The one where Miles scares the jeebes out of me.

The beginning of our adventure is here. Aaron made it to the airport and DC with no problems, other than extreme sleepiness and frustration. I took a big fat nap and got dressed for Steffanie’s party. I had a reasonably good outfit, a fabulous new haircut, and my favorite shoes. I was set. Traffic on 75 ruined my plans to drive to Melanie’s house and go to the party with her. I headed back to the in-laws’ house, only to get lost. (Darn new construction.) I finally got directions and was on my way. Due to poorly labeled roads I was about a half hour late, but once I got there all was well. I’ve been stressed out about this party since we started planning it in September, and despite a venue change it went off without a hitch. The food was wonderful, the company was good, the bridesmaids’ dresses were beautiful. I got lost of compliments on my hair, which was reassuring, and really enjoyed being adults with the friends I’ve had since childhood. Sunday morning. I left Miles with my mother-in-law and headed for my parents’ house in Mesquite. They were decorating the tree that night, and I was thrilled to be a part of it. About halfway through the decorating, Aaron calls. He’s just heard from his mom, frantic. Miles had gotten out. OUT. She’d taken him out in the yard, and he’d squeezed himself through a loose board and was gone. Loose in the dark, in an unfamiliar place, in the cold. GONE. I had no idea how much I loved that dog until he was missing. I felt like my heart itself was out wandering the streets, and I couldn’t rest until it was back where it belonged. My mom and I immediately went to their house and started combing the streets with flashlights and treats, calling his name. Four hours later, there hadn’t been a trace of him. We had to leave so my mom could go to work the next day. I was sick. Early Monday morning, I was up making copies of a lost dog flyer. (Thanks to the wonderful Kinko’s guy who didn’t charge me.) While Aaron’s mom hung the signs, I kept looking. Called the pound and the vet. Put a notice on Craigslist. Not a trace of that dog anywhere. I was starting to lose it. Walking down the street, crying. Jumping out of my skin every time the phone rang, desperate for it to be someone who’d found him. I picked Aaron up from the airport and we continued to look. We’d decided to stick near the house, unsure of where else to go. Around 5:00, we took a break. I felt completely defeated. I couldn’t just sit around. I left to walk the neighborhood again, and Aaron’s parents went to check out a new neighborhood in the general direction we thought he’d taken off in. While we were walking, Aaron’s phone rang. Aaron: Hello? What? You’ve got him? I have never moved so fast in my entire life as I did getting back to the house and into the car. His parents gave us directions and we were on our way. Miles is not a big fan of any people who aren’t Aaron or me, so Aaron kept his dad on the phone and told him things to say to get his attention without actually approaching him. We found him sniffing around in a yard. I called his name, and he sprinted toward me. I picked him up and Aaron got the leash on him. He was filthy and smelled like garbage, and was covered in twigs and burrs. We got him home and bathed, watered and fed. That dog drank like I’ve never seen him drink before. And then, he slept. And slept. And slept. He’d been gone almost exactly 24 hours. For those hours, I was like a shell of myself, walking around in a daze imagining all the terrible things that could be happening to him. My heart was completely broken. Monday night, it was raining and sleeting. If he’d been out in that, I don’t know what I would have done. So now he’s home, safe and dry and warm. He’ll be on the leash anytime he goes outside for the rest of the trip. He’s shaky and scared, but he’ll make it. And so will I.

You have got to be kidding me.

So. I know I said I was taking a break from the internet while we’re in Texas. And I fully intend to. Starting tomorrow. But the last three days have been so unreal that I had to write everything down before I forget all the gory details. The plan was to leave Nashville around 5 on Friday afternoon, which would put us in McKinney at 3 in the morning. Aaron would be able to get a few solid hours of sleep before leaving at 10:30 AM for the Washington DC and the Cowboys/Redskins game Saturday morning. I would be with Aaron’s parents all day Saturday, which would give Miles time to adjust to the new digs before I left for Steffanie’s engagement party that night.

