Yep, still awkward.

06.17.13 — 2 Comments

His & Her drinks in downtown Asheville.

His & Her drinks in downtown Asheville.

We took engagement photos this weekend. How’d that go, you ask?  Eh.

T was a mess. He strongly dislikes being photographed. Ladies, this Dreamboat of mine is highly photogenic. Honestly, it should be illegal for him not to be photographed. Gross, I know. Seriously, though, he’s so out of my league.

We arrived for a weekend in Asheville and I headed to the room for war-paint application, and T greeted the foothills town with a mission to find North Carolina’s best craft beer.

I called in the troops. The lovely Kristen from Blush inspired my inner diva. Photo session? I got this. As if didn’t have it before – the fake eyelashes were bringing out a whole new level of confidence.

We arrived at the Asheville Botanical Gardens where the talented Nick was waiting for us with his magical SLR. Magical? One could only hope.

The second we arrived my confidence diminished and T became the Dreamboat we all know he is.

Awkward. Dang, I’m so awkward. T said, “What’s wrong with you – why are your hands shaking?”  

I don’t know. Maybe because I imagined Brandon Jenkins ‘Feet Don’t Touch the Ground’ playing while I made out with you while the paparazzi looked on?

Honestly, it never occurred to me we would have to kiss for a photo? It’s bad enough I posted our down-on-one-knee photos for the entire world to see.

T. He worked that camera like a boss.

Fingers crossed Nick’s camera is magical – or at least his Photoshop skills.

If anything our photos will reflect what we already know and hold dear to our hearts: I’m weird, awkward and loveable and T is understatedly witty, charming and is keeping this Team Haney boat afloat.

In Out Kickin' My Coverage
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lost puppy.

06.05.13 — 3 Comments

I’ve been sort of a lost puppy lately. Don’t get me wrong, if I were a actually a puppy my tail would be wagging. I’m always having a good time, but I’m just sort of wandering aimlessly through this new stage of life.

This is par for the course it seems. No one said moving would be easy, except me. Me? Yeah, I thought this would be cake.

Watching Talladega Nights, I laughed as Ricky Bobby exclaimed “I’m not sure what to do with my hands!” Years later, that’s exactly what it feels like. Sort of. I’m here, I’m just no what sure what to do.

“What do you want to do tonight?”
I don’t know? Are there options? C, I pick C.

I have claimed a grocery store. It’s is a larger feat than one might realize considering there is a Harris Teeter about every .25 miles. So now when I declare a heroic trip to the grocery store, T can rest easy knowing which store to call if I go missing, which – in all seriousness – could happen. Some nice store clerk is going to tap me on the shoulder as I read wine label after wine label and say “excuse me, ma’am1, I believe there is an amber alert out for you.” And, I’ll be all, “did you know you can buy wine at the grocery store!?!”

Oh, and I found TjMaxx2.

Mr. T3 and I have been church-dating4, and think I’ve found a new church group.

Maybe I’m not that lost? But, if I am – at least lost puppies are cute?

———–
1. We are in the south.
2. Thank heavens. It’s my happy place. Discount HOBO and BCBG shoes? Why am I even defending this?
3. My grandma calls him this. I found it hilarious until I realized this was the name of one of his fantasy baseball teams. Actually, it’s still hilarious.
4. New church every Sunday until we find one that sticks, duh.
In Brooke
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Give me that Battleship.

05.08.13 — Leave a comment

I have a pretty strict rule about participation in certain activities: organized sports, trivia, boardgames…

Basically, if I’m not going to be good at something – and I know it – I’m out. Don’t give me that “you don’t know unless you try” business. I’ve known myself for a solid twenty-something years (plus a few months in the womb) and I have a pretty good understanding about my talents and limitations.

Monopoly? Give me that Battleship and just go ahead and let me buy Boardwalk.

MonopoloyNight

The day we lost (and found) Molly, T and I bought a few board games. Read as: anything to stop the tears. Jenga? Sure! Monopoly? Absolutely!

Last night we geared up for game night and I was all like “I got this.” And, T was all understated, “I don’t really know the rules.”

