First things first. A very belated shout out to my dear friend Anna Beth, who celebrated her birthday at the end of October and got no love from The Tightrope. Sorry for that Abs, “you know I love you more than my luggage.”

Staci D. turns the big 2-9 today, and I have to say that I’m glad she gets there before I do. Happy Birthday, pretty lady!

Also, my most fun and sweetest cousin/big sis, Allison, celebrates her birthday tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

My angel of a dog, Wallace, is pretty much like my child. No, not pretty much…he is my child. You can roll your eyes if you want to, but I’m pretty sure I love my dog as much as you love your kid (if you have one, that is).

My friend Meigs once told me that I was “that mom” when it comes to him, and I was offended. But truth be told…I am. I measure his food so he gets just the right amount, never allow him people food, give him a specific number of treats a day, make him take vitamins, only walk him on a leash, let him sleep in the bed with me, ride in the car with me, and wear monogrammed clothing. The dog has no clue he’s a dog.

That is why this Sunday, when he decided to run off with two of his doggie friends…I became a crazy person. He was on his runner when his collar snapped and he realized he was “free.” Since he is named for Scotland’s William Wallace I just giggled out loud imagining him saying to his friends, “They’ll never take…OUR FREEDOM!” Anyway, I couldn’t catch him (and never saw the other dogs with him) – but I went chasing after him in the woods nonetheless. And, it should be pointed out that I do not “do” woods. Ever. I don’t like to camp, I don’t like snakes, I don’t like extreme weather, this list could go on and on, so I’ll stop. Point being, I am not outdoorsy. So, I’m searching and yelling and looking – but he’s nowhere in sight. My sister-in-law walks down to the house to tell us that her dogs are missing, too. Ah ha, a planned escape. Those little brats.

Now, I’ve mentioned several times that I live in a small town, but I’m not so sure I’ve mentioned where in a small town. There are acres of woods (with hunters who have guns in them), open fields, donkeys, ostriches, and of course, a highway nearby. Panicked does not even begin to describe me. Hysterical comes close – along with blubbering psychotic person.

For several hours, we looked. My family came to help. They brought their dogs to try and “sniff” him out. It seemed hopeless. I was not to be deterred, though. I was finding my dog, even if that meant freezing to death in the godforsaken woods of Georgia. I would not listen to negativity. Sure, it didn’t look good – he was lost in the woods with no collar and no survival skills. Seriously, Wallace would see a coyote and think, “Hi there! Where’s your shirt with initials on it?” Maybe it is my eternal optimism, or maybe it was that if I thought for a second he wouldn’t be home at dark I would burst into tears…but I just knew we could find him. Wrong.

Hours after he took off on what will now be known as “The Adventure in The Pines,” he found me. I was on my way back to our house, tears rolling again, when I heard a commotion behind me. When I turned around, I saw a little white dog flying towards me with his ears back and a smile on his face. (That’s right, he smiles.) I scooped him up and have struggled to let go of him since. His “gang members” were behind him – and returned safely to their home, never to visit ours again. They were all exhausted, as if they’d walked for miles. It leaves me wondering what they did, in fact, do. Did they chase other animals? Did they run and play with each other? Did they just sit around nearby watching and laughing at our search?

I guess I’ll never know, but this morning when WW was on his runner – he began barking towards my sister-in-law’s house, and her dog proceeded to return barks. I’m certain they’re planning another adventure, but I’ve got news for them: I’ve discovered the doggie harness. That’s right, my dog is staying right where I can see him. Forever.

On a serious note, if you have a dog and keep it on a runner, please look into getting him/her a harness. Collars can choke your dog or snap off of them. We were lucky to find our beloved pet, but this could’ve easily ended badly. A harness is a simple solution – tell other pet owners!

From time to time, I decide to check out my horoscope for the day. Here’s what the New York Post told me:

November 20, 2008
A new solar year begins for you tomorrow when the Sun moves into your sign. Today though you will be scampering around trying to bring to a conclusion various matters that have dragged on a bit too long. Are they really worth the effort? Probably not. Let them go.

Amen, sister, aaaaaaaaaaaaamen.

You know what I don’t get?
Bank robberies. No one ever gets away with them, yet, people still go ahead and give it a whirl. Just yesterday, 3 banks in our area were robbed. Now, I’m not certain as to when bank robberies began, but in my mind (oh Lordy) they started during the Wild West days. And maybe back then, you could pull it off. There were no armed security guards, security cameras, dye that explodes on the money, etc. But, it’s a new day, robbers, and you people need to get with it. It’s not a good idea, you will get caught, and people will talk about or blog about how moronic you are.

Also, pirates. What does a pirate do, exactly? Do they wear eye patches, drink rum and have parrots on their boat – or is that just in movies? Are they part of a union? What’s their health care like? I mean really, lots of little kids might watch Pirates of the Caribbean and say, “I want to be a pirate when I grow up!” (And who can blame them because Johnny Depp is extraordinarily adorable as Captain Jack Sparrow.) However, they don’t actually do it. They grow up and get a REAL job, because robbing a Saudi oil tanker will do nothing but get you in trouble. People don’t ___ around when it comes to oil.

