Those things that make us want to snap someone

My friend Kristin just asked, in that smartassy way that only friends can get away with, if I was caught up on my counter lists.

It took me a second to realize what she was talking about.

No, Kristin, I am not.

 (Kristin is totally one of those friends who can get away with smartassy with me, but she is waaaaay sweeter than I am. She is also a new blogger. Check her out here Here )

I have yet to go through all the medicines and look at expiration dates. And go through the kids winter coats to check sizes. These are just TWO of the notes I was given the other morning. Check this out:

TEN notes. (There is one on top of the upper-est note). Trees are crying.

Can I just say, he is all about saving plastic and filling those white trash bags up to the tippy top but not so ecologically sound when it comes to paper. We do have a trash CAN under the sink, but the white plastic bags never get full enough for him in there, so they sit. In my kitchen. For me to look at. Until they are full. Or I get pissed off and take them to the garage.

Yeah.

So.

No, not done. And I haven't cleaned the bathrooms yet either.

But I did take this picture.

Snap!

Always a silver lining...

This kid has a LOUD mouth.  Most kids do. The trick, of course, is to teach them when to use it properly at the highest volume and when to keep it shut. Or whisper. I would even be happy with a sustained inside voice.

This kid also has a very colorful vocabulary. I mean that exactly like you think. I don't know where he gets it from. *blink blink*

He does usually use the words correctly, and often in a creative string which is one of those uniquely  parental Cringe/Pride moments.

When he is outside, like at a football game, loud is encouraged. Creative is also encouraged, but not cussing. He seems to be aware that there is never a time at school to use the most raunchy of his language, so shouting ways that the players can knock the poo out of one another is about as foul as he gets.

But at home, that is a different story.

Yesterday, I told him to stop playing video games and do his homework.

This was not his favorite idea.

I walked away, he continued to play. Then Bekah told him the same thing.

This was not his favorite method of instruction.

He opened up that loud, big, effective mouth and shouted,"(The worst thing a six year old can probably say)!!! You are NOT the boss of me!!!"

He tossed the controller on the couch and launched himself toward the perceived safety of his room.

As I took off chasing him, I noticed- through the open windows- two men holding clip boards and dressed nicely in black golf shirts and khaki pants. In unison they executed a perfectly coordinated about face in our driveway.

"I don't care that you just saved us from door-to-door salesmen, You are so grounded from wii!!"

WOOT! Party!

I swiped this from someone who swiped it from Martha Stewart. Wanna piece?

A month ago I wondered what the life of a serious blogger was like. What would it feel like to have to come up with something remotely interesting once a day, write it and hit POST?  Would my posts get better? Would my writing get better? Would more people read it?

 I also needed to kick myself in the ass to write every day.

So I took my little blog here and posted. Every day. 

Was it hard? Yes and no.

Yes, some days it was hard to come up with something to say (sorry about those) and some days I had more than one idea so I wrote a couple and set them to post another day. After the first week, my brain must have gone into Serious Blogger Mode because I was thinking,"oh, I could write about this!" and " lemme get my camera!" around every corner. 

And around every other corner was a family member who learned to shy away from my camera and scream," Don't blog about this!"

I think my goal to make my posts more brief was also achieved. I became a more ruthless editor. I know it's kinda telling, but I get giddy when I start slashing. It's a bloodbath of words and I am the victor.

I did gain a couple new followers and got a lot more traffic, which is fantastic. Welcome! Thank you for clicking the FOLLOW box. 

 (That is crack to me, btw. Crazy high.)

For all of you who wrote comments, or sent me emails or notes on facebook about this month of blogs, THANK YOU!!! I toast you because your thoughts mean a lot to me.

For all who read, maybe thought it was only ok, but came back another day to give me another shot--thank you!

