002-04:00

"If you want support for your dream, support someone else’s dream first."

-Author Jon Acuff

The other day while scrolling through my Facebook feed, I couldn't help but feel impressed.

In fact, I may have mumbled aloud, "Damn, I know some people doing some cool shit."

Amid the Farmville invitations, beach and food porn photos, ambitious friends from all different facets of my life are out in the world chasing exciting dreams and are bravely asking for help in achieving them; since I know how difficult self-promotion can be, nothing pleases me more than to use my own space to promote these and ask for your support on their behalf.

While she may be one of the most hysterical people on the planet, my friend Caroline Van Sickle is also a serious business woman who is serious about beauty. In her last year in business school, Caroline created Pretty in My Pocket, aka PRIMP, a FREE mobile app that serves as your beauty aisle shopping tool - connecting you to other consumers who have already bought and commented on that product. Through Plum Alley, a fundraising site geared , Caroline is asking for support to take her business idea to the next level.

Ramone Dickerson didn't know a stranger at Irmo High School, nor did he have a single enemy. He and a friend created 2 Fat 2 Fly Stuffed Chicken Wings. Is your mouth watering? I said STUFFED CHICKEN WINGS! In addition to inventing such a culinary delight, Ramone and his partner also happen to be hilarious - so much so, that OWN - as in the Oprah Network - has given them their own reality show, Wingmen. I cannot think of anyone who will make a better television personality than Ramone and I will definitely be watching. The show debuts August 16th.

Justice Littlejohn, Grayson Goodman and Ryan Crabtree are also guys that I went to high school with in South Carolina. Their dream is to open a creative space where they can feature their original and regional art. One of Justice's funky paintings hangs in my kitchen - and he is the real deal. The trio found the space to make their dream a reality and need financial help to create a studio where they can create and teach others . . . all while serving free sweet tea (to go with your stuffed chicken wings).

Tanika Gray is more than just my co-worker - after years of admiring each other's outfits and sharing thoughtful conversations about provocative Halloween costumes and race relations, she's definitely a friend. I'm also almost certain that she never sleeps because once she leaves work, she's always on the go - speaking at an International Women's Conference in India, being honored with awards for all of her work in the community, or snapping selfies at fabulous parties. Her latest achievement - House Resolution 1898. After watching her mother suffer with fibroids, and then struggling with the condition herself, Tanika took action and lobbied to have July declared Fibroids Awareness Month in the state of Georgia. She will be at the Capitol this morning on behalf of her White Dress Project.

While often unmotivated and unsure of how to navigate my own dreams, watching others go after theirs in a big way certainly has the potential to make me feel insecure. And on particularly bad days, I do. But mostly I am inspired and completely impressed by this network of people I know doing extraordinary things.

I hope that you'll check them out, visit their sites, donate to their causes, eat their wings, watch their shows and be inspired to find your dream. If you've already found it - let me know. I'm happy to support - unless your dream is making potato salad, and then, well probably not. But good luck!

And unrelated, except for the fact that I annoyingly ask him all the time to tell me his hopes and dreams usually right in the middle of a sporting event or concert he's watching, today is my boo Jacob's birthday.

Happy Birthday JJ and keep chasing your dreams!

don't stop believing.

2014-07-02T18:55:00.001-04:00

I'm a liar.

I know I said that I'd be okay regardless of how things turned out for the US Soccer team, but after really believing that we could win, I wasn't at all ready to lose.

I feel so sad. Sad for the players and for what could have been, but mostly because it's highly unlikely we will ever see this team play all together again.

It's too much.

I feel the pride and happiness for what this team accomplished, which is more than any other sports team, celebrity or elected leader ever has. Uniting a country full of cynics, fickle fans, unpatriotic doubters is no small task, yet for several weeks, we all believed and we all cheered for the same team. I hope each of those players feels as I do - that this accomplishment is far greater than any that can be achieved on a soccer field.

But still, I'm bummed.

I'm headed to the beach this weekend to eat and drink and sun my feelings - and I sense I'll be alternating between the disappointment that it's over and overwhelming happiness that it happened.

So lucky to be an American - even when we lose, we still win.

Happy July 4th - I believe that we can be the country the World Cup made us out to be.

