Grey Mountain

2011-08-18T09:12:00.000-07:00

Moving announcement.

2006-04-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

This blog is moving! Please change any bookmarks, etc. to my new home at http://rmfo-blogs.com/brandi/. I've moved all my posts over from Blogger, and won't be updating here anymore. Go say hi!

Attention whore.

2006-04-05T13:15:00.000-07:00

Why it's futile to try to use the portable DVD player to watch movies in bed:

A wedding weekend play-by-play.

2006-04-04T14:58:00.000-07:00

FRIDAY: Our flight is scheduled to leave at 9:45 am. At 8:00, I turn on the news and see that the security scanners at the airport are broken, and they are having to search everyone’s bags by hand. This is causing major backups in the lines. Awesome. We get to the airport around 8:15 and get in line to check our bags. 30 minutes later, we get in line again to go through security.

The security line. That guy in the cap's flight didn't leave until TWO. He told everyone all about it. We were in line with him all morning. It was not awesome. AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, we get on the plane. Luckily, they were holding our flight for any passengers who had already checked in but hadn’t made it to the gate yet. Because of the delay, we miss our hour-long layover in Houston and have to go from gate to gate. Our much-looked-forward-to lunch at Pappasito’s in the airport is canceled. Bummer. We get to Dallas mostly on time and decide to find a place to eat. My attempts to convince Aaron to go to Le Madeline are futile. We end up at Chuy’s, an excellent alternative. Enchiladas and margaritas on the patio in the middle of the day… can’t beat it. I didn’t want to leave. We kept talking about how all the people driving by were totally jealous of us and how we had nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon than drink margaritas. Which they should have been, because it was pretty sweet. On the way to the hotel, we marveled at all the new construction downtown and how much we miss the big city sometimes. When we passed the old arena, I talked about how my graduation was almost held there. Aaron checked out because this is not the first time we’ve driven past said arena. We want to live in a loft in downtown Dallas. We want to live in a big house off Mockingbird Lane. I want constant access to North Park Mall and West Village and Mockingbird Station. We get dressed in record time, but still somehow manage to be late to the rehearsal. Being in Texas puts me back on Smith Time. The rehearsal is quick and easy… walking down an aisle is walking down an aisle. We pile into the bus that is taking us to the dinner. The dinner is very far away. We sit with Kelley and Kyle and Melanie and Michael, and feel bad about being the only non-alliterated couple at the table. Dinner is really fun, more than I thought it would be. Highlights for me were Kyle declaring that their next child will be an ‘outside kid’ and Michael’s extreme enthusiasm for the meatballs. Following a few emotional speeches (and a few inappropriate speeches from Jack’s cousins) we loaded up and headed back. Back is very far away. The bus ride home was much fun, including Michael hollering “I’M REALLY QUIET AND SHY!” and Kelley trying to delve into the depths of my brain to learn how I feel about stitches. (I haven’t really thought about them much.) Aaron and I both looked FABULOUS at the rehearsal. Unfortunately, I forgot to take pictures. But trust me. FABULOUS. SATURDAY: Aaron got up early to hang with his family, and I slept in and read the Observer and PaperCity before heading to the hotel to get ready. The hair and makeup ladies tried to make me look like a mix between Marge Simpson and someone’s crazy Aunt Eustace, but I remedied that as best I could. But can someone explain to me why they would tell us to come with day-old hair, and then complain that our hair is dirty? Also – I have extremely thick hair. I am aware of this – every stylist who has ever cut my hair has taken great pains to let me know. But y’all, I can’t help it. I don’t know what to do about it. Please just fix my hair. Because we had to be there by 11 and pictures weren’t until 4:30, there was plenty of time to wander the hotel with fancy hair and makeup while wearing sweats and button-down tops.

The ceremony area.

Bridesmaid's flowers. Aren't they gorgeous?

The wedding was beautiful and very sweet. Steffanie looked amazing. I’m afraid I distracted everyone with my shuffling (I was standing on a very uneven part of the floor) but I was assured that no one noticed. The pastor had very wise things to say, and was also very wise to keep it short. No one tripped or messed up any words or picked their nose in front of everyone. It was perfect. And the reception! Y’all, the reception was awesome. I have always said that Steff’s sister’s wedding was the most fun I’ve ever been to, But I’m afraid I’m going to have to move it into second place… we had a blast. I’m sure the food was good, but I didn’t eat anything off the buffet. I was too distracted by the MASHED POTATO BAR. Mashed white and sweet potatoes and every topping you could imagine. Served in a martini glass! It was fabulous. I want to have a mashed potato bar at all my parties. It was great to catch up with everyone – most of my friends’ parents were there, and I hadn’t seen any of them in ages. My friend Callie, who I’ve known since I was five and haven’t seen in almost four years, was there, and it was worth the entire trip to reconnect with her. She has always been one of my favorite people, and I am so glad we’re back in touch. The wedding provided us all a lot of time to hang out – usually when we try to visit people over the holidays everything is crazy and rushed, so this was a great time to really be together.

High school friends.

Me with Melanie, Steffanie and Kelley.

The Smith clan.

After they cut the cake, we all headed into the ballroom for a ‘surprise’ – Jack sang a song he wrote for Steffanie! I’d learned the night before that he could sing and play guitar, but I had no idea he was so talented. The song was really fun – not sappy and romantic but cute and funny. It was perfect for Steff.

(I didn't have the best angle.)

Once people started clearing out, the dance floor called. (I learned that it takes three full-ish glasses of chardonnay to get me on the dance floor with no inhibitions. I’ll always go out there, but I don’t venture past the edge. Unless, you know. Wine.) Callie, Cindi and I were in the middle of everything, dancing like crazy and trying not to get hit by Jack’s dad doing the splits. SUNDAY: Our trip back was mostly uneventful. We got punked by daylight savings and missed our freakin’ early flight. The next flight out wasn’t until 4, so we got to meet the family for lunch and spend a bit more time with them. I had excellent brisket and too-spicy potatoes, along with some awesome chips and salsa and some of Chelsea’s chicken fried chicken. Yum. But that could not compare with the meal we had in Austin. We had a two-hour layover, so Aaron’s brother Brian came to pick us up and took us to WHATABURGER! Y’all, I have been craving Whataburger for the last four years. Everytime we go home, I forget about it. But Aaron brought it up in Austin so there we went. And it was heaven on a paper wrapper. I want to go back right now. Overall, it was a great weekend. I was so glad to be a part of Steffanie and Jack’s wedding, and everything was so smooth and fabulous and beautiful and mashed potato-y.

I saw the naked man.

2006-03-30T14:05:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow morning we head to Dallas for the wedding of my good friend Steffanie. I realized today that when I was writing about my friends from high school, I never got to Steff. That is a shame, because she is one of my very favorite people. I’m fuzzy on the details of how Steffanie and I got to be friends. We met in the 8th grade when she showed up at volleyball practice. Her parents had just moved from across town and she had transferred schools. She wasn’t there very long… after a couple of weeks she went back to the school she’d come from to finish out junior high. I don’t remember much about those times, but I do remember seeing her at volleyball tournaments and speaking to her. When we went to high school, there she was at volleyball practice again. She and I became friends pretty quickly, and she later told me that she approached me early on because she remembered me as being one of the only people who was nice to her when she was at our junior high. Honestly, I find that hard to believe, as I was not terribly nice in junior high. But I’m glad I was, because Steffanie is a joy to have as a friend. One of my favorite things about Steff is that she does her own thing. She, Melanie, Kelley and I ran together throughout high school. We all played sports the entire time, but Steff quit early on and got into all sorts of things. Dancing lessons, musicals, travel, languages. If she wants to try something, she tries it. If she wants to go somewhere, she goes. If she wants to change her major 14 times, no problem. Go from long brown hair to short spiky blond? Absolutely. There was drama in high school, as there always is, but we somehow avoided it. I may have struggled with everyone else, but Steff and I never had trouble. It was like our friendship was somehow above that. At the end of the day, we just wanted to swim and eat candy and watch movies on her parents’ big fluffy couch. My friendship with Steffanie was like a calm in the storm sometimes, and I am really thankful for that. Steffanie and I stayed good friends through college. Real friends, not friends who went to high school together and kind of keep in touch. We had similar frustrations with school, something that was a sharp contrast to the college experiences of our other friends. Steffanie became someone I could be real and honest with – not someone I felt I had to be my ‘old self’ with. We bonded over not knowing what to do with our lives, conflicting desires to stay home and go away, problems with the people we’d grown up with. I’m thankful to be able to say that I consider her a better friend now than I ever did in high school. Even though we don’t talk terribly often, when we do, it’s like no time has passed. I can say with full confidence that we would be everyday friends if we were in the same place. She’s the kind of friend that you can tell your meanest thoughts, and she won’t hate you. She’ll just laugh because she probably thinks the same way. I am thrilled to be a part of Steffanie and Jack’s wedding this weekend. I don’t know Jack well, but anyone who makes her that happy can’t be bad. I will put on my pretty pink dress and my strappy black shoes and pray with all my might that I don’t trip and fall on my face in front of everyone we know. And we will dance and drink and laugh, all to celebrate Steffanie. Because she is fabulous.

I didn't write a million posts today.

2006-03-29T10:14:00.000-08:00

Blogger has been giving me all kinds of trouble this week. I couldn’t get things to post correctly until this morning, and now everything I’ve tried to post this week is up. Strange.

You know grey is my favorite color...

2006-03-29T08:43:00.000-08:00

My favorite radio station, Lighting 100, is celebrating their 16th anniversary this month. To celebrate, they play a string of songs from a year in their history every morning. I really enjoy it, because sometimes it’s a little nostalgic, and sometimes it’s a glimpse of what I would have been listening to if I hadn’t been so lame at that point in my life. This morning, the year was 1994. In 1994 I was in 8th grade at Kimbrough Middle School, and slowly making the musical transition from the music that defined my junior high years (Boyz II Men, Shai, Mariah Carey) to the more rock-oriented tastes of early high school. I had a boyfriend named Randy who I broke up with after a few weeks because our names rhymed. I played volleyball, ran track, and played percussion in the junior high band, something I would quit after that year because sports were cooler. So. Year: 1994. Song: Mr. Jones by Counting Crows. I remember the first time I heard that song. I was at the 8th grade spring dance. I had just finished slow “dancing” with a guy named Lance, who I had only danced with because my friend who had a crush on him dared me to. (How do I remember these things? I also remember that Lance rode his bike to school and drank milk at lunch while the rest of us were chugging giant sodas.) Mr. Jones started, and everyone went crazy. Clearly, I was missing something. I loved it. It became my new favorite song on the spot. I went out the very next day and bought the cassette, and drove my parents crazy listening to it over and over and over again. It occurred to me this morning that August and Everything After has been in my regular rotation for twelve years. TWELVE. I can’t think of any other music that has consistently been a part of my life for that long. I pulled it out at work today and have already listened to it twice. It has some of my very favorite songs: Anna Begins, Sullivan Street, A Murder of One. But Mr. Jones, while possibly overplayed to many, will always be special to me. That opening guitar will always make me want to turn it up, roll the windows down, and sing at the top of my lungs.

The luckiest dreamers who never quit dreamin'...

2006-03-28T07:23:00.000-08:00

Last night I had a dream that we bought a new house. One of the contingencies of buying the house, however, was that you had to move in with the family who currently lived there. The family that lived in the house we bought? The Seavers. From Growing Pains.

Blast from the past.

2006-03-27T14:11:00.000-08:00

At lunch today, I was sitting at a stop light when I noticed the car in front of me. A bright yellow Ford Ranger with light covers. I immediately thought LAME, because I am a snob. But then I thought, wait a second. I’ve seen this truck before. Maybe not the exact truck, but one eerily similar. Driven by a guy a dated in high school. I met Ryan the summer before my senior year. He was the brother of my friend’s boyfriend. We were the same age and had been in the same class for years, but had never met. We’d all been swimming at my friend’s house, and as they were leaving he asked for my phone number. I was thrilled. I gave it to him. He called that night, and we talked for hours, in that way high school kids do. I remember really enjoying myself – it was fun to talk to someone who’d been in the same place and knew all the same people, but had had such a different experience than I had. After that, we were dating. We spent a fair amount of time together, swimming and going to movies and baseball games and such. He would pick me up in his white Ford Ranger with the light covers, and off we’d go. Whenever we got to our destination, he would take the light covers off and put them in the cab so they wouldn’t get stolen. I didn’t really understand the point of them, and it annoyed me to have to wait for him to take them off (and put them back on) every time we got in and out of the car, but it wasn’t a big deal. What was a big deal, however, was how we had NOTHING to say to each other. We said everything there was to say during that first phone call. We would literally sit on the phone, not talking. Sit at the table, not talking. Movies became our saving grace. After a couple of weeks of silence, he called me. Ryan: I think maybe we shouldn’t date anymore. Brandi: OH MY GOSH, me too. Ryan: Really? Brandi: YES. We ran out of things to say two weeks ago. Ryan: I KNOW! Okay, good. So no more dating. Brandi: No. Ryan: Awesome. Brandi: Yes. To borrow from Seinfeld, it was the world’s first truly mutual breakup. When school started again, we ended up in the same English class. We were friendly, but we had some kind of unspoken agreement to pretend like the summer had never happened. One day, our assignment had been to bring in a poem to read to the class. After that was done, we played I Never. (We had one of those teachers who wanted to be cool.) One guy got up, took a slow turn around the circle, then said, “I have never kissed anyone in this room.” I looked around the room, wondering if anyone had kissed anyone else, when my eyes landed on Ryan. My friend Melanie was elbowing me and laughing. I had completely forgotten we had even dated by this point. I looked at him, he looked at me, and we both shook our heads. Crisis averted. I heard he married a girl that lived down the street from me, and I hope they are happy and doing well. It’s funny that I thought of him today, as there is an off chance he might be at the wedding on Saturday. I wonder if he remembers any of that, and if makes his wife wait for him to cover and uncover the lights on the truck every time they leave the house. I hope not.

I am something something something...

2006-03-23T14:15:00.000-08:00

The default song in my head lately has been “Vindicated” by Dashboard Confessional. This is strange, because I’m pretty sure I’ve only heard the song once, a couple of summers ago on that concert show Pepsi used to do. I remember liking the chorus and being impressed that the kids knew all the words to what he said was a new song. I also remember hitting Rhapsody the next day to hear it again and it not being available. Currently they only offer a 30-second clip, so I’m sure I haven’t heard it there. I don’t listen to any radio stations that would play Dashboard. In fact, the only other Dashboard song I know is the one about how your hair is everywhere. And even that song is only in my head because I sing it to Miles all the time. I’m clearly not a big Dashboard fan. I mean, I get the appeal. I worked with teenagers. But at the end of the day, he kind of sounds like a guy who is a little too old to be whining about his problems all the time. I don’t have time for that. And yet, my brain insists on holding onto this song. I don’t even know the words, really… in my head it goes, “I am vindicated/I am something something something/ I am blah de blah la la la doobee doobee doobee do”. I had to use the 30-second clip I have available to me to see if I even had the melody correct. (I did, in the off chance that you both know the song and can’t decipher my blah blahs.) Where is this song coming from? Why is my brain obsessed with it?

Round here we stay up very very very very late...

2006-03-22T10:56:00.000-08:00

I can really work myself into a tizzy. Last night as I was falling asleep, it occurred to me that I had sent out a package from work yesterday that was missing some pieces. The missing pieces were entirely my fault; I had just plain forgotten to include them. I wasn’t sure if the recipient needed the package ASAP or if it was something I could rectify by sending the rest today. In my semi-conscious state, I managed to convince myself that this was of ultimate importance, worthy of being fired over, and started working on ways to explain what happened and get things taken care of before anyone realized what had happened. These plans included lies of varying degrees and blaming the mishap on everyone from the receptionist to Fed Ex to the guy who fries up the fish down at McCreary’s. If I was going down, they were all going down with me. I kind of started to panic. Then I started getting upset that I work in a job that doesn’t mean anything and gets me all worked up over something so dumb. I decided the best thing to do would be to just go to sleep, but everyone knows that the last thing you’re going to do when you TRY to fall asleep is actually fall asleep. Aaron and Miles, thankfully, were blissfully unaware of the situation. I guess I finally fell asleep, but I woke up around 2:30, and again at 4:45, and again at 6:15. Each time it took me forever to fall asleep again, and my brain was racing the entire time. What if they did fire me? What kind of job would I look for? How would I explain why I left my last job? What would my parents think? When I woke up for good at seven, I was trying to figure out when my boss on the east coast would be getting up to go to the gym so I could call her and tell her what was going on. (What I planned to tell her depended on what time it was: the truth or one of my fabulously intricate lies.) I made it to work without incident or embarrassing phone call, but I still had that knot in my stomach that something was about to go horribly wrong. I emailed my boss and the recipient of the package to explain what had happened (I even told the truth!) and see what they wanted me to do. Of course, there was no rush on the package and I could send the missing pieces today with no problem. They wouldn’t have even known they were missing if I hadn’t brought it up. No big deal. Which, if I had been thinking (or at least fully awake at any point), I would have known all along. I spent ten hours completely freaking myself out for absolutely no reason. At all. I need to go back to bed.

This is awesome.

2006-03-20T13:25:00.000-08:00

Monty Python's Silly Walks Generator.

