A Royal Twirl

My baton twirling performances have taken place in many different settings for many different audiences - fans in college football stadiums from California to Florida, students in high school gymnasiums, spectators on miles-long parade routes, old folks in nursing home cafeterias, my parents in our driveway, even coworkers in my office lobby. All rather expected places for someone who lived as a majorette for over nine years of her life. But never did I think I would entertain an audience deep in the heart of the Netherlands - in a castle, no less!

Engelenburg Castle, Holland

The evening began quite elegantly - me in my lacy dress, sipping champagne and enjoying casual conversation over fancy hors d'oeuvres with the glow from the hand-carved fireplace dancing on the walls. A gourmet dinner in the stately dining room with high decorative ceilings and antique furniture, the laughter and voices of the entire Heersink clan clinking with the fine china. Savoring the last taste of my dessert and politely dabbing the corners of my mouth, I regarded it as an evening of graceful elegance at its best.

So, it's a bit of a mystery to me how such refineness evolved (or de-volved?) into a dance party the likes of which Engelenburg Castle has never seen. Was it the refrain of Sweet Home Alabama or the conga line over chairs and tables that transformed not only the pristine castle bar but our well-mannered moods? I can't be sure. But what I do know is that when a long, straight umbrella was put in my hand as It's Raining Men pumped over the stereo, the only option for a girl who was trained in the fields of Tuscaloosa was to twirl!

Flips and spins turned into a full-fledged routine, and the surprised smiles and cheers of my audience prompted me to toss higher and shimmy more. Spinning around a final time, the umbrella twirling on beat, I hit a final pose and took a bow as hurrahs and applause coursed through the castle walls.

Damion and me - the umbrella provider and the umbrella performer.

Pass the Baton

A few weeks ago a current Crimsonette emailed me to say the girls planned to wear a costume from the Crimsonette closet - a fabulous red, white and blue outfit we debuted in 2001 at the Alabama-Auburn patriotric show (the nation in crisis, so we got new outfits...). Oh, how we adored those cute little hot pants! Ranking as the most expensive costume ever made for one halftime show, we did find reason to wear them again the next season, but the costumes have been stored away in the depths of Moody Music Building since 2002.

Amanda's email said she had been assigned the costume I wore, and that she was honored to wear the outfit of such a great former Crimsonette. As my smugness at the compliment (and jealousy that SHE, not me, got to wear it) subsided, feelings of excitement to see her twirl and pride in the Crimsonette tradition swelled. On gameday, as I joined with the thousands of other Alabama fans in the victory over Auburn, I enjoyed a personal victory of seeing "myself" out on the field again.


Amanda giving me a chance to shine again in 2008!


Red, white and blue debut in 2001.

Faithful, Loyal, Firm and True

Alabama, listen, mother,
To our vows of love,
To thyself and to each other,
Faithful friends we’ll prove.

Faithful, loyal, firm and true
Heart bound to heart will beat
Year by year, the ages through,
Until in Heaven we meet.

College days are swiftly fleeting,
Soon we’ll leave their halls,
Ne’er to join another meeting
‘Neath their hallowed walls.

Faithful, loyal, firm and true
Heart bound to heart will beat
Year by year, the ages through,
Until in Heaven we meet.

So, farewell, dear Alma Mater.
May thy name, we pray,
Be rev’renced ever, pure and stainless
As it is today.

I learned the words to the University of Alabama’s Alma Mater during my Sophomore year of college. Our Crimsonette coach insisted on it; she didn’t want us to just stand smiling on the football field at Bryant Denny Stadium when the Million Dollar Band played it.

“As students of the University, and one day graduates, it’s your duty to know the alma mater, and you should sing it proudly,” she told us.

I already knew the words of the chorus, but I thought having to memorize the rest of the stanzas was beyond hokey and a waste of time. In fact, the whole idea of Homecoming really irked me: the spotlight shifted off the current Crimsonettes and us getting to twirl and put on a show, and instead was focused on the Alumni Band, who, in my opinion, could barely muster a crowd-rousing “Yea Alabama”, much less march in a straight line across the football field. The Alumni Band performance was a waste of a perfectly good pregame show that I could be front and center on the football field.

