We will aye be true to thee.

Photo courtesy of Flickr.

Today, I was gonna tell you about how sweet they were over at Mississippi State University. But I just can't today--not when my heart is broken for Alabama. My sweet state and the lands I love more than anything...

It's eerie. Devestating. Perplexing.

I watch the news and blink back tears.

I just drove through Tuscaloosa. Tarrent. Bessemer. Northport.

Just spent the night in Birmingham yesterday, Father...

This is so weird.

Imma be cheesy for a minute, but you've had fair warning that I'm a tad in love with Dixie. The first lines of our state song: "Alabama, alabama, we will aye be true to thee." We will be true. And we will trust in truths. We will praise You in this storm for we know You are sovereign. Break our hearts for what breaks Yours, Lord.

Five minutes. For five minutes, turn off your phone. Your laptop.

Pray for this state. Pray for these people. Pray for the South.

To donate $10 to the American Red Cross, text REDCROSS to 90999.

p.s. Thank you to all my precious Alpha Delta Pi sisters around the nation who have texted/emailed/tweeted at me. "Ash, I dunno Alabama georgraphy or where Montgomery is, but I hope you're okay. Our sisters are praying for Alabama." Wow. That's when this sisterhood wins my heart all over again.

Loves like a hurricane.

Photo "Storm Serge of Hurricane Felix" courtesy here.

Katrina. That's all I needed to say; your mind is thumbing through a broken blur of messy pictures. The author below lost everything due to Katrina. Obviously, I love pictures--I need God to give me pictures to help me grasp His promises--and this one's pretty cool:

"When Jesus calls us to abandon everything we have and everything we are, it's almost as if He is daring us to put ourselves in the flood plain. To put all our lives and all our churches, all our property and all our possessions, all our plans, and all our strategies, all our hopes and all our dreams in front of the levee and then to ask God to break it. To ask God to sweep away whatever he wants, to leave standing whatever He desires, and to remake our lives and churches according to His will."

- Radical Together by David Platt

Can we do that, brothers and sisters?

Better yet, can I pray that and actually be aware of the

implications that come with the prayer...

When I get through the teetering stack of four books on my nightstand, I'm downing Radical Together. Click here to read the first chapter.

Blog post title: "How He Loves" by the David Crowder Band and like a million other bands. But I heard Davido sing it first so I'm givin' him credit.

Country roads take me home.

Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

After nine months of travel--we're talkin', literally living out of 2 suitcases and a carry-on--and moving every week, I'm going home for spring break.

No more chapter visits. Just work at Executive Office in ATL.

As in, ha, I can finally be in the sweet South for a while.

No planes 'til June, when I go to Arizona.

I'm kinda finished.

Wow.

Get. The girl. HOME. Alabama, I can hear you callin' and that coast is beckoning, too: this time in one week, you won't get me off the sugar sand of the gulf coasts. I'm so tired, y'all. But singing some sweet praises to God today.

What a year.

See you in a few hours, little rivertown.

Let's go home.

"I will EXTOL the Lord at all times, His praise will always be on my lips!"

Psalms 34:1

Blog post title: "Take Me Home, Country Roads" by John Denver

"I could really use a little more cowbell."

Photo courtesy of Truche, $50.

You know you're a workaholic when you get call from the boss to work on your spring break. Aaand you say yes. In other news and events, everyone knows I'd do anything for the sisterhood of Alpha Dee...

Mississippi State University

Starkville, Miss.

I'm headed to Starkville, bay bay! ADPi is presenting to expand at Mississippi State University, which means I'll be roadtrippin' down country roads next week. Everyone knows I love a good SEC Panhellenic at this point. Glad to hit up one more SEC visit before the year wraps!

But I suwannee, if you people have out those dang cowbells that really should be banned from football games (and ENFORCED as a ban), I'm pulling on my Cam jersey and finding a tree to roll. War eagle, and see y'all in Bulldog Country!