I’ll never learn. 

He’s all humble and nonchalantly buying property, the entire railroad system and I’m all “Indiana? No way. I’m not buying that. I’m a Gene Keady fan.”

I’m mean, too. “You owe me SIX DOLLARS!” Clearly, I bought the cheapest property because it was where I first landed.

He’s so nice. Seriously, all the time. I ran out of money and contemplated selling one of my lovely orange properties when he decides to float me a small business loan, sans interest. He still won. He could run for Mayor of Monopoly. He’s so nice that you sort of want to pay him $200 when you land on a railroad.

This isn’t Monopoly Jr. anymore.

And, I just can’t compete with his strategy.

Jenga. I’ll get him at Jenga.

In Dreamboat., Life in Charlotte
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There’s tape on my boot.

05.07.13 — 1 Comment

tape_on_bootsIf you didn’t read that in Tom Hanks’ voice, I’d appreciate it if you’d spin a 180 on your heel and march back to 1995 – and stay there – until you appreciate the 90s and what they’ve done for America.

’95? Yeah. My nine-year-old self loved some Toy Story.

Yesterday I realized half way through the day, there was tape on my boots. Clear, plastic tape was holding the leather closer to the zipper pull to discourage obnoxious clinging.

Clinging? Sure. Note: I don’t hear it. There’s too much bright-shiny stuff going on in this world for me to hear the clinging on my boots.

T – he hears it. He heard it when we were walking the loud streets of NYC and insisted we fix them.

So there I was standing like a kid in a hotel lobby while my then-boyfriend taped my boots. We’re fancy like that – obviously.

He’s a keeper. Any dude who doesn’t mind my jokes about being in second grade when I first saw Toy Story and does the math to inform him he was a freshman – is a keeper. In fact, he’s such a keeper that after creeping on this blog he’ll never mention he read this post. He’ll just smile knowing that it was probably a pretty funny sight for onlookers. Think about it. I’m all sassy saying “if you hear it – you should fix it…”

Hope you’re having a lovely day, creepers.

B.

 

In Dreamboat.
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No ranch in Charlotte.

05.01.13 — 3 Comments

Last night T and I went to a little block party for celebrating golf week in Charlotte. As we were leaving we stopped by restaurant for a snack at the bar – just a simple order of fries for the man in his signature golf polo and the gal wearing orange. (Team Rickie, of course.)

“With ranch, please.”
“We don’t carry ranch.”

Shock. Hurt. Amazement.

Laughter (courtesy of T.)

There are a few Oklahoma staples I’ll never do without: starch on my jeans, responding to “what kind of coke do you want?” with “Dr. Pepper,” and ranch.

I need ranch on everything: wings, lasagna, pizza, fries…. salad.

It’s never occurred to me that this might be viewed as odd by the rest of the continental United States, or maybe even the globe.

No, you’re odd, world.

In Life in Charlotte
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We found Molly.

04.30.13 — 17 Comments

Molly_foundI’m the girl who reads the end of the book first. My apologies if that upsets you, but it’s the truth. So, I’m going to start this post with the end of the story: We found Molly.

Molly is my little shadow, my sidekick, my bffl. I’m quite certain she’s more human than dog and everyone who has ever met her would agree. No one expects to like Molly. But, they all do. They might even love her.

She’s a special little human dog. She survived college, guys. College. It’s no exaggeration that she’s obsessed with pizza and will climb over you to steal a sip of your beer. (Sorry, Grandma – it’s the truth.) She’s just sort of awesome.

So, Sunday. It’s raining. Pouring, actually.  I can see the end of my Homeland binge, and T decides to take Molly out.  She slips out of her collar. Disappears.

He returned to the house with an empty leash and collar.

It’s not his fault. She’s hates the rain and hates being in trouble even more. She was hiding.

This is when everything gets fuzzy. You see, T’s house is on a really, really busy four-lane road. She weighs a little less than seven pounds. My mind went there. Could she cross the road?

