My musical education was fostered very early on. While my mom favored '90s country and the Eagles, my dad inundated us with the very best of classic rock, incorporating the steering wheel and dashboard of his F250 (lovingly known as Ol' Blue) as his percussion elements, head-banging along the drive from point A to point B, offering us performances unrivaled by anyone who'd ever graced the cover of Rolling Stone.

I spent an inordinate amount of my junior high evenings, hunched over my beloved boombox, recording top 40s music from 97.5 on a beloved cassette tape, complete with broken bits of DJ introductions and hokey, local commercials. Think TLC, Sheryl Crow, Blues Traveler, Lisa Loeb.

The highly coveted CD burner was unveiled during my high school years. Two words: game changer. Cue my best friend, the budding entrepreneur, who debuted her bootleg CD business in the hallways of Lorena High School--five bucks a pop for a custom mix , complete with jewel case and laminated playlist insert. Fun fact: I very recently found two of the CDs she made me--aptly dubbed "Meg's Mix" and "Meg's Mix 2" which are every bit as quality as you can imagine (BBMak, Coyote Ugly soundtrack, Mandy Moore, to highlight a few). She had minimal competition (looking at you, Ben Geeslin), so was obviously an overnight success.

For as long as I can remember, my every memory has a song interwoven within it... whether it was my Mimi cooking in the kitchen to "Unchained Melody," to my mom blaring "Hotel California" while cleaning, to my parents rocking the Beatles Anthology (cassette) on roadtrips across the country... and of course the break-up ballads, what we girls danced to in the locker room, and finally, the jams that filled up our ipods once Apple tapped (no pun) into that little gem (still have mine, by the way. Both of them.)

(is it any wonder my favorite movie is Almost Famous?)

Thankfully, my tastes evolved. I transitioned from whiny boy rock (think Ataris and All American Rejects) and angry girl rock (Liz Phair and the like) to lots of Bob Dylan and some oldies, everything in between--and finally an acoustic/indie/Americana phase that planted itself in 2002 and just never ended. If I was a genre, that'd be it. Strum an acoustic guitar for me and watch me melt.

I first learned about ACL as a Baylor girl... a few of my friends made the 90-mile trek to Austin all in the name of good jams, and I desperately yearned to go too. Alas, the price-tag for a three-day pass far exceeded my measly budget as a coed, and I instead vowed to myself "one day." My "one day" finally rolled around last year, I returned this year, and will go again and again and again. It's just that good.

Disclaimer: my photo game was weak due to my snap game being strong--hence the temperature report on the following. Can't win 'em all, right?

Here I am, your self-appointed ACL tour guide...






I elected the one-day situation, as I wanted to allocate the majority of my vacation with friends and family (all over the great state of Texas).

When I made it down to Zilker Park on Sunday, here's the ridiculous line-up I dove into:





If you're planning on heading to a festival, here's my advice:

1. Make a friend who works for BMI.
Ha--okay, so maybe a little harder to hook this one up, but my dear friend Kat got me into their VIP tent for 1) drinks, 2) a better bathroom situation, 3) snacks, 4) TV for football (although on Sunday, this was less of a thing for me), and 5) yeah, maybe a little shoulder-rubbing with their bands. It was nice to sip on my Tito's and decompress from the crowd a little.

2. If you're getting merch, get your merch upon arrival. They always sell out of the coolest designs, so make this a priority.

3. Plan on eating the best food ever. I live for Salt Lick's nachos... (see also: empanadas, tamales, snow cones. Take me back already.)

4. Plan to park downtown (I paid $10 for the day) and shuttle down to Zilker. So much easier than trying to park near the show... I walked four blocks to Republic Square to catch the (free) shuttle that takes 15 minutes to usher on down to the festival.

5. Cell service blows there. Take screenshots of the festival map and line-up so you don't drain your battery further by accessing the internet.

6. Dress comfortably (I wore a tank, sandals and cut-offs). Here's your arsenal:

A couple times a year, usually in early spring and early fall, I begin sensing this insatiable itch. A slow-rolling anxiety for a shift. It sneaks in subtly, and my constant breakneck pace overpowers it just enough that I blindly dismiss it as a need for something else: another project or maybe a haircut or to delve into a plan to get distracted. But when I strip away the mental nonsense, take a breather and consciously reflect for a sec--it dawns on me.

Of course: time to go home.