Blog Post Title: That SNL Blue Oyster Cult skit with Will Farrell.

Greater love.

Photo courtesy of Bippity Boppity Boo.

I get to the Austin airport bright and squirrley.

2-hour delay, no big. Normal.

Then "We're gonna turn around and go back to the gate
because this engine shows signs of being faulty."

Touch down in Chicago.

"Ma-am, you've missed your connection. We got you on the next flight out."

In 3 hours.

Which is delayed 2 hours.

Then a bunch of us miss the gate change because they called it out once.

So they put us going into LaGuardia, and me and my new friend-pack
sprint to L6.

Board.

Wait 40 minutes because one of the flight attendants was delayed in Tulsa.

Land around 2:30 a.m.--but in Newark.

Not LaGuardia. i.e. half the plane is outraged.

Really.

(I'd doubt my intellegenece/competency as a human if it weren't for 10 other humans missing the whole "destination city" thing, too.)

I call the girls, and they drive from Newark to LaGaurdia.
So we can drive to Connecticut.

We get in around 4:45 a.m. and I sleep for a couple of hours.
Back to work.
Oh but wait, my luggage has been shipped to another airport.
No one knows where.

I basically looked like a shacker all day.

Miserable.

** American Airlines, I hope you enjoyed the last business you will ever get from this girl raised on Delta. At least they're nice when they're delayed. Which is well, every Delta flight, but still. They'd have put me in a hotel. No one fly American ever.

God, ya sure lot of craziness to happen, and I kept blinking back tears in my sleep-deprived eyes. Thinking "'Be careful not to complain about anything, even the weather, since I am the Author of your circumstances. The best way to handle unwanted situations is to thank Me for them.' Satan, shove it. Just try to steal my joy. Just try."

Western Connecticut State University

Danbury, Conn.

Eta Omicron Chapter

So all this, on my last visit. Of what they say will be the hardest job I'll ever take. And after a day of meetings yesterday, I trudge back to the little dorm room I'm crashing in.

And see this:

This, accompanied with "You're almost done, Ashlyn!"

Dam broken. Flood gates opened. I bawled, literally, in front of the collegians.

Ha.

Oops.

Someone did that. For me. Someone went and printed off two pictures from my Facebook and put them in frames. No wait, not someone--my sisters did that. Joe Schmoe would tell me "I do not know" the girls I meet. I meet them for the first time in my life when I land. I'm usually gone in less than a week, and I may never see some of them again.

But when I tell them they shouldn't have:

"Ashlyn. Come on. 'I live for you.' It's no big deal. We're sisters."

I mean, how can a sorority consultant argue with her sorority's open motto?
Dangit. They got me on that.
So I laugh.

And sometimes cry.

They live for me.

"Greater love has no one that this,
to lay down one's life for one's friends."

John 15:13

I love it when God uses a Greek organization--what some people consider as the antithesis of Christ following--to bless me. Why. Do. We. Ever. Put. You. In. A. Box...

He'd figured she'd gone back to Austin 'cause she talked about it all the time.

Precious Kelly (madam pres) and me at Lonestar Jam.

I'm sittin' in the airport flying outta Longhorn country. The guy two seats down from me is making business calls, constantly mentioning "the artist," "contracts," and Zac Brown's name has been dropped a coupla times. Burnt orange shirts pepper the terminal and I'm full 'til dinner on one breakfast taco. This is Austin, and I don't quite think I'm ready to head out just yet.

Allen's Boots and South Congress Cafe.

South Congress: Where there is an entire park for food trailers.

Lemme just tell you about my weekend: Ya know those "Keep Austin Weird" shirts? Chyeah. I get it now. Emily and I climbed in her Tahoe and trekked over the river to the South Congress district to explore the artsy/bohemian district--whoa baby. We tucked in and out of boutiques and thrift shops, and if you haven't heard the news yet, I GOT MY COWBOY BOOTS. Lawdamercy, y'all: they're gorgeous. Allen's Boots smells like heaven, looks like heaven, and it only took me about 3 tries to find the prettiest pair of handmade, full-quill ostrich Lucchese boots.