I learned a lot this month. It was a very worthwhile and rewarding project and I will be posting more often- but not everyday. I can't. I need to work towards another goal--I have to finish cleaning up my NaNoWriMo project from LAST November so that I can do it again THIS November. You should join me. 50,000 words in 30 days! Find me on there, my username is EssephVee (which is also my twitter name, if you are interested). We can bitch and moan through it together! It'll be fun!

Swapping my coffee out for some bubbly! Cheers!

On my first day this month I toasted you with coffee, today I'm switching to--ok, it's 7-Up..but there are bubbles! ( And I learned to take my glasses off but still, no makeup).

Thank you for joining me on this journey, and thank you for reading!

"Hey, Mom, leave the bottle."

One more day

Thirty days ago I vowed to post every single day for a full month. And I did. Didn't miss one single day. And I'm not going to either. But here is the thing. I had big plans for this last day.

That is, big plans until yesterday when my son, in his very first ever full football game in a uniform, played sorta like a rockstar in football pads. This enthusiasm earned him a special honor that is bestowed on two boys a week. His 7th grade self gets to hang with the high school team at their weekly game. And I'm gonna take him because, you know, I dig football. And driving an hour and a half to watch it.

Yeah. Ok, I love my  kid.

But I have to leave early, and the rest of my day got filled with all kinds of fun.  Real and sarcastic. Beckett and I will be recording (real fun)--and I have to clean the bathrooms ( sarcastic fun). And do some other boring houswifey stuff.

But I still have BIG plans for my last post day, so hang tight and I'll post on Saturday, too.

Thanks!!

Some things I understand, and some I just don't

This morning was brisk. Upper 40's. It was in the pre-coffee hours when I got dressed, so I reached for the fall uniform: jeans, short sleeve shirt and cardigan.

The woman who reaches for a cardigan is different than the woman who reaches for a hoodie. We are probably a little more traditional in our dress, maybe have an eye for some vintage. We like the coziness that a cardigan implies, vs the " I am going to sweat!" of a hoodie.

I understand the cardigan and the hoodie choices.

When I reached for my cardigan, I realized that I had several options, but in those pre awake hours I went not for color, but for my staple: black.

Slimming, trendy...black clothing says," I may have an eye for fashion...or I might just be a lazy dresser but you will never know." My black cardigan says," mysterious convention. " 

I understand the choice of black clothing.

As I reached for the cardigan, I realized that there were several options in this color. Five. I have five black cardigans. (I may have more, you have seen my closet).

They each can be dressed up or down, go with a skirt or jeans...to church or to a football game. (Ok, maybe Old Faithful can't go to church anymore--I've had her since the mid '80's and she is tired.) I understand each of these sweater options:

  

The collection (or what I can find of it)

And, like the good mysteriously conventional fashion diva that I am (that's a joke, you can laugh) I have the complimentary collection of black shoes. Each different and for different types of activities, but can be dressed up and down like the best wardrobe elements. 

I totally understand black shoes.

If you are like me, you look at that sampling and think," of course, all very different shoes." You probably even have a collection that is somewhat similar.  You see a use for all of them, and might even have more of your own and think me somewhat a minimalist. You understand me, and I you.

So if you are like me you can probably not answer why my spouse has this collection of his own. A collection of black clothing items that I just can't understand: 

Three pairs of identical slippers. Why?

Best Laid Plans

So I had this funny idea for a blog post. A pictorial essay of all the things my family needs to learn to do.

Like flushing the toilet.

Or changing the toilet paper roll.

Or rinsing toothpaste spit down out of the sink.

Or stuff in another room besides the bathroom! Lots of stuff! Funny stuff!

But I can't find my camera.

Or my mp3 player.

Some sort of small electronics misplacing is going on around here. And, now that I think about it they were   are both pink, small electronics. Hmmmm. The MP3 player meant I had to listen to my daily podcast quota online. I listened to a new one...Tales of Old. It's historically based short story fiction. Or historically based fiction, short stories...I'm not so sure on the wording of that. Anyway, I like what I have heard. So I'm pimping it here.  Word.