But on a late September afternoon during my second year at Alabama, the Crimsonettes sat around our tree at the band field, and we practiced the words of the Alma Mater. I not only heard the full song for the first time that day, but I fully understood the words for the first time, too.

It was the second stanza that really took hold of my chest and squeezed tightly: “College days are swiftly fleeting, soon we’ll leave their halls,” I sang, as I looked at the sweet and pretty faces of these girls who had fast become my best friends.

My voice trailed off as I realized the truth in the words; maybe the reason these days felt so magical to me was because they were fleeting, and swiftly. Walking across the Quad to class, studying in the library until I fell asleep slumped on the table, sweating and laughing and twirling at band practice every day for four months straight, eating and talking with my boyfriend and our friends at every lunch and dinner during the week at Burke dining hall, living down the hall from my sister and friends in Harris Hall…it had never occurred to me that all of this would come to an end one day.

Now, several years after graduating and leaving the college days behind, the memories of my Alma Mater are kept pure and stainless in my heart. And on this Homecoming, as I exuberantly march with the Alumni Band in a perfectly un-straight line to a wobbly but loving rendition of “Yea Alabama”, I just can’t keep the hot tears from brimming over and spilling shamelessly down my cheeks.

10 years later

Throughout the night, I heard several incredulous utterances, all asking the same question, "Are we really at our TEN-year reunion?"  The answer was always a disbelieving shake of the head.   As the lead singer of the band yelled, "Let's hear it for the Hoover High School class of 1998!  We're gonna play some music from your decade," there was no denying...it was 10 years later, 10 years since the last time we were all in a room together, 10 years since the popular kids crowded the middle of the dance floor, the nerdy kids huddled at a side table, the jocks acted like they owned the place, and I just tried to flutter from one group to the next, and keep my excited laughter from echoing too loudly.

While others tried to forget, I actually tried to keep reminding myself of the fact, hoping to feel the full gamut of emotions that should be associated with such a milestone.  I thought of all the significant things that have happened in my life over the last 10 years - the dear friends I have met, the excitement of twirling at Alabama, the two college degrees, the love and the heartache, the first job and the next, the marriage of my little sister, the loss of my grandmothers, the trips to new places in the world, the leap to New York City.  I smiled at the accomplishments and the downfalls, at the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, for the life that happened in 10 years.  

Just as I swelled with satisfaction of how much I had grown and changed over 10 years, I heard my name announced as the winner of the "Least Changed" award.  "What?!" I shrieked, "I've changed!  I'm different!"  As I inwardly sulked with outrage, friends pointed out the award was not least changed in life, but least changed in appearance.  "Rebecca, it's called the 'Marilyn Monroe Award'...this is a good thing, it means you still have the body of an 18 year old!"  Oh.  Well far be it from me to turn down an award then! 

I tried to think of the 18 year old me, what she would think seeing me now.  Not the outward appearance, but what she would think of who I am now - what did she think she'd be like at this 10 year mark.  I glanced down at my Senior picture printed on my name tag, and I swear she winked at me (or maybe it was just that fourth glass of wine).  But I knew what the wink meant:  "We're doing just fine...no matter where we go, or what we see or learn or do, we are the least changed, and that's a beautiful thing." 

Please tell me I don't still have the mushroom hair!

With Vashty, Jasmine and Jay...fellow HHS classmates now in NYC.

With Joshua, my very oldest friend at the reunion...we've been warring since the 5th grade over who is tallest.

Friends yet known

New friend : old friend.

A few weeks after I moved to New York, Katherine mentioned in an e-mail that she'd met the most fun, cute girl.  "If you were here, you and Allison would definitely be friends," she said.  I remember joking with mock indignation that Katherine had replaced me oh-so quickly.  Soon enough, I was hearing about and seeing pictures from their jaunts around town from Katherine, and Katherine told me Allison loves reading my blog and was keeping up with me in New York. After a few months, I felt as if Allison was just as much my friend as she was Katherine's...even though technically we'd never met.    

