Who's That Girl?

The author of this blog is Brandi Tanner Chambless.

  I suppose if I could have picked a favorite song that I identified with while living away from Louisiana, well, gosh there would have been so many. But, like all Lady A music, I just LOVE American Honey. I really DID have a quiet and slow upbringing on the prairie lands of home with tons of family in my life. And, while I wouldn't trade ONE SINGLE experience of all my travels, there wasn't ever a sunset that I didn't wonder of I'd ever come back home to Bayou Rouge.

When my Dad died in 2011, I finally did. I was able to honor him by coming home to handle what he left behind; one of the most cherished blessings being the fruit trees that he had planted with his own hands.

  So, in a nutshell, that's my story. I hope to get to know you. Please feel free to connect with me on Twitter @BrandiChambless. Shoot me a line from time to time just to say howdy!

  A native of Bunkie, LA. It was University of Louisiana Monroe that drew Brandi to North Louisiana in 1989, where she was an integral part of the ULM School of Music and Monroe Little Theatre.

  She is a former Miss ULM and still loves to participate in the arts, including anything from rock-n-roll to Rigoletto, but she felt it important to warn you that her guitar playing is adequate for campfire crowds only. She loves nature-based sports like kayaking and hiking, but will only consider open water swimming if she can see twenty feet below and there is absolutely no chance of gators or the water has been totally de-snaked.

  Brandi is a not only a Realtor with REMAX Premier Realty, but she is the author of a pop culture column called The Soapbox that will either make you laugh or make you cry depending on how you look at things. Though she was never voted Miss Congeniality, Brandi was selected as a candidate for the FBI's secret agent program in Memphis, TN.

  Not on purpose, Brandi has lived in every major city in the Southeastern United States, but still loves to steal a visit to her large Cajun family anytime she can.

  She met her husband Bob Chambless of West Monroe backstage during the musical Guys and Dolls. He's been her guy and she's been his doll ever since 1995. They have one son Eli who is an artist in his own right and will hopefully produce and direct enough films to provide for his parents in their old age.

 A former Miss Avoyelles Parish, Brandi often writes both touching and humorous stories about growing up in the Cajun Crossroads. She says her experiences there have provided enough writing material for a lifetime, including her Cajun heritage and the influence of the women in her life.

Note from the author: I hope you enjoy my writings. They just happened. Thanks for reading. BC

A Poem

‎"The mind that was your beauty Now is dark And the soul, the elevating spirit, Too, is gone. My mind returns to think upon a line; 'Will we meet again?' Neglected for so long. The question hurts. My mind pursing it. Approaches God in silence and alone. Looks up; and then it knows It must not ask; 'The answer, child, will come When you have grown.'" - James H. Ware, Jr., 1922-2012. God rest your soul, Mr. Jim! Submitted by Jason Stern

A Stride In Rhythm To The Beat of Home Sweet Home

Dear Reader, in order to understand this story, let me introduce you to the characters. Mind you, I have studied them all of my life and I still do not fully understand them. Along with their real life identities, I’ve listed a description of their personalities along with their Native American names.


Mom – The Queen of Precaution, “Clan Mother Just In Case”
Granny – A Little Blue-Haired Spitfire, “Mema Real Boss”
Nannie Tanner – My fairy godmother, equally handy with a needle, a hacksaw, or paintbrush, “Shoots Like A Girl”
Ms. Geraldine – Spiritual woman of the The Owls Nest Ranch, “Works Like A Man”
Bernardo – The Cowboy, “Rides Like The Wind”
Andrea – The Cowboy’s Wife, “Stands With An Enchilada”
Pedro – The Cowboy’s Son, “Duh, I Speak English”
Mrs. Shirley – Hairdresser #1, “Coffin-Hairdo Guarantee”
Mrs. Lily – Hairdresser #2, “What, You Think I Work For The Gossip Alone?”

Still brave enough to read this story?? If so, CLICK HERE.

Follow Me On Pinterest

Look for The Soapbox on Pinterest to read my world changing observations on motherhood, the workplace, or, perhaps updates on the entertainment industry or wild animals.

The Secret Freckle Society

So...what do Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Angelina Jolie's Right Leg have in common....If you think this column answers that or anything else of importance you may be seriously misguided.

Intrigued? Click HERE.

Still Hooked on Ramin Karimloo

Let's just go ahead and bookmark this one. Ramin plays Phantom in the Lloyd Weber musical Phantom of the Opera, but also, reprised his role in Love Never Dies, the sequel. C'est parfait.

Love Never Dies

Sierra Boggess performs Love Never Dies from the ALW musical sequel to Phantom. My message of the day for Valentine's enthusiasts everywhere.

Prologue:

Ten years after the events at the Paris Opera, The Phantom, the creator and owner of Phantasma (Coney Island) is tortured by the absence of Christine and longs to hear her again ("Til I Hear You Sing"). He sends her an invite to Coney Island to make her American Debut. She accepts without knowing the sender and comes with her husband Raoul (Vicount de Chagny) and her son (Gustave).

If I could be anywhere in the world tonight....it would be somewhere like this. Hearing music like this.

Nothing says Valentine's day like red wine and roses, dark chocolates, the smell of garlic cooking in butter, and fine music. A moonlit lake is lagniappe.

After receiving his text, I called Dad last Valentine's Day. He said, "I love you Baby Doll," as I drove in Dallas traffic on 35 W. We hung up the phone and I never heard his voice again. I still have his final text to me and Ava Tanner Hebert- "Happy Valentine's Day!"

I am blessed in my life to have been so loved and to so love.

