Moving announcement.

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.

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

A wedding weekend play-by-play.

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.

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.

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...

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'...

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.