Miles. Again.

2006-03-20T10:50:00.000-08:00

Out there somewhere, I’m sure there’s a list of things you’re not supposed to let your dog do. Information about how you are supposed to be dominant and here’s how to make that happen. In fact, I know there is. I read Dogs For Dummies. On that list, I’m sure, are things like “Don’t let your dog sleep in your bed” and “Don’t give your dog food from the table” and “Don’t let your dog completely control you”. They probably have tons of reasons why you shouldn’t do those things. Maybe the dog begins to think he is in charge. Maybe one day he’ll get rid of you so he can eat whatever he wants, including those chocolate graham crackers you won’t let him have (See! Discipline!) because they will kill him. He’ll eat them OH YES HE WILL. We, of course, do not follow these rules. Miles? Is in charge. He’s like Charles, but with better hair. We tried, we really did. We weren’t going to let him up on the bed. We got him a little doggie bed and put it on the floor, where he could see us but knew he wasn’t allowed where we were. When he jumped up on the bed, we made him get down. He was learning that he had his own bed, and that was where he could hang out. But, y’all, his little face is just so sad. Even when he is licking your face and wagging his tail, his eyes are sad. Sad and hard to resist. And eventually one of us (who? I can’t remember. No really. No idea.) started letting him hang out on the bed. Not while we were sleeping, but just while we were hanging around. He’s just so cuddly. Today, that little doggie bed might as well be on the moon for all he uses it. He not only sleeps in our bed, he sleeps between us. He does not appreciate it when you make him go to the foot of the bed. He rebels by lying on your pillow. If your head happens to already be there, well, too bad. That’s what you get. Miles was a shelter dog. When we picked him up from the house of the woman who ran the place, there were probably 15 dogs in the front yard. When she opened the door to bring him out, the barking we heard was unreal. There is no telling how many dogs were in there. The woman told us she’d just bathed both Miles and herself, but y’all, all we could smell was dog. Miles is very laid-back and chilled out, which probably served him well in that environment. That is, until mealtime. I’m sure he had to fight for his food. He eats like he still does. As soon as that food hits the bowl, he is all over it. But his food obsession is not limited to dog food. Anytime you open the fridge, he is there, dying to know what you’re eating, and more importantly, can he have some? He sniffs at the bottles in the door and the food on the bottom shelf. And if you’re cooking, you can forget moving easily around the kitchen. He is at your feet, just waiting for something to fall. (Or for you to hand him something. Not that anyone I know does that.) He has also, somehow, learned to distinguish the sound of the pantry door being opened from the coat closet, even though they are right next to each other. Open the pantry, and his little head pops up and his ears are perked. He’s ready. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to give people food to dogs. But it’s just so funny. My favorite thing lately to give him has been ice cubes. He works so hard to get them chewed up, but he can’t seem to get it done before they melt. All that work for nothing. It’s like a race. A really, really funny race. He has also been known to eat pretzels, chicken, sausage, lettuce, croutons (those are especially fun because they fall apart when he bites into them and he gets confused) and pizza that was laying in our neighbor’s yard. He eats our food, he sleeps in our bed, his sad little face dictates just about everything we do. I want, I want Miles in charge of me.

I am scattered today.

2006-03-14T15:28:00.000-08:00

Sephora opens on Friday! Very exciting. Becka and I will be hitting up the sneak preview on Thursday. Free samples! Today, while I was enjoying lunch at Joey’s House of Pizza, a girl from the salon next door came in, ordered lunch, paid, and left. Then the woman at the register (who I believe is Mrs. Joey) started FREAKING OUT behind the counter. Yelling and slamming down the pizza slice picker upper thing. Then she gets on the intercom and tells the whole restaurant, “The girls at Carol G’s STEAL from me all the time! If you eat here, DO NOT GO TO CAROL G’S THEY ARE THIEVES.” How the girl was able to steal from her and get away with it I do not know, but I already have a salon so I’m siding with Mrs. Joey. Having the girls in the house has been really fun. It’s nice to be reminded what it’s like to be just graduating from college and on the edge of real life, full of plans and ideas and dreams. It’s also a bit of a reminder of what it was like to live in a dorm… our guest room doesn’t know what hit it! But Julie is a joy as always, and the friends she brought are delightful. I guess it’s a good thing I think so, since from the sound of it at least two of them will be back here in the summer! It’s been fun to show them our city and take them to all the best places. Nashville’s not a hard sell. I can’t believe I wasn’t watching Arrested Development when it was on. I just didn’t know. We’re well into the second season on DVD now, and it is by far the funniest thing I have seen in a very long time. We can’t watch them fast enough. And so far, it hasn’t stopped being funny when Aaron puts his hands on my shoulders and says, “Hey, brother.” Neko Case: what do you people know about her? I feel like I’d heard of her before, but never listened until Rhapsody recommended her to me. I think I love her. She has the right combination of country and funky and awesome that I love. I don’t have anything to read. I’ve started a handful of books in the last week, but nothing is sticking. I need inspiration. T-minus 2-1/2 weeks until the big wedding. I have my rehearsal dinner outfit put together (even though I’m still not exactly sure what “texas casual dress” means), I’m getting my bridesmaids dress pinned up tomorrow, and I found really awesome strappy black shoes to go with it. I’m set. Except the part where I don’t have a date. Why did Steffanie have to plan her wedding the same week as GMA? Blech. We had our first game last night in the 4-on-4 volleyball league. I think we have a pretty good team, but we got smoked last night. It was our first time playing together as a team, so we had a bit of a rough start. And of course we played the best team in the league. They had this kind of goofy looking guy who would come out of stinking nowhere with these huge blocks and serves. We were not ready. But we will be, next time. Look out.

Glorious potentiality...

2006-03-09T10:40:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you open the window to post something and that blank white space is just screaming at you to TYPE SOMETHING, PLEASE OH PLEASE and it’s just too much pressure so you switch to Zappos real quick like and pretend you don’t have absolutely nothing to say. But I don’t. And that is frustrating. Why don’t I have anything I want to talk about? Things are going on… volleyball leagues and wedding preparations and crazy job stuff and church changing. And I could and probably will post about all of these things at some point. But there’s something else that’s bugging me this week. I haven’t been blogging long, but if I had I would probably have several very similar entries to the one I’m writing that I could link to. That would show you the depth of my indecision. What am I doing with my life? I know, I know. We all wonder that sometimes. But y’all, I have been having a quarter-life crisis for the last five years. And I’m only 25. This is a problem. A friend of Chelsea’s is coming to town this weekend. She’s graduating from college in May, and she wants to check out Nashville. She wants to learn about the music industry and see what it has to offer. She also wants “to be a part of something she believes in”. If this blog had existed four years ago, I would have been saying the exact same thing. Instead, I was talking about it to everyone I knew. I’m sure they were fascinated with my idealistic-fresh-out-of-college-ready-to-change-the-world self. I feel like I don’t have any direction. I like my job fine, but it’s certainly not making an impact. I’m not one of those people I hate (like Aaron and Susan) who have known since birth what they wanted to do. There are a lot of things I think I would like to do, but who knows? Why do I feel so much pressure to do something important? I read an article the other day about finding God’s will for you life. She talked about how we all worry about it in the important decisions – where to go to college, who to marry, where to live, what jobs to take. But really, God’s will is played out in the everyday of our lives… how we treat people, the things we say, how we choose to spend our time. He’s told us what is important, and it’s not where we work or what we study. It’s how we live. It seems so simple, yet somehow I always make it out to be so much bigger. Being concerned less with my occupation and more with the person I am relieves some of the pressure to DO SOMETHING. Because I am doing something, all day every day. Not to say that this will be the answer to my struggle… I’m sure I’ll be in the same place again in no time. I kind of live here. But maybe it will help me remember that I am not defined by my job, as much as I feel like I am.

Another hair post.

2006-03-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

I got my hair cut today. My coworker said I look like Marlo Thomas in That Girl.

That’s about right, y’all. I’m kind of freaking out.

Sail away with me honey, I put my heart in your hands...

2006-03-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

I am really sleepy today. Why so sleepy, you ask? Because I was up late at the DAVID GRAY SHOW. That’s right, people. We finally saw David Gray. And it was worth every frustration, every annoyance, every disappointment. It was amazing. First of all, it was at the Ryman. Which I love with my whole heart. We went to the box office on the day the tickets went on sale, and we had great seats down front. It was the first time I’d sat on the floor – we usually get balcony seats, and I have to say that I prefer the balcony. You can see the whole stage and I think the sound is better. But we had great seats, and it was cool to be so close. Aqualung was the opener. They play a couple of his songs on Lighting 100, and I’d listened through his album a few times, so I knew I would like him. But I didn’t know how much I would like him. He has a really pretty voice (I’m a sucker for pretty), and even though his music is mellow he puts on a great show. I think a lot of people were hearing him for the first time, and they were not disappointed. He was a perfect opener for David Gray. Who, can I just say, is amazing. We are big David Gray fans at our house. But even though we were predisposed to love the show, it really was fantastic. He and his band transition so easily from big-blow-you-away sound to stripped-down-acoustic, and they pull it all off without a hitch. Highlights for me were “Sail Away” and “Please Forgive Me”, two of my favorite songs of his that were given the full-band-audience-participation treatment. At the end of the first… set? I’m not sure what to call it. The band left the stage and the crowd cheered them back on (I did not participate, as I am still not a fan), but when they came back they did almost as many songs as before they left. Anyway, after that break, David Gray came back out on stage by himself and did an acoustic set. Far and away my favorite part of the show. He did older songs, from the pre-White Ladder Days, including “Shine” and “Turn Out the Light”. Then the band joined him and they did a few more, including “Long Black Veil” from “the man of Gray to the Man In Black”. I’m not a big Cash person, but it was pretty cool. The closer was, of course, Babylon, and they rocked it. I’m not generally one to notice stuff like this, but the lighting at the show was really cool. There was a white screen in the back, but instead of showing video on it, they used it for lighting effects. There were lights on the stage set up so that when they were turned on, you could see the shadow of one band member at a time on the screen, and they kind of faded in and out of each other to give everyone a chance at the spotlight. It was a really cool effect, especially for us… we couldn’t see the people on the back of the stage, so we were able to see what they were doing on the screen. Very cool. It was especially fun being at the show with Aaron. David Gray is one of his very favorites, and he was just thrilled to be there. And I was thrilled to be there with him. And now I need a nap.

Square Peg Alliance.

2006-03-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

Last night Aaron and I went to the Square Peg Alliance show at 12th and Porter. Y’all. So cool. We got there right as it was starting, and I was frustrated because I thought we’d have to stand. But we were able to snag two stools on the balcony, right up front. Excellent. (I know these artists don’t get the recognition they deserve, but sometimes it really surprises me how few people really know them. I have a hard time understanding why other people don’t care about the exact same things I do!) It was a great show for me. I got to see my favorites, the people who have provided the soundtrack to my life for so long. I also got to hear music that was new to me – names I know, but songs I don’t. It’s funny when you go to little shows like that… I didn’t know anyone in the room, but somehow we all had a bond in knowing and caring about the same music. Highlights:

Sandra McCracken singing “Springtime, Indiana”, one of the few Sandra songs I know and the one I love the most. She said she’d intended to do something new, but with the fabulous weather we’ve been having she had to do that one. Very sweet and so, so pretty. I love her.
Derek Webb singing “A New Law”. I haven’t gotten into the new record much, but I heard him do that song at a One Campaign event in the summer, and it really stuck with me. It really made me evaluate the way I dealt with the youth I was working with at the time… what am I really teaching them? To live a life of true faith, or how to get by in church?
Andy Gullahorn. A song about how to write the perfect country song. Dedicate it to the working man, and spell it out so he can understand. So funny.
Andy Peterson and Randall Goodgame singing a song from the children’s album they’re working on. Included a crowd full of pirate noises.
Randall Goodgame and his wife singing “Bluebird”. I heard this song for the first time at the Christmas show, and it is just so pretty.
KATY BOWSER. Y’all she was far and away my favorite. I’d heard her name before, but wasn’t familiar with her music at all. It is right up my alley. I want to buy everything she’s ever recorded.

During most of the show, Andrew Peterson was sitting right next to us. I am so lame… I really wanted to say something, because his music has meant so much to me over the years and he is one of my very favorite songwriters. But I feel dumb. Because I would sound like this: “Hi I’m Brandi I love your music so much thank you for making it this one time I took my dad to your show and he loved it too and thought you guys were great musicians love and thunder is my favorite I’m so happy to meet you do you want to be my friend we live right around the corner y’all could come over for dinner maybe we could play trivial pursuit I probably listen to you once a week oh and thank you for the Christmas album it is so beautiful I gave one to everyone I know it is really great to meet you thank you for such pretty music!” I’m not a crazy fangirl. (Really.) But I think I would get nervous and start talking high-pitched and fast, and I don’t want to embarrass myself. So I just sit there. Lamely. Anyway, it was a great show, a great night, and a great deal at $5 a person. I hope it’s something they keep doing; I’ll be there every time. Some days I’m really glad I live in Nashville.

I got friends in low places...

2006-02-27T17:11:00.000-08:00

I learned something today. Something that shocked me. Something that I feel a burden to share with you all, because without this knowledge, something terrible could befall you. This lesson came from the man I call the Office Sage. He is full of useful information, and is willing to share his wisdom at any given time. Like today. Office Sage is a big fan of Singer. Office Sage has been listening to Singer at an unreasonable volume in the office for several weeks now. He’s also had Singer come in to the office a few times for meetings. Office Sage thinks he is going to sign Singer to a publishing deal. Do we work for a publishing company? No, we do not. Does Office Sage do any kind of publishing on the side? No, he does not. But I digress. So Office Sage and Mrs. Office Sage went to see Singer perform in a club over the weekend. Apparently, it’s been a while since the Sages have been to a club. Or a bar. Or, you know, out in public. Office and Mrs. Sage were shocked, just SHOCKED, by what was going on in this establishment. For example, did you know that people DRINK in bars? Like, real actual alcohol. Beer and maybe even hard liquor. Who knew? This is shocking information. It’s even possible that some people might have been DRUNK. Did you know that sometimes, out in public in front of Office Sage and everyone, that people use CUSS WORDS? Not just the little ones, either. Big ones. And they same them loud enough for other people to hear. People they aren’t even talking to! Just alcohol and cuss words everywhere you look. Another shock - Singer was drinking. ON THE STAGE. Straight out of a Jack Daniels bottle. Office Sage was quite concerned about this. Did we think he was really drinking right out of that bottle? How was he able to continue his set? How could he get those songs out? Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe he filled the bottle with tea or something to make people think he was drinking. Did we think that was a possibility? (No, we did not.) But the real travesty – Singer has a song with the f-word in the title. Now I, personally, am not a fan of the f-word. I don’t use it. But am I shocked when someone else does? No. I hear it hundreds of times a day right here in this very office. You know, where Office Sage works. In the interest of google-proofing this entry, I won’t name the song. But Office Sage would like us all to know that, in his and Mrs. Office Sage’s minds, the f-word means one thing: fornication. But apparently, the crazy kids these days use it to mean something else! All kinds of things! Shocking! Don’t worry, though. Office Sage has plans to sit Singer down and discuss both the onstage drinking and the use of fornication in his songs. We all know you can’t be a successful artist if you drink on stage. No one, anywhere, especially in country music, drinks on stage. Once Singer understands that, he’ll be able to sign a deal with our nonexistent publishing company. Maybe he’ll censor himself. I, personally, am partial to “feck.” “What’s the difference?” “The letter ‘U’.”

Doggie sneezes.

2006-02-24T08:21:00.000-08:00

Miles has a new “trick”. I don’t love this one nearly as much as I love the other one. It goes something like this. Brandi: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Aaron: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Miles: Hey guys! GUYSGUYSGUYS! It’s morning! There is sunshine! Yay! Morning! Aaron: *rolls over* Brandi *rolls over* Miles: *bounce bounce bounce* Getupgetupgetup! Morning! Sun! Yay! Miles: And also, I need to pee. GET. UP. Aaron: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Brandi: *kind of awake, rolls back over* Miles: MOM’S AWAKE MOM’S AWAKE! Yay! Sunshinemorningpeetimeawakeyay! KISSES! Miles: *runs up to my face and licks it one time* Miles: *doggie sneezes in my face* A doggie sneeze to the face is not pleasant. It is, in fact, gross. Especially first thing in the morning.

... or get off the dryer!

