the not a hippie cabbie

In an attempt to be awesome, Emily has supplied me with some additional info on our camo-clad cabbie from Asheville (you know. the one who hates that shit). These are some quotes (that she apparently saved in her phone for this very purpose) from our ride downtown.

One of us: Is this restaurant good?
Camo Clad Cabbie: I never had anyone get in this cab and say it sucked

One of us: Is this a cash cab?
Camo Clad Cabbie:  The only cash flowing in this cab is the cash you give to me

One of us:  Are you worried we're going to mess up your cab?
Camo Clad Cabbie:  Do you see my $300 floor mats?

30th Birthdizzy: Victorian Style

The only thing Victorian about my 30th birthdizzy shenanigans was the fact that we were at the Biltmore Estate. And the Vanderbilts were Victorian, back when they were alive during the Victorian age. I probably should have been a Victorian, at least that's what I tell myself when people don't understand my reference to my dance card. But then again, I wouldn't have enjoyed those high collared, corset dresses. I would have, however, enjoyed the shower in the gym at the Biltmore, that is for sure. So anyway, in order to celebrate, three of my best girls and I headed to Asheville for a day of gallivanting and a night of luxury at the Inn on Biltmore. I had found an awesome deal online that included passes to the house and breakfast for all and, much to our surprise,  it did not include cutting off our arms.

Saturday morning, Emily and I headed to Asheville where we met up with Natalie at the Inn. Since Eli couldn't join us until later that night, we decided to go eat at the Bistro. It's pretty smart on the Biltmore's part to provide its guests with a free shuttle from the Inn to anywhere on the property, because I don't know if you're aware, but there is an award winning winery on site. And hello. What birthday girl doesn't love a winery. After several glasses of wine to accompany our meals, we realized we had somehow missed the window of time to see the house. So we opted to just go to the winery. Where we proceeded to spend approximately the next 3 hours. Here's the thing about the winery there. Ok a few things worth noting: 1. it's free. 2. they recommend 7-8 wines BUT there really is no limit. 3. pretty much all of their wines are on the tasting menu. 4. you can do repeat tastes  5. YOU CAN STAY ALL DAY.

Q: Guess who was not in heaven?
A: I do not know the answer to that because they were not with us.

After that event, it was time to prepare for dinner. Eli was going to meet us at the Inn around 730, so naturally we killed time at the Inn's bar.

After Eli got there, we took a van cab into downtown Asheville for dinner at a fancy little number. Fun fact: our cabbie was named Jeff (I think) and he was not a hippie and when asked if he was a hippie, he told us he hated "that shit." He was also wearing camo from head to toe. After dinner, our friend Brock (who IS a hippie) took us to experience some of the local scene before we called it a night around midnight. Hey, don't hate. When you go to a winery all day, you have no desire to stay out all night with the cool kids.

Sunday morning we enjoyed a delicious breakfast at the Inn and then my friends were able to take part in the following activities with their fave birthdizzy girl:

a) photo op in front of the house

b) another photo op inside the house (clearly they had won the meredith lottery this day)

 3) Natalie got to hear why it was clearly colonel mustard, with the candle stick, in the conservatory (if you don't get that, then you have nothing in common with me)













4) Emily got to sit amongst the wildflowers with me

5) Eli got to take a picture with me in front of the larget poinsetta tree I have ever seen. We sent this picture to mom because we knew she would love seeing Eli acting normal.














6) and then we topped off the morning with a nice tree climb because you KNOW that is what victorian children did. and then they probably took showers in that awesome basement shower, but that's neither here nor there. dammit.

On prisoners

I told dad I joined the prison ministry at my church. After freaking out on me about how the prisoners would either attack me or come find me when they get out (but they definitely would not act normal), I told him that the Bible told us to serve the least of these. "Right Meredith so that is the homeless. It doesn't say serve the meanest of these! You are such a dodo."

when flowers are creepy.

the day i turned 30, i sent a txt message to the guy i had been seeing (who I thought I had ended things with a few days before but clearly I thought wrong) and told him things had just gotten too complicated and we just needed to go our separate ways. He responded with "are you serious?"  Now I had to pause for a minute. It was my birthday. Who wants to be single on their birthday? Since I was the one doing the dumping, and while I will admit that I think punk'd is hilarious, I would never be creative enough to punk someone else, I think it was safe to say that I was serious. So I said "yes." He wrote back "I guess you don't want the rose I had gotten to leave on your doorstep then, huh?" Again, I had to pause. Now granted, I had told him I thought he didn't make me a priority (6 dates in two months is not a sign of proper prioritization). I had told him I thought he wasn't very sweet (and generally speaking, flowers are sweet). And let's not even talk about the txt message I accidentally sent him that was meant for my friend Allison that said "exclusive is no longer an option until he gets his act together. I have plans with John for Sunday."  Whoops. So yes, I would say I didn't need - or want really - the rose he had gotten me to leave on my doorstep.

And then I got home and per the picture below,  found a single, solitary rose laying in my door.

And this my friends is when flowers go from sweet to creepy. There was no note attached to it. How was I supposed to know who it was from? Even though this cat had told me he had gotten me a rose (just one!) to leave in my doorstep, and this one was in my doorstep, I decided since I didn't really know who it was from, I shouldn't say thanks. Just in case it wasn't from him. Just.in.case.

Besides, where were the other 11? Was he going to jump out of the bushes with the rest of them and sing me happy birthday? If he had, that might have made it slightly less creepy to stumble upon a single, solitary rose with no owner laid upon my doorstep at 10p at night.

Merry Christmas (I'm on top of things this year)

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Jersey Boys

I know what you're thinking. Who is this chick that is blogging about the Four Seasons AGAIN? Well, it's me. But this time I am blogging about the band The Four Seasons. Y'all. I saw Jersey Boys last night and holy crap, it was incredible. I should probably start by saying that I didn't know who The Four Seasons even were. I had heard of Jersey Boys and everyone talked about how awesome the show was, but I didn't really know what it was about. But I got so involved. I may have fallen in love with Bobby Guadio. I may have cheered at the end. And I may have already googled Frankie Valli's tour dates so I can go see him live.

But, I'd like to congratulate myself. You see, before this show, I thought I didn't know who The Four Seasons were. But it turns out that I did. I just didn't realize that "oh what a night" wasn't an original Wyclef Jean song or that that bitch Lauryn Hill wasn't creative enough to come up with "Can't Take My Eyes off of You" on her own. And did you know that "Stay" isn't just another reason to love Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. But, let's be honest. Do we really need another reason to love those swively hips anyway?