I believe.

2014-06-26T09:44:00.001-04:00

My history with the game of soccer runs deep - like back to the fields at Seven Oaks Park in Irmo, South Carolina deep.

Though probably hard believe looking at this picture that just screams, "All-Star Athlete," I never really excelled as a soccer player. I wore the team shirt and the shin guards and I ate the orange slices, but I spent most of the games twirling around the field like a ballerina while my teammates abandoned their positions to chase the ball in an unorganized pack. Sensing playing soccer was likely just a "phase" I was going through, my parents never even invested in cleats, so I "played" the game in Reeboks.

The highlight of my short-lived soccer career came after a heartfelt conversation with my dad over a bowl of Wheaties when he politely suggested I try to be more aggressive during the games. "Get in there with the others," he said, "Go after the ball!" I was inspired to put the twirling on hold to join my friends chasing the ball up and down the field. Taking my dad's advice never amounted to any goals or assists - I'm not sure my foot ever actually touched the ball - but I'll never forget the proud look on his face standing on the sidelines.

In middle school and high school, soccer was, admittedly, all about the boys. Attending all home games and traveling to club and away games was less about the game, more about looking cute, seeing my friends and hoping for a awkward teenaged sweaty hug after the game was over. Thankfully, my high school had a soccer reputation and we won the state championship every year that I was there. Being a fan was easy.

Thanks to Jacob (who was one of those hottie high school players at a school across town) my relationship with soccer has changed in the two years we've been dating. I mean, let me be clear, the game is still full of eye candy that I'm more than happy to sacrifice a Saturday morning for - but his knowledge and love of the game has rubbed off on me and by proxy, I've become a legit fan. I'm still learning the difference between the English Premier League and the League Championship and the Champions League and what offsides means, but last summer I went to my first professional game and I was hooked.

The World Cup has taken my casual "fandom" to a whole new level.

Jacob and I watched the US/Ghana match at an Outback Steakhouse in Florence, South Carolina, on our way back from the beach. We went back and forth about whether or not we should continue driving and just listen to the game on the radio, but decided to stop, knowing if we didn't we'd regret missing out.

The stop delayed us getting home until after midnight, but it was completely worth it. Even surrounded by non-soccer fans shouting nonsensical things like, "Damn! We need more points on the board," I couldn't contain my excitement over the US win. Jacob was smiling from ear to ear.

Last weekend, we didn't do much more than watch soccer and I enjoyed showcasing just how far I'd come as a fan, calling out from the couch when I recognized someone I'd seen before. "There's Sturridge!" "Rooney's hair plugs have come in nicely!," and "There's the biter with the horse teeth!" Suarez has been the source of many laughs long before this week's incident, but jokes aside, Suarez is a grown man, professional athlete playing in the World Cup and he is a serial biter. WTF?

Sunday we postponed leaving for the Counting Crows concert so we could watch the US/Portugal match - an emotional roller coaster of epic proportions. We're gonna lose . . . We're gonna tie! . . . WE'RE GONNA WIN AND MOVE ON AND OMGGGGGGGGGGGGG . . . aaaaaand we'll settle for a tie. While mathematically I knew the team was still in great shape to move on, tying felt like a dagger to the heart.

I'm certainly not immune to losing emotional games - I am a Georgia Bulldog, after all. But while Sunday's disappointment was palpable, so was the camaraderie I felt with the three people I was watching with and all the millions of people cheering for the US team. That felt different. In a country where everyone seems to be at odds about everything, it's fun - emotional even - to feel the excitement of all Americans finally cheering for the same thing.

There will always be soccer haters - and our country might not ever completely the embrace the sport like others have, but it's hard to deny that there's something special about this team.

This week's nervous excitement and pit in my stomach - that all feels familiar, like every Saturday in the fall. I'm wearing red, white and blue and needless to say, I can.not.wait. for 12pm.

I believe that we will win.

But if we don't - I'm glad I'm in good company.

accentuate the positives (of new orleans).

2014-06-06T14:25:00.001-04:00

"How was New Orleans?!," I was asked by friends and coworkers last month after returning from a long weekend at Jazz Fest.