2006-02-22T13:49:00.000-08:00

Holy moly, people. I am so bored. It’s been a long time since I’ve been bored at work. 2006 thus far has been really busy, and I’ve been working on some creative projects, so things have been good. I got past my one-year mark at this place with only a minor what-am-I-doing-with-my-life freakout. That is big, y’all. But today, wow. Bored. We turned in a huge project yesterday afternoon, and I think we’re all just exhausted from the effort of getting it out the door. I even came in on a SUNDAY to get that bad boy finished up. And can I just say? It is fabulous. The best thing we’ve done so far. Two thumbs up. I had lunch earlier than usual today, too, which is adding to the extreme length of the afternoon. I feel like it’s time to go, but it’s only 3:00. The idea that I have at least 2-1/2 hours to go is not a happy one. So, because I have the time, I’m going to tell you a completely random story about my brother-in-law that his wife told us the other day. It had me doubled over in laughter, but somehow I’m thinking you won’t find it as funny. But I’m telling it anyway. One night last week, BIL was having a dream. This dream involved, in some way, doing laundry. (I KNOW. Laundry. Who dreams about laundry?) At some point in the middle of the night, and apparently during the laundry dream, BIL got up to use the bathroom. So he gets up and kind of stumbles toward what he believes to be the bathroom. Both SIL and BIL confirm that he was TOTALLY ASLEEP when this was going down. As I’m sure you can guess, he does not find the bathroom door. At all. Instead, he finds the bedroom door and heads out into the hallway, then opens another door that he thinks is the bathroom. And begins to relieve himself. Into the dryer. The DRYER, y’all. It was then that my SIL woke up and saw what was going on. She, understandably, flipped out. (She did not, however, burn the dryer. Which is what I would have done.) She woke him up, led him to the actual bathroom, made him clean up, and they went back to bed. At this point in SIL’s telling of the story, Aaron interrupted her with a question only a guy would think of: How did he get it in there? I, being completely unfamiliar with using the bathroom while standing up, did not really understand the question. (And this is way more than I have ever talked about pee in my LIFE.) It turns out he had to sit down in the hallway to make the process more easy. Much more practical than, say, using a toilet. To recap: BIL, in the midst of a laundry dream, woke up in the middle of the night to PEE IN THE DRYER. SIL did not destroy the dryer. (That part’s not really relevant, just gross.) In the same conversation, BIL and Aaron discussed the recent breakup of the other brother and his girlfriend, who we all met and loved over the holidays. Girlfriend, apparently, was ready for the serious, and OB was not. BIL, in passing, said he’d had a “sh*t or get off the pot” moment. To which SIL yelled out, “OR THE DRYER!” I thought it was funny.

The disappearing nature of the people we have been...

2006-02-17T14:24:00.000-08:00

I am, as a general rule, a social person. I love other people. If you invite me to a party, I’m there, and I’m bringing the wine. And I love, Love, LOVE having people over. Even though it stresses me out that my house isn’t big enough and we don’t have enough chairs and why do I invite people over for dinner when we all know I can’t cook what if I poison all of our friends then WHO WILL COME OVER FOR DINNER????? But it works out, every time, including the part where everyone doesn’t die. But as of late I have not been feeling very social. As in, not social at all. As we speak, I’m trying to figure out how to get out of seeing a movie with a couple of people tonight. Aaron’s got a thing tonight, so I’m on my own. We’re supposed to meet for dinner and see a movie afterward, and I am just not interested. I’m in for dinner, but I am currently working through a list of excuses as to why I’ll be bailing afterward. I think being social is a lot like everything else – the more you do it, the more you want to do it. With the change in churches and the dissolution of our bible study this past summer, our weekly activities have dwindled down to almost nothing. We used to be out three or four times a week, and now we’re at home most evenings. When we were gone so much, spending time with people, we were making lots of weekend plans and keeping ourselves really busy. But now that the bulk of our time is spent just the three of us at home, I’m getting used to that. I prefer time at home. Except I don’t really think I do. I miss being busy. I miss having a full schedule and being around people all the time. But the things in our lives that kept us busy are gone, and our current situation hasn’t really provided a new social circle. And so, we’re at home. A lot. I think I’m getting bored. But I clearly haven’t reached my breaking point, as I am still trying to figure out how to be less social and spend more time at home this very evening.

A day of looooooooooooooove...

2006-02-15T14:02:00.000-08:00

Aaron and I started a new Valentine’s Day tradition this year. Can something be a tradition if you’ve only done it once? Or do we only have the intention of starting a tradition at this point? Anyway, here’s what we do. We get takeout from Pei Wei (lettuce wraps, honey chicken and ginger beef and broccoli). Cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory (plain for Aaron, tiramisu for me). And then we buy presents. We go to Target. We each get $10 and 20 minutes to find a gift for the other. Rules: Nothing Valentines-y. Nothing from the dollar section. No gift cards. GO! I admit, I thought the whole thing might end up being kind of lame, even though it was my idea. But it wasn’t! It was So. Fun. Like being on a secret mission. You have to be on the lookout for the other person… you can’t have them seeing your surprise! Really, really fun. I got Aaron Forrest Gump on DVD and a bag of peanut M&Ms.

He got me a book journal and notebook, Reece’s Pieces and Airheads. And, of course, Captain Badass, overlord of the shady Tennessee sequin mining racket and uncle (by marriage) to the reeb. (Please note how Miles the Wonder Dog, who will never let me take his picture, is in every shot. Attention whore.) So then we sat and ate, and the food was of course fabulous. I. Love. Pei Wei. We ordered way too much food, so we saved the cheesecake for tonight. Woo-hoo! And Miles, of course, was desperately interested in what was happening on the table, and did everything in his power to be involved somehow. (Sorry for the scary eyes! That's just what he looks like. I don't know what to tell you.)

Then, today, I got a package in the mail from my parents. My dad found what is possibly the greatest card of all time, especially coming from him. In fact, I think Hallmark might of ripped him off a bit. He needs to buy this card in bulk and send it out for every occasion, always. I also got a poem from my mom, a two-line piece of awesomness, that reads: Roses are red, Violets are blue This is all Mom sent – woo hoo Happy Valentine’s Day!

Climbed a mountain and I turned around...

2006-02-14T09:11:00.000-08:00

I don’t think I’ve ever written about my coworker with the bad taste in music and the loud stereo and the Creed loving. And I don’t really want to ruin today, the day of love and chocolate and little paper valentines that I totally printed out from The Office site and put into all my coworkers mailboxes ANONOMOUSLY, with a story about this guy and his bad singing. But I will. Because right now he is in his office, which is not far enough away from mine, and he is singing. He is always singing. Every time he passes by my office, and I mean every time, and that is a lot of times because did I mention his office is very close to mine? EVERY TIME, he sings, “Brandi/ You’re a fine girl/ what a good wife you would be”. Now that song is not only a fabulous hit of the 70’s by the iconic one-hit wonders Looking Glass, but also the song for which I was named. It is very special to me. Yes, my parents are crazy. Yes, this guy is ruining my special song for me. But today, he is singing Landslide. LANDSLIDE. Landslide is one of my very favorite songs. The first time I heard the song, it was performed by the Smashing Pumpkins on the B-sides album I totally bought because the guy I had a crush on was always talking about Smashing Pumpkins and I wanted to have something to say about them. I was sitting at the kitchen table one day, singing that song to myself while doing my homework, when my dad said, “Why are you singing Fleetwood Mac?” I, of course, was not singing the Mac, and was quick to let him know that was a SMASHING PUMPKINS song, GAH. He proceeded to give me a loooooooooooooooooong (long) lesson in Fleetwood Mac and the joys of Stevie Nicks, complete with album covers and samples played on the turntable. It was a valuable lesson in music that I treasure to this day. For real. All that to say that Landslide is not only one of my favorite songs that has been done by no less than three of my favorite groups (The Pumpkins, The Mac, and the Chicks of Dixie, and also Kidz Bop Kids, YIKES) but it started an appreciation for the music of my parents that continues to this day. It is an important song in my life. And my Scott-Stapp-loving coworker is RUINING IT FOR ME. I am totally taking back his valentine.

I live in my own mind...

2006-02-12T12:14:00.000-08:00

I came in to work on a Sunday. I kind of hate that. But I got some stuff done that will make my weeks run much more smoothly, so yay. Anyway, I’ve got the TV on and I’m trying to find VH1 so I can watch Top 100 Teen Stars or Heartthrobs or Celebrity Kid Birthday Parties, and I pass by CMT. Now, CMT is always running downstairs in the lobby, and I try to tune it out as best I can. But as I pass it today, something caught my eye. Bonnie Raitt. Y’all, I LOVE Bonnie Raitt. Freaking love her. I want to BE Bonnie Raitt. She is the coolest person on the earth. I want her to live at my house and sing to me all the livelong day. So I stop, because Bonnie Raitt is singing and I can’t not watch. Then the camera pans over, and Lyle Lovett is onstage with her. LYLE LOVETT. Do you know who else I love, besides Bonnie Raitt? The Lylester. Bonnie Raitt and Lyle Lovett are singing together. It is such a parade of awesomeness that it literally makes me want to cry. They’re doing her songs. They’re doing his songs. They’re doing Aretha Franklin songs. They are killing me with all the fabulous. Thankfully, CMT is just like every other music station. They replay the same shows over and over and over again. So when it comes on again on Wednesday at 5, I’ll be ready with my high-tech cutting edge VHS tape. I will own this performance. And watch it and learn it and love it. Because Bonnie and Lyle, man. It doesn’t get better than that.

Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feeeeeeeeeeeeel you...

2006-02-10T12:47:00.000-08:00

Have I ever told you how much I hate it when we get in the car in the morning after I've driven it last and Aaron cranks up the engine and the radio is blaring, and I mean blaring, Celine Dion on the easy listening station, and Aaron give me a look that says WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY WIFE BECAUSE THAT GIRL HAS TASTE AND YOU, CLEARLY, DO NOT and despite my protests that last night they were playing the Verve and I was totally having a high school flashback moment and did I ever tell you about that time we went to regionals in track that was really cool and the Verve totally reminds me of that and I swear I WAS NOT LISTENING TO CELINE he does not believe me and looks at me with a mix of pity and disgust as he changes the dial to the much more hip and cool triple A station?

Because I really hate that.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

2006-02-10T09:10:00.000-08:00

It’s supposed to snow tonight. Big snow for Nashville, meaning a few inches might accumulate. I like snow. A lot. But only when I’m at home. The last time Nashville got a significant amount of snow was January of 2003. I had only lived here a few months, and having moved from Texas, was not at all accustomed to driving in the snow. Aaron and I were living downtown and only had one car, so I dropped him off on my way to work and picked him up on the way home. It started in the morning, about an hour after I arrived at work. By 10am, it was more snow than I’d seen in my entire life. I, not knowing what to do, waited too long to leave. The snow was starting to stick. I asked a coworker if it would be better to take the highway or the side roads home, and he said the side roads. He was wrong. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a fabulous driver. I’m fine in the everyday activities, but throw in bad weather and I’m out. I’ve had a couple of wrecks due to slick roads and spinning out, and I lose my confidence quickly when the conditions get bad. I hadn’t gotten very far when I started to skid. I found myself half in the lane, half on the shoulder, facing sideways, stuck. The wheels weren’t turning. (On the car or in my head.) I had no idea what to do. A few minutes later, a car parked next to me and a middle-aged man got out. He walked to my window and tried to give me instructions to get my car unstuck. I was grateful for the help, but still a little freaked, and nothing was working. Finally he said, “I promise not to steal your car. Would you like me to get in and get you straightened out?” I told him he was welcome to steal my car, that I had no idea what I was doing and anything would be better than the current situation. He got in, I stood in the snow, and he got my car back on the road. He then told me he was headed to a church up the road to pick up his kids, and if I wanted he would follow me there and I could come inside and use the phone. Excellent. A BILLION HOURS LATER, we made it the mile and a half up the road to the church. I went inside, where I could finally use a landline to call Aaron’s office and tell him what was going on. Basically that I had driven two miles in two hours and I was staying put at that church and I don’t care how you get here just get here because I am not getting behind the wheel and on the road again unless the temperature miraculously goes up 30 degrees and this entire mess melts away. Which, you know, probably isn’t happening. So Aaron tells a guy that if he will let him come and get me first, he’ll drive him home in his car. (This guy was apparently a big weenie like me.) They get in the truck, spin around a bit, fill the bed of the truck with snow, and FIVE HOURS LATER, arrive at the church. It’s a three-mile drive. And then we inch our way home. All in all, it took me nine hours to get home from work that day. What had begun as a pretty snow day with the promise of an afternoon hanging out at home turned into a long, frazzled nightmare of skids and spins. Not fun. Thankfully, this snow is scheduled to arrive on a Friday night, when I’ll be safe and warm at home with my dog and my hot chocolate and my Real Simple and the opening cermonies. And that is the best thing for everyone.

Woke up, got outta bed, dragged a comb across my head...

2006-02-09T13:04:00.000-08:00

My hair looks exceptionally good today. This is not something I normally say. In fact, I have spent a good portion of my life lamenting my hair. Too brown. Too heavy. Too blah. In fact again, I posted pictures from our weekend only after endless deliberation. Why? Hair. With the shaggy and the stringy and the WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY NOSE DO I REALLY LOOK LIKE THAT OH MY WORD. Ever since I got my new haircut (that is probably due for a trim by now, but I’m kind of scared to go back to the shiny funky salon), I have spent every morning debating with myself (and sometimes with Miles) if I made a good decision. Do I have an answer? No I do not. I look different, and I like different, but is it better? No idea. But today? It looks good. And even though I have doubts about my shirt/pants/boots combo today (the different shades of brown are throwing me, but you can’t see me so why I am telling you this?), I’m rockin’ the confident appearance today. Which means I’m probably about to notice a big stain on my jacket or knot in the back of my hair. If you see it, don’t tell me.

Honey I'll live with you for the rest of my life...

2006-02-07T09:38:00.000-08:00

Ahhh… vacation. We haven’t taken a real one since we’ve been married. But we did take a mini-vacation this weekend with friends, and it was fabulous. We planned it back in July – a weekend at a Gatlinburg cabin to watch the Super Bowl. Booked the cabin, a three-story, three-bedroom house of awesome with a hot tub, six balconies, a pool table, foosball table, air hockey table, Ms. Pacman machine, and my personal favorite, a jukebox. I won’t tell you how many times I played Georgia Satellites’ “Keep Your Hands To Yourself.” Just know that it was a lot. And involved the use of a pool cue as a microphone.

We arrived late Friday night, and most of the group went to bed. Not us, though. We are stay-up-laters! It’s vacation, people! You play pool until 3am and sleep till 11! So we did, except for the sleep till 11 part. We heard everyone up and moving around 9, and felt like bums so we got up. We’re not rebels, we just play them on vacation.

Saturday was spent reading, napping, hottubbing, playing pool (and Georgia Satellites) and watching TV. And eating. Did I mention the eating? There was a Lot. Of. Eating. At one point Aaron went outside and someone from a neighboring cabin yelled, “What it is, ho!” I don’t know what that means, but I’ve said it no less than 400 times in the past three days. Saturday night we grilled steaks on the teeny-tiny grill and had a wonderful dinner, followed by… sleep. For most of the crowd. Again – not us! This time we took advantage of the giant sheet-turned-screen that was set up with the projector our friends brought. We watched a movie and a few episodes of Entourage before finally turning in. REBELS. Don’t mess with us.

Sunday – football time! I wasn’t nearly as excited as I sound. I like football, and the more I understand about the game the more I enjoy watching it. But, truth be told, if the Cowboys aren’t involved I’m not terribly interested. I was, however, the only one in the cabin pulling for the Seahawks. And with good reason – a few years ago I decided I needed my own, non-Cowboy team. I picked Seattle because I hear it’s a cool city but I’ve never been. Four years later? SUPER BOWL. I rule at football picking.

The commercials were alright… I laughed at the Bud commercials, and the ones with the “Don’t Judge Too Quickly” tagline. I, of course, was really there for the food. Burgers, queso with sausage, pretzels and beer. These are the joys of my life. That, and Grey’s Anatomy. Holy pajamas. (Did we stay up late? Oh yes we did. There’s not much cooler than being in a hot tub at night while it’s snowing.) We packed up Monday morning and headed home, with a quick stop into downtown G-burg for a kissing fish for my mom. I miraculously remembered the exact location of the store that sells the kissing fish, fought road construction to get there, and… the store was closed. Sorry mom. Overall, it was a nice long relaxing weekend. For having planned it six months ago, it couldn’t have come at a better time for us. We desperately needed the break. And the jukebox.

I was cryin' when I met you...

2006-02-01T14:29:00.000-08:00

I’ve never been a big Oprah fan. I remember watching a “My Favorite Things” episode with my dad one day, and his comment that Oprah must be the antichrist, because “no one should make people react like that.” I hear what he’s saying. I’m down with that. Every now and then, I’ll flip it on in the afternoon to see what she’s talking about. I do love a good celebrity guest, or makeover show, or favorite things episode. (Sorry dad.) Overall, though? Meh. I feel like she brings on celebrity guests just to tell them what she thinks of them and by the way did you know she used to be poor? But y’all, when she pulls an unexpecting audience member onstage to read the teleprompter introducing Mary J. Blige, and said audience member can barely get the words out because Mary J. is her all-time favorite singer and an inspiration to her life and then she comes on stage and the girl is FLIPPING OUT with excitement so much that is makes Mary J. and Oprah cry? That’s good stuff. Even though Oprah’s tears are probably fake. Because mine? Aren’t.

I'm over the analyzing tonight...

