Jump around and make you sing.

If you know me at all, you recognize my affinity for the following:

1. Workout clothes.

2. Mexican food + margs with extra salt.

3. Live music, baby.

The perk of living in Atlanta is that my new home offers sublime opportunities for all the enjoyment of all three. But in this post, I shall address point #3.

Andrew Ripp // Drew Holcomb + the Neighbors, Buckhead Theatre

Christmas at Christchurch concert, Christchurch Presbyterian

Nathan Angelo // Ryan Horne // Jonathan Rich // Micah Dalton, Eddie's Attic

Ah. 'Twas a good week. My girl Caroline of Back Down South snapped these photos at Buckhead Theatre. Swoon. The girl who's favorite movie is Walk the Line WOULD love her some Drew and Ellie...

I just wanted to show you those and introduce you to my biggest couple-crush. Now you should go look at more of CFontenot's work and book her for weddings and stuff. 

Look for some exciting musica-related news in the next coupla days! In the meantime, if you're near Atlanta's skyline, blow her a kiss for me. For I'm in the land of cotton on account of Jesus's birthday.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve, y'all!

Blog post title: "Love is Magic" by Drew Holcomb + the Neighbors.

Sex + money.

I think about this documentary about once a week.

But I'm touched by this topic twice a day.

Because on my sleepy, coffee-in-hand commute down one of Atlanta's biggest thoroughfares, I pass one. Two. Three. Four strip clubs. It's a dirty little nook, known around town for being "that" area.

"GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS" say the signs.

Sometimes I am switching lanes so fast--being the "Atlanta Driver" I use to roll my eyes over--that it doesn't hit me. Or I'm wound up in my little brownish-blonde headed thoughts. Other times? I lose it. I cry the whole way home. I just don't understand. Or actually, maybe we do understand exactly what it is like to be wrapped in stone-cold-steely chains...

So many of us are desperate for these women (and men) to meet Jesus, LOVE, and freedom. Chains be broken. I'm noticing this in my church family, as we're perched right around the corner from all this in a brand spankin' new building. The wheels are turning and the Spirit is moving on that street, I'll just have you know that. Something will happen there soon.

"I am so taken with Jesus and so convinced that abundance is in His wake alone

precisely because He has done so much to heal me."

- Beth Moore

But I just needed to make sure you'd seen that trailer. That you were aware of this very American issue.


That's all.

Let's get outta this town tonight.

via

Welp, in case you didn't notice it's the Fourth of July

(the most exhilarating holiday next to Christmas).

And where in the South am I tonight?
Oh, just road-trippin' past fireworks and crossing a stateline to my new city and new job.

Not gonna lie--I love MGM, but I'm kinda stoked to bust this little Old South town for a while.

 To call a new place "home."

Atlanta-bound, I am I am.

Since I start at 9 a.m. and all.

Ugh.

But it's ok. The Lord whispers "How COOL is this blessing, child? You're celebrating Me on a quiet night ride--just us--for not only this nation in which I blessed you but also a new job I've given you?"

And I smile back and say, "Baha. I guess that's pretty legit, Jesus."

This is a Fourth for the books. Er, uh, for my journal, at least.

Oh, and I have one more thing to say about starting my job in the morning:

Duhhhhhhhhh.

To quote Chris Brown, leggo.

Blog post title: "Get Out of This Town" by Carrie Underwood.

Look at me now.

You followed as I trekked to 30 campuses and 24 states.
Now, in less than a month, I'll be moving to this state:

 Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

To live with this kid:

Emily, another 2010-2011 LC, precious sister in Christ, and henceforth to be known as ROOOOOOMS!

...and start as Director of Marketing and Communications in this office:

Photo courtesy of Georgia Historical Markers.

It's funny, ya know--posts I've written this on the road whole year show a thematic repetitiveness: security, patience, security, patience, security, patience. If you successfully passed pre-K and made macaroni patterns, ya see what I mean.

The thing is, I letcha know last week how our Father is leading me through some desert lands lately. But wanna know what a quiet little voice in my heart whispered? "Ash. When you get a job, this will feel better. It'll go away." And Deut. 8:14 ("then your heart will become proud and you will forget the Lord your God") reveberated, because I'd have this awesome job, right? And I just couldn't forget about living off manna for months, right?

Yeah. Wrong.

