Oh Nashville, you are the peanut butter to my jelly, the bread to my butter, the cold beer to my barbeque filled belly. Everything about this town tugged at my heartstrings making the last two days of our road trip sheer perfection. We had good weather, even better food, and all the country music my little ears could take. I was a pig in poo and was ready to tell Kevin to just leave me there, but we're kind of a team so I put on my big girl panties and came back to Connecticut. Below are the photos from the last leg of our road trip entitled "You can take the girl out of the country, but you can take the country out of the girl."
If I have to explain to you what the Grand Ole Opry then just know that your coolness factor will go down at least three points. Every notable country artist has stood on that this stage in that very circle and belted out tunes and I can now say that I too have stood on that wooden circle and sung a horrendous rendition of "You Are My Sunshine" (yeah that happened). I even got to primp in one of the backstage dressing rooms. It was a good day for this ole southern bird.
Speaking of birds, a definite highlight of our trip was taking in a show at the Bluebird Cafe. (How could I not when they named the place after me?) The venue is small, the lighting is terrible, but the talent is stellar which more than made up for my blurry photos.
Prior to our departure on this road trip I had come across photos of a massive tree house built by a preacher who says that God instructed him to build this creation. He has been building this structure for eleven years using wood that he either finds or is donated to him. It now soars hundred feet high and covers over ten thousand square feet. Unfortunately we will only able to see the tree house from the now closed gate as the local fire marshal has shut down the site stating building code violations. I don't know when they started enforcing building codes for tree houses (especially ones ordained by God), but such is life. Luckily there were some friendly horses nearby who tried to cheer me up.
As a major White Stripes/Jack White fan I naturally had to hit up Third Man Records in downtown Nashville. Its in a pretty shady part of town which makes the doorbell entry necessary albeit a bit confusing (we stood outside the door for what felt like ten minutes trying to figure out how to get in). Now I knew beforehand that this place was small, but holy crap is it tiny. Its about the size of my first college dorm cut in half and then cut in half again. We were in the shop with maybe three other people and it felt cramped. I still managed to geek out hardcore (even though I was the only one nerding out inside) and filled up on a lot of Third Man swag. It was the perfect way to end the trip.
And thus the recap of my vacation pics has come to an end. This trip was by no means a relaxing vacation, but for Kevin and me it was just right. Now who wants to move to Nashville with me?!