2006-01-31T15:23:00.000-08:00

It’s hard for me to think about major decisions. I’m impatient, and I’m always ready for change. It’s a real struggle for me to sit down and rationally consider the pros and cons of anything. I just want to pick something. We’ll figure out the rest later. Sometimes, these tendencies work out in my favor. Deciding to date someone I met on the internet. Taking this job. Buying pointy boots. As a general rule, the things I jump into blindly turn into positive, and sometimes life-changing, experiences. But some decisions deserve more consideration than others. Buying shoes is not as important as buying a house. Accepting a date and accepting a job are on very different levels. That should affect the effort I put into the making of the decision, but it usually doesn’t. Lately we’ve been questioning a major decision we made back in the fall. We committed to something we thought was one thing, but hasn’t turned out quite like we’d imagined. It has affected our spiritual life as a couple, as well as our social circle. When we made the decision, I was sure we were doing the right thing. And when we told people what we were doing, I had all the right words to convince everyone. Maybe to convince myself. This was right. This was good. So here I am, looking back on the things I once said with such certainty, wondering what the heck I was talking about. Wondering what to do next. Wondering how to make a big decision and feel confident in the final choice. Not only do I not have the answers, I don’t even know the process to find them.

There's just so many things...

2006-01-30T13:43:00.000-08:00

Say you have a gift card to Linens ‘n’ Things that will allow you to either purchase: a) 600-thread count sateen sheets in the perfect olivey-green, that will both feel soft and luxurious while you sleep AND fabulously coordinate with your bedside lamps; or

b) A gadget that entrances you every time you see it on TV, that would theoretically allow you to make both your own salsa and smoothies you could then take with you in the handily attached mug, that you would maybe use once before your husband sticks it in the back of the cabinets and you never see it again? It seems like such an obvious choice, and yet I am torn. Me and Natalie Imbruglia.

What I'm listening to.

2006-01-27T15:48:00.000-08:00

I’ve been listening to a lot of new music lately. I don’t claim to be a reviewer, and I can’t talk to you about the production or the levels or the effect an album will have on the future of music, but I can tell you why I like it and THAT WILL HAVE TO DO. You Could Have It So Much Better – Franz Ferdinand I love this album because it makes me dance in my office. It starts with a toe-tap. Then I add a bit of a head-bob and before I know it I’m twisting around in my chair and drumming on the desk. It makes me want to be at their concert, or at a party, or in my living room by myself where I can fully dance the way this music makes me want to. I didn’t love the first Franz Ferdinand album. I dug the single, but that was it. And while the single (Do You Want To) is my favorite on this one, it’s a great start-to-finish listen. LOVE. Strange and Beautiful - Aqualung I’ve actually been listening to this one for a while, but I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here. I. Love. Aqualung. It’s melodic and soothing and fabulous. He’s coming to the Ryman in March with David Gray (we’ll be in line first thing in the morning for tickets) and I am beyond thrilled. That is, assuming the show actually happens. Indiana – David Mead I’d heard and loved the song “Nashville”, and picked this up in a used music store a few weeks ago. I really enjoy the whole album – it’s that mellow singer/songwriter thing that gets me every time. But “Nashville” is far and away my favorite track. I listened to it a lot on the drive back from Dallas, and I think it’s one of those songs for me. The kind that are always on your top-songs-of-all-time-ever list. The right song at the right time. The Very Best of Dwight Yoakam – Dwight Yoakam I spent the majority of my life convinced and loudly professing my disdain for Dwight Yoakam. I can’t remember the basis for said disdain (two words that only need four letters! Fun!), but I was very adamant about it. It couldn’t have been because my dad liked him… my love for CSNY and Pure Prairie League has never wavered. Regardless, my opinion of the man has done a complete 180. Maybe it’s because the songs remind me of childhood. Maybe it’s because I love singing “Little Sister”. Maybe it’s because my brain began functioning properly. Careless Love - Madeleine Peyroux

Lighting 100 plays “Don’t Wait Too Long”, and I always find myself trying to be sultry and sing along. This, as you can imagine, is a complete failure. Sultry is not my thing. But this music? Totally is. The whole album is jazzy and moody and sexy, and I love every second of it. Elevator – Hot Hot Heat See “You Could Have It So Much Better – Franz Ferdinand”

Petty, Evil and Judgmental.

2006-01-26T13:15:00.000-08:00

Possibly my favorite blog title ever.

Miles the Wonder Dog is a master trickster.

2006-01-26T10:38:00.000-08:00

Can I just say? I am so Miles’ favorite. I mean, there is no contest. No question. No tie-breakers. That dog loves me the mostest, and Aaron is a distant second. Veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery distant. I can't even see him from here. When we are watching TV, he always chooses me for some snuggle action. It doesn’t matter where I’m sitting, that’s where he wants to be. He’s especially fond of trying to get in my lap when I’m reading something… that’s sitting in my lap. He’ll flop right down on top of my newspaper or get in between me and the magazine. He knows that thing is getting my attention, and HE WANTS IT. Last night I was on the sofa and Aaron was in the chair, and Miles was (of course) asleep in my lap. I moved my leg and woke him up. After giving me the MILES THE WONDER DOG LOOK OF DEATH, he walked down my leg to the end of the sofa. Aaron then tried to persuade him to come over to the chair. (This, by the way, might be my second favorite Miles trick.) Aaron: Miles, come here! *pats the ottoman* Come here, Miles! Miles: (thinking) Is he crazy? He is so my second favorite. Brandi: He’s not coming. I’m the favorite. Aaron: Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiles. Come here, buddy. Miles: (looks at me, thinking) Watch this. Then he jumps off the sofa and runs toward the chair. Aaron gets ready for him to jump up, and… he doesn’t. It’s a total fakeout. He makes Aaron think he’s coming for some cuddling, but he’s not. He’s doing a 180 and heading right back to me. Because my dog does some sweet tricks. And I am the favorite.

If you find she helps your mind, better take her home...

2006-01-24T13:26:00.000-08:00

Happy Anniversary, Parents! We can all only dream of having 34-and-counting good years together. You guys are an encouragement and an inspiration. Thanks for being fun and giving us a crazy childhood. I am forever grateful. I wish I had a copy of your wedding picture (complete with short yellow satin dress, MOM) but this will have to suffice.

Anthropologie hates me.

2006-01-19T13:25:00.000-08:00

As a general rule, I am cheap. I’m always looking for a deal, and I rarely buy anything that isn’t on sale. But every now and then, I splurge. In the upcoming months I have at least two dressy occasions – Steffanie’s rehearsal dinner and an after party for a certain lame-o awards show. As I have been known to take AGES to find an outfit for any event, I decided to go ahead and start the search for the perfect dress that will be stunning and fabulous for both occasions. And I found it. It was full price, but I didn’t care. It was gorgeous. But I hesitated. What if it goes on sale between now and April? I decided to hold off and think about it. So today I go back to the website to look at it again and send it to my mom to see what she thinks. And it’s gone. GONE. Not on sale, not full price, not anywhere. Straight up gone. Where did it go, people? Where? This is it. If you happen to see it wandering the streets, searching desperately for its rightful owner (ME), snatch it up. I need it oh so desperately.

I repeat, do not eat the Smart Ones.

2006-01-19T11:02:00.000-08:00

As part of my healthy eating plan, I’ve started bringing my lunch to work. I’ve never been good at meal planning, so while the idea of making something at home and bringing it in sounds good, it’s not happening. Leftovers? Sure. But not a whole new meal made in advance. Now, I’ve never been a big fan of the frozen meal. Especially the meat in those things… it kind of grosses me out. But on a whim at the grocery store I headed over to the frozen foods aisle. When I got there, a large, loud woman was blocking most of the freezer doors with her cart and herself. She was very kind, though, (loudly) informing me that if I bought twelve Lean Cuisines, I would save five dollars. I did not buy twelve Lean Cuisines, but I did follow this woman’s advice on which ones were good. I also believed her when she told me that they are the best brand of low-fat/calorie frozen meals, or, as she put it, “Them Smart Ones is nastay.” So far I’ve had cheese ravioli, a roasted veggie pizza and a southwest chicken panini. Y’all. They are so good. I mean, amazingly good. The ravioli was yummy, and with the salad I brought in it made a great and filling lunch. But the pizza and the sandwich? Awesome. And fascinating… how does bread cooked in the microwave come out crispy? HOW? I can’t imagine. But it does, y’all. It’s soft and crispy and not at all soggy or chewy. It’s fabulous. Fabulous. Go buy some.

Nothing in my head is worth it's own entry today.

2006-01-17T12:32:00.000-08:00

Today is another rainy day like Friday, I still like them. We had a great long weekend. I feel like most of my weekend posts talk about how lazy we were, but I’m okay with that. We don’t have kids, we don’t have a lot of obligations. It’s a lazy time in our lives. We’re taking advantage. I saw five movies this weekend: Glory Road, Millions, Happy Endings, Mr. &Mrs. Smith and The 40-Year-Old Virgin. And I liked them in that order. I am really glad to have friends that will spontaneously burst into song with you at restaurants. Even when that song is “Born to be Wild.” My most favorite lunch place, Kalamata’s, is now open right down the street from my office. This thrills me like you would not believe. They have fantastic tomato soup. On my way back from lunch Switchfoot was playing on three of my six preset radio stations. I like Fall Out Boy. Have we met? I’m Brandi. I’m 14. And Justin can’t marry Britney or I’ll just cry and cry and cry. There are very exciting possibilities on the horizon with Aaron’s job. No details, but keep us in your thoughts and prayers. This could be very good. I freaking love my dog. It's pathetic.

Rain rain don't go away, oh we need you this dry and dusty day.

2006-01-13T09:02:00.000-08:00

I love rainy days. Love them. I could totally live in Seattle, even though I hear it doesn’t actually rain there as much as we think it does and housing costs a million times more than it does here. No matter. I love the rain. Last night I had the joy of being woken up by thunder. I do my best sleeping during thunderstorms. I inched my head around the pillow to see the clock, afraid this wonderful thundery goodness had come right before I had to get up. Doesn’t it always seem to happen that way? You’re all jazzed to go back to sleep, but your alarm is set to go off in ten minutes. This morning, however, the rainy day gods were looking out for me – it was 6:00. Now, I know some of you are reading this and saying, “Six! I’ve been at work for hours by then!” And to that I say, “Nyah-nyah. I get up at eight and I don’t even feel bad about it.” Then I stick my tongue out at you. And then I go back to sleep for two more hours. Getting out of bed on rainy days is tough, especially when it’s the kind of rain that blocks the sun. Your room is dark and cool, the thunder and rain are lulling you to sleep, and you have to get up and get dressed. Not fun. (Less fun for Aaron, whose morning duties include walking Miles. Miles does not love rainy days.) Rainy days are peaceful for me. Relaxing. I feel like there’s less pressure when it’s raining. Late to work? No problem! It’s raining. Of course I can’t work out today, it’s raining. You want me to do something besides sit in this chair and read this book? Sorry, no can do. It’s raining. Love it. Love the rain.

Lately I've been thinking about pretty strange things...

2006-01-11T12:55:00.000-08:00

It seems I’ve become quite concerned with highway signs recently, particularly the ones that tell you how far away something is. I’ve found myself checking the odometer as I pass these signs and keeping track (to the tenth of the mile) of how accurate they are. Why this is of such concern to me… I don’t know. Okay, so I’ve done it twice, on the two exits nearest my house on the way home from work. But I will be checking other signs in the near future. No part of town is safe from me. The exit we take, Old Hickory, is exceedingly accurate. Exactly one mile from the sign that reads, “Old Hickory Blvd – 1 MILE” to the exit lane. Very nice. However. The exit before, Harding Place, is one and two-tenths of a mile from its sign. TWO-TENTHS. That is quite a distance. Why, people who put up the mileage signs, would you be so careless? Why not move the sign down the extra two-tenths? I am baffled. (More than I’d admit…)

800 miles away...

2006-01-06T15:33:00.000-08:00

It’s hard for me to be friends with you. I wonder if we were to meet today, rather than 20 years ago, if we would be friends at all. I think you would consider me too liberal, too independent, a little weird. Maybe you think those things anyway, or would if you knew the me of today at all. I know that when you look at me you see the person I was at 16; it makes it easier to understand why we’re still friends. Maybe I do the same to you. Sometimes I wonder that we were ever good friends at all. We were shades of the people we are now back then. I know part of it was that we went to school together and participated in the same activities, but part of it was something else. I wanted to be your friend. I wanted something you had. Confidence? Faith? Great hair? Our lives were different then, but we found common ground. I tried to talk to you this time, to help you understand why this brand of friendship doesn’t work for me. Why it frustrates me when you talk about how we’re such good friends, how you know me so well. I don’t claim to know you well anymore. It seems that the façade is enough for you, the appearance of friendship. It’s not enough for me. But I’m torn. Stranded between the work it would take to build a real friendship and the desire to drop it altogether. Deep down I know we’ll do neither. We’ll continue to see each other when I’m in town; you’ll talk of visiting Tennessee but never make it. You’ll say how great it is to have lifelong friends. I’ll nod and smile. We’ll go our separate ways, and that will be that.

How it all began...

2006-01-03T12:58:00.000-08:00

In honor of the six-years-one-day anniversary of our first date, I give you The Story. We had been friends for about a year when the date happened. I wasn’t sure it was actually a date until it was over; Aaron swears he made it clear to me from the beginning. Either way, he invited me to see Fantasia 2000 at the IMAX with his friends Paul and Abby. We met them at the theater for the 8:00 showing, but it was sold out. The next show was at 11. Paul and Abby bailed, leaving Aaron and I with three hours to kill. We had dinner (El Fenix?), drove around Dallas for a while, listened to some Milli Vanilli and basically just hung out together until it was time to head back to the theater. Let me pause the story here and make it clear that I had a BIG FAT crush on him at this point. We’d been friends for a while, mostly over email and IM, but during the weeks preceding this evening we’d spent more and more time together in person, and I had it bad. So we get back to the theater and find seats. Aaron is on my right. The movie is fun, but I’m not really paying attention. My focus is completely on Aaron and what he’s doing, how he’s sitting, is he trying to get closer to me???? My thoughts are racing, but I’ve convinced myself he’s not interested. But, just in case, I leave my right hand on the armrest. Just in case. Before I know it, he’s holding my hand. HOLDING MY HAND. He likes me. I am dying. He continues to hold my hand through the end of the movie and the entire drive home. We choose not to discuss said handholding, focusing instead on the fact that we were both on yearbook staff in high school and how fun that was. Fascinating. He takes me home and walks me to the door. The handholding has yet to be mentioned. He gives me a hug and leans in for a kiss. I don’t know where my brain was, but it took me a second to figure out what he was doing, and when I realized it, I smiled. And that kiss landed right on my teeth. Yeah baby. We laugh, and he says goodnight. That was a Sunday night, and Aaron moved to Nashville the following Thursday. We spent every night that week together. When he left, we decided to just stay in touch and see how things went. Nothing exclusive… that didn’t last long. It was official by February. Two and a half years of long-distance dating later, we were married and I joined him in Nashville.

So this is the new year...

2006-01-02T09:24:00.000-08:00

I’m back in Nashville. I’ve never been so happy to say four words in my life. Christmas in Texas was good… frazzled, but good. We stayed too long, like we always do. The trip there was eventful, the trip back was much of the same. But we made it. We’re home. Home. This was the first year I truly felt like I was visiting Texas going home to Nashville, instead of the other way around. This trip solidified that my real life is here, in Tennessee. We drove back on Friday, then threw together a New Year’s Eve party for Saturday night. After spending two weeks with family and friends from the past, it was nice to sit and catch up with our friends of today. Our Nashville family. Home. 2005 was a good year for me, a settling year. It was the first year of our marriage where nothing really changed… from January to December we had the same jobs, drove the same cars, lived in the same house. It’s a little scary, when the big things settle down and regular life begins. I thought for sure I’d be bored by now, that I’d need a big life change soon. But I’m going to try holding still for a while. Enjoy the life I have rather than looking for what’s next. Married life was great this year. I can see us starting to find our groove, really becoming an ‘us’. Today is the anniversary of our first date, six years ago. We saw Fantasia 2000 at the IMAX and Aaron held my hand and we talked about being on yearbook staff all the way home. Then he kissed my teeth. It was a good day. I don’t know how we went from two college kids trying to figure out what life should look like to married home-owning professionals with a dog, but here we are. It’s been a good road so far, and I’m thrilled to see where it’s headed. So here’s to 2005. It was a good one.

The one where Miles scares the jeebes out of me.

2005-12-20T22:54:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-20T22:09:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-16T08:43:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-15T10:48:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-14T09:54:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-13T12:18:00.000-08:00

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!

2005-12-09T09:07:00.000-08:00

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...

2005-12-08T10:58:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-12-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

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'...

2005-12-01T15:54:00.000-08:00

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.

A little bit of this and a little bit of that.