The minute I decided to pick this job--which is a blessing beyond words--I clicked "end call." Tears rolled down my cheeks. Satan got goin': "Wrong decision, Ashlyn/You've limited yourself./You really wanna break into the Atlanta media world now? Ha./You shoulda picked the other one./Blahblahblah." Now, I see it was that liar talking. I didn't at the time.

But here's the thing.

I thought that almighty j-o-b held cure-power. Thought I'd regain confidence battered through the job search. Thought I'd be at peace with a "Yes ma'am, I decided I'll take it."

Instead, through those tears, ha--I heard You, Lord. Heard ya loud and clear alright:

"Ashlyn Stallings. When did I ever say you'll find peace in this world apart from Me? When did I ever tell you true security stemmed from anything but ME?"

Oh, I said. Ohhhhhhhh. (Cue sheepish smile looking up at Him.) "Um, well, ha, God, You actually tell me the opposite. In YOU I have peace. Confidence. Security. In YOU I boast and have life and move and breathe."

I'm better now. But just more in awe of my Lord and Savior. Who continues to see the value in teaching one (one out of 6 billion, b-t-dubs) of His children that she's gotta trust her Rock through the desert, and through the promised lands. As I jump off this cliff, move to the "big city," and live on my own, I'm in His hands. Still under those wings. Praise God.

So here I come, Peach State! Between Atlanta-based ballet camps growing up, good people, and a certain lil' house on Ponce, Georgia's claimed second place to Alabama for a while in my heart. I can't wait to call it home. Plus, two girls that since age 18 have only known private school dorms, sorority houses, and suitcases? Well, that could be interesting! 

You just stay put, sweet friend, as we attempt to cook. 

Make a home.

Entertain.

Put those DIY and cooking Pinterest tags to use!

And of course, explore our new city of ATL. 

Thus now starts the next chapter in this little blog's life:

Miss Magnolia makes the move.

Oh boy!

Blog post title: "Look at Me Now" by Chris Brown. Except you have to watch this version, with Justin Bieber and Chris. It's sick. Thanks, Bec. :)

Raised on the ways and gentle kindness of a small-town Southern man.

Oh, heyyyyyy. Photo courtesy of Bearings.

This is what happens in my head when I walk past the men's clothing section:

"Oh. My. Gosh. That shirt is so freakin' attractive. I just wanna look for a minute..."
"Really, Ashlyn? Why? You do not have a boyfriend. A brother. Your father does not need that."

"But it's so pretty. Five minutes. Ahhhh--LOOK AT THAT ONE! And those bowties! Hot. I'm melting."
"Yeah. You still don't need to waste time. Have you run yet today? You should probably go run now."

I mean, classic girl: I see clothes that would look good on a handsome guy and my mind starts clicking--these pants, that shirt, with some perfect driving mocs and we in bidness.

Thus when I got tipped of to Bearings, "a Southern lifestyle guide for men," at around noon in Atlanta this week, I became a subscriber by 9 p.m. Duh.

Launched by two Atlanta gents in 2008, Bearings celebrates the slightly-rough-around-edges-but-I'll-open-every-door-for-ya-darlin' well-dressed Southern boy we all know and love. The weekly newsletter pops up in your inbox every other Thursday (just enough, yes?) and features a well-editted list of 5 uncluttered elements. Think, DailyCandy--but for a Southern fella.

Whiskey. Photo courtesy of Bearings.

Because I know there are guys that read this blog (and I love your "good post, ash" texts),

I recommend you subscribe.

I was lucky enough to chat with one of the creators, and got a heads up that while Atlanta and Nashville boast personalized city newsletters, more are on the way. Until then, the Southeast version will float ya just fine.

Dove huntin'. But don't say that first word to my dogs. Else they will go absolutely balistic. Photo courtesy of Bearings.

Bring on the button-down-wearing, outdoorsy, dog-lovin', well-mannered, liquor-handling, grill-mastering MAN. And then tell him to read Bearings.

Or, uh, if you're me, just read it anyway.

Blog post title: Yes, that is Alan Jackson. Which is a dang-good concert, for the record.

Forever young is in your mind.

Photo courtesy of Helllo Beautiful.

Job interview tomorrow--in the rockin' city of ATL! Cheesy confession: When I turn that final I-85 corner into the city and see the skyline, my heart melts. Every time. I love Atlanta.