But really. Aisle after aisle. I wanted them all, but took home these guys.

I may or may not have plugged my ears when I handed over my credit card. Listen--I grew up riding horses (western, duh.). I have had a serious crush on boots, and I'm justifyin' this with the fact that I'm wearing them under my wedding dress at my reception to dance in. So this is an investment--am I right or am I right?

Love these girlies.

The boots got christened when I joined the girls at Lonestar Jam. I've been loving Eli Young Band and Josh Abbott Band for a while now, and buddy did they deliver!

Josh Abbott, and yes--everyone did that thing all day at the concert.

Fun fact: Texas boys seriously do two-step. Unreal. I'm talkin' they'd be drunk as a skunk, but in their Wranglers and boots, they'd grab a girl and whip out a two-step. Innately. It was hysterical and I don't think I've ever loved watching a stereotype come true so much.

Well, this guy didn't two-step. He kept doin' that ultra-weird "The Bernie" thing.

Oh--I forgot to tell you. Friday night, the Deltas had Black Diamond Ball formal, and my "date" Anna (an Alabama friend in grad-school out here) and I crashed it. Why do people ever graduate college?

Delta Chapter gave out poker chips and had dealers at formal, ending in a raffle. Grand prize? University of Texas Luchesse boots. Why is no one surprised...

Sunday, after church at The Austin Stone, the Texan girls showed me what this "hill country" thing was all about... We went up, up, up Mount Bonnell until we saw this view of Lake Austin (cough-TheyCallItALakeButIt'sReallyJustTheColoradoRiver-cough). Glorious. And not a cloud in the Texas sky.

Standard "Throw Diamonds 'Cause We're With the LC" pic.

Can't imagine a better way for God to remind me that He's the creator of beauty that blessed me with such a legit visit. All good things come from Him.

Headed to Connecticut today. But let's be real:

Nothin' sums up my feelings better than this frat tank:

Be Texan. Go ADPi.

Blog post title: "Austin" by Blake Shelton. Quite possibly my 6th favorite song ever.

In Me you may have peace.

Photo courtesy of life-love-laughter. Thinkin' about you too, sweet girl.

Yesterday, I was talking to our Virginia Tech chapter's president. Sweet Brittany mentioned Eta Pi is assembling a scrapbook for the 4-16 massacre. In 2007, after the gunman fired his shots, I remember sitting in a white chapter chair down in Birmingham. Our Kappa president broke the news: one of our sisters at Virginia Tech had been shot. What on earth does that feel like for a sisterhood? For a campus? She was alive, but still--we wrote letters to those brave women at Eta Pi. As I'm confident many, many ADPi and NPC chapters did.

Brittany told me yesterday Eta Pi found my letter that I scrawled in 2007. Wow, ha. I remember where I penned that letter: laying out on the roof of Vail dorm (Vail Beach, anyone?) talking to my pledge sister who's boyfriend went to Virginia Tech. I never dreamed I'd actually meet these women or see that campus. God, You are just so cool...

I snapped this in Blacksberg. These are the markers on campus, in hokie stone of course.

Some sorority women only experience one chapter's sisterhood. Some go on to advise and what not, and get to experience a few more. Me? I think I'm up to like, 21 or something.  And you have no clue how being a small speck of an organization that six16-year-olds kicked off in Georgia in 1851 still touches me today.

It was a blessing and joy to meet my Virginia Tech sisters.

I'm thinking about you today.

That Hokie spirit y'all have up there is contagious. Palpable.

I love you.

Panhellenic women, don't forget that your organization is bigger than your chapter. You'll miss the stuff that's important in life.

When the sun is high in that Texas sky.

 Delta Chapter house.