2005-11-30T12:37:00.000-08:00

My mind is scattered, so I can’t be held responsible for what I write today. Thanksgiving was really good. My parents and sister came to visit, which is always nice. Thanksgiving in Texas means a giant meal with 50 people, followed by driving for an hour, followed by another giant meal with 50 people. You come home stuffed and exhausted. In the last two years that my parents have been coming to Nashville to visit, I’ve learned what a relaxing holiday is supposed to be like. Who knew you could actually spend time with your family in between mouthfuls? Chelsea and I saw Harry Potter together, which was fabulous as she has been obsessed with HP for years and we finally got to share that. I still really liked it. I’m curious as to how the movies are if you haven’t read the books, though… so much of the backstory is missing, I wonder if it even makes sense some of the time. Anytime you try to pare down a 700-page movie to a 2-1/2 hour script, things will be missing, but overall I was pleased with what they chose to shoot. I was, however, a little disappointed with Voldemort. I read a review that said he is much more frightening unknown than he is known, and I completely agree. I just didn’t get the creepy vibe from the movie that I did from the book… skinny, bald, pale Voldemort just wasn’t very scary. Monday night was a tough one in the Manes house: we ruined our undefeated volleyball season on the last night. And it was ugly, folks. We just could not get it together. It’s really hard for me sometimes to keep my competitive nature in check. Volleyball is something I am pretty good at, and when things like Monday night happen, I get really frustrated. So we go into the tournament in second place, with the first round next week and the final two the week following. I am nervous. Someone please remind me that this is church league! And now for the good news… tonight is Christmas decoration night! Woo-hoo! We usually put our tree up Thanksgiving weekend, but we just plain ran out of time. So tonight it is. I am so stinking excited. We’ll listen to Brenda Lee, put up the tree, wear some socks pulled to our knees. (Maybe not that last part.) Aaron will play along and pretend like he loves Christmas music. Because we leave for Texas on the 16th, we’ll take everything down a good 10 days before Christmas. Sometimes it seems silly to go to all this trouble to just turn around and take it down, but I can’t imagine not having a tree in our house. It doesn’t feel like the holidays without it. I’ve been listening to Behold the Lamb of God, both to get in the holiday spirit and in preparation of the big show next weekend. This is by far my favorite holiday album, so much so that I don’t even consider it Christmas music. I listen to it all year. This will be our fourth year attending the concert (and my fourth Christmas in Nashville!), and it is such a nice tradition. Nice is such a lame word sometimes, but it’s the perfect description for this. Nice. Is it wrong that my mom started a new job on Monday, and the thing I was most worried about was what she wore and whether she got any compliments on the fabulous purse I picked out for her? (She did, by the way, all positive. Good thing she’s got me to be her style consultant.)

Thanks a lot, Seventeen.

2005-11-21T13:22:00.000-08:00

After a solid week of watching the first season of Gilmore Girls, I decided to hit up TWoP for some recaps. I’m working my way through Kiss and Tell, the one where Dean kisses Rory for the first time in the market and she steals the cornstarch. Even though I was never a big Dean fan, the episodes depicting the beginnings of their relationship are so sweet and so very true to her age, at least the way I knew it. Rory’s first kiss was way better than mine. I’m not sure why I feel the need to share this, but I’m going to. Don’t laugh. It was the summer of 1994, right before my freshman year of high school. Some friends and I had gone to Six Flags for the day. There were four or five us, and we were traveling in a big attention-seeking pack, giggling and dancing and being typically chaotic. As groups of girls such as ours are wont to do, we found a similarly aged, similarly numbered group of teenage boys to hang out with. Boys like that are always exciting – they go to a different school, in a different city, in a different world. You can tell them you’re a cheerleader, or a writer, or in the circus and they’ll be none the wiser. One of these boys, Sean, was particularly interesting to me. I remember him being cute. I don’t remember much else, except that he was wearing a Soundgarden t-shirt, which I’m sure my 15-year-old self thought was soooooooooooo cool. We talked about music, we made fun of our friends, we rode the Flashback three times in a row. It was love. At the end of the night, as we were all making our way to courtyard at the front of the park where our parents would be picking us up, Sean grabbed my hand and pulled me into one of those photo booth machines. We took four goofy pictures and sat on a bench waiting for them to develop. He put his arm around me. He leaned in. He went for it. First kiss city. Not great, not bad. BUT. When it was over, I said, “That was my very first kiss.” Why? Because Seventeen or YM or Sassy had told me that if I said that, it would either explain why I was bad at kissing or impress because for a first-timer I was so skilled. Mortifying. We exchanged phone numbers, but we never talked again. I still have my half of the photo booth pictures in a box somewhere, along with my prom tickets and a rock I kicked down the street on a walk with my first real boyfriend. It’s not a terrible first kiss story, but it could be better. I do wish I hadn’t wasted it on someone I would never see again. But I’m thankful that the person on the receiving end of my teen-mag-influenced conversation is not around to tease me about it, because he would be fully justified. So, to steal from Pamie: I have decided that my first kiss was with CuteDean in aisle three by the bug spray, playing a "guess the soda" game, because that's how it should have been.

Things I learned on my sick day.

2005-11-17T07:13:00.000-08:00

The hours go by much faster when you’re sick than they do when you’re at work. I had big plans for my sick day: making out my Thanksgiving shopping list, working on our Christmas gifts, giving myself a pedicure. Not a single thing got done.
Buying a sofabed was an excellent decision.
If you don’t have cable, there is no good TV between the Ellen show at 11 and Seinfeld reruns at 6.
Miles the Wonder Dog is an excellent caretaker.
Life is good when you have friends who will bring you milk, magazines, Gilmore Girls DVDs and flu medicine.
Watching the 1st season of Gilmore Girls makes watching the current season really difficult.
I don’t like popcorn.
From Real Simple: Putting a sweater in the freezer for several hours will keep it from shedding all over your pants.
From Martha Stewart: Adding boiling milk to mashed potatoes will make them smooth and creamy.
My sweet husband knows that the best sore throat medicine is a heaping bowl of ice cream.
Blue Bell’s Great Divide Ice Cream is genius. It’s like Neopolitan without that wall of strawberry that everyone avoids.
Talking to your mom always makes you feel better.

Don't change your plans for me.

2005-11-14T13:03:00.000-08:00

There are many, many reasons why I love Pamie. Today, it is this.

I really like it here; I’m quite attached to it…

2005-11-14T10:48:00.000-08:00

I love good weekends. This was the kind that makes me glad I live in Nashville. FRIDAY We had dinner with some great friends who we don’t see nearly enough. Went to dinner at my new favorite place, The Family Wash. We were really looking forward to introducing them to this place… they have great food and a huge drink menu, and live music every night. Last time we went it was the Gypsy Hombres, who were jazzy and soothing and QUIET, which is pretty important in such a tiny place. I’d read in the Scene that a band called the Plastic Rulers would be there this time, so off we went. We arrived before the music started, and were seated at the only empty table, which also happened to be right next to the stage. I didn’t think much of it, reasoning that even though my ears were six inches from the monitor, we would be just fine. Now the band was great… the singer had a cool, Jason White-ish voice and they had a funky americana vibe. Had we been six yards, rather than six inches, from the stage, we probably would have really enjoyed it. As it was, we couldn’t hear each other (or the waitress) at all, and we left with both ringing ears and cramped necks from looking straight up the bands’ noses. But the food was good (vegetarian shepherd’s pie, YUM) and our friends really liked the place. It’s always a little nervewracking to introduce people to something you really love, so I’m glad they weren’t turned off by the music or the lack of meatloaf. SATURDAY Saturday was lazy and fabulous. We slept in, ate some lunch, and cruised the used record stores and thrift shops. We cleaned up at Phonoluxe… David Mead, Todd Snider and the first Wallflowers album, which has both mine (6th Avenue Heartache) and Aaron’s (Three Marlenas) favorite WF songs. I was a little disappointed this morning, though, when I popped in David Mead only to find that the clerk had accidentally put a Matt Redman CD in the case. Oops. Yummy Mexican food for dinner and a lazy evening watching SNL and Austin City Limits. SUNDAY Sunday morning we had our first meeting of The Rock, which went really well. I’m excited to see what happens next. Sunday afternoon was a fabulous mix of reading, watching football and napping in the big chair. And then… BEN FOLDS!!! That’s right, folks. After my big fat whinefest on Friday, Aaron surprised me with tickets! I don’t know how he managed not to tell me, I’ve been talking about this show for weeks. And all that time he had tickets, didn’t tell me, and pulled off a sweet surprise. This is why he rules. The show was great, owing mostly to the fact that it was Ben Folds, and it was at the Ryman. He did all my favorites, including the songs about his kids, Gracie and Still Fighting. So pretty. The only song I missed was The Luckiest, which was a letdown. And they did Bitches Ain’t Shit, for which I do not have love in my heart. I get that it’s funny, and the much-younger-than-I-expected crowd was totally into it, but it’s just meh for me. Plus, they did the exact same thing when we saw him with Weezer in July, so it didn’t even have the novelty of the first time. Other than that, I give the song selection two thumbs up. The crowd, on the other hand, I could have done without. We somehow managed to buy seats between two groups of 16-year-old fanboys, whose spent most of the evening in a woo-off during the quiet moments of the show. These guys probably love Ben Folds for Army, and One Angry Dwarf, and Rockin’ the Suburbs, and I get that. Those songs are totally fun and I sang at the top of my lungs along with everyone else. But part of the greatness that is Mr. Folds is the quiet songs. The aforementioned songs for his kids. The Luckiest. Even Brick, which I personally could go either way on. These songs are amazingly personal. It is highly disrespectful (not to mention seriously annoying) when the man onstage is singing about his little girl and the guy next to me is screaming “Rock This Bitch!” Also, and this goes not only for Ben Folds but EVERYONE: I am so over the encore. We know the band is coming back, the house lights are still down and the bass player took his guitar with him. Beating on the pews at the Ryman is not going to make them come back out. Trying to start a chant of BEN! FOLDS! is not going to persuade them. Do you think they’re sitting backstage, listening to the crowd, confused about what we want from them? It’s a good thing you’re yelling his name – he might have thought we wanted The Fray to come back out. (Trust me, we didn’t.) He hasn’t thrown the stool at the keys yet. He’s coming back. All in all, a good few days capped off by a great show. It’s weekends like this that make rainy Monday mornings tough.

Nuked another Grandma's apple pie and hung my head in shame.

2005-11-11T14:17:00.000-08:00

This afternoon, while driving around Green Hills running errands for work, I noticed something strange. Something unusual. Something taunting me from the tree ahead. A flyer for the Ben Folds show at the Ryman on Sunday. Now, I’ve known about this show for a long time. We just didn’t have the extra cash to buy tickets. I was okay with that… kinda bummed, but okay. Even though it's BEN FOLDS. AT THE RYMAN. (Of course, at the time, I thought we’d be seeing David Gray the weekend before.) So a flyer in and of itself would not have bothered me. It was the giant SOLD OUT stamped across it that hurt my feelings. It would be one thing if it had been an old flyer that had been modified once tickets were gone. It would have made more sense to just take the flyer down, but I could at least understand doing that. But this was something else entirely. This was a new flyer that had been created for the sole purpose of announcing that the show was sold out. In other words, created to mock me. This, I feel, is wrong. What good can come of announcing to the general public that a show is sold out? If those people wanted to go, they would have tried to buy tickets. They would have then found out about Mr. Folds’ sold-out status when Ticketmaster could not find them tickets. Easy peasy. It’s not like the Green Hills crowd was online with their credit cards the moment they went on sale anyway. I believe the sole purpose of this flyer was to spite me. I could almost see it sticking out it’s tongue, hear the “nyah-nyah” coming from it’s photocopied mouth. Why, Ben Folds flyer-makers? Why do you hate me so?

Ick.

2005-11-09T15:43:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those days that is just… meh. The kind of day where you look forward to your lunch in the park, only to have it rain during your lunch hour (and only your lunch hour). Where you finally feel like you’re on top of things in the office, only to have dropped the ball on something you thought was long over. The kind of day where your hair is just a little too messy, your shirt is just a little too short, your office is just a little too hot. Days like these really get me down. I am much better at big problems than I am at minor annoyances. When something big happens, I can deal with it, because I know that sometimes bad things happen and everyone has to deal with the big stuff. But the little things… the little things make me feel like I’m not very good at regular life. Like I just can’t get it together. Like everyone else is in on some life secret, and I’m standing outside the circle, fumbling to keep the balls in the air while the rest of the group juggles seamlessly. Sometimes I think days like this happen for a reason. We start to feel like we’ve got it together, like we can do it on our own, and we get a reminder of how completely inept we are. It’s probably good for me to be reminded of my desperate need for grace and mercy. And hopefully, I’m starting to understand that a little better with each meh day. I just wish my hair looked okay in the process.

The surprise that wasn't.

2005-11-03T15:30:00.000-08:00

So. Aaron’s birthday. STINKIN’ Aaron’s birthday. Months ago, August 10 to be exact, I bought tickets for the David Gray concert in Atlanta on November 6. It was going to be perfect, because Aaron’s birthday is November 1, and a little weekend getaway to the ATL would be a great gift. David Gray is one of his very very favorites, and our last trip to see him was tainted by the group behind us, who mistakenly thought they were at a Dave MATTHEWS show. But I digress. I have the tickets. I have the hotel reservation. I have THREE MONTHS to keep a secret. I am a terrible secret keeper. One summer, early in our relationship, I tried to surprise Aaron with David Gray tickets. All I’d told him was not to make plans for May 13. (Yes, I remember the date.) He promised not to try and figure it out, and I kept my mouth shut. Then his good-for-nothing brother, Chad, called. “Dude, David Gray is coming to the Bronco Bowl on May 13! We should go!” Surprise ruined. I’m cruising along, working HARD to keep things on the downlow. The Rock plans a block party for November 5. Any other date and we’d be all over it, and as far as Aaron knows, we are. We help with planning and sign up for day-of projects, all the while I’m emailing Steve that we will NOT be there, and please don’t tell Aaron. I thought Steve was going to be my downfall, but he held strong. His other dirty-rotten-scoundrel brother, Brian, calls. Wants the two of them to fly to Indiana to watch Notre Dame play Tennessee. When? November 5. I have to shoot it down, but I can’t say why. Secret averted, but just barely. So there I am, November 1. Aaron’s birthday. I’VE DONE IT. I’ve got giant tickets my friend Brad made so I would have something to wrap. I’ve got the new David Gray CD. I’ve got cheesecake. I’m ready. And then I check my email. Dear Fan, We have been informed by the promoter that the David Gray 11/6/2005 show at the Tabernacle has been postponed and may be rescheduled for a later date. Please hold on to your tickets while a rescheduled date is being confirmed. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact us. We will be happy to assist you. Thank you, Musictoday, LLC Postponed. POSTPONED. All my planning. My painstaking secret keeping. And David Gray has to go and get sick. What do I do? Level-headed girl that I am, I panic. I cry. I call Brian to see if there’s any way they can still go to the football game. (There’s not.) I call the hotel to see if I can change my reservation. (I can’t.) I cry again. I call my mom. It’s not helping. Can Musictoday, LLC assist me in piecing together a last minute birthday awesomefest? I’m thinking no. I realize, of course, that the whole point of a birthday is to celebrate the person. And the whole reason I put so much planning into it is because Aaron is special to me and I want to make a big deal out of the fact that he was born. I’m glad he was born. However, birthdays are a big deal to me. Huge. And a night in Atlanta with the maybe promise of a someday concert was NOT going to satiate my desire for a big fat exciting birthday surprise. But I was going to have to make do. And I did, and it was great. Deep down I knew it would be. But just once, I would like for a surprise I plan to actually work out. Is that too much to ask? Stupid David Gray and his stupid infection.

Ten Reasons Why I Like Aaron.

2005-11-01T14:56:00.000-08:00

He laughs hysterically at his own jokes.
He continues to speak the spanglish-ish language we made up on our honeymoon, three years later.
He is passionate about his job and his industry.
He makes me dinner.
He plans in advance the music he will listen to at work, and gets especially excited about “James Brown Day”.
He calls everything “too sexy”, a la the Antonio Banderas SNL skit.
He understands that his birthday gifts are as much about me as they are him, and knows to get appropriately excited about them.
He knows how to work with junior high kids. He talks to them like adults and respects their opinions and ideas. He is never condescending toward them.
His taste in music: 90% excellent, 8% moderate and 2& questionable.
He is my favorite of all the people everywhere. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY!

This is what happens when you never let me take your picture.

You get Dancing Man.

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

2005-10-31T20:46:00.000-08:00

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...

2005-10-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.

2005-10-27T10:57:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-10-21T15:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-10-21T09:00:00.000-07:00

I made you a macaroni and cheese necklace!

2005-10-19T10:30:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-10-17T10:31:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-10-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

(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.

2005-10-06T15:29:00.000-07:00

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.)

You were no stranger to the rain.

2005-09-30T09:37:00.000-07:00

Almost two years ago, my maternal grandfather died. He was (and is) the only grandparent I have lost. Papa was the picture of the strong, silent type, at least at family gatherings. With six kids and tons of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, holidays at the Gunter house were always madness. Papa always sat in his chair, taking in the chaos around him, calling people out as needed, and rolling his own (unfiltered) cigarettes on his little side table. One of my favorite Papa stories took place the first time Aaron made the drive to Greenville with us for a holiday. This was a huge step in our relationship, as the Greenville side is a little crazy. You don’t bring just anyone out there; they may never call you again. (Just kidding, Mom!) I think it was Thanksgiving, and we had just arrived at the house. We’re loaded down with casserole dishes and pies, and mom opened the tricky screen door and held it open for the rest of us to enter. Chelsea was first, then me, then Aaron. Papa’s chair was positioned next to the door, but facing into the room, so as people walked in he didn’t see them until they had passed him, and then only the backs of their heads. We all went straight to the kitchen to unload. When my mom came in, Papa grabbed her arm. Papa: That’s not Brandi’s boyfriend, it is? Mom: Well… yeah, dad. That’s Aaron. There are worse guys out there! Papa: Well I don’t know where. I’ve been thinking about Papa a lot lately. My friend Jessi’s aunt died on Sunday, and we had been praying for her for a few weeks. The whole situation just brought him to mind. Like me with Papa, Jessi doesn’t know what her aunt believed about God and Heaven. It’s an almost unbearable feeling. There’s no answer for it – you can pray for peace, but what does that mean? What does it look like? Because of that, I don’t let myself think about him too much. He lives in a part of my mind that I don’t often visit. The emotions there are just too intense most of the time. After a week of talking to Jessi and thinking about Papa, I was emotionally exhausted. Yesterday as I was driving back from lunch, I was skipping though the radio stations. As I passed one, I recognized Vince Gill’s “Go Rest High On That Mountain”. That was one of the songs played at Papa’s funeral. My first instinct was to keep on going like I hadn’t heard it, but instead I went back. I sat in my car and let the song fill my ears and my soul, and just cried. I had been running from those thoughts all week, and it had become too much. I’m not the type to think God speaks to me through my lunch or anything, but I do think he wanted me to hear that song and let myself go there. It was therapeutic and comforting, and for a couple of minutes I felt connected to him again.

