11 Things You May Not Know ...

"Do something that scares you today," she said. I did, on TikTok, I SAID IT! I shared a video from SXSW when I interviewed H.E.R. on the red carpet. But what the video doesn't capture, is how elegantly Gabriella helped ground me. (I was shaking like a leaf - it was my first time!) And how brilliantly she empowered me to embrace my fear. It wasn't necessarily something that could be captured on film. It was somehow both ephemeral and deeply palpable at once. But I'm quite certain those few moments will never completely leave me. I put my hands together that they never will.

So in that endeavor, I'm going to putter around with something scary:

ELEVEN THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW 'BOUT ME

Number 1:  Hot dogs are my love language. 

Number 2: I was in a movie with Mink Stole, Karen Black, Pleasant Gehman, Jane Wiedlin, Susan Traylor & Starina Johnson. I didn’t get a speaking part, though. Likely because I told the Director, who arrived on my doorstep (to secure my participation) early in the morning after a very late dinner party, that I wasn’t receiving unannounced guests at “this” hour. Which was not a tactic. I care more about manners than proximity to fame.

Number 3: I’ve yet to find a single morsel that can’t be improved by the addition of capers or hot sauce.

Number 4: In 2000, Coyote Ugly debuted in theaters. In 1996, as a bartender on Bourbon Street, I struck a deal with my bar back. I would dance the Macarena on top of the bar (Denim shirt/shorts and Doc Martins) to pull focus over to our side of the massive space. He would bartend. We’d split the loot. I retired in ’98.

Number 5: I wrote a book about cheeseburgers.

Number 6: I was abused as a child, and as a teenager. Assaulted as an adult. And have absorbed multiple traumatic bodily injuries throughout my life. When you pair the emotional abuse with the physical trauma, I’m not entirely sure how I survived at all. But I am profoundly aware of being protected by a source that is greater than myself. That being said… I have also had some success treating my own PTSD and no longer suffer from the more debilitating side effects of that illness.

Number 7: I did not finish College. But my friend Betty Sweet once looked at me and said "Ashley, a MORON can graduate from college." So, instead of pining for what I don’t have, I learned to celebrate the vast trove of valuable skills getting this far has bestowed upon me.

Number 8: I fully staffed the first Macon Film Festival in under 24 hours. We called it MaGa. So there are more than a few sentimental tees I’ll never wear in public again.

Number 9: I once attended “Pleasure Boot Camp” at Kripalu in the Berkshires. It was hosted by Regina Thomashauer who wrote Mama Gena’s Owner’s & Operator’s Guide to Men. I organized a semi-unauthorized Lake break-in (our homework was to bend the rules), late night skinny dip, clothing-optional hike (most of us tied our garments into a turban), and tea circle around a fire we made with the New York Times + hairspray. It earned me a title from my kindreds: The Martha Stewart of Bad Girls.

Number 10: I know more 90’s hip hop lyrics by heart than you do. So if you’re lookin’ to lose … you know where to find me podnah.

Number 11: I’m a judge at the Forest Heights Blueberry Festival Cook-off next weekend - 5/31. Who’s coming to see us???

I hope you enjoyed the round-up! Now you know. 

This Is An A&B Situation

The first very first treat on Becca Bloom’s TikTok is a touching girl-to-girl moment. Becca lights a candle (aka she had me at Hello!) and assures us that whilst “insecurity talks and jealousy whispers. We stay rooted.” Sign me the eff up, sustah! 

Welcome. Take off your shoes and get comfortable.

I’ve decided that I’ll let you in on a little secret. (Deep breath…) I’ve been a character actor in my own life for 17,703 days. I remember, as a little girl, having more wealthy friends tell me how lucky I was to tag along in their life. When I joined the Junior League, someone wondered (aloud and in front of me) who “pulled the strings.” Even in my family. An impending visit from someone else might trigger a banana pudding. But when I visit, making a list of chores has been customary. I was the go-to gal when someone couldn't pay full price (or at all) for a service they needed performed. And now as an adult and, geographically speaking, “new girl” I’ve been absolutely gobsmacked by the amount of who-the-f-does-she-think-she-is energy. But I’m not going to regret any of that. Ever. I love being supportive to the people around me. And, I want to be transparent, that does come with a healthy dose of “people are using your good nature against you, Ashley.” But I won't have much time for that any more. Because I’ve decided to accept another role - the lead. Yes. Today I’m writing to announce that I have been offered top billing. And I took it!

My casting agent? The Brilliant … Becca Bloom.

Last week, last month, or last year - at this point I couldn't say for sure, I tumbled into the burrow of an unorthodox influencer. And hooo-honey, she delivers the goods! The Van Cleef draped, Judith Leiber hot dog toting, professional diamond solitaire lifter ... is somewhat rightfully being compared to Marie Antoinette. In (I’ll give it) striking similarity if you distill some of the coincidences of context. And the very first thing I can tell you is that she gives the likes of the Kartrashians a run for their (quite literal) money. This isn’t spackled-together riche. It’ s an accurate snapshot of considerable wealth. And I'm here for it. Pookie, on the other hand, is probably packing all that Hermes into her Honda Pilot as we speak so Daddy Fang can’t hawk it. I digress. IYKYK. I’m not a big fan of "luxury" (emphasis on the quotes am-I-right?) influencer culture. I typically go for the Mom who’s down 255 pounds and wants to share her Chick-fil-A order. Or the middle aged darling who is building her interior design business one room in her own home at a time while working part time at the Hallmark store.