And I am sooooo close to my month of blogging big FINALE. (Ok, not that big-- no swag or anything. Maybe some confetti. Not sure..) ANYWAY...I didn't want to miss a day especially because I can't find my girly electronics!

SO, for your viewing pleasure....this is what happens when Luke gets his hands on my camera. And this is what happens when Luke uses my camera and I find the pictures. Enjoy.

Dang it...where did I put those electronics!??

Know thyself

The amount of food this 13 year old eats is not only well documented by me, but not out of the ordinary for this particular gender of teenager. That said, he's the only one in our house that eats like that. "That" being disgusting combinations and enormous quantities.

For dinner he had two dinner salads, and two large bowls of pasta and red sauce. With ranch dressing. The pasta AND the salad.

hurl.

Luke is taking a class in school called Industrial Tech Lab. In this class they learn all kinds of super cool computer stuff. When we met his teacher and talked about what the class would be doing this year, I joked about auditing the class. Only, I wasn't really joking.

So this teacher was endeared to me even more by this lesson  last week. It wasn't the elements of the class, but the product. Luke was allowed to design his own t-shirt and this is what he made:

It says" Luke: Eat like the world is ending"

I'm Still Trying: Part Three

The quest continues. Become a fan of football. This past weekend I worked really hard toward my goal. Oh hush, we all need goals.

We sold a child and got tickets to a pro game. Ok, that's just mean. She went to grandma's, someone gave us 4 tickets.

This wasn't my first professional football game. I've been to a Bears game in Chicago, Pats games in Foxboro, and I worked at a little building called the Super Dome. I've been to plenty of pro games, but never while on a mission to like the sport.

First up, lunch. Hot dogs, drinks and some peanuts- I won't tell you how much but if I got a dollar a blog, I would have to write 60 of them.

Yes, this is my boob.  Covered in mustard. Good plan to wear a white shirt, huh?

Some words of advice from a father to his son...

...when the cheerleaders were the only action on the field. ( I can't make this stuff up, true)

He's six. At six you take any opportunity  you get to scream your head off. He lived beyond his potential in this area. The whole game. Even though the Chiefs fumbled at the kick off and pretty much kept that pace the whole game.

If you give a screaming six year old a foam finger, you are pretty much doomed to see this view the whole game.

We stayed til the end. I think, as a sport, I would rather watch the high school kids. The play is faster, they don't have to wait for commercials, and you can hear the crunch of the helmets from any seat. As an activity, though, this type of football is more to my liking. Except for the leaving part when some drunken idiots screamed, "Oh yeah! Your mother called and asked me if she could f******* s*** my d***"!!! About 4 feet from Noah. Who was enthralled. *sigh*

Final score: Oh, it was as pathetic as those drunken fools-- Chiefs- 7.Buffalo Bills- 41.

Pause. Rewind. Play.

The post is short. It only contains wishes for myself today. Maybe they are your wishes, too.

To pause. To stop and remember what today is about on a world level, but also a personal one.

To rewind. To think back- compare and contrast pre to post. To think of what the world looked and looks like since that day when September 11th stopped being just another day on the calendar and 911 was what we dialed to get help.

To play. To appreciate today. Enjoy life and rock it- live it full speed and with all I have. Even in the face of adversity or personal challenges. To play sounds so simple, but in this context it can be really difficult. 

Peace.

Susan

How we spent our day. Rocked it. USA style.

I'm Trying: Game Two

Last night was the second home football game. I went. Of course. Not only am I on this quest to like football, but Bekah is in the marching band, and Luke and his middle school football team were getting recognized at halftime as,"the future of Warrior football"

Good grief.

For this game I had a date, Brian came. He won't make it to many games this season (read: any more) but Noah went to spend the night at Grandma's and Brian didn't have any good excuse not to go.

I will say, the game went a little faster, although the plays got kinda boring towards the end because the other team failed to score. The whole game.

