On Our Way To Crazy

It’s been a rough week in the Manes household.

I am sick sick sick. It started in my throat and has worked its way into my whole head. My eyes are barely open right now. It’s pretty awesome to get sick during a crazy work week that ends with you trying to get out of town for the weekend. I feel like death.

Aaron is out of town for a work conference that could be really good for him but also has the potential to be really awkward. He left this morning with high hopes, but who knows what spirit he’ll be in when it’s all said and done. Any trip where you have to share a room with a coworker is a little scary.

But here’s the worst part. Miles is hurt. Hurt, y’all. Poor little guy. The vet said he’s got muscle strain in his back left leg. He’s moving really slowly and he can’t jump at all. We have to pick him up to put him on the sofa or the bed, and if he jumps down he’s stuck until we can help him back up. It breaks my heart. His little face looks so sad all the time anyway, but when he’s actually sad it’s much worse. Or maybe he’s okay and I’m just a big wimp. That is a definite possibility.

On the bright side, we’re headed to Hot Springs this weekend to hang with my family. We’ve rented a condo on a lake and are just going to hang out for a few days. I haven’t seen my parents since Steffanie’s wedding in April, and even then it was only for a few hours, so I’m really excited to spend some time with them. We have big plans to do a whole lot of nothing… my dad wants to check out the bath houses, but that’s all that’s on the schedule.

When Aaron and I were dating, we would meet in Hot Springs instead of buying plane tickets to Dallas or Nashville. I don’t remember much about the city, but one thing really stands out: the wax museum. What possessed us to go to a wax museum in Hot Springs I will never know. It was creepy. Really creepy. Dark and narrow and smelly. We walked in, and the first figure was of Elvis. We go around the corner, and there’s Bill Clinton, but he kind of looks weird. Then we see Dolly Parton. Her face is a little funny. It takes us a few more figures to realize what the problem is – they all look like Elvis! They have different hair and clothes, but the faces are all the same.

We’ll probably avoid the wax museum this time around, and hopefully I’ll be feeling better by the time we head out tomorrow afternoon. I’m looking forward to a weekend away.

Even if I have to go to the land of a thousand Elvises to get it.

I had to create a new category just so I could say this:

Masterpiece Theatre’s Bleak House totally got the shaft at the Emmy’s last night.

Seriously.

(I’ll be adding old posts to this category today… it’s roughly defined as anything I say that causes Aaron to give me that “Who are you and what have you done with the girl that I married?” look.)

Even through they are one of my very favorite bands, I had only seen Counting Crows in concert one time. A friend took me to see them at the Backyard in Austin for my birthday several years ago. It’s a relatively small outdoor venue with a dirt floor surrounded by trees, and it was the perfect setting to see the Crows. They played a good, long set and pretty much blew me away.

So when I heard they were coming to Starwood, the monster amplitheater here in Nashville, I was understandably thrilled. It had been too long. We bought lawn seats and made plans to meet up with some friends. I was pumped. I wasn’t thrilled about the choice of the Goo Goo Dolls as an opener, but figured with lawn seats we could get there around the end of their set and be good to go.

I called the box office yesterday to find out when the Crows would be going on, and was surprised when the guy told me 9:45. Seems a little late, right? Not for a CO-HEADLINING TOUR. The Goo wasn’t the opener. They were the first half of the show.

This did not please me.

Do you know what a co-headlining tour means for fans of only one band? A one-hour set. ONE HOUR.

This did not please me.

Now, that one hour was awesome. They played a very mellow, very August-heavy set. I was unsure about how the band would be in a big setting like that, especially when I had seen such a great show in a small venue. But that set in the lawn of an amplitheater at 10:30 on a rainy Monday, with the breeze and the dark and the Time and Time Again, was perfect.

They did a lot of my favorites: Long December, Holiday in Spain, Have You Seen Me Lately?, Omaha, A Murder of One. Two of my very favorites, Anna Begins and Round Here, were sadly left off the too-short playlist. They could have done three songs in place of the incredibly long rendition of Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby. Mr. Jones and Hangin’ Around were great, and they mercifully avoided Accidentally In Love and Big Yellow Taxi. Overall, I was happy with the song choices. I just wish there had been more of them.

