I'm crazy tennis-rackets-hands man! Gimme some candy!

We had a pretty successful evening of trick-or-treaters this evening. We probably had 30 kids or so, and they pretty much cleaned us out. The number of TOTers we get has grown steadily as the neighborhood has developed. (I can’t believe this was our THIRD Halloween in our house!) Because Miles barks his little head off every time the doorbell rings, he and Aaron watched Monday Night Football upstairs while I handled the kids, the wine, and the viewing of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Which, by the way, I totally loved. I was surprised at the number of kids who were being followed by their parents in a car. I understand (and like) that families come to our neighborhood who don’t live here, we’re one of the few in the area with well-lit streets and actual sidewalks. But it was a fabulous night, perfect for walking the ‘hood, meeting other kids and having a good time. Maybe I’m missing something, but it seems like it would be a much better option to park the car and walk. You get more time with the kiddos AND keep cars off the street when they are running around. At around 9, we figured we were about done with the festivities, and Aaron and Miles came downstairs. Not five minutes later, the doorbell rings. Miles, of course, goes nuts. I grab the candy and open the door to find a woman on the sidewalk and two girls halfway down the street. Miles goes running out into the yard. As soon as they all see him, we all start laughing hysterically… apparently Miles’ bark is quite scary from the other side of the door! They thought we had some huge dog that was going to tear them apart, not a scrawny 20-lb. fuzzball. I loaded their bags full of candy to make up for scaring the daylights out of them. HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Four GOOD things and one not-so-good...

1. We had a wildly successful dinner party last night, for which I am very thankful. I always panic when I cook food for other people… I have zero kitchen confidence, so when people compliment my cooking I always think they’re lying. But even I have to admit that last night was GOOD. Good food, good friends that we don’t see nearly enough. It was a great night.
2. Aaron’s birthday is TUESDAY! On the off chance that he actually reads this, I can’t explain why I am so very excited about this. But trust me, it is GOOD.
3. I got to talk to my sister-in-law Allison today. She is fabulous, and we don’t talk nearly enough. I never thought Aaron’s brother Brian would marry anyone I could be friends with, but Allison and I are scarily similar and I am so happy to be related to her. Having another sane person in the family is definitely GOOD. I don’t usually wish we lived in Texas, but I would love to be in Austin and be able to spend more time with them. Plus, she sent me the link to my favorite Saturday Night Live clip, for which I am eternally grateful.
4. Tomorrow we are hitting up the fabulously expanded Green Hills Mall with Steve and Jessi. Z Gallerie, the new big fat Davis Kidd, CHEESECAKE FACTORY. And in the spring we’ll have both a Kiehl’s store and a SEPHORA, which is super GOOD. If we get a Crate and Barrel in Nashvegas, I’m going to be out of reasons to go back to Dallas.
5. The men in my office have spent most of the day listening and talking about Carrie Underwood. This is not GOOD.

The one where Phoebe hates PBS.

I am very, very particular about gifts, both giving and receiving. I choose the gifts I give very carefully, always trying to think of the one thing that they would love but never think to ask for. Sometimes I am very successful. Others, not so much. And in those not-so-much instances, I am severely disappointed. As Aaron’s birthday approaches, I’m trying to put all of this in perspective. I have always struggled with gifts for him, since the first birthdays we spent together. It’s not that he’s hard to shop for – I can name ten things off the top of my head he would enjoy. But I put pressure on myself to give him the perfect gift. Not just any gift, but THE gift. So, every October, I stress myself out trying to come up with the one thing that will knock his socks off. (Note: none of this pressure comes from him. I could give him a book of McDonald’s coupons and he’d be happy. Well, maybe Popeye’s Chicken.) I’m realizing that my desire to give the perfect gift has less to do with bringing the recipient joy, and more with the desire to be the one that provided that joy. As much as I want them to be happy, I want to be the reason they are happy, too. I give selfishly. I find that I’m the same way when it comes to “Christian” giving. I tithe because we are supposed to, because I want to contribute to the work of God’s people on earth through the church. But I also tithe because it makes me feel good, because it brings me joy and comfort. I volunteer with youth because I have a heart for junior high girls, because I became a believer at that age and know how much of a difference the right influences can make when you’re 13. But I also volunteer with youth because it makes me feel like I’m doing something, and I love the feeling I get when I walk into a room and people are excited to see me. We are told when we begin youth ministry not to do it to feel cool, but I think we all want that, even just a little bit. It’s like the episode of Friends where Phoebe tries to find a truly selfless deed. Everything she thinks of has some sort of selfish side to it, even if it’s just the happy feeling you get for helping someone out. Phoebe: I just found a selfless good deed; I went to the park and let a bee sting me. Joey: How is that a good deed? Phoebe: Because now the bee gets to look tough in front of his bee friends. The bee is happy and I am not. Joey: Now you know the bee probably died when he stung you? Phoebe: Dammit!