Life in my hometown is so reliable, so constant. My family still being there is the obvious, foremost reason for my venturing back, but the routine of Waco is as consistent as it is sleepy. Y'all know how much I love the life I've built in Nashville, but the sweet predictability of life in central Texas gives me the recharge I crave every few months.

My most recent trip back (with the exception of trekking to ACL) was by most counts unremarkable... a blur of backroads and breakfast tacos, big city skylines and having a front row seat to all the stars in the sky. But this is what I love and what I crave. It's what rejuvenates me: that the more things change, the more they stay the same.



Home is the same series of errands and meals--down to sitting in the same places, at the same tables, in the same restaurants. At HEB, I scoop up Shiner to share with my Pops, and my favorite Texas Pecan coffee to bring back to Nashville. At Spice, it's Circle E candles and tops and dresses I can't find here. I always read the Wacoan and Texas Monthly cover-to-cover before nodding off in my childhood bedroom (to be awoken right at sunrise by the aggressive light pouring through the east-facing window... something I hated in high school, yet have come to love as an adult). I visit mom at the cemetery, usually with flowers in one hand and a half-and-half tea from Bush's in the other.



As a kid in Texas, you learn the backroads as soon as you slide behind the driver's wheel (funnily enough--my dad was asking me for names of roads when I was home... and I reminded him that I've been gone for over four years). A day into my trip, I excitedly raced to Houston to stay with my childhood best friend, a three-plus-hour drive from my parents', connected by two-lane highways and farm-to-market roads that are as memorable to me as if I still drove them as frequently as I did as a college girl. 77 to 7, 6 to 290, 45 to 3--GPS utterly unnecessary. With my pup assuming her position in my lap, spotify blaring, and the familiar stream of main street strips zooming past us, the roadtrip melted away and in no time, we were sipping on Shiner, laughing on the patio with my best friend since I was 11 (and her hysterical husband, who just as effortlessly as she did in fifth grade, has become family to me).



We watched football and feasted on steaks, sizzling from the grill. We swapped stories on high school friends and commiserated about politics. Lauren and I talk nearly everyday, but there's just no substitute for face time with your best friend--the one who knows all your secrets and loves you anyway. Twenty years of inside jokes and encouragement, bitter loss and heartache, the knowing side glances and uncontrollable laughs. I've never called Houston "home" but make no mistake--home is absolutely defined by the people in your life. A little piece of my heart absolutely lives in Houston.


I spent Sunday at ACL (much more on that later), and returned back to Waco, groggy but so very content. The next few days held minimal plans, which allowed me more time to just immerse myself in the small-town life I left. Isn't it funny--those things that make us almost desperate for a change of pace, are the exact things you dream of and cling to when you get to go back?






Home is roads peppered with monikers like "Bullhide Creek" and "Pecan Ridge" and "Longhorn Trail." It's I35 being perpetually under construction, and Blue Bell in every fathomable flavor, and the fact that it takes 15 minutes to get anywhere you need to go. It's running into your high school teachers and friends' parents at the grocery store, knowing which snakes will hurt you, and the flood of nostalgia at seeing the stadium lights flicker on, as the sun sinks behind the visitor's side of the field.

It's the farmer's cows grazing in the pasture next door, gargantuan pick-up trucks, and huevos rancheros with my dad after we walk his Airedale, Ben on the Cotton Belt Trail at the crack of dawn. It's a smattering of leopard paws--my high school mascot--painted on the residential roads that serve as the perimeter to the schools. My non-Texan friends get a kick out of my pride, but there's really no explaining it. I liken it to a time warp--little has changed in my teensy hometown of one stoplight since well before I left it in my own rearview.

It was a pretty fantastic trip for me. I ate too much whataburger, lit up at the sight of Baylor's campus (repeatedly), and sat with my dad at the vet with Ben (to receive his next anti-venom shot after an encounter with a rattlesnake last month, no less).  I spent Monday night laughing with my dear friends from my Baylor career days, cooked dinner for my parents, and successfully got my dad into Narcos.


After a tumultuous return trip (diverted flight back to Love Field after a "hydraulic emergency" and the rockiest plane landing I've ever experienced), I hit the pillow for a three-hour nap, heart so overwhelmingly full.