So when I hugged Allison hello for the first time in person tonight, I felt like I was greeting an old friend.  As we chatted, we realized we worked in the same building together for two and a half years.  We even knew all of the same cute guys in the office parking lot, for goodness sake!  How did I miss out on two and a half years of a friend to go to lunch with, to walk with after work, to chat with by the elevators?  

It made me ponder all the friends yet known.  The girls who live beside me - their front door less than a foot from mine - but I have no idea who they are.  The handful of people I've seen repeatedly on the subway or at the grocery store - we live within a few blocks of each other.  These people fill up the world around me, yet I don't consider them any more significant than filler.  But maybe there's a reason our paths are crossing.  Maybe a random person on my block becomes a noteworthy person in my life.  Maybe.  Maybe definitely starts with a smile.

Street views home

Rolling my suitcase along the still quiet New York City sidewalk, my thoughts of home multiplied with each step I took. As I crossed over Lexington Avenue, I looked up the street toward the Chrysler Building.  The streetlights glowed as the early morning sky lightened, making the closed buildings even darker and more desolate.  No people crowded the sidewalks; the only activity coming from the sound and lights of a few cabs slowly approaching.  The beautiful Chrysler Building shown like a beacon in the distance, and I stopped, mesmerized.  It was a beautiful scene, yes, but even more intriguing was the comparison I conjured of what my scenery would be in a few short hours: grassy lawns and bushy shrubs and thick trees framing the setting sun.  

Both views are beautiful, both views are comforting, both views are home...in vastly different ways.  

Yo Bro!

With Cameron at Brother Jimmy's.

With Mary Jane and Walton - the sticker brigade!

The Alabama Alumni game-watching bar changed this year from Mercury Bar to the brand new Brother Jimmy's on Lexington and 31st Street...about three blocks from my apartment!  The new place is much larger and more civilized - since it's a restaurant, the management actually wants us to make table reservations and sit down to watch the game.  It's quite a change from the rough and tumble days of Mercury when we had to arrive early and fight for a seat, usually spending the majority of the game standing up and being pushed and prodded and dodging pompoms in the face.  As hassling as it was, I must say I miss the tumult of Mercury; the throng of people making the game day experience seem a little more real, like we were actually in the crowd at Bryant Denny Stadium.

But since I haven't lived this close to the action since I lived on campus across the street from the stadium at Harris Hall, I'm happy to make the short walk across the New York City blocks to my Tuscaloosa home away from home.

Twirling

I considered the multipurpose court adjacent to a small playground directly across the street from my apartment to be a positive "amenity" of living in my apartment building, since the list of actual amenities was non-existent.  During the first month of living here, I had big plans of taking my batons across the street and twirling - it would be just like my driveway at home!  I wanted to wait until the weather warmed up a bit, and then I would be twirling like old times.

But when mid-May arrived and the outside temps were perfect twirling weather, I got cold feet as I gathered my batons to head outside.  I didn't want an audience with the passersby on the street, the firemen peering from their station, or - worse yet - the homeless men claiming a bench for a front row seat!  Faced with the reality that twirling here would not be like twirling in the driveway at home, my new hobby quickly lost appeal, and I propped my batons back in the corner of my room.

But I decided Monday was the day I was going to twirl.  It was the perfect way to celebrate the unofficial end to summer...and it didn't hurt that the majority of New Yorkers were still tucked in bed, off the streets and enjoying the Labor Day holiday.  Early in the morning I scurried out of the building and crossed the street.  I tentatively opened the wrought-iron gate and peeked around to make sure the coast was clear of any homeless people who might have camped there overnight.  Discovering my only audience was a girl with her dog, and a few firemen across the way, I began to stretch my legs and get acquainted with the trees and buildings around my new twirling spot.  I started slowly, tossing the baton in the air a few times, then adding a few turns.  As several tosses fell to the ground out of my grasp, I felt a twinge of embarrassment (did anyone see me drop?!) and a heap of remorse (how could I have let myself get so rusty!) 