A boy and his dog.

2005-09-28T12:58:00.000-07:00

There is nothing cuter than a dog in a football jersey.

Sleepy Miles. Cheering for the 'Boys. BFF.

Muggles and wizards and house-elves, oh my!

2005-09-28T10:41:00.000-07:00

So when I last posted about Harry Potter, I did not know the extent of what I was getting into. I didn’t know how these books were going to take over my life. I was not prepared for the magnetic pull they seem to have on me whenever I get a free second. I had no idea I’d be trying to figure out how to read at my desk without anyone noticing. I love these books. I am now about a quarter of the way through Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which means I have read three books in less than two weeks. And I read Prisoner of Azkaban in it’s entirety over the weekend. I was thinking that I needed to get started, so I would have time to read the first four and see the first three movies before the movie version of Goblet of Fire comes out. Apparently I gave myself more than enough time. I don’t know why, but I was really surprised by how much I have enjoyed these books. The first two were fun, but the third really took me somewhere. I love watching the characters develop and become who they are… I think it’s pretty realistic to how those years of your life really are. I especially enjoy reading Hermione, probably because I see myself in her. It is fun to watch her become a teenager, and I hope that develops more as the books go on. I bumped the movies to the top of our Netflix, and I think I am excited to see them. I know I will enjoy them, but at the same time I don’t want the Hogwarts of my imagination to change. Once you put actual faces to the characters, it’s hard to go back to what you originally thought. For example, in my head Professor McGonagall is a plump old woman, almost like a fairy godmother. I know that Maggie Smith (who I love) plays her in the films, and while it will be fabulous, it won’t be the same for me reading the books after that. But I can’t wait to see Quidditch.

Oh, I am so in.

2005-09-20T15:19:00.000-07:00

I did it. I gave in. I joined the cult. That’s right, folks. I’m reading Harry Potter. My dear friend Becka gave me the first five books for my birthday. She SAYS it’s because she knows I will love them, but I know the truth is that she needs someone to discuss them with. And CHELSEA! Finally I can know what she is always freaking out about. It will be much fun. So far I have read the first one, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. And can I just say? LOVED IT. I don’t know why I was holding out on these books! It was such a quick read, and I could not put it down. It’s so fun, and creative. I can’t wait to keep going. I stayed up all night Saturday finishing it, and close to the end actually yelled, “NO WAY”, waking up both Aaron and Miles. I did not see that coming. So yes. Love. As if I needed a new obsession. Even one I'm coming to eight years late. Thanks, Becka! (check out Aaron’s post about his trip to Mississippi.)

Please give me money.

2005-09-16T10:26:00.000-07:00

I need to go shopping. My wardrobe is pathetic these days. If you do not want to give me money, please buy me one or more of the following:

Jeans that can be worn with flats. My only good jeans are 'heels' jeans, and cannot be worn with flats without cuffing. I am tired of cuffing.
A knee-length denim skirt with cool back pockets.
Tall boots.
Brown shoes that can be worn to work.
Cute, slim sweaters in bright colors.
A trench coat. In a fun color.
Multiple pairs of cords, particularly dark brown, olive green and red.
Cute t-shirts to go with my new cool sneakers.
A black skirt.
A cool brown or tan blazer or jacket.

Please. I am desperate.

Happy Birthday, MOM!

2005-09-14T09:59:00.000-07:00

29 years ago today (and by 29 I mean 51), Nelda Jean Gunter came into the world. And for that I am eternally grateful. My mom is one of the coolest people I know. She’s never met a stranger. She laughs at my dad’s horrible jokes. She dances like a madwoman. She is a good friend. She really listens, and has never tried to force her opinions on me. She supports my choices and encourages me daily. She has worked hard all her life to provide the best she can for me and Chelsea. I am very lucky; I know most kids don’t get the great start in life that we did. And we owe all of that to our parents. She has been the life of the office every place I’ve known her to work. People enjoy her company. They want to be her friend. She makes them laugh. They respect the work she does. She can sing Carole King and Steve Wariner better then they do it themselves. Including the instrumental parts. She goes out of her way to make a big deal of out birthdays for everyone she knows. Aaron was getting birthday boxes when we were barely dating. The demise of the TCBY ice cream pie was a dark day in the life of Nelda’s Birthday Hooplas. She deserves a celebration twice the size of what she provides for others. And she used to have a rockin’ fro. It was HOT.

Look how far we've come, now baby...

2005-09-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

I met Trisha about three years ago. I was temping after I moved to Nashville, and she worked in the office where I ended up. We hit it off pretty quickly, and she became my saving grace in that office of insanity. We only worked together for about six months, but she has been my friend ever since. Trisha is married to Jay, and they have three of my favorite kids on earth: Hudson, Gabe and Grace. These are my favorite recent stories about them. Hudson (8): Has decided he is a stand-up comedian. His routine consists of picking up various items and saying, “What’s the deal with this? I mean, what is this?” Regularly accuses Gabe of stealing his material. Gabe (5): Wants to be Elvis for Halloween. Will get your attention, turn his back to you, then spin around and point and say, “Thank you very much.” Grace (4): Trisha will ask, “Who’s pretty?” and Grace will raise her hand. Then she asks, “And why are you pretty?” and Grace says, “Because you’re pretty, mama.” Saturday was Jay’s 30th birthday, and Trisha planned the mother of all surprise parties for him. His family and friends live all over the country, and they all flew in. She took him to dinner at The Palm, and while they were there the babysitter called to tell them that Hudson was really sick and they needed to come home. (Before they left, Trisha paid Hudson a dollar to go to Jay and act like his stomach was upset and play sick until they left. Genius.) So they walk in the door, and 30 people yell “Surprise!” It was awesome. He had no idea. Then he started to see who was there, and how many people had traveled to be there with him, and he got overwhelmed and started crying. Then I did. I’m a sucker. It was great fun to be a part of something so special in our friends’ lives. Trisha was my first real friend in Nashville, and we have spent many an afternoon hanging out with them and their kids. She’d put together a DVD slideshow of pictures of Jay growing up and of their family, and I think everyone got a little teary. I know I did. It was so neat to see how his life turned out to be what it is. And looking at how special pictures of just a random day at home can cause you to get emotional years later. A testament to how it’s all about the little things, I guess. *embarrassing side note* During part of the slideshow, they played Shania Twain’s “You’re Still The One.” Now, Shania is on my Do Not Listen list. She really is. But hearing that song and watching pictures of them just getting married and the kids when they were so little… it got to me. I admit it. So I guess you can add that to the list of songs I shouldn’t like but do. Crap.

Yellow pants are TOO sexy.

2005-09-08T15:42:00.000-07:00

So I've been sitting here all day, thinking about how I need to post something because it's been almost a week. But I didn't really have time to write anything long. Then I saw something out my window that just had to be shared. Across the alleyway from our building is a recording studio. All kinds of random people come in and out, and today was no exception. Not five minutes ago, a man in the sweetest outfit I have ever seen on a non-joking person came out. White shirt. Pale yellow pants. Loafers with no socks. HOT.

Luckily, I had my camera with me today:

Things About Chelsea.

2005-09-02T09:30:00.000-07:00

For the last day of the list challenge, Chelsea and I are writing 25 things about each other. So here is my list about her, and you can click here for the last 25 things about me.

25 THINGS ABOUT CHELSEA

She does a mean high kick.
She has fabulous hair.
When we were little and would get in the car to go somewhere, she would always pat the seat between us and tell our parents it was the perfect place for a little brother to sit. That never happened, but when Aaron and I got married she said told that story in her maid of honor speech, how he may not be little and he may not fit between us in the back seat, but she finally got her brother and she was really glad it was him. That was the sweetest thing ever.
She knows way too much about Gilmore Girls, Friends and Lord of the Rings. And Harry Potter.
After she hurt her knee in high school, she joined the flag corp. Neither of us had ever been involved in something like that, and it was so cool. They were fabulous, and I would get chills every time I saw them perform.
Her first pair of glasses had pink plastic frames. I was jealous.
She takes really interesting photographs. She has a great eye and catches details that other people would certainly miss. Like a giant armadillo overtaking an army.
She is strong. She’s dealt with some crazy things in her life, and always manages to come out on top.
There is documented video of the kind of fit this girl is capable of throwing. It would be sad if it weren’t so darn funny.
There is also evidence of her and an unnamed sister wearing matching red ruffled shorts.
We used to play a game called cruise ship. This game basically consisted of us getting all of our toys and clothes that we would want to take on the trip, packing them up, loading up the ship (my bed) and getting on board. Then we would quit, abandoning the ship full of stuff to float away into oblivion. Or at least until Mom made us put everything back.
She is very loyal and caring. I take comfort in knowing that if I needed her she would hop the first plane and get here as fast as possible.
She looks great with a side French braid and big bangs.
Put her on a pool table, give her a glittery baton and put on some Bon Jovi and you are in for a show. Maybe we shouldn’t have been surprised that she was so great at flags!
She has great fashion sense. Every time we get together, I am impressed by the things she puts together and the style she has developed.
Her adorable dimple on one side is due to a trampoline accident when she was little. Our next door neighbors had a trampoline, but it was a mess – no pads, missing springs, I think it even had a hole in the middle. I don’t think we were allowed to jump on it. One day Chelsea was on there, and after a particularly high bounce she landed in the springs and pads and hit her face. It was a big mess, and as a result her smile is super cute. (I might be a little fuzzy on some of the details of that story.)
She is so getting the Christmas village. I am so getting Brenda Lee Christmas.
She talks in her sleep.
She played on a competitive softball team called the Grand Slam. They were really good. Chelsea ruled at softball.
She had a Jem and the Holograms nightgown. (So did I.)
She and my dad had the same fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Tribble. She was scary.
She has a TV and a DVD player in her room. Video games too, I think. I know she’s an adult, but I’m still jealous. I never got to have that stuff!
She also got to pierce her ears earlier than she was supposed to. And she got a perm! Little sisters get everything.
She is totally jealous of Miles the Wonder Dog.
I can kick her butt in Dance Dance Revolution.

Things About Me - Part 3

2005-09-01T15:33:00.000-07:00

ANOTHER 25 THINGS ABOUT BRANDI

I have never worn braces or glasses.
I want to travel to Europe before I have a child.
Somehow I manage to look at the clock at 10:11 every morning.
When I was little, I loved to climb trees but was terrified of climbing down. We had a big weeping willow in our front yard, and I would climb way up to the top and then scream at the top of my lungs for my dad to rescue me.
I was never a big fan of chips and salsa until I started dating Aaron. I would eat it, but it was not nearly as important to me as other foods. But his family has salsa instead of blood, and I got used to it pretty quick. Now I love it and would choose it over almost any snack.
Cooking makes me really needy. I love to cook and try new things, but I so badly need validation of the things I make that I think I get annoying. I have a complex about being bad in the kitchen, so if I make something new I ask excessive questions. “Do you like it? Are you lying? Is it just okay? You can tell me.” But you better not actually tell me or I will be crushed.
I started college at a large state school, and transferred to a small private school after my first year. I gave in to the idea that it would be better somehow. Ironically, the friends I consider my ‘college friends’ are the girls I met at the big bad state school.
I hate the sound of a fork scraping a plate. It sends chills up and down my spine.
When I eat, I try to eat all my food evenly so I will end up with one bite of each food. At the end, I make an executive decision about which food was my favorite, and save that bite for last. If someone steals one of my last bites (AARON!) it is not pretty.
I moved to Nashville from Dallas in the summer of 2002. It took me a good 6-8 months to get used to this place and be able to say I like it. Now I love it and can’t imagine moving back. We have really made a home here and have friends that I would consider family. It’s hard to live so far away from relatives, but I love that our life here is truly ours and no one else’s.
I had four living grandparents and one living great grandparent until I was 22. I feel extremely lucky to have had them for so long, and to have lost them when I was old enough to understand. I don’t know how well I would have handled it if I’d been younger. I still have both grandmothers and a grandfather, and while this entry seems to be bragging on my ability to deal with their death, I know it will crush me when it happens, just like it did when we lost Granny and Pawpaw.
My name is Brandi An. I still have not quite forgiven my parents for giving me an airhead first name and a useless middle name. An with one N? You would think it would have tipped them off when the nurse wrote “(correct)” next to my middle name on my birth certificate because so many people tried to change it. But no.
I have had the honor of being a bridesmaid three times, in Kelley, Melanie and Angie’s weddings. I am way too excited about being in Steffanie’s wedding this coming April. I really love being in weddings and getting to stand with my friend on one of the biggest days of her life. I look forward to the other weddings I will be in, especially Chelsea’s, where I will get to choose my own dress and everyone else’s as well. My wedding wasn’t enough, people. I need to control everything.
In seventh grade, my best friends were Amanda, Shera and Jennifer. We wrote multi-colored notes to each other and had extensive code names for everything. I have since tried to read some of those notes and I have no idea what we are talking about.
In sixth grade, my teacher (Mr. Houser – boo!) called me out into the hallway. He asked me if I wanted to be enrolled in advanced placement classes in junior high. I told him no, because I wanted to be cool and honors classes were not cool. He never did anything else about it (like call my parents!) and I was in regular classes throughout high school. I feel like I really missed out and I’m still kind of bummed about that. I know I should have said yes, but he should have realized that an 11 year old girl should not have final say on her educational decisions.
I have been recognized as my mother’s daughter by my smile. People who know my mom but have never met me have approached me in public to ask if I’m Nelda’s daughter. This makes me happy and proud.
A jellyfish stung me at South Padre Island when I was 10.
When listening to music, I absentmindedly sign the first letter of each syllable in the lyrics. It’s a challenge when the song is really fast, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it.
I love to make lists. I love those lined pads that have a magnet on the back for the fridge. I make my list on that paper with an ultra fine point sharpie. If I am halfway through the list and I make a mistake, I start over rather than have a scratch out on my list.
Someday I would like to have a really great home office. I want really modern and funky supplies, personalized stationery, great furniture. I love post-its too much to use plain yellow ones forever! (“Actually, I invented a special kind of glue…”)
I love to dance but rarely dance in public. I would much rather watch and make fun of other people. This is why I don’t dance in public – I know what I would say about me if I saw myself.
I can quote almost any episode of Friends. Since my marriage, I am also able to quote Seinfeld with ease.
I have an unnatural love of magazines. Especially the September issues – they are the thickest and have great shopping information. I read them straight through, cover to cover. I don’t even jump with a story, I’ll just pick back up with I get to the designated ‘continued on…’ page.
I was never an animal person until Miles the Wonder Dog. The only other animal I ever liked was Mel’s dog Chelsea.
At North Texas I had a roommate named Lori. Lori played the harp. There was a big harp in our dorm room, right in your line of vision when you opened the door. People would come in and say, “Oh cool! Who plays the harp?” And Lori would act all shy and say it was her. They would ask her to play, so she would play them a song. Except it was always the same song. I never once heard her practice anything else, ever. The girl knew ONE SONG, and used it to make everyone thing she was funky and exotic for playing the harp.

Don't forget to check out Chelsea. Tomorrow's installment of my list will be written by her, and her's by me. It will be interesting to see what 25 things about me she comes up with!

