24 hours in Nashville

Caleb and I both had holiday gift cards burning holes through our pockets, so we grabbed the girl and drove out to Nashville on Friday. (Sadly, Memphis does not actually have any of the stores responsible for said gift cards.) It was kinda weird yet oddly thrilling to drive three hours to visit a mall. But not all malls have anthropologie.

I've let it be known that when I die, I would like to be cremated and have the ashes spread in front of the display window at the Anthropologie store at the Grove in LA. Each individual store is dressed and decorated by a master of What Will Lure Girls Inside to Convince Them to Dress like a Vaguely European Librarian. I fall into this buzzy retail fugue state anytime I'm in one their stores. I'm swept along by bland indie pop as I inspect cocktail dresses and cardigans and frilly aprons and tea cups, and with a pretty impressive stash of gift cards, I was able to indulge and several beigy, flowy numbers. And this cute thing:



I stocked up on birthday/thank you cards at Social Graces, but with the Anthro spree completed, I was all about the food.

What I consumed in the past 24 hours:

a shepherd's pie
hummus and pita
chocolate chip pancakes
fish and chips
banana ice cream/chocolate cayenne pepper ice cream

We split our time evenly between the Hillsboro neighborhood and East Nashville which looks exactly like Silverlake in miniature. We had dinner Friday at Family Wash, a former laundromat turned restaurant that is all about serving comfort food and hosting local bands. It took Harlow about five seconds after spotting the drums to demonstrate her skills.



After dinner we went back to the hotel, passing guests getting ready for their night out.



Harlow kept declaring that she was ready to go to bed, and we actually thought for a moment that she might actually sleep in the pack in play five feet from our bed. 8:30. Lights out for the Sweazy family. I'm not sure any of us got that much sleep. It wasn't so bad, because at 7:30 we were seated at the famous Pancake Pantry. I figured if we were gonna pig out, I might as well go for it.

Me, going for it:



We struck out with shopping in the late morning. Two different stores I had hoped to visit in the 12 South neighborhood had closed, so we grabbed lunch at Battered and Fried.



And yes, that is edamame in the background. I suppose it shouldn't be strange that a place that fries fish can serve it as sushi, but it was still a little odd. Harlow happily ate sushi rice and edamame and some of Caleb's chicken sandwich. Schizophrenic, but everyone was happy. Even happier when my hints to be included in a family trip photo were honored.



Because we weren't full of yummy disgusting food already, we stopped by the Pied Piper, an ice cream store owned by one of Alexa's closest friends from her camp years. The place is too cute, housed in a Victorian home and offering homemade ice cream along with retail items and baby clothes. The ice cream was just ridiculously good. I had banana pudding ice cream (with wafers!) some of that spicy chocolate ice cream on the side. Harlow had the oatmeal raisin cookie, which was cinnamon ice cream with oatmeal raisin cookies crushed up. Caleb got the I Can't Believe it's Not a Butterfinger. Next time I'm all about the Trailer Trash which was about 6 different types of candy bars mashed up together. I've never really been an ice cream person, and I was moaning out loud after every bite, convincing myself that maybe I'm the one who needs to drive around in a restored bus doling out gourmet foods and ice creams. Could be a nice life.

Fun stuff. And doesn't Caleb look like he's kidnapping his own baby here?