But soon the old rhythm was back, and I was tossing higher, spinning faster and putting on a show the likes of which New York had never seen.  Toss illusion - still got it!  Toss cartwheel - wha-laa!  Split leap back catch - perfect!  Remembering sections of old tryout routines, I marveled as I fairly easily smoothed through the maneuvers, and if I didn't perform a trick just so, I reverted to my habit of doing it 10 times in a row (with a smile on my face!) to make sure I had it down pat.  I practiced my favorite two and three baton tricks (busting only a few blood vessels in my palms along the way).  Feeling so exhilarated with the movements and the memories, I broke into a high march and twirled as I hummed Yea Alabama. "Get me my majorette boots and a sequin uniform!" I thought. "I could put those current Crimsonettes to shame!"

Alas, maybe I could still teach the Crimsonettes a thing or two, and granted, probably still even fit into my uniform.  BUT the only person feeling any shame is yours truly...since it's three days after my rock star performance, and I'm still hobbling around, each muscle in my back and legs screeching with every move I make!  

Game Day Peaches

There is a little market down at Union Square Park that is open during the summer months on the weekends and Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I shouldn't describe the market as "little," since the exhibitors taut every farm-grown fruit and vegetable you can think of (and then some) along with flowers and ferns and even fresh meats and homemade pies. The gaps between the food vendors are filled by artists whose work ranges from the traditional and beautiful to the wacky and unrefined.

Although the park is just 15 blocks from my apartment - an easy walk or subway ride - I seldom make a visit to the strolling market place. But on this lazy Saturday - the first Saturday of the football season - the beautiful sunshine was calling my name so I suited up in my crimson "Roll Tide" t-shirt and hit the city streets for a walk.

As I sampled the freshly cut tomatoes - red and juicy and tasting just right - and the sliced apples - crisp and sweet in my mouth, my eyes zeroed in on a mound of peaches at the next tent. I hadn't had a peach all summer! I snuck one more taste of a juicy tomato, then slithered my way through the strolling crowd to the next tent. I took a deep breath, letting the glorious smell of the peaches fill my nose. Heeding the reminder of the sign to "Buy then Squeeze," I gently ran a finger over the tickling fuzz of the fragile fruits.

I spent the next 30 minutes circling the market, comparing the price and the quality of each vendor's peach offerings. I wish I could say the careful research resulted in my getting the best peaches for the best price, but the sale was finally decided by the tent with the cutest peach-sample-slicer who just happened to look at my shirt and say, "Alabama, right? Roll Tide!" as I managed a nod and a smile as I slurped a peach wedge into my mouth.

As I skipped away with my bag full of peachy-smelling peaches, I realized I overpaid by at least $1.50, but if it ensured a win for my Alabama Crimson Tide tonight in the peach state of Georgia, the purchase - and flirt - was worth every cent!

Some things never change

When my Crimsonette coach of five years came to New York last week for a dance clinic, I was excited to attend a few of the classes with her and catch up. In the five years since I twirled at Alabama, she has become a friend, and we have much more candid conversations and laughs than when I was a student and she was my mentor.

But as I lined up with all the other dancers (who were at least 10 years younger than me and, let's face it, actual dancers), my palms began to sweat. It wasn't that I cared what these hotshot kids thought of me and my creaky arms and legs - it was Marion. Was she watching me? What did she think of that jump? Are my arms moving at the correct angles? Am I staying on beat? I quickly realized the safety I had sought in the back corner to shield me from the gaze of the other dancers had put me right in Marion's line of sight. I felt like I was 19 again - wiping my palms on my shorts for a better grip, trying to kick higher, twirl faster and catch her attention with every toss of my baton. As my heart raced, I laughed that some things never change, but at least now I wasn't scared to grab Marion from the sidelines and make her dance beside me.

That was then: with Marion after Crimsonette tryouts when I made Captain in April 2000.

Security Baton

My batons were among the many items Julie stragetically stuffed into my three suitcases for the move to New York City. I didn't have any reason in bringing them really; I had and still have no desire to be a spectacle by twirling in Central Park as so many people have suggested I do. I suppose I just wanted the batons to come along for the ride since they've been with me for most of my life anyway. And the thought did cross my mind that if couldn't find any new friends once I got to New York, at least I would have my trusty old batons - my grown-up security blankets.