To recap: ETD: 5:00. Dallas ETA: 3:00 AM. The trip got off to a bad start. We both worked longer than we’d intended, and we didn’t leave the house until almost 7. Aaron had received a few Best Buy gift cards and had some cash from a side job he’d done, and he wanted to buy a portable DVD player for the car ride and the plane on Saturday. No problem. We head to Best Buy. Aaron went in while I waited in the car with Miles. He’s not a bad car dog, but anytime one of us leaves, he panics. Aaron was inside for probably 30 minutes, and the entire time Miles ran from window to window, frantically trying to find him. Finally, Aaron made it back and we were on our way. Or so we thought. Five minutes later, just as we’re getting on the highway, Miles throws up in the backseat. Gross. We take the next exit, get him and the car cleaned up, and get back on the road. We get a little further, and he does it again, then again before we manage to find an exit. When we do, we’re in an unfamiliar part of town, looking for a place to pull over and clean up. It’s now 8:30. Dallas ETA: 6:30 AM. We make our way to a Target. Aaron starts to clean while I go inside to see if they sell any kind of dog car sickness pills. They don’t, of course, but I do find a very helpful clerk who pulls out the phonebook, finds a pet store, and gives me a phone number and directions. We book it across town, find the store, buy the pills. Miles won’t take them. I go into a fast food place and beg for a piece of cheese. After a few failed attempts, Miles gets it down. About an hour later, he’s finally asleep. We’re on the road. It’s now 10:00. Dallas ETA: 8:00 AM. Around 11, near Jackson, we see flashing lights in the rearview. Aaron gets pulled over. Ticketed for 80 in a 70. It’s now 11:30. Dallas ETA: 9:00 AM. The bulk of the trip was pretty uneventful, other than unbelievable bouts of sleepiness. What is usually 4-hour driving shifts became 1-hour shifts, as neither of us could keep our eyes open. The continual stopping combined with an overall slower driving speed added at least an hour to our trip. When we hit Texarkana, we were beyond exhausted. We were delirious. It’s now 6:00. Dallas ETA: 10:00 AM. I took over driving responsibility somewhere in East Texas. Once the sun came up and I got some coffee in me, I was feeling pretty good. We hit Princeton, 10 minutes from home, around 9:00. I’d made up some time. We were good to go. And I got a flat tire. Five miles from home, and we’re rendered immobile. We’re across the street from a tire shop that isn’t open. Aaron puts on the spare and we wobble the rest of the way. We hit McKinney at 10 AM, and Aaron barely has time to brush his teeth before he’s out the door for the airport. Now, I’m not one for signs and omens, but… the trip mileage when the tire went flat? 666. Hmmm…

Well it's Christmastime, pretty baby.

It’s finally time. I am not ready. This afternoon we’re packing up and making the 10-hour drive to Dallas, and Christmas will finally be upon us. I have one week to do ALL of my shopping. Yikes. Online capabilities will be sketchy while we’re there, so I think I’m just going to take a couple of weeks off from the internet and computers. Get some fresh air. See some daylight. Christmas in Dallas is always frantic and full of madness, so I promise to come back with stories and pictures. My dad’s Christmas village has taken over the entire gameroom and is slowly creeping into the rest of the house, and there’s no telling what the Homies will be up to this year.

So here’s wishing everyone a wonderful Christmas, full of joy and laughter and family. And some pictures, because they make me happy.

I must protect this house.

A couple of weeks ago, there was a really disturbing story on the news. Essentially, two people were murdered in an apartment not terribly far from us, and it was so bad that the cops couldn’t even tell what had happened. They had no leads on who had done it, so as far as they knew that person was out and about in the area. A few nights later, I woke up in the middle of the night. We sleep with our window cracked, and it was a windy night, so the blinds were making noise. In my half-awake state, I became convinced that the person who had committed those murders was in our house. I could hear him moving around, possibly even coming up the stairs. Did I call the police? No. Did I wake Aaron up? No. My mind immediately went to the self defense class I took in the spring. In that class, we learned how to defend ourselves if someone attacks us and gets us on the ground. We practiced how to get them off of us if they got us down on our backs and if they got us down on our stomachs. Still half asleep, I considered this. Which method was I better at? If you’re lying on your back, you’re to use your legs to knock them forward toward you, then attack the face: a poke in the eyes, fingers to the throat, a punch in the nose. Once they’re disoriented, you roll them off. If you’re on your stomach, you rock side to side until they lose their balance, push them off and kick them in an unfortunate place. When we were practicing these methods, I was much more efficient at getting people off my back. So. Murderer in the house. Sleeping husband and dog. He’s coming to get me. What do I do? Roll over on my stomach and go back to sleep. That way, once he gets into the bedroom and attacks me, I’ll be in the best possible position to get myself out of it. Of course, the noise I heard was just the wind and no one attacked me that night. Lucky for them, too, because I was ready.

Santa paper.