Unfortunately, this:

Turqouise and Caicos nailpolish photo courtesy of Essie.

Nailpolish-during-The-Bachelorette loan spanks to my bestie Bec.

...nailpolish color is a negative ghostrider. Peace out, sea foam green nails. You were fantastic for one whole entire day.

And the feather extensions I was going to get should also probs hold off until after I interview.

Photo courtesy of Grace and Ivy.

And maybe I'll wear something other than Strawberry LipSmakers on my lips. Ya think?

Glad I'm basically 8.

Blog post title: "Forever Young" by Jay-Z. But you knew that, right?

She is whatever she wants to be.

The LC's (minus MK) in front of Executive Office.

Welp, SB11 aside, we've been "off the road" as we call it for a whole week. It's a bit like LC-rehab livin' back here at headquarters, you see. It's been a long year and being a road-warrior brainwashes you of what real people do in life. Let me thus provide some examples:

ex. 1. ADPi only has us on the grind from 9 to 5. Wait, WHAT? You mean there are people out there that don't work 17-hour-days? People that "leave" work at work? And let's not get crazy: you mean there are other things to do at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night than crunch recruitment stats and submit Bid Lists under the wire? Get outta town...

ex. 2. The ADPi bunk room has closets. Yes, that's right. Forget rockin' the same 10 outfits on the circuit. I have options. That's an odd feeling.

ex. 3. We don't eat out every meal. Keep in mind, I just "ate out" every meal for an entire 9 months pretty much. So ADPi gave us the Pisa ("Pi" + Visa, get it?) for Publix. The seven of us are now testing cooking skills on each other--last night, Megan and I whipped up shrimp-and-grits, blueberry pancakes, omelets and eggs. Why? Because breakfast supper rules.

So you see, we have clearly had some free time. Which have been filled with:

Running adventures through ATL and yoga class.

Cinqo de Mayo festivities.

Welp, clearly Cinqo was fun. We made mustaches, which conviently double as a Frieda Kahlo disguise.

Setting off the fire alarm of this 100-somethin'-year-old mansion.

(Wait, didn't we do that at training in August, you ask? Yes. We did.)

GOING TO SEE THE BRAVES! And tomahawking all around.

Light-show watching in Stone Mountain Park.

(We decided it would be a sweet date night. Except as you'll see below, some of us think it's way more fun to dance/sing every song and dunno how people could sit still and cuddle.)

Me and Megan. This was maybe "Devil Went Down to Georgia." I know it isn't "Sweet Home Alabama" because I'm seated in this picture.

Hittin' up great sermons at Passion City Church and Buckhead Church.

Seeing Ben Rector and Matt Wertz live.

(Chyeah. More on that to come.)

And we still got one more week! I just love this city.

And I just love being reunited wich mah gurls.

Blog post title: "She Is" by Ben Rector.

Find a high on Peachtree Street

(Yes, I did just give two John Mayer lyrics for blog titles back-to-back. Also, I do not endore drugs. It's just a good line.)

Anyway--I just feel the need to declare

how much I love Atlanta.

Obviously, over here in Sorority Academy, we're in ADPi 101 class most hours of the day. Which makes new-city exploration difficult. But we've managed a few outings, because sometimes (hair flip, hair flip) you just gotta get outta the mansion. Am I right or am I right??

1. Murphy's, Virginia Highlands: Crab cakes and a glass of chardonnay with Mama before she dropped me off at my First Post-College Job? Apprehension cured.

2. Twist, Buckhead (Devoted readers already know I went here.)

3. Pozole, Virginia Highlands: After our first long day, we walked down Ponce sidewalks and onto the porch of Poloze. Again it is proved: Mexican is my hands down favorite food genre. And their famous mango margaritas have finite reason to be famed.

Lori, me and Emily at Pozole

4. Neighbor's, Virginia Highlands: We'll be back. That's all I'm sayin'.

5. Cafe Intermezzo, Brookwood: They had me at the dark hardwood floors and walls plastered in art. It's like my future house. Except my house will have lion-y things strategically placed. Until my darling husband catches on and asks me to chill and lock up the ADPi-ness.
6. Front Page News, Little Five Points: Sometimes, you just need a sports bar with 92 televisions turned to various ESPNs. Especially when you miss testoterone. At least I've found a cure for when I'm getting keyed up from being around sorority women 24/7 this year: "Ladies, take me to a sports bar tonight."