Sadly, the main action they've seen over the last year is the inside of a closet; there was a trip back home for Alabama Homecoming, and a few struts around Jane's apartment to show off for guests. But that's a far cry from the starring role they played in years past when a baton might as well have been a permanent extension of my arm. In high school, Daddy yelled for me to "put the baton down!" when projects he asked me to do around the house were hindered by a baton in hand; I twirled so much in the kitchen that I finally mastered a very low two-turn - and never broke the big deck windows trying! In college, I usually had a baton in my hand while I studied in my dorm room, absently twirling it through my fingers.

Now that my twirling is limited to day dreams and memories, I have found a new use for the old gals...

Not only useful as a window prop, but when I go to sleep with my window open, I lay a baton on each side of me to deliver a swift whack in the face in the (unlikely) event someone tries to come in my window through the fire escape! The batons' new use may be far less glamorous than the twirling of the glory days, but they are certainly still the extension of my arm, my lifeline, my security batons!

Surprise! I'm home!

Top Ten Surprises from My Surprise Trip Home:

1. Daddy doesn't really like to be surprised (despite the way he looks in this picture when he first saw me, and realized it was me...not my little sister.)

2. I just might have narcolepsy.

3. Daddy's grilling powers only work if he's wearing his special chef outfit.

4. My mom can beat your mom at jacks...and don't even touch her around-the-worlds!

5. Daddy will be Nick Saban's sideline stand-in this fall.

6. I'm not as afraid of Elizabeth and Chris's one-eyed cat as I used to be.

7. Daddy can hit a pose on queue.

8. Rojo is closed on Mondays. Call ahead the next time you plan to meet a bunch of your friends there.

(Cafe Ciao is just as fun.)

9. Julie will do anything to show off her flowers and be in a picture - there is a lizard less than two feet from her!

And the most surprising surprise from my surprise trip home...

10. Being home made me homesick! I miss Alabama summertime!

All you Alabamians, please enjoy the mimosa trees along the roadsides for me!

In lights

My mother e-mailed this picture to me today that came from a yard in Mountain Brook, AL. She said the girl was embarrassed to death to come home from the University of Alabama to find this sign in front of her parent's house. All I can say is: Deb, I feel your pain.

I know my dad is probably ticked that he never thought to do something like this during my years as the Crimsonette Captain in the Million Dollar Band. Instead, he attached speakers to the top of his Suburban and would roll up to the band practice field on game day mornings with "Yea Alabama" blaring. I'd be standing at silent attention - with the 300 other band members - and hear the elephant stomp then roar that precedes the "da-da-duh-da-da" preamble of the fight song, and think, "Oh God, save me now." Everyone knew the peppy speaker music meant "here comes Rebecca's dad." His ill-timed arrival was once so bad as to prompt band director Kathryn Scott - who, all things considered, always loved me - to stop the rehearsal and make an announcement from her tower podium that there can be no band music projected onto the field other than what is coming from the band members' instruments, (note her eyes darting to me and resting in a short, albeit deadly, glare). I wanted to die.

But my dad's most infamous point of pride was his video camera. If someone's reputation can precede him, then my dad's video camera was that. Friends would squeal "am I on a Mummert movie?!" and band members who stood near me on the field would say if they ever lost their pictures, they could just call Mr. Mummert for a full lifetime video of their performances with the band. Daddy videoed practice, getting ready, the pep rally on the Quad, marching to the stadium, even running to their stadium seats to be ready to film the pre-game show and halftime performance. He didn't miss a beat (and honestly, I was furious if he did!)

I didn't realize the extent to which others had recognized my dad's devotion to my involvement with the Million Dollar Band until Halloween of my Senior year. The band usually dressed up for practice on the day of Halloween, and the costumes were always very creative and over the top. This particular Halloween I arrived at the band field for practice and several of the Crimsonettes were miffed because the piccolo section (all girls except one guy) had come dressed as Crimsonettes - big hair, red lipstick, stuffed bras, and they were even acting like us by walking in little groups doing laps around the band field, something we did every day before practice. I laughed and just hoped they didn't really make fun of us, and then I said, "Oh gosh - don't tell me Bradley dressed like a Crimsonette too?!" We all laughed thinking of him dolled up in a wig and sequins. When the piccolos came over to declare the peaceful intentions of their mocking costumes, they were beaming to unveil the crowning glory of their Crimsonette replica - the pseudo Crimsonettes parted to reveal Bradley holding a video camera to his face and wearing a pin that said "Rebecca's dad". I laughed until my cheeks were sore and my sides hurt, and I knew my dad would be so proud to know his persona was now iconic.

