Singin' songs about the Southland.

There is a second craft I should tell you about. Again, Pinterest, you just offer the most divine inspiration for projecting about the house.

I spied this 'lil beauty...

...and was sold. I think it's supposed to be, like, "the husband is from Louisiana and the wifey hails from Arizona! So CUTE!" or something. Not mine.  Naturally, my version of the project would hence be a shoutout to the Heart of Dixie and my new home of Hotlantaaaaaaaa.

You need:
+ a pair of scissors
+ white cardstock
+ a computer and printer
+ a pencil
+  red cardstock OR heart stickers. But don't wimp out and go the sticker route. Paper is prettier.

1. Print out two state maps and cut 'em out.

2. Place BACKWARDS on your cardstock to trace. Did you hear that? Backwards. No one likes a stray pencil mark. Stray pencil marks are for amateurs. Now cut those guys out.

3. In keeping with the exciting theme of my new room "grey and linen and white and wood," I opted to paint the matting and cardstock two shades of grey.

Alabama was the sacrificial lamb and during the disaster got splattered. So I had to cut out a new one. 

At this point, a Brownie (Ellis, the untamed little wild puppy beast) came running in and tromped her unproportional paws directly in the paint. Boykin Spaniels were bred with Chesapeake Bay Retriever blood, so their paws are big 'ole swimmin' paws. Which look awfully cute in paint and trotting around the kitchen--NOT.

At last, Ellis was captured and cleaned, and I finished my masterpiece. No Brownies were harmed in the creation of this art. Yay for the new room!

Blog post title: "Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynard Skynard. Dear goodness, I hope that wasn't news to you though. You'd never win "Name That Song" with Rush Stallings.

Yardwork. Just kidding.

Photo courtesy of Pottery Barn.

My darling seester is always the first to remind me: "Ashlyn. Update your blog." Two days later: "You know people stop reading people when they quit updating their blog?"

My, my. So subliminal in your messaging, Kristen.

Pardon my hiatus, but I've just been so ultra crafty/homemakery in preparation for The Move. We're talkin', I squealed over a Le Crueset cookware present yesterday. I'm even girlier than I thought. Anyway, the Stallings homestead is a sight, I tell ya, what with two girlies getting their first apartments and all!

I wanna show you my latest project. My first garden.

Well, kinda.

It started with a rainy Montgomery afternoon today and 4 herbs. Their names are Rosemary, Basil, Oregano, and Mint:

And quatro terracotta pots:

The delicate herbs made the potentially traumatizing trip from the biodegradable containers into their new abodes, which we have documented all thanks to Kristen:

Doesn't it feel good to get dirt under your nails? Even if those nails are a painted Birthday Blue (a.k.a. Essie "Lapis"). Of course, the Brownies had to investigate:

AHH! WAY too close, Ellis. Way too close. I promise she's a presh-pot, but I mean, who looks adorable in the soaking rain? It's okay, wittle Ella-bella. Everyone's hair gets curly in the rain.

I digress. Next, I painted the pots with chalkboard paint puchased at Wally World. I would like to note that skin should always be the same color as terracotta. A tan just makes my whole entire summer.

And there they are! Chalk isn't allowed to touch them 'til Sunday so maximum dry-time is reached. But I love them. I've always grown up with a garden in the backyard, with Mama tellin' us to "go pick some rosemary for tonight" or fresh basil for topping a yummy Southern tomato sandwich. OBVIE, making the move to Atlanta without fresh herbs for Em and I to cook with would just not be right.

One day, they will live like this  in a wine box on our back porch.

Anyone gotta spare wine box? :)

Photo courtesy of HipHostess.

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.

"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.

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.

Draw me a map that leads me back to you.

Photo courtesy of Magnolia Merryweather.

I get this on the job a lot:

"Wow! You get to travel all over the whole U.S.?! Y'all aren't set for one region? That's so awesome. And you probably love that you really get to see a ton of cities

so you can decide where to live next year!"

Response? Yup. Sure does let me see this great nation and fall even more in love with it. And as for the proverbial "next year" part, usually, I smile and nod. But here's what I really wanna say:

"Chyeah buddy traveling helped me decide, darlin'! I'm goin' right back down where I came from! People act differently, sound sweeter, and it's not frigid all the time. Ha, and I'm not sure how y'all pick Yankee/Mid-West boys over what we raise... Just sayin'."

Rant? Perhaps. I think I just sortareally miss home.

But dear Yankee/Midwest/West-Coast-Best-Coast sisters:

Please don't take offense. I love you infinitimillion. :)

Blog post title: "Draw Me a Map" by Dierks Bentley.

"Somethin' bout a southern girl."

Photo courtesy of Pink and Green Owl.

I said "yes ma'am" to the Panhellenic advisor during our meeting today.