And it was better because it wasn't a bajillion degrees. We needed sweatshirts and it felt more football weathery. I spotted our neighbors Jamie and Kelly and I shouted, " punch him in the face!" while walking up the bleacher steps. While they were paralyzed with embarrassment for me, we slipped  into the seats beside them.

Good strategy, non?

Brian trying to figure out which one is his daughter

When the band marched onto the field, I pointed out Bekah. Then she moved, because- you know- that's the point of marching. So I followed her with my finger for Brian to keep track. (No, not that finger, the pointer one.) We followed her for the whole routine. Too bad we were following the wrong kid. Bekah showed me where she was when we looked at these pictures.

The band plays the Star Wars theme and the Color Guard battles with light sabers. I'm very easily amused, but this was fun to watch.

Brian sent commentary on the plays my way, and I tried to pay attention. You know, when I wasn't wondering what idiot started the trend of freaking ginormous bows on the top of the heads of the cheerleaders. Not low on the head, or in the middle holding a ponytail. Stuck on top? Why? Tim Gunn would not think that worked. Not at all. The bows were distracting, but the cheerleaders taught me that those who win, want it and we want it more. (I'm paraphrasing.)


Finally, Luke and his middle school teammates took the field for a few brief and glorious moments.

 Luke was very excited to rush back and tell us about his experiences. It was a lesson for the poor lad.

Hey, Luke--where is the rest of your team?

Rule #1: Stay with the team

I learned quite a bit at last night's game. I learned I can't pick my kid out at a distance, that the path to winning is paved with desire, never to wear a ginormous bow on the top of my head, and that it's always best to stay with the pack.

Game recap: Smithville scored in the first 32 seconds against the Chillicothe Hornets. Our boys got the fumble on the kickoff, and scored on the 1st play on offense.  Final score: 35-0 Warrior victory.

The Birthday: An Essay, with Photos

You know those times when you plan to surprise someone and you think you know how it's going to play out and you get super excited for it to happen because you KNOW exactly the reaction you are going to get...and you don't get it?

This wasn't one of those times.

Ordinarily, we don't go big on kid birthdays. We keep it pretty mellow. Special, but mellow. They don't get parties every year, only at 1,5,10,13 and 16. Even then, if they pull a boneheaded move, like intentionally scratching my minivan several times, the party will get cancelled.

Get in your way back machine. Remember when you were 15? You loooooved some singer or band? Maybe it was NKOTB or Debbie Gibson or Taylor Dane. Maybe you are a coot like me and it was Leif Garrett, Duran Duran or Sean Cassidy? Ok, you're cooler than me, how about KISS, or Madonna?  Whoever it was you knew all the music, all the facts,cut out the Tiger Beat posters and got them covered in root beer lip smakers saying goodnight? Imagine your very first concert being THAT.

Now hold onto the 15 year old superfan you just mustered up.

This week, Bekah turned 15.

To attempt to scratch the image of my horrendous closet out of your minds, and try (feebly) to re-establish my  homemaker cred...I bring to you, The Birthday- A Photo Essay

And that is all some of you need. 

Yes I bake. And wear aprons. And broke my  fashion rule: Puffy sleeves OR strappy shoes, not both.

She picked the meal: baked potato bar. No, we don't put grapes on  the potatoes.

"Nice, Mom- I see you are using up the Christmas paper from last year."

Oh, it's a cute purse!

Filled with all kinds of things like lipgloss, nail polish, and a new wallet. Wonder what's in this wallet?

*Insert ear shattering scream here*

OMGOSHTAYLORSWIFT!!!!!

(This is where you need to imagine your 15 year-old superfan reaction. Taylor Swift is hers. And I had told her the tickets were sold out. And she didn't question me and go behind my back and find out for herself, which, now that I think about it, is really odd.)

It's not about the gifts or the surprise or the opportunity to make a teenager's  birthday wish come true- it's about this. We love this kid!