I think my family is concerned I won't come home. I blame my mother though, you see. Mama was born in Fort Worth while my granddaddy was studying at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Then when people asked her what she was going to be when she grew up, she answered she was just gonna "marry a rich rancher from Texas." Ah, TSM, mom. TSM.

Well, she got swept off her feet by daddy (a good-ole-country-boy Alabamian in what he says was then the "cowboy" fraternity at AU) but I really think I was destined to love it out here. That's surely comin' for a girl that themed her first-grade birthday party "feista," right?

University of Texas

Austin, Tex.

Delta Chapter

Delta's that first chapter every ADPi memorizes. It's our oldest, and lemme just tell you: this sisterhood. Man, oh man. Am I lucky to be included for a week or what!

I never expected this year to include presents. Really, I didn't.

For the above, I partially blame the lovely April: she is a blog-reader and--get this--when she read I asked for and didn't get Walk the Line for Christmas, she got it for me. Oh, and they gave me a Delta Chapter Cookbook. And ADPi hairbow. #winning.

President Kelly and I trekked to the state capitol...

The Texas flag is the only state flag that can fly as high as the Stars and Stripes. Because they were once a country. Wow. They would. Cali, do you here this!? Claim your "republic" status! That's close enough!

Love you, GWB. And I'm sorry, did anyone else know that Davy Crockett was a real man?

Guess I wasn't listening in history.

Emily and Lindsay toured me alllll around campus...

 Behold, the tower.

Gates to Texas Memorial Stadium. I asked them if I was allowed to do the "hook 'em horns" thing. They said I was.

Fun fact: I discovered the reason God did not let me tour/attend UT. It is called there is a ballin' nice pool with layout chairs. It looks like a country club. I would have flunked out. Then the Exec girls brought me to Austin classics Kerbey Lane and Mother's Cafe and Garden...

Kerbey Lane. The amount of queso in this town--Oh my dear heavens.

And these people serve and eat it during breakfast hour.  Ka-CHING!

The one only second-year-LC-extrordinaire Jackie Mills drove over from A&M to take me to The Magnolia Cafe for breakfast! Hey Aggie Alpha Delts--YOU MADE MY DAY! I am lovin' my new shirt! Thank you! Jackie said y'all scrounged to find a size L just for me. I'm wearing it with Nike shorts as we speak, duh. 

Me and Jackie. Plus, I've only gotten fussed at once so far for wearing an A&M shirt around the Longhorns.

To finish, after my meetings today, I laid out on the house's stratio tanning next to some of my sisters. Reading Texas Monthly and the The Daily Texan. Good thing I'm not like, obsessed or anything.

Oh ya know, just like, one small WING of this mansion I'm living in. Literally.

This is one very, very small tiny wing. I have my own apartment.

Tomorrow, my sisters are taking me deeper into Austin to explore South Congress, buy my new cowboy boots, and go to Lonestar Jam (ELI YOUNG AND JOSH ABBOTT BANDS--eeek!).

 

Oh, and Mama--Haven't found my rich rancher out here yet,

but I guess I'm still lookin'?

"She get it from her mama..."

 

Blog post title: "Amarillo by Morning" by George Strait. The man who I have and will always have a crush on since the soulful romance of "Check Yes or No" mesmerized me in elementary school.

They don't love you like I love you.

Photo courtesy of Saturated Color.

The other day, I tweeted that I may have been born in the wrong state. 'Cause Texas, you weren't kidding us about that whole "it's all bigger here" thing.

Within minutes I received quite the backlash from,

welp, half the state of Alabam.

I was kiddin', y'all. And as a symbol of my love, I would like to show you this terrific find: rockin' vintage maps on Etsy. The shop has just about every state, so we can be politically correct here. One day, Alabama the Map will hang next to ____ the Map in my apartment.

I'm never gonna be anything but an Alabama girl. I hail from a background of cut-offs, debutante balls, and "War Eagle HEY." And goshdarnit if I wouldn't have it any other way.