If giving were meant to be truly selfless, with no positive repercussions for the giver, I think giving would be much harder to do. Paul says that God loves a cheerful giver, and being cheerful in your giving is certainly a benefit. I am clearly not there, as I am giving in order to be cheerful, rather than giving as an outpouring of my cheerfulness. I am working on that. In the meantime, I think I’ve finally hit the Perfect-Aaron-Gift jackpot. If he doesn’t love it, well, I’m sure I’ll be disappointed.

Love is just another word for home.

Less than two weeks after Aaron and I were married, we moved to Nashville. I had no friends, no church, no job. I knew one person, and he slept in my bed. That was it. It was really hard on me. The house my parents live in is the same one I came home to from the hospital. I went to school with the same kids for 13 years, many of whom I still consider good friends. I’ve always been surrounded by people. People I love, people who love me, people with whom I shared life. Nashville seemed foreign and cold, full of people who didn’t know or care about me at all. I was sad. (On the flip side, this time was really good for our marriage. Going out on our own and only having each other to depend on made us a strong couple, and fast. But that’s another post for another day.) Slowly, we met people. We got involved in a young married couples bible study. We made friends at church and work. We found people in similar life circumstances, people we could relate to and bond with. We had acquaintances, then friends. Then good friends. People who slowly became a part of our every day lives. Friends we could drop in on unannounced. Couples we could travel with and still be friends afterward. Families who would help us move in exchange for free babysitting. In the matter of a couple of years, we’d gone from a lonely couple in a tiny apartment to a vital part of a community. And before I knew it, I had a new family. It’s hard on me to be so far from my parents and relatives. Every single member of my extended family lives within 50 miles of each other. I grew up in a world of huge family get-togethers on every birthday and holiday. Now, we can’t be there for that. We can’t fly to Dallas for Easter, or New Year’s, or Thanksgiving. But we have family here with whom we can celebrate those occasions. We have huge Easter potlucks and blow-out New Year’s Eve parties and adopted cousin Thanksgivings. Recipes I’ve gotten from my Nashville friends are written in the family cookbook, right next to Nanny’s “You Won’t Believe It” cookies and Aunt Josephine’s fried chicken recipe that includes giving your husband the keys and a map to KFC. As I get geared up for the holidays, I look forward to traveling to Dallas with great anticipation. That family time means so much to me, and now that we’re so far away it’s the only face time I get with many of my relatives. I am planning parties for the high school friends and poker games with the grandparents. But at the same time, I look forward to celebrating with my Nashville family. We’ll have a spooky supper club next week and a mini-Thanksgiving and a blow-out New Year’s, as always. Those events and celebrations are as much a part of my life now as Christmas morning with my parents and Christmas dinner with Aaron’s. The holidays are a time for family, and I am beyond blessed to have such a large one.

Photo booth fun.

I made you a macaroni and cheese necklace!