Operation Debutante: To Lindsey With Love

Dear Tim Tebow: I’ll bet there’s a lot of pressure on you already, what with you being the Broncos’ quarterback, building third-world hospitals and all, and inventing Tebowing. I really hate to add to the stress, I do, but Tim Tebow, only you can save my daughter. --Pamela Fagan Hutchins

Now that Prince William is off the market, Tim Tebow is fast replacing Prince Harry as The World’s Most Eligible Bachelor. While mothers and teenage girls everywhere send customized media messages to the wholesome hunk, the race transpires to see who will come in second place to Jesus and snag Tebow’s heart for good. While I’m pretty sure there’s not a snowball’s chance in Casey Anthony’s secret Floridian hideaway that it’s going to be Katy Perry, likely much to the chagrin of her highly optimistic parents, I can see that he’s not in much of a hurry at all. I just don’t see these two as a match anyway. They represent two completely contradistinctive value systems that no “opposites attract” theory could possibly overcome.

That Tebow is not in any rush gives me some time for my plan to work: OPERATION DEBUTANTE.

So I Turned 40

Here's to a great life...

Read more when you click:


Booyah!

A Few Wise Men

The reason we need Christmas....failure. Read my thoughts HERE.

Best Day Ever

Yesterday was the best day ever.

Here's WHY....

Perfect Day

Today was the perfect day.

A Prime Message in the Eleventh Hour

So....is the world really gonna end on 11/11/11?

To read my thoughts....click HERE.

More Than Cinnamon

So...what do haircuts and cinnamon candles have in common. My favorite month of the year. October.

I was born to live in October.

To read the full story, click HERE.

Strolling in the Deep

As I journey through my home state of Louisiana....I couldn't help but take the long countryside walks that I love....

To read all about it, click HERE.

A Bird In The Bush Is Worth Two in Each Hand

For my May post in The Cross Timbers Gazette....click HERE.

If The Shoe Doesn't Fit Don't Wear It

Reminiscing about some old times....realizing that life's fairy tale is only complete when we allow Christ to reign.

Happy Easter, Dear Reader. To read on, click here.

Why It's Important to Not Leave Unsaid Unspoken Sometimes

Sometimes, it's better to leave unsaid unspoken. I agree. There are just those cases in life in which holding your tongue would produce better outcomes in the long run.

But my friend and Dear Reader, let me tell you that I have generally found that clearing the heart, mind, and thoughts of the things that should be spoken is a rare jewel. Whether good or bad, I believe that honest feedback is a tool in creating a great man or woman of God.

In honor of my Dad....Say What You Need to Say.

SUPER, SOCIAL, SYNERGISTIC, TEXAS, WHAT A HOSTESS!

My dance partner Phillip and I getting ready for the big dance off when we take center stage at Royal Affairs Ballroom on March 5 for Sue Weaver Dancing for the Cause.

What do the year 1967, Los Angeles, and the Green Bay Packers all have in common? Simple. Larry Jacobson. He attended Superbowl I, then known as the Supergame. Nicknamed “the can’t-miss kid” by The Los Angeles Times reporter Jerry Crowe, Larry and three others have never missed a Superbowl game. Now, The Never Miss a Superbowl Club has jet lag and we’ve all got a Superbowl XLV Hangovers here in North Texas. We’ve returned to routine, and perhaps even the lost art of dinner time conversation, the best venue on God’s green Earth for imparting or receiving life’s most valuable lessons.

To read more....click here.

And I Think of You

by my writer friend Bryan Hutchinson.

Happy Valentine's Day! I hadn't planned on taking a moment today to stop and catch my breath early on, but after reading this I was so impressed with Bryan's work that I had to post. Amazing job!


Turn down a road… with nowhere to go. There is an absence of direction… be it fast or be it slow.
When off in the distance… the waters ripple east. The majesty of Granger… creates a visual feast.
So I pull to the side… and I exit the door. ...I climb the steep bank… and travel to the shore.
And I think about you.

Overlooking the waters… no humanistic sound can I hear. So I stop to ponder life… with no hesitation and no fear.
The wind rips violently… through the mighty tree tops. The water ravishes the banks… flowing right over the rocks.
The fowl fight the air… trying hard to stay in flight. The moon takes its place… in the midst of days bright light.
The browner grass of winter... fights hard to just survive. Yet in this moment down deep inside… I am reminded that I truly am alive.
And I think of you.

The adventures we have shared… be them short or be them long. The feeling of a slow dance… and the memory of a song.
The images of childhood… before the days we share. Frolicking in the freedom… when life had not a care.
The pains that have drawn us together… and the pains that have torn us apart. The love that flourishes deep within… the promise of a daily fresh start.
It’s seems as life chases me daily… with the immense power of a train. But here in this quiet moment… sweeter memories come into my brain.
And I think of you.

The touch of your palm… under my finger’s print. The perfection of your body… as if it were pressed in a mint.
The glow of your teeth… like the shimmer of fresh milk. The flow of your hair… like supple wave of spring’s silk.
The form of your breasts… your stomach and your hips. The glimmer of your eyes…and depth of your lips.
My mind runs wild… with anticipatory glee. And here in this wilderness I bow to my knee.
And I think of you.

The whirling wind around me… seems to disappear. And suddenly in my mind.. you are so near.
I can taste your sweet breath… and feel your gentle touch. And I wonder how one can experience… a melodious bliss like such.
The image is so brilliant… as if captured in time. As we make love… everything else seems so sublime.
There is power and passion… mixed with gentle soft hands. And the glass of moments captured… continually deposits her sands.
And I think of you.

Then in an instant… I again start to mourn. For in the near tidewaters… a fisherman blasts his horn.
As if a hypnotist snapped his fingers… your image is lost. Now I am left wondering… what could be the cost.
To gain for a second… the promise of the past. To live each and every moment… as if it be the last.
To find the missing ingredient… to this puzzle we call life. To strangle the hands of time… and put it to the knife.
And I think about you.