Things About Me - Part 2

2005-08-31T14:59:00.000-07:00

25 MORE THINGS ABOUT BRANDI

I eat the caramel off the top, then the chocolate off the sides, then the cookie part last when eating a Twix.
I finally branched out into the world of pointy-toed skinny heels, and round-toes are back in style this fall.
I have always hated the game Monopoly. Then I got it for my birthday and have beat Aaron three times. Now I love it.
I am the Zoolander of driving – I will go out of my way to avoid making a left turn.
I played basketball, volleyball and ran track in high school. I was okay at the first two, but excelled in track. It was the first time I got to be the star of the team instead of just a bench-warming supporting player. I loved it.
College was an especially wonderful time in my life. Sometimes I miss living in the dorms and having waffles for dinner every night.
I make up songs with very detailed verses about Miles the Wonder Dog.
When I was three, I tripped over a step in my parents’ bedroom and hit my face on their bed frame. I had to get four stitches underneath my eye, and as a result have a small tic-tac-toe board scar. They are the only stitches I have ever gotten.
My five desert island bands are: Waterdeep, Counting Crows, Carole King, Patty Griffin and Weezer. I didn’t list the Beatles because they are a given. All desert islands come equipped with their complete catalog. It's like saying your favorite book is the Bible.
I really love wrapping gifts. It’s my mom’s fault – she is the gift wrap Nazi. I love buying wrapping paper and using funky ribbon and that tape you can’t see. I would love to have a room dedicated solely to gift wrapping like those homes on the tours have. I always have tight creases and folded corners (thanks Mom!)
I hate coffee and most hot drinks. I can drink hot tea if it is tempered with milk.
When I was in high school, my friend Melanie’s mom would buy root beer and keep it in the fridge just for me.
My favorite book is Till We Have Faces by CS Lewis, followed closely by Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner.
I played percussion in the band in junior high. I really liked it and was pretty good, but I succumbed to peer pressure and quit in high school to focus on sports. Good plan, as I use my track-running skills on a daily basis.
When I am a rockstar, my first single will be “Everybody’s Guilty” by Waterdeep. I am meant to stand on stage and sing that song.
I have a real soft spot in my heart for junior high girls. It is such a crucial time in your life, and I feel like my ministry is with them. You start defining who you are, who your friends are, what you believe and how you make decisions during that stage, and anything I can do to help them form a foundation for those decisions is very important to me.
I love to work those logic puzzles with the grid where you mark things with X’s and O’s until you’ve got the answer.
I met Aaron on the internet. We were in the same chat room in the fall of 1998 and he and a friend were talking about a girl I knew. I started talking to him and we stayed in touch for a long time after that via email and IM. Over time we realized that we’d grown up within 5 minutes of each other, had many mutual friends and had been in the same place at the same time a freaky number of times. Our first in-person meeting was not planned… I was at a concert with some friends. One girl, a friend of a friend, had gone to high school with Aaron and we had figured out that we both knew him. At the show, she pointed him out to me. I had no idea he was going to be there. I walked over and introduced myself, and we both kind of looked at each other before quickly making excuses to leave. Very awkward. We stayed in touch after that and had several strange coincidences before we really started hanging out in person. We went on our first date four days before he moved to Nashville. We dated long distance for two and a half years before we got married.
I used to have a recurring nightmare. I was running down a hill that was covered with snakes, and I was jumping over them. A guy with a giant cardboard box was chasing me. The box was full of snakes, and he was throwing them at me as I ran.
Growing up, the 45-minute drive to my mom’s parents’ house felt like it took a thousand hours. We lived for that stop at the convenience store for soda and candy on the way out of town. Somehow, Dr. Pepper from that store always tasted better.
During early morning basketball practice in high school, I would fake nauseous feelings to get to go to the bathroom for a while and get out of practice.
I was the editor of my high school yearbook and my college newspaper.
I got to see the Normals live several times before they broke up. I didn’t realize how big of a deal that is until they decided to do a reunion show in Nashville and people started making plans to fly from all over the country to see it. Luckily, the show is in Nashville, so I’ll be there with bells on.
My dream job is to own a stationery and paper store that also plans weddings and events.
I can’t wear hats. My head is deceptively large and most hats are way too small.

Things About Me - Part 1

2005-08-30T15:26:00.000-07:00

My sister and I are participating in a blog challenge. For the next four days, we will be writing a list of 25 things about ourselves. At the end of the week, we'll each have compliled a 100 Things About Me list. Check her out!

THE FIRST 25 THINGS ABOUT BRANDI

I am addicted to Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream with chocolate graham crackers crushed up in it.
I am glad I was born in 1980 because it’s always easy to remember how old I am. 2005? I turn 25. Easy peasy.
When I got my new cell phone the guy laughed at me because all I wanted was to be able to make and receive calls… he couldn’t understand that I had no desire to text message or take pictures or make home movies with my phone.
I love that Outlook automatically capitalizes the letter I for you in email. I never hit the shift key correctly and end up capitalizing half the email.
I have been married for three years, one month and 4 days.
My favorite movies are Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion and Almost Famous.
My favorite TV show is Curb Your Enthusiasm, followed closely by America’s Test Kitchen on PBS.
I am hideously self-conscious at work about how I look at work… I feel like my job is too cool for me.
I call my husband any time I successfully parallel park or back into a parking space.
I do not call him when I do either of those things unsuccessfully.
I am painfully picky about the newspaper. No one is allowed to touch any section of the paper until it’s been placed in the ‘discard’ pile. I take it apart, toss what I’m not interested in, and organize the rest from least interested to most. That way I get everything read, and my favorite parts are saved for last. If you try to take something out of the ‘not yet read’ pile, I cannot be held responsible for what happens.
I really, really, really love thunderstorms.
Fried food makes me very happy. Chicken fried steak, fried pickles, fried okra. Love it all.
I am worried that an inordinate amount of my list will be centered on food subjects.
I had a great childhood. My parents are fun and interesting; my sister is a wonderful friend and partner in crime. I have a major tendency to romanticize things, but we had a happy home growing up and to that I attribute my relatively well-adjusted status today. That status will probably be in serious question by the end of this list.
I only like blue ink and ultra fine point Sharpies.
I wear the same watch, rings and earrings every day. I never wear necklaces. I drool over jewelry in magazines but never buy it for myself. I don’t even want the nice stuff… I want cheap trendy stuff. But for some reason when it comes time to buy it I always chicken out and end up with nothing.
My favorite pair of shoes I own is lavender, pointy-toed flats with a bow at the toe. Super cute, and completelly unlike anything else I have ever bought.
I hate to play spades – the bidding process stresses me out. I always feel like whatever I play, my partner is annoyed with me. This is hardly ever the actual case.
I have only been drunk once, and I use that term loosely. I had a slight hangover the next day, but it wasn’t much. This was also one of the very first times I drank alcohol, at my friend’s sister’s wedding. I tried several things that night, and ended up drinking almost an entire bottle of champagne by myself.
I also caught the bouquet at that wedding, and got engaged less than two weeks later.
If I could do it again, I would have a much smaller wedding with much better food and music.
I am terrified of having children.
I am slowly expanding my cooking repartee. Whereas I used to have three things I would reliably and boringly bring to a party, now I have several dishes to choose from that I know I can create and get good reviews.
I want to live in an old house with creaky wood floors and a big yard with giant trees. A big porch on the front and a screened in porch in the back. A pool. I want the outside to be completely old school and the inside to be totally modern.

Laaaaaaaaaazy.

2005-08-29T10:28:00.000-07:00

We had a slow and lazy weekend. Due to pay schedules, the goal was to spend as little money as possible. I'd say we did a pretty good job. Friday night: We had intended to go to Shakespeare in the Park, but the rain that poured that afternoon prevented it. Instead, we stayed home and did a whole lot of nothing. Aaron and Miles watched football. I made a yellow cake with chocolate icing from scratch (icing too!) I was impressed with myself and Aaron said I did a mighty fine job. That's pretty huge, since that cake from a box is his very favorite thing. Then we played Monopoly until we couldn't take it anymore... no one could build anything and Aaron was taking my money $26 at a time. (Damn you, Pacific Avenue!) Saturday: We were heavy on the lazy today. Slept in, watched the greatest TV of all time (cooking shows on PBS). Cleaned the house. Then we got heavy on the pathetic and sold some clothes to Planet XChange. We made $50! Very impressive. Bought some food, headed home. I can't really remember what we did Saturday night... must have been exciting! I'm sure football, or SNL, or West Wing reruns were involved. OH- we watched Before Sunrise. It was alright... I probably would have liked it more if I'd seen it when it came out. Sunday: went to GracePointe. Came home and ate, then played out our regular Sunday afternoon routine, Aaron took a nap while I read the paper. He left to play Frisbee golf and I painted a lampshade and watched Garden State. Not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon. Last night we were running kind of low on food but Aaron managed to make grilled chicken with brocolli and corn and pasta. Very impressive, and yet another reason why he is the bestest.

Aaron was here!

2005-08-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

Mmmmm... food. The last Thursday of each month, we get together for dinner with the folks in our now-defunct Bible study. So far we've only done it twice, but each time it's been wonderful and I am already looking forward to the next one. Last night we had dinner at the Hansen's. Erik and Amanda are two of the coolest people I know, and they have three of the most adorable children I have ever seen. I think the reason I am drawn to them is because they have three kids, but they don't take over their lives. We don't spend all night talking about them. Amanda stays at home, but she's never been that stereotypical frazzled mom I know too many examples of. Erik is terribly smart and always funny. They are a joy to be around, and we see way too little of them. Plus, they're from Texas, so they ROCK. They would have completely been in had I thrown the party I wanted to when Blue Bell came to Tennessee. Erik and Amanda's oldest son, Kai, has always been oddly attached to Aaron. We think this stems from the first time they came to our house, when Aaron carried him around all night and fed him potato chips. From then on, every time we saw them he was thrilled to see Aaron. Last night was the first time we'd seen Kai in several months... I can't even remember the last time. When we arrived, he met us at the door. He was so big! I hardly recognized him. He was playing shy for a while, but then warmed up to Aaron a bit before going to bed. Today we got the following email from Amanda: "This morning when Kai woke up, he said, "Where did the friends go?" I told him that the friends went home and he smiled and said, "Aaron was here!" You are quite the celebrity around here!" LOVE.

An 80-year-old woman in a 25-year-old body.

2005-08-25T10:37:00.000-07:00

I am old. I have been 25 for two weeks, and my body has decided that 25 is where it all starts going downhill. My back hurts, my knees ache, my ankles won't bend well. I am creaky and cranky and it is not pretty. The culprit behind all this pain? Volleyball. Aaron and I have started playing in a pick-up volleyball game on Monday nights. It's competitive, which I love. I am a volleyball snob, and I have a hard time playing in games where people don't know what they're doing. I know it's all in good fun, and I can do that, but it's a struggle. I need a game where it won't hurt someone's feelings if you block them. Or hit them with the ball. Or argue about whether the ball was in or out. So we went, and it was good. There was one guy there, though, who was kind of a volleyball nightmare. I don't really mind stupid people. They bug me, but they're stupid, they can't help it. What I do mind is stupid people who don't know they're stupid. This guy was one of those people. We started off on the wrong foot when our friend Michael blocked his serve (a totally legal play). He said you can't do that, and had all these crazy reasons about why. He was wrong, of course, but after one round of "I think you can do that, we learned how in high school", I gave up. It's no fun to fight with people. Anyway, I won't go into the details, but it just got worse from there. The worst part didn't occur until the next morning when we woke up. I could. not. move. We were pathetic - me, all hunched over walking to the bathroom, and Aaron, being knocked over by our 19-pound dog because his knees won't bend correctly. Regardless, we had a great time and plan to keep going. They're starting up a co-ed league in October that we will probably play in. Now that we're not at CC anymore, we have a lot of free evenings that we don't know how to fill. I'm excited about finding new activities, and especially excited that volleyball will be one of them. I hope I don’t get too annoying with my strategies and drawings of plays on paper. Not that I’m already doing that or anything.

Just tell me I'm okay...

2005-08-24T15:21:00.000-07:00

Remember Silverchair? I liked them. Last night I went to hear Don Miller read from a few of his books. It was really good… he’s a funny guy and very comfortably interacted with the audience. It was interesting… after reading Blue Like Jazz, which reads almost like a journal, it was strange to see him in person. I kept thinking, “I know so much about this guy and how he thinks, and he knows nothing about me or how what he said changed me.” At one point, a girl asked a question about finding our validation in Christ, in His unbelievable love for us. Why, if we are called to something so much higher and the God of the universe died because he loves us so much, do we look to other people for our worth? Why am I more worried about what my coworkers think of my outfit than if what I am doing is pleasing to God? It was an interesting question that he apparently addresses in Searching for God Knows What. It’s a question I’ve dealt with most of my life, as I’m sure most of us have. For the sake of argument, I’m defining “seek validation” as letting someone’s thoughts or ideas of me shape who I am and what I do. I started thinking about whose validation I seek. Aaron’s, of course, but not for the same reasons as everyone else’s. Validation from Aaron is validation of our marriage. He is not judging me for my outfit, or how funny I am, or the meals I cook (thankfully). Part of his job as my husband is helping me be the best person I can, helping me follow Christ as closely as I can. Approval from him means I’m doing something right… it’s measured against a different standard. I don’t think I would say I seek validation from my friends. I feel pretty confident that they like me for me, that in spite of and because of my quirks and screw ups they love me. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have friendships that are real. These are not friends who will be bitter toward me for having something they want, nor look down on me for doing something they wouldn’t. They celebrate my happiness and support me in my sadness. And I them. I definitely seek validation at work. I work in an ‘industry of cool’, which is unfortunate for me and my compulsive uncoolness. My boss was named one of the best dressed people in Nashville, for crying out loud! I am more self-conscious at work than anywhere else… do I look cool enough? Am I too plain? Am I doing a good job? Do they talk about me when I’m not here? Last night after the event, I called my dad. He recently read and liked BLJ, and I wanted to tell him about it. I realized after our conversation that for the bulk of my adult life I’ve sought validation from him more than anyone else. Subconsciously, I think. He always wanted us to do well, of course, but more than that he wanted us to be independent thinkers. Whatever we chose to do and believe, he wanted us to seek it out and be sure it was what we wanted and what we truly thought. Never to just go along with the crowd. I’ve always been worried that he’s disappointed in me somehow. That by getting involved in church and getting married young I have somehow sold out. Even now, when we talk on the phone, I try to phrase things so he knows that I’m ‘cool’. As I’m starting to figure out who adult Brandi is supposed to be, the pressure to impress my dad has lessened a bit. Maybe I’m more independent than I think I am. He’s certainly more forgiving than I used to think he was. Maybe part of being the person he always wanted me to be is not being so worried about what HE thinks. He wants me to be happy. That’s enough for me.

We'll be groovin'.

2005-08-19T11:02:00.000-07:00

One time in college, I made the mistake of telling my roommates that I had a slight crush on Uncle Kracker. They never let me live it down. His video for "When the Sun Goes Down" with Kenny Chesney just came on. I have no shame - I still like him. I don't want to make out with him or buy his albums or anything, but cute he is.

Back to school, back to school, to prove to dad that I'm not a fool.

2005-08-19T10:37:00.000-07:00

This one of my favorite times of the year. Late August and early September. It’s still hot outside, but you know that fall is fast approaching. Fall is a great season in Nashville. The leaves change colors slowly, and for several weeks there are great views of hills full of reds, oranges and yellows. I love Nashville weather because we have four actual seasons. Not like Texas, where you have summer for eight months and one icy day. But I love these pre-fall days for another reason. Nashville is full of colleges: Vanderbilt, Belmont, Trivecca, Lipscomb. And in these last weeks of August, the college kids start flooding the town. I know that in a few weeks I will be cursing them – the way they take all the tables at Panera and Satco, the way kids eight years younger than me drive cars eight years newer than mine. But for now, I just love the season. I loved college. I loved living in a dorm room, eating in the dining hall, scheduling classes around what was on TV. I loved the library, and walking across the quad, and sitting in coffee shops all afternoon reading and taking notes. I loved editing the newspaper and arguing over page design and competing in journalism contests. Aaron and I met in college, and I learned quickly how to maintain a relationship from 12 hours away and how to find the best prices on phone cards online. So when these kids start arriving in their cars, packed to the gills with shower caddies and milk crates and matching comforters, I get a little emotional. It’s such a major thing, college. You start to become who you’re going to be. You meet the people who you hope will be your lifelong friends. You get your heart broken. You learn to remedy hangovers, cram for tests, write 20-page essays in two hours. How to be a real friend. How to let people really love you. I know college isn’t like that for everyone, but I’m thankful that it was my experience. So I get a little emotional, not just for my college experience but for what these kids are getting ready to do. They are on the verge of an amazing, heartbreaking season of their lives. I hope it is everything they never thought it could be.

Random things.

2005-08-18T10:41:00.000-07:00

I am frazzled today. I think it would be a bad idea for all involved it I tried to write a coherent entry, so I'm not going to. Instead, I shall make lists.

TEN RANDOM THINGS THAT ANNOY ME

The guys on the second floor who come up to the third floor to use our private bathroom. YOU HAVE A BATHROOM ON YOUR FLOOR. Just because you're embarassed to do your business down there does not mean you need to share it with us.
When the guys from the second floor don't answer the bathroom phone when we call it while they're in there.
Our new neighbors who park both of their cars on the street out front instead of in the driveway in the back. I do not like looking out my window and seeing a giant red pickup truck.
Toby Keith.
People who think tipping is optional.
When people at church treat junior high kids as if they're some kind of subspecies. They are fascinating and creative and smart and loving and a whole lot more accepting of most people than they are of them.
That tiramisu and creme brulee are not fat free and vitamin fortified.
Vanity Fair magazine.
People who are unable to listen to someone talk without interjecting their own, only slightly related, experiences in the matter. Sometimes people just need to talk. They don't care what happened to you.
My wardrobe.

TEN RANDOM THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY

Miles the Wonder Dog.
When Aaron gets me a glass of ice water before bed without my asking.
The book on puctuation I got for my birthday. I can't wait to read about someone more frustrated by excessive exclamation point than I am.
The sweet, sweet girls at church who went out of their way to tell me that they are thankful for the time we spent together and they learned a lot from me and sad to see us go but excited about whatever lies ahead for us.
The September issues of magazines with all the fall shopping guides and tips and the pretty pretty pictures.
Getting home after work on an evening where you have nothing to do and can just lay around and be lazy together.
Chai Tea ice cream from Maggie Moo's.
When bad books are still able to create good discussion.
Friends that seem to come out of nowhere and become important in your life very quickly.
Lunch.