But regardless of the short set or the drunk girls who clearly thought they were at next week’s Buzzfest (“Are y’all ready to paaaaaaaaaaarty?”), I was thrilled to be there. There’s not much better than having the chance to hear the music that’s important to you played live.

Even if you have to sit through the Goo Goo Dolls to do it.

I love lazy weekends.

And by lazy, I mean LAZY. Sleep-until-eleven-don’t-shower-until-three-don’t-leave-the-house-until-five lazy. That’s the best kind of lazy, I always say. The kind you’re slightly embarrassed to tell your more motivated friends about.

I’ve never been the kind of person who HAS to be busy. I try to keep my life relatively low-key. I don’t take on more than I can handle, I don’t overbook myself, I don’t say yes just because I feel like it’s the right thing to do. I’ve never had a problem sleeping in or having an entirely unproductive day. It keeps me sane.

So when I was telling a friend from home that my Saturday consisted of reading The Devil Wears Prada in it’s entirety before going to see a matinee of Little Miss Sunshine, eating an excellent greek dinner and smoking Aaron at Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit while drinking wine, I thought I was describing pretty much a perfect day. So I was a little surprised when she responded with, “How do you DO that? I can’t have a day where I don’t get SOMETHING done.”

My first instinct was to feel bad… maybe I should have gotten something done. Why don’t I feel the drive to accomplish all the time? Instead, I decided to feel bad for her. I DID get something done. I relaxed. I enjoyed myself and my husband. I shut out the demands of the rest of the world and concentrated on me and on us. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

(Note: Because I know you all, much like my sister Chelsea, have been dying, DYING to know how I feel about the SYTYCD finals, I’ll tell you. They were awesome. Even though my prediction was incorrect (which still shocks me), the whole show was awesome. I loved seeing all the best dances redone and watching Travis and Benji dance together again and Donyelle crying. It’s possible that I cried. Possible. Two thumbs up overall… the only thing that would make it better would be an announcement of a tour date somewhere remotely close to me so I can see it in person. No I am not kidding.)

I have mixed emotions today, people. Tonight is the finale of So You Think You Can Dance, aka The Best Show On Television. I am so, so excited to watch it, and at the same time so, so sad that it’s over.

This show makes me GIDDY. I literally sit there on the sofa grinning like an idiot while I watch it. I laugh. I clap. I discuss the routines with Miles. (Aaron, who has no soul, thinks the show is lame and spends Wednesday evening upstairs playing Madden.)

It is SO. GOOD. It brings me much joy. i’m not sure why. I’ve never been a performer of any kind… never did dance or gymnastics or cheerleading or drama. I played sports. I played percussion in the junior high band, but quit before high school because I was much too cool for band, GAH. But I love to watch performances. They make me emotional. When I was in college, my sister was on the flag corp for her high school band when they came in second in the state. I bawled like a baby during thier entire show. (I am also a little bit lame.)

So tonight, we’re down to the final four: Travis, Benji, Heidi and Donyelle. Last week they danced partner dances with each other, individual solos, and one final group routine that if I had DVR I would have watched over and over and over again. America voted, and tonight we find out who is the winner.

Let’s discuss:

Benji. I have been a Benji fan since the auditions. He was a little crazy and over-the-top, but so much fun. He was paired with Donyelle through the first half of the competition, and the two of them were far and away my favorite couple. He’s just plain fun to watch, and he brings personality and energy to every style of dance he does. I have gotten a little burned out on him, though… too much personality can be grating after a while.

Heidi. Of the final four, Heidi is probably my least favorite. She is a ballroom dancer, specifically latin dances, and she is amazing at them. Her legs flail about as if independent from her body! The judges have called her both the most improved dancer of the season and the best female partner, and I have to agree with them there. It’s been fun to watch her grow and not just do a passable job at other styles, but really nail them. Still, sometimes I get a little bored with her, particularly her solos. They all look the same to me.

