Carrie Marshall
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We're moving to...

North Carolina!! Somewhere north of Charlotte. Bruce and I head there in a couple days to run around like mad finding a house. We officially move by the end of June. Thanks to so many of you who've walked through  this moving saga with us and listened, held my hand, gave me a glass of wine, fed me ice cream, etc. to help me take it one day at a time as we've waited in limbo land for several months.

We're excited to begin this new chapter in our lives and see what adventures await us. I'm excited to jump into a new music scene and yet still be close enough to Nashville to take advantage of what this unique area of the country offers.  We have prayed long and hard about this decision and it has been confirmed in a several ways that makes us confident in our direction.

I'm hoping that after all the transition settles down I can return to my coffee addiction in NC without any ill effects. (see previous blogs) I got a green tea latte at Starbucks today... my first trip there in quite a while. All I can say is there's something wrong with drinking hot, dark green liquids. It looked like someone had put spinach in a blender and poured it into a coffee cup. The good news is that I'm saving a bundle of cash now that I'm not frequenting a coffeeshop every day.

dreaming of coffee and waiting...

So, as those of you on my mailing list know, we've sold our house. Today is the big day when the inspector comes to tell us everything that's wrong with it. We wait with baited breath in this market - it's not over until the fat lady sings...or in this case, the stressed lady signs the closing papers. We are fairly calm, but hoping all goes smoothly and that nothing castastrophic shows up that would scare away our buyers.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here right now totally missing my java...my Dr. told me about a month or so ago to quit drinking coffee (even decaf) because of some annoying condition called acid reflux...he tried to scare me by telling stories about ruining my voice, burning the lining of the esophagus which can lead to cancer, blah, blah, blah... Does he know what he's asking?? My entire life ritual begins by stumbling out of bed and heading straight for the coffeepot. Just a few sips and the world is a much happier place! Tell me, what motivates you to get out of bed in the morning, because herbal tea is just not cutting it for me.



Bloggers are Cool

Hey, everyone!

So I recently read the fine print from my website host (bandzoogle.com...these guys are awesome) and found out that there's blogging potential that I've never tapped into. No more having to bear the weight of long, essay-like journal entries all by my lonesome. Now you can jump into the conversation and have a voice! So don't be shy - let us hear from you! This actually might help me to stop pontificating so much in my emails and otherwise...I said, 'might'. We'll see how this goes. I put my former journal entry into blogging format in case you want to chime in. Perhaps I'm too late on that account. I had so many of you share funny celebrity stories with me via email! I only wish I had this up so that all the rest of you could see.


And by the way, a big lesson learned this week has been, read the fine print. This is the second occasion in one week that I've been, well, pretty clueless about something that was staring at me in black and white!

I should've known better



So I was at the movie theaters with my kids this weekend, waiting in the lobby for my husband when who should strut right around me but Billy Ray Cyrus, Mr. Hannah Montana’s dad himself. He turned as he was walking by and stared at me directly in the face before he decided to keep going...I’m not sure if he thought I was someone he knew or if he needed extra attention as he was passing by (I was being my usual oblivious self). But it totally figures that when I run into someone famous I’m unshowered, in my brown, dumpy mom sweater, hair matted to my face because of the rain outside and wearing my well-worn flip flops. (what other shoes would be on my feet?) Shoot. My husband says I’ve conformed to the southern women’s ways of never leaving the house without first looking like your ready to head off to a wedding, but my run in with Billy Ray is proof that I still have my northern, ‘who gives a rip’ tendencies innate within me.

So I blew my chance of him being so struck by my person that he immediately would’ve said I need to be in his TV show and record one of my original songs with his daughter, which would then sell over one million copies and pave the way for my children’s college education, not to mention getting rid of our mortgage, allowing  Bruce and me to chase our dreams and travel the world without any financial hindrance whatsoever. Oh well. These southern girls are onto something. Lesson learned: I should always take a shower before heading out in public in Nashville.  Ya just never know who you might bump into.