Hypocrite, liar and blogger

I say it a lot, I'm a hypocrite.  "Do this, kids"...while I'm doing just the opposite.

Like this weekend when I told Luke to clean his closet. And he did.

Luke cleaned his closet

And I didn't. 

Hypocrite.

Yet another one occurred to me last night when we sat down to dinner. I had made beef stir fry, which I really don't like but Brian loves it so I make it every once and again. I gave the kids the stir fry for dinner and then sat down with my meal.


Rice, pot stickers, one token green bean, and only a couple of slices of the beef since I figured I needed some protein. (In my defense, I had some more green beans before I put the stir fry seasonings on them while I was cooking.)

My dinner place.

Did the kids catch on that I wasn't eating what I insisted they have? Sure. Did they say anything to me? No. Why? Because they know it won't get them anything more than extra stir fry veggies.

And they were too busy asking why I got to read a book at the table.

"Because. Just because I had a crappy day and I need some escaping and I like to read when I eat sometimes. Happy?"

They also know better than to answer that.

So- recapping- I'm a hypocrite, I don't eat well all the time, and I sling attitude at my kids at the table.

I'm also a liar.

See the book I'm reading? Emma. Classic, right? Jane Austen, chick writer for the brainy set.

Whenever anyone asks what I am reading, or there is a chance they will look to see what I am reading, I use Emma. 

In actuality, I have never made it through the book. I've started it several times, but never finished. I get distracted. I've seen the movie a bajillion times, love the story, but somehow whenever I start to read that particular book, my mind goes to sleep. I really do read other smart chick books. Lots of historical non-fiction, for example.

Maybe at a different time in my life, I would have, or will be able to appreciate this book in the manner of my friends who list it as their all time favorite book do. Maybe. I'll keep trying.

My non liar picture

In actuality I was reading this as I ate my not so healthy dinner: Grow Your Blog- Proven WaysTo Add Followers Every Single Day. By Simple Dude. His blog is here, Simple Dude in a Complex World.  (It's not a mommy blog, but you don't have to be Emma Smart to figure that out.)

The book was a buck 99 download and The Bloggess recommended it. I don't want to be a Bloggess blog, ok, if it happened, great. But I'm not her, buying crazy chickens instead of towels...I'm me.Here. Being a hypocrite. Contrary to not having finished Emma, I'm smart enough to know that if something is important to you, you learn from the successful people how they did it or how they would have done it better. 

I haven't learned anything yet that I don't already do. But I'm only on chapter six. (I made it to chapter five the last time I sat down with Emma.) I think he's getting to the networky stuff next. I suck at networky. But I am amused. I'll give a review when I'm done with it. 

So there. If you like your bloggers hypocrites, liars and not great eaters...click FOLLOW at the top of this page. If you don't...um, go clean my closet.

I liked it, but I didn't *like* it

Last week, when the facebook page was at about 300,000 LIKES, I clicked the button. I like my friend who liked it first. I like recipes. I like momtrepreneurs. I like Texas. LIKE!

But, since then, Crock Pot Girls page has earned an unlike from me. Ok, technically, I am on the roster of likes, but I'm only there so I can read the commentary- I can't help myself it's all so entertaining!

I'm a total LIKE poser.

Here is why:

First I read this piece from Someone who can explain the techie parts WAY better than I ever could.

hmmmm.

Then I watched the number of LIKES increase at a freaky fast pace- they hit a million in two weeks. I've watched our podcast page LIKES go up veeery gradually.We work on content. Where is the content on this crock pot page? Where is the website? It appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again mid week two?

hmmmmm.

One day, when I was obsessing  reading the CPGs page, I jotted down a recipe for Bacon Ranch Chicken. When I went back to make a screenshot to print off because my handwriting sucks, I couldn't find it.

Why not?

No organization! Because I obsess felt that anyone should be able to find a freaking recipe, I went in on a mission.

I don't care if you are  ProCPG--finding a recipe you are looking for on there is like finding a Degas at a garage sale. Lots of hunting through crap and lots of luck.