Happy weekend!! Another summertime weekend looming ahead, praise Jesus. We're solidifying Labor Day plans and looking to fall already, and it's a little jarring, isn't it? Here's a little of what's been going on with me:

I've really tried to up my correspondence game. The thoughtfulness of a handwritten note is unrivaled by much--anyone can spend 30 seconds on an email, right? But to carefully select a card with someone specific in mind, pick out a stamp, take the time to scrawl in your handwriting, drop at the post office... it means the world to me. I've had pen pals since I was about 7, and really try to send notes a few times a month (outside of birthday and anniversary cards). To up my game, I snagged a couple sets of awesome cards... and I think these are adorable. And come on, who could resist these?

Finally caved and invested in a couple of these tops too. Super lightweight, but wick away sweat and incredibly comfortable. I've become skeptical of Lulu's quality as it's definitely slid back in recent years, but I am loving these--great for running or to throw on after Barry's, or yep, even lounging.

My Spotify obsession is no secret. Somehow I stumbled across Megan Davies and her mashups and fell head over heels. Bonus: she'll be in Nashville in a few weeks and you can bet your boots I'll be there playing fangirl.

My office is pretty laidback, wardrobe-wise, but in the aftermath of a recent back injury, I was in desperate need for a non-stiletto situation. I found these wedges and literally get a compliment nearly every time I wear them. Really versatile, inexpensive and comfortable for all day wear. Getcha some. (...also--best summertime top ever. Ditto to the compliments.)

Move over top knots. I've been rocking a messy braid updo and I can't get enough. So painfully easy, works with any outfit and a welcome variation from my former go-to. Be ready with your dry shampoo and bobby pins.

I try to down my body weight in water everyday... This app is so badass, and will send you reminders to get your sip on when you're say--lost in spreadsheet hell. It makes it a lot easier to keep track (as does lugging a camelbak everywhere).

Earlier today, I finished Mary Louise Parker's book, Dear Mr. You. Wow. I breezed through the series of short stories in just a few days--she scrawls to all sorts of men in her life... romantic interests, family members, near-strangers. It is so ridiculously well-written, I can't recommend it enough.

Speaking of books, have you seen the trailer for Girl on the Train? I wasn't crazy about the book but the movie looks like it's going to be awesome. And who doesn't love Emily Blunt?

Are we having fun yet with this political season? Sweet Lord, I'm just ready for November to be here... take a break from reading everyone's rants on facebook, and go take this quiz to see if your favorite foods reflect your political ways.

Welcome to my new favorite food blog. Fantastic recipes, ridiculous photography, funny banter.


Enjoy your weekend, y'all! Monday brings us into August!

Hello, hello, hello!

Summertime, man. And all at once, 2016 is half over.

I'm in the throes of planning and doing all of the things (baby shower! independence day feast! etsy store! book draft! show after show! travel, travel, travel!) and wanted to pause for a breather to catch up on my little corner of the internet. I'm (finally) perfectly okay with just checking in when I want to, versus stomaching the blogger's guilt that formerly ensued upon realizing weeks--nay months--had passed between my ramblings. But these warmer days have been treating me just fine, thank you, and I've stayed all kinds of busy... I've bounced around on planes and highways for the past six weeks (six states in as many weeks!), but you know? Life is good, and I daresay, the living is easy.

(forgive the variance in photo sizes. I don't have the time or patience.)

Between ample pool time and girls nights,


 and skipping around to shows,

(Mayer Hawthorne)





(The Lone Bellow)



(Punch Brothers)



(Lumineers)





(Avett Brothers)



(Wild Feathers--show two of three for the year)



tearing it up at hockey playoff games,


lazy weekend mornings together that turn into the coziest of afternoons,



dinners spent belly laughing with friends,




lots of QT with my best girl,


first of many trips to The Peach Truck,



marveling at the my new shelves,



a gorgeous, breezy Memorial Day in Kentucky,





a long, rejuvenating weekend home in Texas,













hosting sweet friends for weekends of exploring my city,


requisite summertime snacking,



a little bit of work travel in one of my all-time favorite cities,




starting a new study that I'm crazy about with my small group girls, (go get a copy of Brene Brown's Daring Greatly),

to finally, finally, savoring some sunshine and dipping my toes in the Atlantic,




...sleep hasn't been a top priority, per se, but I guess you could presume that summer in Nashville is looking pretty fabulous from where I sit. And that 2016 has been pretty good to me so far.

I really, really hope yours is shaping up to be as wonderful!!