Lastly, bailouts. If I don’t pay my taxes/rent/car payment/credit card bill/doctor’s bill/fillintheblankhere, NO ONE BAILS ME OUT. I know, I know, it’s for the good of the economy, blah freakin’ blah. But couldn’t we argue that people staying in their homes (not being foreclosed on) and not ending up on the street is good for the economy?

I went to dine in a new place for lunch the other day, and it reminded me of a place in Columbia that my friend (shoutout, Ben T.) used to make me go. And by make me, I mean that he suggested it – he didn’t force me against my will or anything. It’s one of those “hurry up and order while in line with a tray” places. Don’t get me wrong, the food is wonderful…but I can’t take that kind of pressure. I want to scream, “I need more time, I need more time!”

I also ate at a pretty fancy smancy restaurant for lunch last week, and the stress level wasn’t much better there. This is one of those places where they use real silver, and you need to know which fork goes where.

Call me crazy, but I just want to eat my lunch without stress, pressure or feeling like I should’ve paid more attention to that etiquette lesson back in the day. Today’s lunch? Taco Bell.

I was caught in a speed trap this morning on my way to work. Insert ugly word here. Then, when I got to work (on time, thank goodness, since I left early) there was no where to park because they blocked off our lot for the Veterans Day Parade. Insert ugly word here.

Yeah, welcome to today.

Phone call to my office today:

Me: “This is Mandi ___.”
Caller: “Oh, yes, hello.” Pause.
Me: “Hello. How can I help you?”
Caller: “I want one of those Obama t-shirts you guys were handing out.”
Me: “Oh I’m sorry, I believe you have the wrong number. We do not endorse political candidates.”
Caller: “Well, that is not what this man at the bank just told me. He told me he got his t-shirt from you.”
Me: Pausing, wondering if this is a prank from my new staff members, “Well, ma’am, I apologize, but he gave you incorrect information.”
Caller: “Are you sure you don’t have the Barack Obama t-shirts? Did you run out?”
Me: “Yes, I’m sure that we don’t have them, and that we never did.”
Caller: “Well if I see another one, and they say they got it from your office, I’m going to be upset.”
Me: “Ma’am, if you hear this from another person, I’ll be just as upset. In fact, get the person’s number and I’ll call them myself.”
Caller: “Ok. Damn, I really wanted that free t-shirt. You sure?”

Seriously?

It has come to my attention that not everyone who reads my blog knows who I am and what I’m all about, so if you’re interested:

I’m just Mandi, not Amanda. It’s spelled with an “i” because my mom doesn’t like to write the letter “y” – and no, I’m not kidding. I grew up in a funeral home. Like, we lived there. All the time. No, I wasn’t scared of dead people (as my dad says, “it’s the live ones that will get ya”) and yes, it was exactly like that girl on My Girl (sans an adorable Macaulay Culkin best friend and weird hypochondriac behavior). I lead a sugar free life, because sugar makes my thighs the size of Hulk Hogan’s. I talk on my cell phone a lot. I talk a lot in general. I like to be tan, dye my hair darker than it naturally is, and wear a lot of eyeliner. (Holy moly, it just occurred to me after typing that sentence that maybe I tan so I don’t look Gothic.) I love every kind of animal. I have a dog named William Wallace and a rabbit named Norma Jeane. Evidently, I like double-naming my pets. I have one husband and one brother, three sisters-in-law, three parents-in-law and three parents (one of those parents is a “step” one, but I don’t really like that word because it implies that he is a step below, and he is not). As I’ve stated before, I’m from a small town, and when I say small, I mean it – unlike my other friends who call their town “small” and it has a Walmart in it (I’m talking to you, Manning crew. Your town is medium, ok?). I love Diet Coke and peanut butter. I’m also quite fond of cheese. I do not eat anything with an orange flavor or raw mushrooms. I don’t like getting my hair cut, and I attribute this to my mom cutting it all off when I was four. (I looked like a boy.) I drive fast, usually because I’m late to everything. Charleston is my favorite city on Earth, but New York comes in second. If I met Vince Vaughn, I’d file for divorce (sorry, but I would). My favorite cocktail these days is sugar free Red Bull with blueberry vodka. I like politics and writing and fashion and reality television (I think this makes me well-rounded, thankyouverymuch). I listen to most any kind of music, but country seems to be what I purchase the most of. I started my first blog back when I was planning a wedding, and after that was over, I missed writing, hence “The Tightrope.” I’m a pretty friendly gal, and I’ve been told that I start a lot of sentences with “I feel like…” For example, “I feel like that girl’s shirt is really yellow.” I don’t mean to do this, so I’m sorry if it annoys you. I never take myself too seriously and I try to be a good friend.

Yep, that’s about it. Nice to meet ya.