For three hours we searched. We were basically in the scene from Forrest Gump where rain is coming in all directions. One neighbor sends a mass email to the ‘hood watch. (we have that??), a teenager mass texts friends Molly’s picture, another went door to door. Poor T. I, overwhelmed with fear and worry, was not an easy girl to deal with.

I called shelters, vets, checked craigslists, met every single neighbor in Meyers Park. Every single one.

I held back tears for a solid 30 minutes. I’ve only heard T’s serious voice twice. So when he said, “Brooke, it’s not time to break down yet. She’s fine.” I sucked it up for all of 4 seconds.

I tweeted.

So did the rest of Charlotte.

I returned to the house one last time for a jacket and dry socks. I was walking back down the driveway when I saw the crowd. This is straight outta a Hallmark movie, guys. She was wrapped in a towel and a herd of neighbors was walking down the sidewalk with smiles as large as Michael Jordon’s when the Looney Tunes beat the Monstars. She was found!

Molly_sad

T was still walking the neighborhood. He hasn’t said it but he was probably weighing the various scenarios if a happy ending wasn’t in the cards. Me and the little runaway hung out in the sunroom until he returned. His smile was as big as Texas. I think he has a soft spot for this little ball of fur.

As for her adventures we’ll never know all the details. However, from what I can gather she ran away to avoid getting in trouble for slipping her collar, sniffed out the food at the neighborhood pub, chased a squirrel into a backyard and was invited into a little old lady’s house where she fed her and gave her a towel.

Good work, Charlotte, indeed. Molly is a Panthers fan incase anyone was curious.

She spent the rest of the evening and the next day following T around like it was her job.

After the excitement calmed T said, “this is probably what it’s like to have kids.” Probably not. I’m sure it’s worse. They just can’t run as fast.

In Puppies
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The differences in Oklahoma and North Carolina. Volume 1.

04.12.13 — 8 Comments

IBraves’ve made it through my second full week of work, and this time – not as a sick kid. If I could give myself a high five, I would. Instead I bought myself something pretty on the internets. Don’t shake your head at me. If you survived two weeks of learning new clients, new coworkers and a new city – you’d buy yourself something from Kate Spade’s family and friends sale, too.

Let’s talk Charlotte.

The main difference between the 405 and the 704:
Substitute the red dirt that coats your car after a cruise down a country road with a yellow chalkish substance, and that’s what every car in North Carolina looks like. Pollen. It’s everywhere.

The meteorologists said we’d have severe weather last night. I looked at the radar and saw green and yellow when I was used to seeing red and black. Calm down, North Carolina – it’s just rain.

It’s safe to say nothing was sold or claimed by the section in this wonderful state. This means an east/west road easily turns into a north/south road, which results in me discovering new parts of town. Not cool, Robert Frost.

Last weekend, we went to Atlanta. Read as: replace “weekend trip to Dallas” with “weekend trip to Atlanta.”

In the 405, my client was a region of the state. Here, I’m working with the entire state. A state I’m so excited to discover.

In Life in Charlotte
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The worst sick person.

04.03.13 — 2 Comments

First_Day_Flowers_Brooke_ClayI’m the worst sick person.

It’s particularly bad when it corresponds with starting a new job in a new town.

I’m not as tough as T. He drove Miss Molly and myself from the 405 to the 704 all while fighting a horrible cold and allergies. He didn’t even complain. What’s that about?

Me? Well I just lay on the bathroom floor to soak up the coldness of the tile. I’ve always been on the dramatic side when my temperature gets a little too high.

And, I’m needy. When I’m sick I have serious entitlement issues. It’s pathetic, man.

So, while I’d love to share with you all the new and great things about my new town and my new lovely job – I don’t have anything. It’s all introductory work meetings (I have some seriously fun clients) and hittin’ the hay in the embarrassingly early o’clocks.

With that said, you should know that fiancé of mine is sort of the Garth to my Wayne. He used flowers as a cover-up to smuggle in meds on my first day of work. Clearly he didn’t want me to get pegged as the weird kid too soon. It’s inevitable, really.