So how did I discover Becca? Because I’m fvcking magical that’s how. See how easy it is to step into that energy? Kidding. In all seriousness arriving at this particular spot almost killed me. But the view is fricking fantastic!

And how did Becca cast me in this new role? Well. I will say it was entirely unintentional. She was her. Breathtakingly so. But I saw me. And in this life, there is nothing more precious than a human who is gifted enough to hold up a mirror for you. Want to get to know us? Ok! 

Ladies like us .........

Love a magnifying glass. Lady Detectives through and through, the game is nearly always afoot. We know that “scientific lab coats” are made by the likes of Brooks Brothers and come in satin piped Terry cloth that is cinched at the waist. We are forever ballerinas who are also v. good at mathing. (My AP Calculus group thought I was in the wrong exam room because I just “got” it and didn’t ever have to go to class.) We have an incredible work ethic and we respect the opportunities we’re given. Girl’s girls! We’re not going to let somebody’s crusty son get away with disrespecting you. Love to punctuate a moment with a Jellycat? You bet your sweet peach we do! We don’t overcomplicate things and love a chance to simplify a concept for others. Romance = Science. Twenty four hours in New York? Don’t knock it till you try it. That right there is a portal to another dimension and I’m not even sorta kidding. I have done it often.

You may find a rock collection in our purse. What? I said “we stay rooted” at the very beginning. We collect. For Becca: jewelry, sculptural handbags, and clothing. For me? Feathers, books, Limoges, and tiny white porcelain swans. We stay calm in stressful situations.  Nobody at this table is scared of an elaborate invitation!

Of COURSE she uses oysters as a ring dish.

Can you say Doppelgänger??? JkJkJk 

Photo: Becca Bloom's TikTok

We are Issey Miyaki wearing, binocular toting, hot dog loving, long term greedy gals. We understand if our Mother’s fortune teller tells us not to buy a house. We get it. We’re not buying that house. We choose our battles. Easily offended is easily manipulated. In the evening, you’ll most likely find us in Dior pajamas. Mine were my paternal Grandmother’s. We’d rather skip the after party to watch Love on the Spectrum. Speaking of LOVE… those (blushes) *secret Japanese enzymes* tho. We are up for a goldfish funeral, a friend celebrating 30 days no-contact with an ex, or a cat birthday but completely allergic to idiots. I’m certain that there are so many differences between Ashley Smith and Becca Bloom. But aren’t our likenesses so much more interesting?

I suppose, if I came here to say anything, that sentence right up there is it.

Mothers Day, typically a complicated day for me, was a dream. The Mister made breakfast. I met up with The J’s for pedicures. Got silly with Little J in TJ Maxx. Had a brilliant Dinner at George’s Lowcountry Table. And watched Throw Mama From The Train - his Mother’s request. They are ... two sweet peas.

I started to call it irony that Becca was the one who gave me this little enormous nudge. But I don’t want to rob her of her influence. No not that kind. The other influence: depth of character paired with sparkling intellect.

All of my Gratitude B. Xo, A

No Country For Los Bastardos

“Do not burn yourselves out.” Edward Abbey advises. 

“Be as I am - a reluctant enthusiast....a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies… 

You will outlive the bastards.” 

As keeping Gordon Lamb safe and sound is - in every single-solitary one of my days - among my tip-top priorities… I’m always excited to find something that allows me to coax him away from the screen, the numb-ahs. A couple Saturdays ago, Jamie Anderson, our friend over at Hey Neighbor Mow & Clean came in with an assist. And… PSST! Follow them on Facebook dear one because who knows when he’ll do another giveaway that offers YOU a chance to get out and “keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body.”

(Was going to use the “sweet and lucid air” bit but - you know - hundred thousand percent #TooSoon.)

Anyhoo! Before the Pollengeddon of 2025, I won tickets on Hey Neighbor’s Facebook page to… drumroll… Goat Yoga!!! Which we couldn’t stop singing to the tune of the Hot Pockets jingle, but I digress. Point is, it was an absolute gas! Pregnant goats, baby goats, goats that ate Gordon’s hair. There was even a little goat that could Crip Walk. It was part of a larger story as an intro to a body slam. But somehow still V. demure. I barely even hit a child’s pose. Too busy fully immersing myself in outliving “the Bs.”

And it’s a good thing I’m on top of the keeping Gordon around as long as possible sitch because he has been full of surprises lately! A benefit at Johnny’s Ramp was SO CHIC! that I could hardly stand it. Peep my instagram stories for a peek. And then he insisted that I take the Mabry girls to dinner at The Peacock for: mocktails and short-rib hummus and spiced fries and kebabs - oh my! I’d tell you the flavors of the exquisite ice cream we ordered to close out the fancy feast but I’m guessing I had already blacked out on fresh, warm pita because I am simply coming up with zilch. But on Sunday, he outdid himself. And took me to church. 

We’ve been hoping Tobe Nwigwe would land in Atlanta for a few years. And he did. Or so I thought. You see I was under the impression that we had to miss Tobe because he played Atlanta while we were in Austin. But Mister Lamb, sly (stone cold) fox that he is, knew that particular performance was rescheduled and sneakily made sure that we had tickets. 

So there we were. At the Tabernacle. Listening to a man who can walk it, talk it, live it, and give it. And suddenly there it was, right in the palm of my hand - missing for what felt like so long . . . hope. And a prayer.

Click here: G's column will tell you A.L.L.  about it!