Anyway, since Mr. Cyrus seemed to want attention, my daughter and I went ahead and gawked and looked around for his daughter,  Ms. Hannah Montana, Miley Cyrus. (We weren’t disappointed either…she was across the room chatting with friends).
I didn't tell my son, Wesley, since he would've shrieked with glee and run across the lobby to give them a hug or something. He still hasn't forgiven me for not telling him that Hanna Montana was only a few feet away from him.

I’ll just add this to my unofficial list of funny celebrity experiences I’ve had since living here…like the time I was sound checking with a band and Vince Gill and Amy Grant walked in and stood for quite a while, wondering who I was and what the heck I was doing on their stage (they were in the wrong place)… or the time I sat next to a gal at a banquet and talked her ear off, congratulating her on how awesome it was that she had just traveled Europe alone, assuming she was staying in youth hostels across the continent like most young college age kids do. I soon found out she was the star of her own television show on ABC Family, (which for the life of me I’d never heard of, but I don’t watch much T.V.  – just Hanna Montana and Lost.) This gal wasn’t interested in staying in youth hostels and riding her bike everywhere. She was staying in incredibly posh places all across Europe and meeting with friends and all sorts of film people, while drinking lots of expensive wine.

Anyway, I'll stop there for now, even though I have more embarrassing 'Carrie had a run in with a celebrity' stories. Maybe I could make this a weekly column. But I have to maintain some semblance of dignity. Hey, do I know how to make an impression, or what?



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April 21, 2008

Okay...so it's been a little while since I've journaled...I just wanted you all to get the feel for what my actual journals look like. It's a lot like this - a couple entries, not too far apart in the time/space continum...and then nothing. Just a fancy book filled with blank pages. My husband asked me recently why I keep a journal if I never write in it. I thought that was a valid question, so here goes...another attempt at taking the time to write all the whirling thoughts in my head down on a paper...or a screen...you know what I mean. So with my first (re)attempt at journaling, I'm going to try not to sabatoge myself by feeling the need to capture all my thoughts. It would take forever, and be quite a discouragement for being a consistent journaler (not to mention a discouragement from anyone actually reading it.).

So today my one thought I wanted to share was a big thank you to Wally Nason of
Nason Music Group for inviting me to participate at a GMA showcase today at the Rutledge. I had a great time, met lots of new people and felt very affirmed in the direction that my new music is taking. It's been a while since I've taken the stage as an 'artist' singing songs that really reflect part of who I am. I've spent much of my four years here in Nashville in the songwriter track, honing the craft and trying new songs out on unsuspecting audiences at cafes/clubs all across town. But the songs I shared today are more of a reflection of who I am as an artist...lyrics that really matter to me and music that stylistically I relate to.  And it felt really good...I can't wait to do it again!

June 4, 2007
The True Shoe Story (the inspiration behind 'Walk In These Shoes")

So it happened again…I made another really dumb shoe purchase. You can’t blame me for not trying…I really thought this time I did it right. I put those shoes through a myriad of tests. I shopped with six other shoe saavy girlfriends and brought each of them in to get their opinion. I clomped around the store several times to be sure they were comfortable. I endured the snobby shoe saleswoman’s contempt as I deliberated my purchase. I inspected. I poked. I prodded. I left the store two times and then came back. And then I bought them…absolutely the most money I’ve ever spent on shoes in my life. But with a track record of wearing the same pair for eight years, I felt completely justified.

That was until I actually wore them outside the store. What was my downfall? The heels…all four inches of them…even if it was a wedge heel which greatly reduces the risk of ankle sprains and unexpected sprawls on the sidewalk. I’ve decided that a 5’9” person does not need to breathe in the air at that stratosphere. And I never noticed that most of the people in this world are under six feet tall until I towered over them at the airport, clanking around like the ghost of Jacob Marley (there were chains on the shoes that made a lot of noise…the salesperson assured me in the most haughty way that I could superglue them to the fabric if it bothered me).