The sign? It stands for "If I tell you what it means will you buy me a drink." When you ask the waiter and he answers you, don't argue with him for 5 minutes that you would never buy him a drink anyway. Oops. Told you I have blonde moments.

9. Pinkberry, Buckhead: That nationwide obession? I get it now.
8. Treehouse, Buckhead: Treated by the most wonderful new friend. You know who you are :)

Tagged: Emily, Me, and our stir fry.

And then sometimes we cook. Which means singing/dancing party in the ADPi headquarters kitchen, duh. Regardless, whatever table the 7 of us are sitting around, there's a lot of laughter. Especially when while cooking, you set off the security alarm for ADPi International Headquarters and the ATL po-po have to drop in for a visit. Whoopsadaisy.

False advertising. At this point in my life, I do not consume meat products.

And we're taking suggestions! Where else should be on our Atlanta list? We want to feel cool and earn more FourSquare badges. At least Megan does. (kidding, I love you, Blondie.)

Shawty wanna break my bank:*

I'm runnin' up a tab on you, ATL.

*"Break My Bank" by Iyaz. A Memorial Headquarters bunk room theme song, thanks to Emily.

Why Georgia.

My besties celebrated with me on my last night home. Yes, all of Montgomery is this beautiful.

I'm here! As of yesterday, I'm an official resident of Alpha Delta Pi headquarters.

(With an extremely tightly monitered security system, creepers.)

The front door knocker is a lion.

The upholstry in the turn-of-the-century parlor rooms is blue and white.

The  songbook on the grand piano downstairs is turned to "I Love the Frat!"

Painted woodland violets dance on antique dishes.

Portraits of honored Alpha Delts are everywhere.

They stocked the fridge for us.

You wanna see a frat castle?

You should check out my new digs.

ADPi Memorial Headquarters. Home sweet home.

Every morning, (Well, this morning. I've only been here 27 hours.) I wake up at 6 a.m. in a Southern mansion, rub my little eyes, and smile at the stirrings of my 6 new BFF's/LC sisters. Then we pop up and run a coupla miles through Atlanta's Druid Hills neighborhood and I'm reminded we're the overachieving, can't-slow-down, Type-A brand of girls that are pumped about traveling across America after these 3 weeks of jam-packed trainin' seshes.

Merry Christmas! Hair flip--just ask me for my cahd, dahhhling.

The throw us BlackBerrys (which, DUH, Mary Kathryn renamed BlueBerrys. #sororitygirl) and PC's. Which basically means I'm learning Yiddish and am cheating on my Mac products. Along with my very own ADPi ritual book which I squealed over--baha. People who know me are groaning because I so would.

Anyway, last night our most-fabulous boss trotted us over to Buckhead's Twist restaurant for sushi and tapas. Though we didn't see the fabulous Kim Zolciak of Real Housewives of Atlanta (she and her fake blonde hair frequent the joint), we ate up and then wandered through Phipps. Unfortunately, an LC salary isn't built for Elie Tahari or Gucci, dangit.

And today? After a breakfast of Chik-Fil-A (You'd think Truett Cathy was from here or somethin'), the 7 of us listened with intense, absolute, zero-day dreaming ears to a chunk of hours about sorority financial interorkings. Hear that, Daddy?! I actually paid attention to words like "accounts receivable," "billing,"and "credit" for hours. That's your cue to be proud.

Packing did NOT go well. When things got hard, I'd leave and go to layout at the club. They understand me there. Things eventually made it into the suitcases though.

So I have taken down the ponytails--sorta. I'm wearing more shifts and stilettos than my beloved Nike tennis skirts and bathing suits. I've actually got to put on something besides mascara and strawberry flavored Lip Smackers (yes, I'm 5).

But I'm having a ball.

'Cause of course, we're the real future housewives of Atlanta, like the LC class before us taught us. Being a professional sorority gives you major homemaker points.

When Hippies Roamed Atlanta

Atlanta's Piedmont Park enjoyed hippie culture. Photo courtesy of Boyd Lewis.

If you're a Georgia Peach, this article is a must read. Because we've all got a trippy playlist on our iPod, a poster of John Lennon from the college dorm room, and a baja hoodie. (Er, maybe the last one is just me.)

Continue reading on Like The Dew.