I met Melanie in the 8th grade, when she showed up in first period athletics wearing the coveted potholder vest. Why we all wanted that vest so badly, I will never understand. We didn’t become good friends until high school, when she began attending Mimosa Lane with Kelley and me. We became fast friends, bonding over boys and teasing Kelley. Melanie was my “cool” friend – she’d had something of a wild life before she moved to Mesquite, and I felt cool by association. Melanie was my friend that ‘got’ me. We could talk about the things we would never say in front of Kelley. I would spend entire weekends at her house. We would create outfits and take pictures, discuss making out, and drink soda on the porch her dad built. (Mel’s mom always kept root beer in the fridge just for me.) I think they thought I was a good influence on her, and my parents found her a nice change from my other friends. Her house was where I went after a particularly hard breakup, because I knew that I could walk right in, throw my stuff down, and just start crying, and she would get it. She would give me a root beer and the chair with the big pillows and let me be sad. Every summer, my family had a family reunion in Oklahoma. It was a week long trip to the lake, and when we hit high school my parents started letting us bring friends. So for three summers, Melanie attended the annual Lake (youtrippa) Eufala Smith Family Reunion. She dutifully wore the family shirt, took pictures of the matching plaid shorts/hat golf ensembles my grandmother created for all the adults, sang along during the sing-along and watched the talent show. That she even stayed friends with me after witnessing such an event is quite a feat. One of my favorite Melanie moments was when we decided to “cook” dinner for our boyfriends, Ryan and Donovan. Mel and Donovan dated for a few years, while my relationship with Ryan consisted of one six-hour phone conversation and a month of nothing else to say. Our cooking consisted of buying takeout Chinese food and arranging it on the plates, and spooning store bought sorbet into fancy bowls with sliced fruit on top. We were so proud of ourselves for thinking to buy and slice that fruit, the one bit of actual food prep we did. At the time, there was so much boy drama in our lives, but looking back my favorite memories are of the girly times. The getting ready for dates, not the actual dates. The sleepovers after dances and parties. The makeovers and dance parties and gossip sessions. She was sometimes a hard person to be friends with. Something about her made everyone want to be her best friend, and she knew it. It was hard to hold onto that top spot. We started to grow apart in our senior year… she’d found a new crowd, and at times it felt like Kelley and I were left in the dust. The sting from the drama of that year carried over into college, and for a couple of years we didn’t talk much at all. Her life and mine had taken very different turns, and maintaining that friendship was a low priority for both of us. I harbored a lot of bitterness during that time. I felt abandoned, and it was hard to watch her make the choices she did. We were in each other’s weddings, sometimes I think just because it felt like we were supposed to be. At the time there was still an air of the struggles we’d had during college, but looking back now I’m really glad we were there for each other. It wouldn’t have been right for her to not stand in my wedding – she is a defining person in my life, and a lot of who I am stems from her influence. Our adult friendship is still forming. We haven’t spent more than a couple of hours together since college, and I haven’t seen her in over a year. But we talk regularly, and our conversations are beginning to be less about the mundane details of life and more about the big picture stuff. It’s comforting to me to see her becoming an adult, and I think it helps her to know that I struggle with the same things she does. We are on the road to recovery, and I feel confident that as we get older and slightly wiser, our friendship will continue to develop. It’s nice to know that Melanie, who was such a huge part of my life for so long, will continue to be in it in the future. I really should thank her for attending those reunions.

Happy birthday, Chelsea!

Chelsea’s a girl who’s now 22 My sister, she is, and a faboo one too She loves Harry Potter, Quidditch and Ron She likes to read books sitting out on the lawn She’s grown up so fast, how quick the time flies She once wore pink glasses to help with her eyes She’s funny and silly, a smart one is she But at DDR she could never beat me At work she’s a host, helps people eat steak With this gift a fine steak she will soon learn to make Someday she’ll take pictures to earn her some dough To travel the world, oh the places she’ll go I’m so glad I know her, she makes my heart smile I wish she would come here and hang for a while I hope that this birthday’s the best she’s had yet And this really bad poem she won’t soon forget. Happy Birthday, Chelsea! Sorry for the lame poem. Sometimes it is glaringly obvious who my father is. I love you, girlfriend!

They took me, and they beat me up!

(This week has been full of conversations with old friends. In honor of that, the next few posts will talk about those friends and how special they are. Post titles are the first phrase that comes to mind when I think of them.)