Every year since the beginning of time, Santa Claus has been a big deal in the Smith house. As soon as the news told us they’d spotted him in the US, we had to go to bed. We’d leave cookies and milk, write him letters with last-minute requests, and try to fall asleep as fast as we could. When we woke up, there would be a whole set of presents that hadn’t been under the tree the night before. These were special gifts. Santa gifts. Wrapped in special Santa paper. Every year Santa had new paper, with his face printed all over it in various colors or patterns. It never occurred to me that maybe Santa was a little self-absorbed. I remember very vividly the day I learned there was no Santa. I was probably 7 or 8. I had my suspicions, of course… my school was full of the hoodlums who like to ruin things for everyone else. But somewhere inside, I still had hope. We were at my Aunt Susan’s house a couple of weeks before Christmas. I was walking down the hall, and I heard my mom and Uncle Charles talking about Santa. I stopped to listen, and then she said it. “I still need to buy this year’s Santa paper.” What? MOM buys the Santa paper? How could that be? My suspicions had been confirmed. My parents had been lying to me. I needed to confront this issue right away. I threw open the door and stormed in, pointing at my mom. “I KNEW IT!” She calmed me down, apologized for lying, and asked me to keep quiet so Chelsea could enjoy the Santa lies a little while longer. I agreed. I don’t think I was too crushed by the idea that Santa didn’t exist, but a lot of the magic of the Santa paper was lost. Santa paper, by the way, still exists. 25-year-old Brandi wakes up to new gifts in special paper with tags from Santa, just like 7-year-old Brandi did. Only these days, we shop for the Santa paper together. (With my mom, not Santa. He doesn’t exist, remember?) There is a long and laborious process that goes into determining which gifts are deemed Santa gifts, one that has been perfected over the years and only makes sense in the mind of my mother. Despite the trauma it caused me 20 years ago, Santa paper is special.

It's hard to be beautiful.

I cut my hair today. I've needed to for AGES. I went to a funky salon, went with whoever had an opening, and let him do whatever he wanted. BEFORE:

AFTER:

(Please ignore my goofy expression. Focus on the hair, people.)

I'm... undecided. It's shaggier than I think I like, and the bangs kind of freak me out. But it has STYLE, something I've been severely lacking for a long time. Maybe once I wash and style it myself I'll feel better about it. But it's done, and it's a definite improvement over the nothing I had going on before!

Brandi and Miles' NIGHT OF BAKING!

Last night was my big holiday baking night. I made a chocolate peppermint cake and NINE DOZEN Rolo cookies. They were everywhere.

They were both new recipes, and things didn’t get off to a great start. The cake batter was extremely thick, and my hand mixer was struggling. (HINT.) I kept having to pull it out of the bowl, sloooooooooowly, to get the batter back in the bowl. If I pulled it out too fast, batter went everywhere. But it turned out really good, even cleanly coming out of the pans, which never happens. They were pretty. The cookies were a sticky chocolate batter that was wrapped around a Rolo. The recipe said to flour your hands and they weren’t kidding. The first dozen was a real struggle; once again, batter was everywhere. But by the third round I had a system down, and I whipped them out pretty quickly. And can I just say? SO GOOD. Chocolate cookies with caramel centers and chopped pecans on top. Holy pajamas. It was a long, messy night, and I finally made it into bed around 2AM. But all my office Christmas gifts are done, and I’m ready for tomorrow’s Christmas party, so the effort was worth it.

I also watched six episodes of season two of Gilmore Girls, which was totally fun. It’s neat to see the beginnings of Luke/Lorelai, even if I don’t think they’re that great now that they’re together. I ended on the episode where Jess wrecks Rory’s car and Dean realizes he’s lost her. I don’t remember how I felt about it when I watched it originally, but this time around I say good riddance. I never really liked Jess, but Dean was not a good boyfriend for Rory. He pulled the jealous/clingy card QUICK, and that’s no good. I can’t really remember how the Jess thing plays out, but hopefully there will be less Dean and I will like that. So here’s to cookies, Gilmore Girls and stand mixers.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

Well, the holidays are officially upon us. I just realized that I have one free evening between now and when we leave for Dallas. Scary. This weekend will be a fun one… my first official RMFO get-together, and the fabulous Andrew Peterson Christmas show. This will be my fourth year to attend the concert, and it is by far my favorite Nashville tradition. This year we potentially have backstage passes, which is almost more than I can handle. These artists mean so much to me; their music has been the soundtrack to my life for several years. I’m really excited to meet them, but am sure I’ll make a fool of myself and embarrass my husband. It’s what I do. Tonight is my big-time baking night. I’ll be making cookies for a cookie exchange as well as for gifts at the office. In addition, I’m making a chocolate-peppermint cake that I’ve never done before, but it sounds amazing so I’m giving it a go. I also need to do some last minute straightening before the dotnet girls start arriving on Friday. Aaron is really excited about having three girls he’s never met stay three nights in our house, let me tell you. (Actually, I think he is excited. He loves having people over, even his wife’s random internet friends.) After this weekend, it’s just four working days and two Christmas parties before we blow this joint. I’m ready to go home… this is the first year we’ve gone from Christmas to Christmas without visiting Texas. I miss it. I miss my parents’ house, with the giant Christmas village and the Homies and the Santa paper. I miss the Manes house, too, with the abundance of singing Christmas decorations and the scary wreath and Fox News on 24/7. (Okay, so maybe I don’t miss that.) I’m looking forward to catching up with old friends and shopping the way you can only in Dallas. When it’s over, I’ll be glad to come back to Nashville, to regular life and everyday friends. But this time of year makes me truly glad to have two homes.