My love for Dixieland is bigger than the state of Texas. No worries.

Blog post title: "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Fitting, duh.

Green and blue.

Photo courtesy of Taylor Gunter, my incredible sister-friend.

Since August, I've boarded at least one plane roughly every 4-7 days. You got a question about flying right now? I'm your girl. And I have to watch bein' sassy at TSA. "Ma'am, you'll probably have to take off that bracelet for security." "No, it won't set it off. Promise." "Ma'am, I really think it will set it off."No really. It won't. Watch." HA--boom. Told ya so, sir.

There are some things I'm really going to miss about flying. Because you see, I do three things on planes:

1. Sleep. This girl can pass out on a plane.

2. Talk.

2. Stare out the window.

Travel Agent Kim always gets me a window seat. Literally, always. Which means I have free reign to hog the window. And stare. Which I do.

So when I listened to the Get Down, to Get Up sermon by Louie Giglio the other night, a grin spread across my face. Sometimes, I'm forehead-against-plexiglass, lost-in-my-thoughts, lost-in-praise. Staring at this gorgeous planet. And it's like no one else on the plane knows that God is talking to me, sharing with me in that sweet moment. Saying "I know right?! I made that. Yup, that too." And I'm quiet. In awe.

As we pass over snow-capped Rockies.

Canyons.

Great Lakes.

Patchwork plains.

All that green and blue.

"Meanwhile, the flight attendant is goin' up and down the row offering beverages and eight peanuts in a little foil wrapper. The guys behind me are in the telecommunications business. And they are prepping for their business meeting, and talking so loud that you can hear them over huge engines that are flying a plane. You know that guy? That you just wanna go 'Hello, this is not your office, bro. This is like, a community space.' And people are getting up and going to the bathroom... And I got a paper--don't care. An iPad? I could care less. I don't want peanuts or pretzels or a Sprite... I don't need to do anything because I've got about 59 minutes worth of majesty. And I can't stop lookin' at it.

"I just wanted to jump up and grab the microphone and give it a 'Hi, this is Louie. I'm not the flight attendant but I'm up here in uh, 1D and I'm not sure if you've noticed it or not, but there is literal awe and wonder going on on the right side of the airplane... Something out there will move your soul. Thank you very much.'"

I swear. I feel like that every week of my life.

But I realized today: I get so struck over one nation's landscape. Made by a Love who crafted the u-n-i-v-e-r-s-e. And it hit me, He doesn't need to show me His universe because this is my portion. Right now, at least. It's like how You don't feed me answers to everything I want to know tonight. It'd be too much for me. This moment? This is enough to capture my awe and words and breath.

He always knows what to supply me with. He loves us so...

Blog post title: "Green and Blue" by Benjy Davis Project. Two in a row, I know. Benj--you can cut me a check now. But I love them. And this is in my Top 10.

A whole lot better than good enough.

Xi chapter's pretty Court Street house. One of the oldest in Athens, and they're not giving it up to the city anytime soon.

So we're wrapping up on a year, huh? A year of me jetsetting and scribing it (messily, between reports and conversations) on this little blog.

Ohio University

Athens, Ohio

Xi Chapter

But what I really wish you could see is how these women treat me. The smiles on their faces. The hugs they give me. And when these leaders get excited about bringing fresh ideas into their chapters, I squeal. The job works afterall. :)

So yeah. Thanks for the stay, Xi chapter.

Y'all are too cute, as is your precious town of Athens.

I love my new OU shirt!

(p.s. Just found out Matt Lauer went to OU? I respect that.)

Oh, and thanks for my surprise Sour Patch Kids.

You won my heart, then you REALLY won my heart with those guys.

This happens in a house full of education majors...

Okay, I stink at photography, but this room was sooo gorgeous. Promise. That's our ADPi creed and a sketch of their house on the mantle. And lion door knockers--ADPi standard.