Flowers and spotting a stray chicken in my ‘hood on the way to work has been the highlight of my week. Fingers crossed I kick this cold before the weekend rolls around – I have Georgia on my mind… and baseball pants.

In Life in Charlotte
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Thanks, friends, the lounge was awesome.

03.26.13 — Leave a comment

I believe in hand-written thank you cards. They’re the essence of old school charm and I believe in them with every fiber of my being. This post, a thank you of sorts, does not replace the thank you notes I’ve yet to write. I owe a million thank you’s to Oklahoma and everyone who calls it home.

When my lovely friend Lindsay left Oklahoma for India, she made me promise I wouldn’t move before she had a chance to host a going away party. Then, the middle of January, I didn’t have the slightest idea of a job plan or a timeline.

To be honest, it seemed a little weird anyone would throw me a going away party. Wouldn’t I be right back? Read as: it all seemed like I was going on another east-coast visit.

When my last week rolled around she asked where I would like to meet up. Well, the Neighborhood Lounge seemed like a perfect spot. Shady in its glory and recently taken over by a group of young professionals in downtown, it was just the place to hold back a few tears.

I had no idea so many people would make an appearance. You guys are the bees knees. The Garth to my Wayne.

PutEmUp

Thank you to everyone who stopped by to say hello, challenged me to a hula-hoop contest, sang Garth at the top of your lungs or laughed at the “Free Drinks for Single Ladies” sign. Why not all ladies? Odd.

When I pulled away from the crowd, started letting me emotions take over a bit, T suggested we take a pic. Excuse me? We’ve taken 4 pictures together, ever. 

He knew just the spot. By the door? Whatever, you’re weird. The sign. It’s funny. Sheesh. We’re awkward.

Please note I’m blowing this picture up and hanging it above the fireplace. Where it will stay - forever. 

I love Oklahoma. It’s made me into quite the youngish lady, and I’m forever thankful. My genes are from Indiana and my heart is from Oklahoma. My heart? Yes. My heart. I learned how to love my family, my friends, my school (go pokes.) and life in the 405.

It may take a while, but I think I can love North Carolina, too. fingers crossed. 

In Life in Oklahoma
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I’m here, Charlotte.

03.25.13 — 9 Comments

The interim of life is a funny place. You’re excited, yet sad. Nervous, but exhilarated. I’m here, Charlotte. The interim is over. No more can I turn down invitations knowing a move is imminent – or work with a slight pang of guilt knowing the travel calendar I’m planning isn’t for my explorations, they’re for a person yet to be determined.

During the past few weeks I’ve allowed my thoughts to drift to what my new life will hold. What will I be doing on Sunday nights instead of watching Revenge with Courtney? Who will make me laugh at work? The new is exciting. And, it’s here.

RoadTrip

It’s here after a 1,500ish mile road trip with a layover in Nashville to meet a few of T’s friends and witness the most amazing hockey fight, a quick stop in Knoxville to visit with one of T’s bffls, and only two other stops. That’s correct, two total stops. Yes, we’re awesome.

WelcomeToCharlotte
I’m living with a lovely girl who answers to the name of Karissa. Not to be confused with Clarissa Explains it All. That’s not how she’s saved in my phone. That’s a lie. I loved that show. Of course that’s how she’s saved in my phone.

First thing this morning I made my way to my new artsy-ish hood (the locals call it NoDa) and was greeted with the most adorable display of fresh flowers.

What? I’m not living with T? Of course not. Oddly, a lot of people have very heated opinions on this matter. That’s just silly, people. We’re not married. There’s no reason for me to burden him with my messiness. And, yes, I’m a very messy person. Stuff… errywhere.

Anyhow. I live in my little neighborhood, T lives in his. And, we live in the same town. How great is that? 

This means I can annoy him anytime I want.

Pasta
And, on random Monday nights I can walk to T’s hood’s pasta shop and pick up dinner. Is there anything more romantic that a few episodes of Breaking Bad, pasta and a sick fiancé? Nope. It’s perfect.

In Life in Charlotte ,
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