Seven things.

I’ve been tagged by Susan. Seven Things to Do Before I Die (Lord willing): 1. Drive across the country. 2. Work in the paper/invitation/party planning business in some capacity. 3. See Europe. 4. Buy an old house and completely renovate it. 5. Have and/or adopt children. 6. Learn to really, really cook. 7. Read the complete works of C.S. Lewis. Seven Things I Cannot Do:

1. Carry a tune.

2. Be aggressive.

3. Parallel park or back into a parking space.

4. Successfully surprise Aaron.

5. Climb down. I can get myself up a ladder or tree with no problem, but climbing down is a real issue for me.

6. Get shots.

7. Style my hair. Seven Things that Attract Me to My Spouse/Significant Other:

1. The way he makes me laugh.

2. His ambition and passion for his work.

3. His glasses.

4. The way he remembers all the random little things I say.

5. How he so quickly became a part of my family.

6. The way he’s always just a little left of center.

7. The way he challenges me to see things differently. Seven Things I Say (or write!) Most Often:

1. fabulous

2. lame

3. oh really, fool?

4. sista

5. clearly

6. hey little man (to Miles)

7. I’m sure you are her biggest fan, but she just can’t come to your birthday party. I’m really sorry. Seven Books (or series) I Love:

1. Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis

2. Harry Potter!

3. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

4. Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner

5. The Chronicles of Narnia

6. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

7. The Wayside School Series by Louis Sachar Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again:

1. Almost Famous

2. Empire Records

3. Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion

5. You’ve Got Mail

6. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

7. Hands on a Hard Body Seven People I Want to Join in:

1. Aaron

2. Chelsea

3. Joy

4. Jon

5. Steve

6. Stephanie

7. Drea

Just say no to matching flannel pants.

While doing a bit of Christmas shopping at Old Navy this weekend, Aaron and I came across a couple in the pajamas section. They were wearing matching outfits – jeans and grey fleece vests. We were shopping near them and overheard their conversation. WIFE: Look! They have these blue ones with Santa Clauses for men and women. We can both get some! HUSBAND: Great! Do they have my size? WIFE: And we can get a pair for Ashley too. The whole family will match. Aaron and I have a long-running joke about things we would never do. For example, if I see a woman wearing a Christmas sweatshirt and matching earrings and matching shoes and matching purse, I say, “Will you still love me when I dress like a Christmas tree?” The question has taken on many forms, depending on the particular atrocity we come across. Will you still love me when I start calling waitresses ‘sugardoll’? Will you still love me when I display stuffed animals in my car windows? So while standing in Old Navy, observing the look of horror on Aaron’s face, the following conversation took place. BRANDI: Will you still- AARON: No. Didn’t even let me get the question out.

What a way to make a livin'...

In the last week I have had two work-related dreams. I try not to think about work when I’m not actually there, so this was a little out of the ordinary for me. In the first, I had just quit my job and gotten a new one at a big corporation. (I think this was related to my mom getting a new job.) The company was very particular about being punctual, taking exactly an hour for lunch, and had a very strict dress code. My desk was in a sea of cubicles, and all the people around me had the exact same job I did. As soon as I sat down at my desk (after getting a talking to for being late – shocking), I called Trisha (my current boss) and begged for my job back. I was really upset about not being able to wear open-toed shoes. In the second, I showed up at my current job and was promptly fired. I tried to stay through the end of the day but they wouldn’t let me. They said I’d promised I could get us on the Oprah show, but it never happened and therefore I was fired. End of story. At the end of that dream, I went home and told Aaron I’d been fired and he said I didn’t have to get another job and could just stay home all day. Now, I really like my job. It’s been stressful the last couple of weeks, which is probably why it’s been on my mind in my sleep. And I’m really not one to analyze dreams. So I’m sure the first dream didn’t mean that I am in the right place, and the second didn’t mean I need to be stay-at-home wife. But I woke up from each dream with very strong feelings along those lines. I have never felt like I know what I’m doing professionally… I don’t have some big dream job that I’m working toward. So it’s comforting in a way, thinking maybe subconsciously I know this job is a good fit for me and maybe I’ve found something I want to do. And even if it were doable (and as nice as it sounds), I couldn’t not work while we don’t have kids. But maybe I want to stay home when we do. Or maybe the dreams are just a sign that I need to spend less time thinking about work.