Sad Excitement

After nine wonderful days of being at home, I was a little sad to be leaving. I hate thinking that in a few hours I'll be flying away and won't see my family again for a few months. It makes me want to slow all the minutes down and really soak it all in - having my mom dote on me, listening to my dad give me instructions, sleeping in my very own big bedroom, hopping in my car to go meet friends...it's funny how easily I smooth back into life in Birmingham.

As my parents drove me to the airport, I tried not to think of all the things I would miss, but instead to think of all the things I was looking forward to...like Jackie and Ansley visiting, the Alabama football party later that night at Mercury Bar, and New Years Eve. As if on cue, as we neared the airport, I received a sweet text message from Cameron that said something to the effect of "I miss you! Hurry back! " I realized I missed her too! I missed New York and the streets and buildings and people and excitement and cold. I even missed the subway!


With my MBB Julie at the airport - I AM LUVNU!

What better time for a family photograph?!

As I settled into my seat on the plane, I looked out the window to spot my family sitting in the airport waiting to watch my plane take off, as they always do. Although I was so excited to be getting back to New York, I couldn't help but let a few tears fall. No matter what thrills and fun are waiting for me there, it swells my heart to know what great love I have waiting for me at home.

~~ Need a break for a few tears ~~

Thankfully, I had a welcome committee waiting for me at baggage claim in New York:


My best friends Ansley and Jackie...

with a little sign that got a lot of attention:

Silly girls! But what a fun welcome back to New York!

Snowflakes

Unique, beautiful, glorious, delightful, refreshing...seeing the faces of my dear friends while I was at home was as wonderful as watching snowflakes fall from the sky. I'm wishing I'd made pictures at each lunch, coffee chat and dinner to make this "snowflake" montage complete, but if you don't see your face here, know that I loved the time we spent together!


There are lots better pictures to choose from, but this one makes me laugh! Love you, Tol.


Nicole and Jessica - New York girls at heart.



Amy, Melissa, Leanna and Vivi - Auntie Rebecca loves you all! :)



Crystal being too sweet for her own good - Roll Tide!


Beautiful girls...inside and out!

Precious Amy - always a faithful friend.

"Love ya, yeah, yeah, yeah!"

I had never traveled via public transportation around any major holiday, except for my recent train ride to Connecticut on Thanksgiving Day - when I waited in the ticket line for 45 minutes, and the activity of Grand Central Station lived up to the chaos its name implies. But, other than family car rides up Interstate 65 to Decatur or Tennessee, or the short hop on Interstate 59 from Tuscaloosa to Hoover, my travels home for holidays had never really been what I would classify as a "travel", just a mere shifting around in the state of Alabama.

This year though, as the Christmas holidays approached, I excitedly swapped travel dates with other New York friends also counting the days until they were at home. Some only got short four or five day vacations before heading back to the city for work. I was one of the lucky ones - "Yep, nine whole days at home!" I'd proudly announce, and then bask in the glow of thoughts of warm Alabama and my parents house festive with Mama's many Christmas decorations.

I flew home on Friday, 12/21 - a day deemed the busiest travel day of the year. I was fully braced for hassle after hassle - from hailing an available cab out of the city to gridlock on the streets and the airport security line. But everything was smooth sailing - I even left the apartment Friday morning on time (there's a first time for everything!)