Hello, and welcome to The Price Is Right.

2005-08-15T10:50:00.000-07:00

I start an inordinate amount of these posts talking about how I’m embarrassed by whatever music I happen to like. Today it’s that Brad Paisley “Alcohol” song and Big & Rich. I love Big & Rich. I am so ashamed. Last week I received the birthday box from my mom. It is one of my very favorite things about my birthday. She fills it with gifts, magazines, candy, and whatever random stuff she thinks I need. Then she wraps it in brown paper and she and my sister cover it in clippings and pictures from magazines. Then they wrap it again and ship it. It is so great. This year in the “random stuff” category was the video of my 10th birthday party. It was as embarrassingly good as I remembered. At one point, my sister does a fabulous lip synch/dance to NKOTB’s “Step By Step”. In my mind, the best part of the dance is the high kick she so passionately performs repeatedly. I was mistaken however. There is a move in this dance so inspired, so creative, so amazingly awfully awesome that I must have blocked it out for fear of overwhelming my brain. At the end of the song, Joey hits a loooooooong high note. When Chelsea performed this part of the song, she added my favorite dance move: the slow-motion fist raise. Her eyes are closed, her nose is squenched, and her fist is raised. It. Rules. After the birthday party, there is a mercifully short clip of a 5th grade Christmas choir concert that includes not only terrible singing, but a peach sweatshirt and MATCHING SKIRT with lots of dangly ribbons in my hair and excessive nose-wiping. After the concert, there was something I’d never seen before. It was my friends and I when we were about 15, dressed like we’d just come home from basketball practice. There were about seven of us. We were just hanging around, playing darts, singing goofy songs. Kelley was doing a Bob Barker impression. Jayme was bullying us, as usual. Callie was playing computer solitaire and trying to avoid the camera. Steffanie was reading a magazine and Melanie and I were singing. (the camera is on Jayme, shooting darts) Kelley: Brandi! Point the camera over here! I’m going to do Bob Barker. Jayme, pointing a dart at Kelley: I’ll show YOU Bob Barker! (pan to Kelley) Kelley, holding a toothbrush: Hi! I’m Bob Barker. Welcome to The Price Is Right! I’m so glad you’re all here today. Me: That’s it? Kelley, laughing: Yeah. Me: I’m never filming you ever again. It was so much fun to see. I love those girls, and am thankful that I can still call a couple of them good friends. I had a great group of friends growing up… we kept each other out of serious trouble, went through all of our ‘firsts’ together, and just had a good time. It’s not something I think of often, but every now and then something reminds me. The video was short, but by the time it was over I was crying. I’m so thankful for my life now, and especially that we don’t live in Texas anymore. I don’t think we could all be friends today. But for a season, we had it pretty great.

Happy happy birthday. We're so glad you came.

2005-08-10T15:27:00.000-07:00

I love birthdays. Love them. All birthdays – family, friends, coworkers. But especially MY BIRTHDAY. Which is today. When I was little, we celebrated my birthDAY. As I got older, it stretched into birthday WEEK. Now, BIRTHDAY MONTH. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Birthdays were always a big deal when I was growing up. We always had a party, even if it was just with the family. Ice cream pie, lots of presents, the house covered in Happy Birthday banners. It’s my mom’s fault that I make such a big deal out of my birthday now. I throw myself a party just so I’ll have one. Cake and ice cream are always involved. And I always get that giant covered-in-magazine-clippings-and-marker box from my family. I love that box. My aunt Susan and Uncle Charles had a pool in their backyard. Since my birthday is in August, I had many pool parties at their house. Pool parties are the best – hanging out in the water, having handstand and front flip contests, seeing who can hold their breath the longest. Getting out just to eat cake and open presents, and spending the rest of the day in the water. I changed my mind – that’s what I would do all day every day if I didn’t have to work. When I turned 10, I had what could be called the greatest birthday of all time. I had a big fat slumber party. At my parents’ house, the garage is sealed up and turned into a room. This was done about 30 years ago, so the room has shag carpeting, a bar, and mirrors along one wall. At one time, it also had two pool tables, a drum set, multiple guitars and microphones and a stereo. This room became Stage Central. My dad set up the video camera on the tripod, and we went to town. That video is one of my most prized possessions. Me and my ten best friends, taking turns dancing and lip-synching to Paula Abdul, Milli Vanilli, New Kids on the Block. There is an especially shameful moment, where I, in my palm tree shirt (pulled into a t-shirt tie), lime green shorts, hot pink socks and white keds, perform a solo dance to Forever Your Girl. I am not a dancer. I’m surprised Aaron still married me after seeing that video, and my French-braided giant-bowed self. On my 18th birthday, one of my all-time birthday dreams came true. My boyfriend at the time, Josh, came to my house in the middle of the day. I was there alone, because my family had gone to my grandma’s house to help her with something. I wasn’t expecting him, so he caught me off-guard. He blindfolded me and we got in his truck. We drove around for a while and then into what seemed like some kind of field. He parked and got me out of the car and we walked for a while. Then he took the blindfold off and it was a SURPRISE PARTY! All of my friends were there, my entire family, everyone. It was fabulous. I always wanted someone to go to a lot of trouble for me for my birthday, and he did it. It was also fabulous because that was the summer before we all went to college, so it was great to have that one big memory with everyone there. The relationship didn’t last, but that memory always will. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that birthdays become a bit disappointing. I think it’s partially because they were always because they were such a big deal growing up, and when you don’t live with your parents you’re kind of responsible for your own big deals. I always build them up in the weeks preceding, imagining all of the things people are planning for me. Then the night before, I realize that’s probably not going to happen and I get sad that it’s almost over. I used to do the same thing at Christmas… I love the season, and then Christmas Eve I get sad because it will all be over soon. Maybe I’m not living in the moment. So, happy birthday to me. It’s my quarter-century mark. I feel so old.

Seriously. The beach every day.

2005-08-08T10:28:00.000-07:00

What would you do if money was not an issue? I hate that question. It's generally used to "help" figure out what you want to do with your life, what your dream job is. But I find it completely useless. If money was not an issue, I would sleep late every day, then go shopping, then go to the beach, then go out for dinner. Every. Day. Is that a job? Sign me up. We spent a lot of this weekend talking about Aaron's job situation. An opportunity has presented itself, and now he's got a weird decision to make. I've always been slightly jealous of him - he knows exactly what he wants to do. So every decision comes back to this: is it getting me closer to what I want, or further away? Bam. There's your answer. I really struggle with job stuff. I like my job alright, it's interesting and a little creative, which I enjoy. But I don't love that I spend all day working to help someone make money. At the end of the day, it's all about getting her name out there and making her successful. Not exactly what I want my life's work to be. But what do I want it to be? I have no idea. I'm intimidated by business. I'm not terribly ambitious career-wise. I don't have dreams of being a CEO or running the place. I don't want to be responsible for that. I like being an assistant... I don't take my work home with me, I don't have to get all freaked out when the big man is in the office, there's little risk of my making mistakes that cost millions of dollars. It's a simple life. But I know I don't want it to be my life forever. I want to do a lot of things: open an invitation and party planning business, be a stay-at-home mom, work at a job that is helping people or bettering society, learn to cook gourmet meals, build furniture, write for a magazine, lay on the beach all day. I don't love the corporate life. I don't want to sit at a desk all day. I want to stay home and hang out with my dog and read books and DO something. Also - I will never understand why people like Faith Hill. Yuck.

Don't you know, things will change? Things will go your way?

2005-08-05T10:11:00.000-07:00

I pay $10 a month for the wonderful service that is Rhapsody. Basically, it is an online jukebox that holds every album ever made. You can search by artist, song title or album title and listen to anything you want. You can also save albums and create playlists. In other words, the greatest invention known to man. I've had Rhapsody for about a year and a half, so my artist list and playlist counts are pretty high. I save every album I listen to and like. I do this for two reasons: so I'll be able to find them again, and to have a record of my taste. This explains why I'm holding on to that Fountains of Wayne album that I will never listen to again. When I first signed up with Rhapsody, I was really excited about the chance to listen to music from my childhood and adolescence. I immediately set up playlists with titles like "Teenybopper Pop" and "Grunge" and "Country girls." (Shut up.) While fun at first, I soon realized that it's a good thing Tiffany didn't have a lifetime career. The phrase "one-hit wonder" was coined for a REASON. This morning, however, I was drawn to the playlist titled "Junior High Music." My junior high years ranged from 1992-1994. These were not the best years for music. Just throwing that out there. But sometimes you just need a little Shai. Some Jodeci. Maybe a bit of Boyz II Men to set the mood. And that need, my friends, is how I found myself rockin' out to Mariah Carey's "Someday" when my big-time country music star boss walked into my office. It was the fast part at the end, and I was singing along to see if I remembered all the words. Muy embarrassing. But just know, I do know all the words.

What else could I be? All apologies.

2005-08-04T12:33:00.000-07:00

The other day at lunch, I ended up sitting next to a very uncomfortable discussion. I'm sitting there, eating my chicken salad, trying to read Vogue in peace, when I start to pick up on what's going on at the next table. There are two of them, a mother and her son. He looks to be around 20, and based on their conversation I imagine that's about right. I will call her Captain Lilly Pulitzer, as she had on not only a green polo with a pink Polo horse on it, but said polo was tucked into pink capris with green seashells embroidered all over them. Scary. He was wearing baggy jeans and a green tshirt, and had that shaggy bedhead look that's so popular with the kids these days. I will call him Normal Guy. From what I could gather, NG had made some life decisions that CLP did not approve of. I didn't catch what those decisions were, but he was upset. He kept saying things like "I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment" and "It's my life and my choice, not yours." And she was saying things like "A degree is the only way to get a job" and "your resume will never be good enough." So it's my understanding that NG has graduated from high school, but may not want to jump straight into college. Maybe he's in a band. Maybe he wants to join the Peace Corp. Maybe he's a lazy bum who wants to live off mom and dad for the rest of his life. CLP, on the other hand, wants him to go to college and get a degree and a good job and contribute to society. I felt bad for both of them, and the situation brought to mind a similar one that took place in my house a few years back. Not with me - I have always been goody-two-shoes-do-what-you're-told. I went to college right after high school, graduated in four years, wham bam thank you ma'am. But when my sister was a senior in high school, I imagine she felt a lot like NG. There was a lot of pressure, a lot of yelling, a lot of crying and fighting and general unpleasantness. And not just from her. I was convinced she was "throwing her life away", that a 4-year school was the only viable option if she wanted to do something with her life. My parents, who always stressed that they wanted the best for us, knew what life without a degree was like and how much easier her work life would be with one. None of us were very good at communicating what we really thought, and the result was a lot of hurt feelings and defensiveness. The NG/CLP brought that time in our lives to mind, and I've been thinking about it all week. About how easy it is to get caught up in what you want without considering what other people want. About how my life used to be so black and white, and thankfully the last few years have taught me to see shades of gray. About how we get so intent on making people see our side and do what we think is right, and never consider that maybe our way isn't the only way. So Chels, if you're reading this, I am truly sorry. I've been listening to Relient K today, and their song "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been" is certainly appicable here. Looking back, I can't believe I ever treated you as harsly and unlovingly as I did. It breaks my heart, and I cannot express how grateful I am that you are who you are and do what you do. Thank you for being my friend. Travel 'round the world and back again. Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidante.

What are you doing? Jazzercize!

2005-07-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

Last night at Supper Club, we were short a few chairs and I ended up in the living room with Aaron and Scott. Somehow we started talking about ways we got in trouble in school. It was really a pretty pathetic conversation, seeing as how we've all got goody-two-shoes tendencies. Aaron talked about talking a whole class into hiding from the teacher because she made them re-learn cursive in eleventh grade. Scott talked about sneaking out of school to eat lunch off campus and running into the principal at Taco John's. Me? I had nothin. Aaron's cursive story prompted me to talk about my woes as a third-grader learning cursive, when my left-handed self wouldn't cooporate with slanted letters and I got bad grades. Scandalous. Twice in my school career, I was sent to the principal's office. The first time was in kindergarten, when the teacher told us not to mess with the overhead projector. Paul Walden walked over to it, messed with the knob and pronounced it "cool". Well, anything Paul Walden could do, I could do better. So I started messing with it, too, and the teacher caught me. I still maintain that a trip to the principal was a little harsh for a five-year-old, but such is life. The second time was in sixth grade. We were playing Around the World in math class. For the unfamiliar, Around the World is a game involving flash cards. The first kid in the first row stands next to the kid behind him. The teacher holds up a flash card, and the first one to call out the correct answer moves on to the next kid and keeps the card. If you lose, you take the desk of the kid that beat you. At the end of the game, the kid with the most cards wins. My dear friend Randa took Around the World (and all other competitions) VERY seriously. She had this stance she would assume to get ready for the card, as if bending your knees and pointing your finger could make your brain calculate multiplication faster. I was sitting in the back of the room with Callie. Cool kids that we were, we weren't too concerned with the game going on. What we were concerned with was making fun of Randa. We started imitating her poses as she made her way around the room. Before too long, we were doing some kind of strange Around the World dance, and laughing our heads off. Our teacher, Mr. Houser, did not appreciate the commotion we were causing in the back of the room. He made his way back (sloooooooowly, agility was not his strong suit) and asked Callie what in the world she thought she was doing. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "Jazzercize." At this time in my life, my sense of humor was clearly not fully developed, because I found that answer to be the funniest thing I had ever heard. I laughed obnoxiously loud, and we were both sent to the principal's office. We had to sit on the green vinyl couch in the waiting room while the rest of the class went outside for PE. We never had to actually go inside the office... I guess just sitting in there was punishment enough. It must have worked, as I never really got into trouble at school again.

No tears in my beers.

2005-07-28T10:40:00.000-07:00

Every weekday, from noon to one, I sit at the reception desk in the lobby to cover Brad's lunch hour. I like that time, because I don't have access to my computer or files and can waste time online. Lately, I've been using this time for blogging, which explains the daily posting I've doing of late. The only downfall my lobby time? The giant TV. It is probably nine feet square, and it plays CMT. All. day. long. Now I may work in country music, but I do not listen to it. I know what my artist is doing, and nothing about anyone else. And I am okay with that. However, for that hour a day, I get a taste of what is going on in the industry. Let me tell you about the videos I have seen while down here. (It's a good thing they put titles and artists in the beginnings of these things, or I would have no clue.) Don't - Shania Twain I don't think anyone really thinks Shania is country music. But this song and video are especially bad. It is boobalicious, with a lot of horseback riding and writhing around on a bathroom floor (gross). Drive - Alan Jackson Okay, you got me. I like Alan Jackson. He is country, and he is good. So there. If Heaven - Andy Griggs This one is especially annoying to me. "If heaven was a pie, it would be cherry?" Please. Goodbye Time - Blake Shelton This one is not so bad, but the sap level is pretty high. It's a painful video to watch, mostly due to the fact that Blake Shelton is a terrible actor with one expression: constipated. And he has bad hair. She Can't Burn Me Now - Del McCoury Band I don't know anything about these guys, but it looks like a bunch of older pickers, which I love. The song is fast-paced and high-pitched. The colors in the video are highly saturated and it seems to be filmed almost stop-motion, so it looks really cool. Pickin' Wildflowers - Keith Anderson This is one that I particulary hate, along with Phil Vassar's "I'll Take That As A Yes" which I'll probably see before my hour is up. This guy has a skeevy look, first of all, complete with unbuttoned shirt and chest hair. It's supposed to look like a jazz club, which I like, except they would never play this song or let this guy sing in a jazz club. I hate videos that revolve around a hot girl and seductive glances, it's so boring. And this guy is not hot, so that girl would not be looking at him in the first place. I have about 15 minutes to go, but I'm going to stop there. I never pay this much attention to these things, and my brain is starting to hurt.

Miles the Wonder Dog.

2005-07-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, Aaron has wanted us to get a dog. He grew up with them and was convinced that life was not complete sans pets. I, on the other hand, have never had a pet in my life. My sister is violently allergic to anything with fur, and I am grossed out by lizzards and birds, so no pets for us. I suppose we could have had some fish, but given our history, that was probably not the best idea. I felt that, despite my lack of furry friends, my life had been quite nice and the addition of a dog was not neccessary. Over the past few months, however, he started wearing me down. Sending me pictures from PetFinder. Talking about how fun it would be. Coming up with names (my favorite part). And something I never thought would happen, has happened. We have a dog. Miles the Wonder Dog. And Aaron was right. He is wonderful and perfect and I really, really love him. He is so funny. He loves to snuggle, and gets mad if you don't pet him. And not just any petting, it has to be in this specific spot on his stomach. If you try to pet him somewhere else, he'll push your hand down with his paws. He is a face-licker, which I do not love. But my favorite thing he does is this hopping dance on his back legs. He gets really excited when we come home, and if you don't sit down right away so he can flop on his back and get some stomach petting, he stands up on his back legs and starts jumping up and down. It is absolutely the cutest thing I have ever seen.

I am now something I never thought I would be. An animal person. Look out.