Donyelle. Donyelle was an early favorite of mine. Girl is smooth, and her solos rock my face off. But in the last few episodes, it seems like she’s lost some steam. I heard she hurt her toe, which would definitely cause Killer Fatigue. I still love her, but I think of the four she has the lowest chance of winning, unlike…

Travis. I love Travis with my whole heart. He is hands-down my favorite. I loved him with Martha in the first half of the season, but when they started switching partners, it was clear who was holding that couple together. I have been consistently impressed with him in all the styles, but when he does contemporary, it’s just beautiful. I know nothing about dance, but I know that Travis MOVES me, y’all. And that’s why I voted for him last week. A lot. An embarrassing number of times.

So there you have it. My money’s on Travis. If you need me tonight between seven and nine, I’ll be on the couch with a glass of wine while my husband hides from me upstairs. After nine, don’t bother because I’ll be so depressed that my favorite show has ended I won’t be taking calls.

- There is a line that divides the people who should be allowed to walk around in public in a teensy bathing suit and the people who should not. As one who should not, I am not opposed to federal laws enforcing this line.

- Even if a roller coaster is super awesome and the line is crazy short, it might not be the best idea to ride it four times in a row.

- Roller coasters where you stand up in the car are BAD BAD BAD.

- When you talk a kid into riding a ride she’s kind of scared of, and during said ride you can hear her screaming, “THIS IS AWESOME!”, it is really fun.

- When you hear another kid yelling, “MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP”, not so fun.

- Airbrushed t-shirts were not cool when you were in junior high, and they’re not cool now.

- When you’ve been walking around an amusement park in Kentucky in the middle of August for seven hours, the giant wave pool so full of people of all shapes and sizes that people aren’t so much ’swimming’ as ’stewing’ that kind of skeeved you out when you got there suddenly looks like heaven and you don’t think twice about jumping right in.

- Seventh grade girls somehow gain energy at the same rate that adults lose energy.

- Deli-sliced turkey does not, as you might expect, fly like a frisbee when thrown from a van window at 70 miles an hour. You have to ball it up to get any kind of movement out of it.

- Half-empty Dairy Queen Moolattes, however, have excellent flying power and will cover another van’s windshield almost entirely.

In honor of my birthday, today’s post comes to you from Mrs. Nelda Jean Smith, aka my awesome mom.

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I remember that summer vividly, as if it were yesterday instead of 26 years ago.

The summer of 1980. I know you’ve heard about it. Over a gazillion days of record breaking temperatures. The year that holds the record for the “hottest summer EVER!”

Imagine if you will a petite young lady as round as I was tall, with the coolest ’fro ever. After having dinner on a Saturday night, I decided maybe the pains I was having were not from overeating as I was prone to do – maybe they were LABOR PAINS. So off we went to the hospital in the middle of the night convinced we would be sent home for confusing labor with indigestion.

But we were wrong! And 13 ½ hours later the cries of the coolest cone-headed baby ever pierced the halls of Baylor hospital. Brandi An Smith came into the world at 3:29 p.m. weighing 7lbs. 9 oz. and 21” long.

She shrunk to about 19” once the point on her head leveled.

I named her after one of the best songs of the 70’s, but did she appreciate it? I think not. I can hear her saying “It’s a fluff name. Brandi with an I. No one takes me seriously.” I could have named her Shandelite Joy Marie (“Shandle, like candle!”) the way the woman in the next bed did. Fortunately, her Dad quit wearing his “Brandi is a Dandi” T-shirt before she was old enough to read. It appears to me she over came the burden and is someone who is loyal to a fault and definitely taken seriously. I like her smile.

Happy Birthday, Brandi. Thank you for letting me do the writing on the 26th anniversary of the hottest summer EVER!!

I love you,
Mom

With school about to start, Aaron and I are about to get a lot more involved in our new youth group. We’ve spent the summer hanging out with the kids and getting to know them. But in the next few weeks, things get serious. We’ll start Sunday School and small groups and one-on-one time with them. I’m excited.

Which is good, because I wasn’t before. I was nervous, and unsure, and sad. I missed our old kids. I wasn’t sure I was ready to just start fresh. Then the youth pastor we’d been working with at our old church, who left at the same time we did, decided to go back. The kids at that church have had a hard year, youth leader-wise, and they are thrilled that he is coming back. And then I started getting phone calls and emails asking if we were coming back too.