By the time I returned to Nashville, got my bags and lugged them to the farthest end of the long-term parking lot, I truly thought my feet would be deformed forever. After a week, my back is starting to feel like it’s old self again, and my flip flops have never felt so good. My only consolation in this whole ordeal is that I love the song that I wrote about it with a friend of mine. It reminds me to laugh at myself and stay true to my ‘inner-granola’ personality. As my best friend from Seattle tells me, I’d fit right in with my Berkenstocks and Tivas in the Northwest.


March 27, 2007

I turned 36 yesterday. A milestone I had been dreading because it means that I’m now officially closer to 40 than I am to 30. And even though everyone tells me ’40 is the new 30’, it makes no difference because I still remember being a teenager when my mom turned 40 and thinking how OLD she was!! (sorry, Mom) To celebrate my day (since my husband was celebrating in his own way by deep sea fishing somewhere off the coast of Hiltonhead island...It was not his fault…his company made him do it.) I decided to go shopping.

Now contrary to the stereotypes of my sex, I’ve never been a great shopper. I read in a magazine somewhere that women are especially tuned in to handbags and shoes. That statement really makes me feel like I don’t fit in with womankind because I’ve always hated buying handbags and shoes. Don’t get me wrong, I like looking pretty and fashionable as any average woman…it’s just the plethora of choices and the time it takes to make the right one that puts me over the edge.  My favorite boots are the hand-me-downs that my sister gave me eight years ago. My favorite sandals (dare I admit this) are ones I bought on clearance at a Building 19 warehouse for $6 about six or seven years ago. Since I model part time, it’s expected that I keep up with the latest trends. This means that I have to occasionally go out and buy the most uncomfortable, pointy poky heels and practice walking in them without looking like I’m in pain or about to fall.  But I’m thankful I can write these purchases off on my taxes, since I still go back to my old, worn-out favorites for everyday use.

Yesterday on my big shopping spree, I decided it was high time I bought myself a new handbag. One that wasn’t too big and wasn’t too small. One that was trendy, but not over the top. One that made me feel young without being too youthful. I went to the store, reviewed my options and selected a nice beige bag with darker beige trim and nice detailing. I plunked down my money…more money than I’ve ever spent on a handbag in my life, but hey, it was my birthday and my husband was deep sea fishing. If ever there was a good time to do it, it was then.

My new bag made me feel alive! I was feeling kinship with all the experienced shoppers in the world! I decided, why stop there? I need new sandals. Sandals that are trendy but comfortable…sandals that wouldn’t cause other women to whisper to their friends and point if they saw me walking down the street. I tried on every pair of brown and black sandals in the store. I agonized and then selected what I thought fit the bill, forgoing the totally comfortable but unfortunately ugly “Born’s (the o is supposed to have a slash through it) and went with a more stylish option.

Well, today the truth is staring me in the face: both my purchases were a mistake. My fashionable sandals  had one strap that wanted to carve it's own niche into my toe  and they  slippery to boot (hey, like the pun? Didn’t plan that one.) A slight heel and slippery is just a disaster waiting to happen. My stylish handbag looks pretty frumpy without all the paper stuffing inside of it. It can’t even sit upright unless I decide to pack for a weekend away. What was I thinking? Guess the old adage is true…you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I’ve decided that at age 36, I’m still okay with my sister’s hand me downs and $6 sandals! Guess someone better call the fashion police!


February 5th, 2007

Snow days and Sickness

Well, these past few days have been very ‘de ja vous’ sort of days. With all three of my children now in school full time, I transitioned last fall into an ‘working mom’ kind of lifestyle after eight years of being home (I have a part time job as a children’s music director, as well as working some free lance modeling jobs to help pay for my musical endeavors.) Mommy working was a slight shock to all the family directly affected. This of course, was not helped in the least by deciding to get a puppy in the midst of this lifestyle shift, but we have finally established a new sort of rhythm to our family routines. And I’m discovering the wonders of the crock pot for having a variety of dinners other than Kraft mac and cheese or chicken nuggets (always a safe standby for my picky eaters).