Blog post title: "Good Enough" by Benjy Davis Project. Most romantic song.

Things I'm Going to Make When I Get Home, 1-3.

I know right?!?  ALPHIES!

{1} Lion Icebox Cookies. Remember, I plan sorority functions for a living. This recipe is a find, I tell you. A find.

p.s. Kappa Deltas, coughKristencough, lookahere. Couldn't find a recipe. It's bread, I feel like you just pop dough in mugs in the oven? I just want to give them a hug and a warm home.

Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

{2} Killer Club Sandwich. Everyone loves a good Pioneer Woman recipe. This one is enough to make me un-veg my life. Or maybe just buy vegan bacon and use tofu. No really, I eat that stuff...

Photo courtesy of The Pioneer Woman.

{3} Mason Jar Margaritas. As if ritas could get any better than they already are...

Photo courtesy of Imagewell.

Good cooking blogs:

White on Rice

Shoots and Roots

Smitten Kitchen

Diamonds for Dessert

The Pioneer Woman

Like a siren song, ya keep callin' me home.

 Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

This weekend, my Xi sisters invited me on their New Delta retreat in Burr Oak State Park. Now, I looove a good state park. The Chac's woulda been on except uh, let's be honest: we all know I'm at 50 lb. luggage limit fo sho. And Chacos are no light-weights. So they live in my closet in Montgomery.

Anyway, on the drive from Ohio University to the park, Garmin took us through some windy, weaving single-lane roads through some of the prettiest countryside. I dunno what I took Ohio for. Flat maybe? But I learned the southwest portion of the state is part of the Appalachians. And 45 minutes from sweet little West Virginia (This, friends, is what I get for never having a geographicaly CLUE where my planes touch down).

Blame it on the pick-up trucks (cough-what I learned to drive on-cough). The worn-out, delapidated wooden barns (well, there wasn't kudzu on them though). Big 'ole fields. Cows. Hunting land. Post-and-rail fencing. American flags. Chyupp--Wasn't long before I was missing Alabama. Pres Claire's mix of Carolina Chocolate Drops, Edward Sharpe, and Yonder Mountain String Band wasn't helping.

I know, I know. I keep saying "I miss home" to anyone that will listen. But the thing is, you don't realize how growin' up in a certain part of the country has shaped who you are until you're standing miles away gazing at it as an outsider...

I quit travelin' and go home for Spring Break in 10 days.

Ten.

10.

X.

IIIIIIIIII

YES!

Blog post title: "Carolina" by Eric Church. Precisely how I feel about the South. I love how this is literally a love song. For land.

I think I'll go to Boston.

I just want to be good at photography. That's all. Fenway's blue chairs, the oldest in the MLB.

Ah, Bah-ston. 'Tis won this little heart of mine once, and goshdarnit if it didn't win it again this past week. Aiding in that endeavor were the Rho ADPi's, who are oh-so glamorous and showed me a TIME in Beantown.

Boston University

Boston, Mass.

Rho Chapter

Without further avail, let's hit it. Here's what ruled about Boston:


1. Yoga. I roll outta bed for meeting #1. Where does former chapter pres Sae take me? Back Bay Yoga Studio's Commonwealth Avenue (or, uh, Comm Ave as I learned to say to be cool). Done and done. Sae, you shall be my friend and Rho, I shall call you mine: I love hot yoga.


0.5 I meant to tell you this first: I arrive to the apartment I stayed in and adorable Chelsea and Maggie (pres and VP) present me with this. Diet cokes and SPK's were in the mug. If I could sustain life off those two food groups, I would. Score 2 for Rho.

As if being the cutest roommate pair in the world wasn't welcoming enough...

2. Dining. I gained about 5 lbs. Boston, hence the excessive workouts this week at Drake. Let us commence with everywhere I ate:

Stephanie's On Newbury

(Red Sox eat here. And famous people. ADPi's work her and meet 'em all the time.)