Normally such innocous pleasantries don't cause me anxiety (which is, in and of itself, remarkable because I'm anxious about nearly everything), yet unsure of how to honestly answer this question without immediately making things awkward, I dreaded people asking me about it.

First of all, do people really want to know about my vacation (or anyone's vacation, for that matter?), or are they are just being nice? Secondly, if someone was sincerely interested, I imagine a simple, "It was great!" or "We had a blast!" is probably all they're looking for - spare the details and keep it positive.

Yet, I found myself conflicted and unable to hide how the trip really was for me, because while there were definitely some musical and culinary highlights, as well as some good laughs shared with friends, the best words I can use to describe my trip to New Orleans are "complicated" and "off."

Jacob and I were off, the music was off, I felt . . . just off.   And for everything to feel "off" in a town that is always "on," meant a lot of my super high expectations for the trip fell short.

Cue the Debbie Downer honk. Womp. Womp.

I suppose I could've just omitted blogging or talking about New Orleans altogether - I mean who wants to read about a bad vacation?

I had to chuckle, though, when I looked at the more than 200 photographs I took while I was there - you certainly wouldn't know that anything was off. Any evidence of the the not-so-great moments wasn't captured at all. Instead, smiling faces and beautiful scenery - lots of proof that there were plenty of good times.

But I'm no bullshitter - so I felt the need to provide you with proper context. These pictures tell the story of a trip that didn't exactly live up to my expectations, but it wasn't all bad. Consider this me "accentuating the positives" of the trip, which included -

The kindness of strangers -

I was so fortunate to have the opportunity to interview Vance Vaucresson for a piece I wrote for CNN. If there was such a thing as Mayor of Jazz Fest, Vance would win, hands down. In the few hours we spent together, our conversation was interrupted repeatedly by festival goers coming to his booth to say hello. He had so many stories about his life in New Orleans pre-and post-Katrina, I swear I had enough material to write five stories about him.

The first day of Jazz Fest, we befriended a group of people from Atlanta who invited us to set up our chairs next to them. We all became fast friends and Jacob and I agreed that with all the negativity in the world, there's nothing quite like a music festival to restore your faith in humanity. I realize how hippie and flaky that probably sounds, but in all seriousness, people at Jazz Fest are just really nice and friendly.

The food (and drinks, duh) -

The first time I went to Jazz Fest in 2005, I was completely and pleasantly surprised at the super important role of food at the festival. As in, it's as important as the music. Most of the vendors have been serving gourmet New Orleans-style cuisine for decades. No cotton candy and corn dogs at this festival - we're talking Shrimp and Grits, Crawfish Monica and so. many. Po boys. We kept ourselves well fed, both at the fair grounds and everywhere else (Thank you, Cochon, Herbsaint and Atchafalaya.)

The music -

Music highlights for me included Jason Isbell and Jon Cleary performing "Stagger Lee" at a small club on Frenchman Street. Galactic and Phish put on good performances, but honestly with so many wonderful musicians in the same city, I'd hoped for more surprise guests and collaboration. Still, though, Jazz Fest is like pizza and even when it's bad, it's still pretty good.

The city -

New Orleans is so rich in culture and history and once you get away from the French Quarter, the city is so beautiful. The days we had to just wander around the city were my favorite.

Social media, for better or for worse, is a lot of smoke in mirrors. We put the most positive versions of ourselves out for the world to see.

Sure, I've been annoyed at what I consider a tendency of some to over.share.every.minute.detail.of.everyday with the world and others who disguise the tremendous dysfunction in their lives with glossy, smiley pictures of everything looking great. But thankfully I learned long ago not to compare my insides to someone else's outsides.

I think that most of us treat Facebook and Twitter like wearing makeup - we're really looking really just looking for an opportunity to accentuate the positives in our lives, not mislead anyone into thinking everything is perfect.

I took fun pictures of New Orleans, but the trip wasn't without its challenges.

Thanks to a faulty zipper on my luggage, when I arrived back in Atlanta, I found several pieces of my clothes cruising solo on the carousel and my suitcase looked like this:

Looking and feeling like we had been to a war, Jacob and I looked at each other and then we looked at the suitcase, and then we burst out laughing.

Now that's accentuating the positive.