But I have to say, this past week was a pleasant reminder of the ‘good ol’ days’. The weather turned bitterly cold and we even had a snow day (of course, in TN this just means that we had about an inch and a half, but it actually stuck to the roads and there are still patches of white to be found four days after the fact). All three kids came down first with colds (which they happily shared with me) and then two out of the three proceeded to get the flu. All of a sudden, I had to cancel all my meetings and obligations. My days became surrounded once again with making soup and muffins, dispensing medication, wiping little noses, catching up on all the laundry (which I don’t think I’ve been caught up since September) and hanging out all day in my sweats with no make-up and a ponytail. When this was my life everyday, how I yearned to get out in the grown up world! Now that I’m in that world every day, how glorious it was to step out of it and just be with my kids and catch up on a few Dora the Explorer episodes…even if it meant we had to have sniffles and sore throats to do it.


12/8/06

Nothing ushers in the Christmas season like a children’s pageant and nativity. This season I had the privilege (and the daunting task) of organizing our children’s Christmas event, called Carols and Cocoa at my church. Imagine bringing together on one stage about 18 wiggly preschool angels, 40 elementary aged children, shepherds, wise men, Mary Joseph, and a live baby Jesus (with a baby doll back up waiting off-stage just in case). We had narrators, soloists, musicians, an advent wreath and candles. Throw in some straw, hay bales, several mangled looking Christmas trees (which we thought gave our forest a ‘natural’ look) and a manger and the picture is complete. Needless to say, there were lots of details to oversee. And frankly, I’ve never been known for my organizational skills. I did a lot of praying and fretting over this program!

Miraculously, it came together. (why should I be surprised?). The evening was beautiful, the children sang gloriously and the live nativity was a gorgeous picture of our Immanuel, God with us, who was born in a humble stable amid smelly animals. And God showed up in an unusual way that evening. At the pinnacle of the program, with a soloist singing “O Wondrous Night”, the keyboard I was playing suddenly lost all power. I looked helplessly at the soloist. There was nothing I could do; no other accompanying instruments knew the song or had the music to jump in and pitch hit for me. The beautiful young girl glanced briefly at me, faced the blinding lights that bore down on her and sang her heart out as if nothing unusual had happened at all. It was the most moving aspect of the evening, there were tears in the eyes of some audience members and God whispered to me… “Carrie, you were worried about so many details and petty things. In your desire to do things ‘right’, you get in my way. I don’t need you to bring glory to myself.”

If America was going to usher in a grand and stately King of Kings, we would certainly do up it right. We have the glitz, the glamour and the money to drop in order to impress the world, ourselves and the one who was coming with our stylish worship of icons and important people. Jesus didn’t want the red carpet, impressive publicity stunts or the media circus. He didn’t want perfectly executed programs with smoke machines and impressive lighting displays, the pomp and pageantry. He came quietly and he lived in humility. And last Sunday, He reminded me that I need to do the same.

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the Once and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”  John 1:14





COME WHAT MAY

This song, also written a couple of years ago, never ceases to get an intense reaction from audiences. Simplistic in style, the sentiment resonates with many. The bottom line is, we all want to be loved and accepted. We look to one another, whether rightfully or not,  to fill that need. Especially in a marriage relationship, we enter in with high hopes and expectations that our lover and soulmate will accept us no matter what. Reality is, even with the best of intentions, we are human. We may try our hardest, yet we will still fall short. Unchecked, misunderstandings, selfishness and hurt feelings build such walls of bitterness and resentment between two people that the seemingly only resolution is to sever the tie. As I look at my own married life and the close encounter with divorce that my husband and I experienced several years ago, I recognize that it was only by God’s grace that He allowed us to peel back the layers of hurt and rejection to get to the root of our issues. In doing so, I could remember once again how my husband 'made me sing’…
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