Not once, mind you, but twice.

She's 24. I'm 22.

I do this all. The. Time. Like, ALL the time.

Sometimes I freaking hate being so Southern...

#embarrassing

Blog post title: "Southern Girl" by Amos Lee

What's a Christmas Gram? I want one!

They worked and are kinda cute! Melting Snowman Cookie recipe below.

One of the things I miss most on the road is not cooking. Ever. Eating out is so fun, but close your eyes and ponder this: eating out almost every single meal for 4.5 months. Yeah. It gets a slightly old. Plus, I gain lb's. (Dear collegians, y'all are just so wonderful and I love all the restaurants you take me. Part of the job :) You take excellent care of me--thanks for everything!)

So this little Southern belle is happy to be back home cooking eggs for breakfast, making sandwiches for lunch, and just shuffling around a kitchen that includes more than a microwave, sink, and paper plates.

I tried my hand at Melting Snowmen Cookies that I saw a picture of on a blog last week, and they're so yummy! There was no recipe on the blog, but it's pretty easy to figure out. I advise a tall glass of white wine when you get to the decorating part. And patience. Lots of patience... And lock up any bird dogs that may get annoying.

Perfect Sugar Cookies Recipe

(So this my buddy Jay's mom's/my mother's BFF's recipe. Straight outta the Trinity Presbyterian School cookbook. Go cats GO.)

+ 3/4 c. butter or margarine

+ 3/4 c. sugar

+ 2 large eggs

+ 2 3/4 c. flour

+ 2 tsp. baking powder

+ 1 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 400°. Cream butter and sugar. Beat in egg and vanilla and baking powder. Add flour one cup at a time. Dough will be very stiff. Bake on top rack of oven 6 to 7 minutes, or until cookies are light brown. Roll and cut out, using cookie cutters. For best results, before rolling out dough, chill dough or use flour that has been stored in freezer.

Royal Icing

(This one I totally did off the top of my head, combing a few recipes and making things up, ha. This is what I THINK I ended up doing. Any good royal icing recipe will get the job done.)

+ 2 1/2 c. shifted confectioners sugar

+ 1 c. whole milk

+ 4 tbsp. butter or margarine, softened

+ big marshmellows for their heads

Combine confectioners sugar, 1/3 c. milk, and butter in a bowl. Stir until smooth. This is when I got creative: you'll need to judge the stiffness of the icing and LITTLE BY LITTLE, pour in the milk to make the icing more runny. I hate that word. But you know what I mean.

Leave 3/4 of the icing white, and remove a fourth. Divide further and dye into whatever colors you want to decorate the snowmen. The plastic bag trick works best: put the icing in little baggies and cut a teeny-tiny hole at the tip. For the "black" icing, I melted dark chocolate chips and poured the chocolate into a plastic bag.

Cut the big marshmellows in halves and stick onto royal icing puddle before decorating.

Well, if we need Halloween cookies I know what to do.

I made a few snowmen with surprised faces, but do you see how he looks so sad and scary and Scream-like? Clearly, I opted for smiley faces instead.

Have fun!

There's a place I'd like to go where I can hear the cotton grow.

My sis took this the other day. It's our farm. Which is basically perfect. I've come a long way from age 4, standing on the pond banks, bopping bucketed brim on the head with a stick when they came up for air. I always will be a confused vegetarian...

I love my job. I do, I promise-cross-my-heart. Every day something happens and I look up at God and grin because life's so cool. And adventures are my favorite: plop me down in the middle of uncharted waters/random cities/towns where I know NO one and I get a natural high off of figuring things out.

But sometimes I wanna get flour all over me and between the granite tiles in the kitchen. Pull something outta the oven. Stir sugar in a pot of steeping hot tea over the stove. Split a Diet Coke with Mama while we dance-party around the kitchen. Make a sandwich and prance out barefoot to the backyard for herbs to dress it up. Iron with ESPN football on in the background (I don't think I've ironed anything since like, July.). Paint and/or sketch. Sack out on the upstairs couch for 2.5 hours. Sit in a deerstand with Daddy and whisper about life. Run in my sister's room and pounce on her bed and run my mouth. PLAY. WITH. MY. BIRD. DOGS.

Here's what I want to do: Be domestic for one day.

Photo courtesy of Garden & Gun. I think I'm just ready to get a dog. Six months, six months, six months...

(This notion launched by this Garden & Gun album. Look at it. It's all huntin' dogs . i.e. the kind of dog I have and will always own for the rest of my life. Nope, see ya Yorkies/Bichons/etc. Gimme a dog that likes to go chase down dead animals and I'm sold. Thanksgiving break--hurry hurry!)

p.s. I also just picked out a new dog name for my future love: Gauge. Loves it.