___________________________________________________________ I met Kelley in 1986, in the first grade. I don't remember a lot about the early years of our friendship. I was kind of a mean kid in elementary school, the bully's sidekick. I had a tight circle, and we weren't too keen on letting other people in. Kelley was one of the kids who always wanted in, but never quite made it, if I remember correctly. I always felt bad for her, but my desire to hold my spot in the circle always won. When we hit junior high, everything changed. Middle school is such a defining time in your life - all of a sudden everyone has a label and a category, and it's really hard to break out of that. Kelley and I fell into the same category: athletes. We were also in the same carpool, so we became fast friends. We had many adventures in carpooling... her mom hitting road signs, my mom making us late for school, waking up Callie and forcing her to get ready, Randa's dad blaring tejano music while wearing a sombrero. As athletes, we had volleyball games after school a few days a week. There was always about a half hour to kill in between, and that is when they held FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) meetings. I didn't know much about that, but I didn't have anything else to do, so I went. It was where everyone else went anyway. Through FCA, I started going to retreats and camps, and Kelley invited me to start going to church with her. It was such a simple thing for her to do, but it completely changed my life. Our friendship grew throughout junior high and high school, and definitely had it's ups and downs. While I always considered her one of my best friends, we really clashed a lot of the time. We both have pretty strong personalities and are quite outspoken, so we fought. A lot. But I always knew I could count on her, and I had complete trust in her. I never doubted our friendship. When I think about Kelley, I immediately giggle. She was the queen of silly. From talent shows that we made our parents' judge, to gymnastics contests on the trampoline (we were awful), to playing school and hotel in her playhouse, she was always ready with something fun to do. As we got older, it became spying on boys, using code names in notes, and silly songs on the bus. I'll never forget the stealth tactics we used to keep tabs on "The Guy Who Shuts His Locker." She was always singing, always performing monologues, always dancing. She was a flat out joy to be around. Kelley always came across as that naive Christian girl, the one who never does anything wrong. She was the one you hid things from for fear of judgment. Maybe that was unfounded, but I know a lot of us felt that way. But she always prayed for you, she always had a song for the occasion, she was at church every time the doors were open. I think I needed that constant in my life during those years, even if at the time it was really frustrating. At church, I was "Kelley's friend", even after I'd been there several years. It was hard to have my own identity, and I definitely resented that. But deep down, I think I knew even then that a lot of our problems stemmed from my own insecurities. I was thankful for her friendship. College was hard on us, and for a while I wasn't sure we would make it. Communication was sporadic, and our lives had become very different. But we did. The summer after graduation, I was proud to stand in her wedding, and to have her stand in mine. Now we live hundreds of miles apart, but I feel closer to her than ever. It's comforting to have someone who has known you for most of your life, seen you at your best and worst, and still wants to be your friend. We've been through our whole lives together: first loves, first kisses, losing family members, college, marriage, and now children. I still find it hard to believe that my friend Kelley, who once wore a mum with toothbrushes stuck inside it, now has a beautiful six month old son. I am so glad we made it through the rough times. I'm so glad adult Brandi and adult Kelley are friends.

Another Harry Potter post.

So I have now begun the fifth HP book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It is already proving to be darker than the first four, and I am very excited about that. One of my favorite things about the books is that the author doesn't write Harry to be a flat-out hero. She never forgets that he is also a teenage boy. We don't just watch Harry save the day, we also watch him struggle with who he is, get mad at his friends, lash out at the people who care about him. Things we all do, as teenagers and adults. It's frustrating sometimes, as the reader, because you can see how the things that make him so upset are actually protecting him. But at the same time, you can really feel how hard that would be. I liked the first two books, and really liked the third. But Goblet of Fire is the one that sucked me in for the long haul. You really feel like you are IN the scenes with the characters. In GoF, when Harry is waiting in the tent for his turn to take on the dragon, Rowling does such a great job of conveying his feelings that MY heart was racing and I was completely on edge. They have a hold on me, and I am completely drawn in. (Many thanks to Chelsea, for overnighting me Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince so I would be able to start it immediately after finishing OotP. You? Rule.)