At the airport, one young boy stood out in the midst of all the pets, families and luggage. He skipped, marched and sang his way in circles all over the waiting area, fully unaware that a parade of bands, floats and clowns was not following behind him, only his weary father scrambling to keep up. Finally, the father said, "Want to listen to the Beatles?" The little boy's legs immediately folded under him, and he plopped in front of a laptop computer. I laughed to myself knowing the father was surely relieved, and then I wondered if the boy would be listening to THE Beatles or if there was some new cartoon called the "Beetles," like the "Wiggles." I didn't really care what it was that calmed the little boy, I was just glad to stretch my legs out without fear of being trampled.

A while later, settled into my seat in the plane, I heard a little voice shout into the completely quiet cabin, "Love ya, yeah, yeah, yeah! Love ya, yeah, yeah, yeah!"

The words from that little voice answered my question, and they certainly brightened the faces of many tired travelers!

A Roll Tide Christmas

The University of Alabama NYC Alumni Association hosted its Christmas party at Cafe St. Barts by the Waldorf Astoria. I had such a good time! I kept thinking of how I've only known these people for a short time, but we are a close little community of Alabama friends.






Friends at the party.


President Witt and Mal Moore talked about the goings-on of the University and the fabulousness of the New York Chapter. :)

Thanking Bulleit for sponsoring the party!

Sweet Home Alabama

Coming home for the first time after being gone for FOUR months was so exciting! I'd been anticipating it for several weeks - making plans to see friends, shopping for cute outfits, and trying to rest up so I could be on the go while I was home. The rest request was definitely answered because I got sick about a week and a half before the trip home. For days all I felt like doing was lying around and blowing my nose!

October 4th finally arrived! I left the office at lunch time to get to La Guardia for the 2 PM flight to Birmingham. My coworkers escorted me down the office elevator and to the street - giving me hugs and well-wishes home...I guess they were as excited as I was for the trip since I'd been talking about it so much!

My flight arrived around 4 PM, so I thought the plan was for Daddy to pick me up since the rest of the fam would be at work. But, come on people, this is the Mummert's we're talking about!



As I walked up the terminal, there stood everyone in the same spot as I had last seen them four months ago! I was a little bit embarrassed to see that in addition to the cameras and video camera there were also "Welcome Home" signs! But the little gang looked so cute I just had to laugh!


This is classic!!!


Julie and her "Welcome Home Beta!" sign...the glitter, flowers, and meowing cat are too much! :) (And I love Elizabeth's "Razzle Dazzle Returns", but I don't have a good picture of it!)

I spent Thursday evening at home...drove a car for the first time since I left!, twirled baton in the driveway, ate lots and lots of food Mama had spent the week preparing, and loved hanging out in my bedroom which felt so HUGE I could not believe it!

Friday I went to Tennessee to see my Grandma Mashburn, and I stopped in Cullman to see my Mummert grandparents. That evening I met up with a bunch of girlfriends - it was so, so sweet to have everyone together in the same place! I talk to them by email and phone so much I didn't feel like anything was "new" between us - just good to see them in person!







Spent Saturday at the Alabama Homecoming football game and was so happy to see all my Crimsonette and Million Dollar Band buddies. Sunday I went to Briarwood and got to have lunch with a bunch of those sweet friends. Later that afternoon I visited Elizabeth and Chris at their new house - it was so cute! Sunday night my girls came over to the house to visit and eat, and we had such a good time.



I couldn't believe the whirlwind weekend was about to be over. I didn't want to look at the clock and see it was getting late - my flight left Monday morning at 6 AM, and I still hadn't repacked my suitcases with winter clothes! Thankfully, star packer and organizer Julie stayed up late and packed me once again for New York...what would I do without you, MBB?!

The main thought from the weekend at home was that I didn't feel like I'd been gone for four months. I did, but I didn't. It was so weird. For the most part, things looked the same and felt the same - I enjoyed driving too fast with the radio turned up; I enjoyed having my own big bedroom and bathroom; I enjoyed being around my family and friends. It was like nothing had changed. But Saturday in Tuscaloosa as I sat enjoying the football game just like "old times" in surroundings so familiar, I got two phone calls from New York friends inviting me to go out later that night. It was the first time I realized New York was real and not just a dream I'd been in the last few months. With a little bit of saddness I turned down the invitations. I looked around at my family and all the football fans, and I smiled knowing I have two lives I really love.