Faneuil Hall's Quincy Market

The Other Side

(Brunch with my sweet senior Alpha Dee's.)

India Quality

Sweet Cupcakes in Harvard Square
(Yes, I went to Harvard-land, and yes, it is a fairytale.)

Veggie Planet

Sunset Grill

JP Licks

Do you comprende me now? I would also like to add that if you are a veg, Bah-ston is très accomodating.

3. FENWAY PARK! I loooove me some baseball. Go Bravos. In celebration of MLB Opening Day, Hilary and I toured the oldest "pahk" in the MLB: Fenway. The Red Sox have been in my heart since 2007 when I first saw Papelbon pitch and I got weak in the knees. But it's the history of the Sox and Fenway that is so captivating to me, from Cy Young to Babe Ruth to Ted Williams... So what if they're havin' a rough "staht" to the season? No but really. They look horrid. Oh well. Fenway was cool.

 

Ta-da! Let us observe the Coca-Cola sign (go Atlanta) and the Hyndai sign towards center field (go Montgomery).

 Hilary. She wants to be Southern. She'd have had me 'bout fooled if it weren't for the fact

that sometimes she says things like "da-tah." Oh, lawdy.

(Translation: "daughter." #longislandproblems)

Wow. Good thing I'm not against posting embarrassing pictures of myself on the internet or anything.

A view from the Green Monster! Beauty.

p.s. For the haters that don't understand that I have one big baseball team and then a but-I-love-them team, I feel I am allowed one AL and one NL team. But really go Braves. Okay? GO BRAVES! I be choppin' all day over here in Massachusetts/Iowa/Ohio. Sue me.

4. Quincy Market at Faneuil Hall. yeah. Um, I think it's historical or something, but really Bev and I just went there because of the 36 international food vendors. Mazel tov, y'all.

Quincy Market.

5. Ronald McDonald House of Boston. RMH is ADPi's national philanthropy, and though I toss out the word flippantly, I really do love RMH. It's so interactive, and you get to actually see the families that we ADPi's raise money for. Some Rho sisters and I headed over to the precious Brookline 'hood to cook up some spaghetti and chocolate-chip cookies. Felt good to be in a kitchen and be in that house, lemme tell ya.

 

The RMH is blue and white. :) Look at my cute collegians waving for the cam.

Between the Southerners and the hospitality majors in the kitch, I'd like to say we did aight.

 

6. Newbury Street. If you have a wallet, do not take it to Newbury Street. Or to "the Pru." Between Lilly, Lululemon, Vineyard Vines, and Saks, I'm on a spending freeze indefinitely for forever. Fantastic. And now saving every penny.

 

Me, Phoenix, and Julie. Everyone wants a good <> pic with the LC.

 

They quickly took me in the phenomenal Boston Public Library. Why? ALPHIE! Roar.

 

7. Museum of Fine Arts. Get me around Picasso, Modigliani, and Mondrien, mixed with some good 'ole 17th century European furniture, and I'm yours. Precious Kenna and Kelsey took me, and we just had to get a pic in front of the wonderous new Chihuly piece. (He has blown glass stuff in the Birmingham Museum of Fine Art, holla. Tis how we met.).

Kenna, me, and Kelsey.

8. Date Party. Well, well. We all know at this point that when the collegians can talk me into a dance flo'. Cue Friday night, and they started calling boys. "He'd look so cute with you! No, no wait--call ___! Ahh! PERFECT!" Lawdy me. So they get me a date and Sarah tosses all their cocktail dresses on my bed. And buddy I jammed that Baseball Tavern dance floor like I would at any band party. Except uh, it's the north, and uh, they don't do the band party thing. But listen: when girls offer you a chance to hang out with Harvard boys in final clubs all night at a tavern tucked under Fenway's shadow? You take that chance.

Clearly, Rho rules and they take dang good care of a Southern girl 1,270 miles from home. Rock and Rho, baby, rock and Rho.