We’re not. Our new church is a million times better for us as individuals and as a couple. I feel like we are members of the church first, and youth workers second. We have friends and a place in the church as a whole as well as within the youth team. That feels good. At the old church we lived in a youth bubble and never felt connected to any other part of the church. We didn’t really like the other parts of the church. We were stuck, and our spiritual well-being was taking a backseat to our ministry.

When I started hearing from our old kids, I expected to feel a desire to go back to the way things used to be. It’s something I’ve struggled with all year. I don’t think we knew at the time how much leaving our old church would affect us. It’s taken a toll. But I don’t feel that desire to go back to an easier time. Instead, I’m excited about taking on the challenge of a new youth group. I really believe we’re in the right place – it’s a small group that is very much trying to figure out who they are and how to do things, and we have a lot of experience. I think I’m finally in a place where I can care about and love our old group without that pang of wondering what we’re missing, and can devote my time and energy and youth worker knowledge to a new set of kids and a group that needs leaders.

It’s been a tough year for us. We’ve been homeless, and that’s really hard when your church family is the only family you have nearby. But my hopes are high for the coming year… I’m still a little nervous, but mostly I’m excited and ready for the challenge.

I have decided to change the name of my blog. Wild and crazy, I know.

When I started this site last year, I had a hard time coming up with a title. After Blogger rejected my first several choices, I finally landed on “Grey Mountain”. Grey Mountain is the home of the god in my favorite book, Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I think I had big plans for deep thoughts and insightful commentaries on life and love and faith.

But y’all, that’s not me. I do not have time to write that blog.

So I have renamed my little corner of the internet “On Our Way To Crazy”, after one of my favorite Waterdeep songs. My turning of the phrase is a bit different than Don Chaffer’s, but I think it adequately describes the life I lead with Aaron here in Nashville. I think it’s much more fitting for the random stories I tell on this site.

Thoughts on the new title?

I love voting. I especially love voting when you have to wait in line because so many other people want to vote as well. I especially especially love voting when the line moves slower than a snail because (1) the county switched to new electronic voting machines; (2) the ballot is 13 pages long; and (3) the election workers don’t tell people that you don’t have to vote for every single thing on the ballot in order to submit your vote. I got quite a kick out of watching people deliberate over whether or not to confirm the FORTY judges on the ballot and going through touching the name of every person in a one-person race. They made me 45 minutes late to my own birthday dinner.

Please watch these OK Go videos (here and here). They are so much fun. I’ve been listening to this band pretty much nonstop for the last few days. Someone finally knocked Dashboard out of my head.

I don’t really understand people who say they don’t care about what people think of them. I mean… really? At all? Because I care. A lot. I care about if they think my outfit is cool enough for my job, if I’m really funny or interesting or if I’m just really good at faking it, if I’m doing enough with my life, if I’m worthy of hanging out with or if they just put up with me. I don’t think of myself as a particularly insecure person, but I do care about how I come across and if people get an accurate picture of who I am. How do people not care? I’m very curious.

I have gotten sadly dependent on my mid-morning Dr. Pepper. I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t stop.

The outcome of Thursday night’s So You Think You Can Dance results shows have started to have a little too much influence on my Friday moods. Luckily, last night worked out like I wanted it to and I’m feeling pretty good today.

If you had a job where you had about five hours a week worth of work to do, wouldn’t you get bored? Maybe ask around a bit, see if there’s anything you can add to your job duties? Work hard to know what’s going on in your industry and with your client and try to come up with ideas for new tasks? Or possibly look for a new job, one that is remotely stimulating and keeps you from literally twiddling your thumbs at your desk? I certainly would.

We spent last weekend in Atlanta visiting some friends I don’t see nearly often enough. We went to a Braves game, had wine and dessert and check-splitting headaches until the wee hours at Cafe Intermezzo, hit IKEA, grilled out and played poker and drank nasty lime green stuff from tiny bottles and just had an all around excellent time.

We took about eleventy billion pictures, which, if you know Aaron at all, you know was quite a thrill for him. I’ve never known anyone more camera-averse than he is. Accordingly, this is my favorite picture of us from the weekend… the first of many times I tried to get him to smile.