The Move In Review

I feel as though I can’t move forward anymore without taking at least a few minutes to look back on the drastic changes and transitions Husband and I have gone through in the past few weeks. As most of you know Husband was in Montgomery, Alabama finishing training up until the day we met up to begin our road trip to South Dakota. 
But let’s back up a few weeks, I would like to give my side of the story.
As luck would have it Sister landed an awesome new job, quit her old job, and was able to come to Asheville and spend two whole weeks with me before I left. I think we did everything you can possibly do in Asheville in a matter of days. As if we were trying to suck the literal life out of the time we had left together. In short it was glorious…and gloriously hard on my liver πŸ™‚
In the days leading up to moving day I filled my time with watching two poor movers meticulously pack up our immensely scattered belongings, shared a few drinks with friends, had a joint birthday lunch with my parents, had breakfast at the Miami with my Granny, dinner out at Universal Joint with my family, and enjoyed one last big home cooked breakfast feast at my Mamaw and Papaw’s. 
I was talking with my mom at one point and told her I wasn’t sure how to let myself feel. My normal self wanted to do its normal thing and let myself really think about everything that was going on in my life, let it hit me hard, and really feel the change. Oddly, another, much more prevalent part of me, wanted to just move forward at lightning speed and not think about anything expect the present, and not stop until we were in South Dakota and settled and everything actually was as ok as I kept telling myself. 
I have never NOT thought about things to the nth degree, but for some reason that was the approach I took to this move. 
Sure there were a few tears, but when the emotions threatened to bubble up I immediately pushed them away. I have no idea where that strength came from.
The one moment of pure rebellion happened the day we drove away. I had already said goodbye to my mom and sister and was up at my Mamaw’s house (she is our neighbor), grabbing a few things and loading my Aunt’s car. It was an absolutely gorgeous Spring day. The sun was shining, my cousin had stopped by to say goodbye one more time, and we were all just standing there in the driveway chit chatting as if nothing in the world was any different. I watched as the trunk to the car started to close and suddenly a vision of Husband and I pulling into Ellsworth popped into my head and my insides started screaming, “But I DON’T WANT to go to South Dakota!!!” It felt as if my whole body was revolting. 
But then, it vanished. 
I got in my seat, buckled my seat belt, and begin to get excited about our adventures in Nashville. 
The plan was to spend two nights in Nashville with my Aunt and Missy before meeting Husband in Memphis on the third day.
*For those of you who follow me on Facebook a lot of this will be repetitive. Instagram was the easiest way for me to share pictures πŸ™‚
It was the dogs first hotel experience, and while I would say they handled the travel and new sights and sounds and smells pretty well, a few barks in the wee hours of the morning may or may not have resulted in some scolding and reminders of the $100 fee they could cause me if they didn’t shut up.

The first night we wanted to check out music row, with all the honky tonks and true Nashville scenes. 

We walked the strip marveling at the neon signs and the strong country beats swirling through the streets from the openings of every bar we encountered.

We landed at what we considered the only “non bar food” restaurant on the street for dinner and then made a point to step foot inside the famous Stage bar where we listened to some pretty awesome wannabe country rockstar bands.
Because of the dogs’ unpredictable barking, we had no choice but to load them up in the car whenever we left the hotel. Knowing they were snoozing in a parking lot on a dark alley, we didn’t stay out too late and headed home early. 
The next day that was not so much the case.
We wanted to see other parts of Nashville, and to be able to take the dogs on a few walks to stretch their legs. Missy located a restaurant in the Vanderbuilt (college) area of town that specialized in draft beers and local fare, totally up my alley. So we started the day at 12 South Taproom.

From there we walked down the adorable little streets near the college before securing a corner seat at an outdoor bar and restaurant…for the rest of the afternoon (read: night). Needless to say one (or five) too many vodka sodas landed me in the back seat enjoying the passing breeze with Jeannie girl, our heads outside the window.
Then we were off to Memphis!
I may get a lot of boos from the audience on this statement, but I actually preferred Memphis to Nashville. I agree that it was a little dirty, and sure there were a number of questionable characters lacing the streets, but as soon as we pulled up the blues vibes emanated from bands already well into their set for the night. Our hotel was located a single block from Beale street so after meeting up with Husband, getting the dogs settled into the hotel room (a corner unit away from everything thankfully!) we immediately headed over to catch a few bands and eat some BBQ.  
I was completely invigorated with all of the sights and sounds, to me, blues and jazz makes for much better live music than country.

We ate a massive breakfast the next morning at a place called Cockadoo’s before Husband and I departed on the trip we had been waiting, praying, and preparing for.

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