This is where a lot of the recipes are, jumbled around in 3000+ discussions.

The other place for recipes is in the PHOTOS file.
 Click on one of those albums and you get...

..this. Oh, that makes sense. I can see clearly now...not. So drag your mouse over those ( not on here, silly, on the CPGpage) and you get recipe titles.

Click on those titles and you MIGHT find the recipe you are looking for. Maybe. And a buncha chatter including questions like, "how much water?" Water? Is that on the ingredients list?

I hate garage sales. And I don't like looking for recipes on this page either.


But part of me was thinking, "if I was one of them, and just wanted to start a simple recipe exchange, how would I react to the influx of techno-learning this type of exposure creates?"

I think I would have been commenting all over the place, and aligning myself with someone who could get me out of this mess.


And did you notice? One of the "girls" is gone. She left, if you read this the same link I thought you should read before. and read down in the comments not only will you get an education in social media and internet marketing, but you might see a post from "girl" number three. (Hard to know on the internet who you are talking to, ya know?)

I thought maybe going to the Crock Pot Girls actual website would be better. Nope. Don't go. I'm not even going to give you screenshots. Not a lot of recipes, and they aren't even alphabetized.

Come on, people... DEMAND GOOD  CONTENT!

I get rooting for the underdog, and encouraging other moms, and even wanting to be in on something from the beginning...but at some point you should put on your thinking caps and look at it objectively. Maybe you come to a different conclusion than me, but it's YOUR conclusion. Own it.

Anyway, I wrote this for my column in The Kansas City Star that appears today. I do really think watching this story play out is not only entertaining, but I am getting quite an education and meeting some very interesting people.

Like your crock pot recipes organized in an organized manner? Here are some of my favorites, and only a tip of the list...go find one YOU like!

On facebook:
Crock Pot Recipe Exchange
Crock Pot Guys
Crock-PotTM Slow Cooker

 On the web:
http://www.thecrockpotblog.com/
http://crockpot365.blogspot.com/

Mr Poo, may I introduce Mr Fan?

This happens on recording weeks- I never feel prepared enough, never feel like I have enough information even though I have been researching the topic for a longer time than I studied for full classes in college. (Which should tell you what kind of a college student I was).

I know that the women we talk about whole BOOKS are written about-- lots and lots of books all filled with different information. Whole sections in the library about the time she lived. Semester long classes are centered around this ONE woman, more about her times--people study them for years always uncovering new information-- and all that is at our disposal. So we suck up as much as we can, add it to what we already knew and and condense all of that down to one hour(ish).

But it never feels like enough. So I get that stressy feeling in the pit of my stomach on recording weeks, trying to eek out time to learn just a bit more, put it into a logical, storytelling form. It's fun, but it's also nerve wracking. That's just the way it is.

(And the other worse feeling: when I spend all this time and energy learning the life of a woman- and read the wikipedia entry and it covers most of what I took weeks to learn. But, come on, it's wikipedia. Anyone with a computer can add to wikipedia- it's hardly to most reliable source for information.)

And this week is a short one. I was Family Mom yesterday (Brian found me about 10:30 AM and had some "fun" projects for us) which was great, but now I'm one day shorter this week. One less day to get it all done.

I'm looking at my list of To Dos and I know some of them won't get done. That's just how it is. My eyes are sticky and itchy; my sinuses are clogging all from allergens.That's just how it is. The larder needs to be restocked, the house cleaned, apparently we are having a garage sale next week so I have to work on organizing that, and I have written work to finish. That's just how it is. And I know I'm not alone with a list like this.

It's just how it is for all of us. Mr Poo is meeting Mr Fan all over the place.


**************EDITED SEVERAL HOURS LATER****************************

Well, my stress, doom and gloom was short lived. The woman I was holding the garage sale with just can't do it next week...what about May?  MAY? May sounds great and reeeeallly a long way off!

I kicked fanny on some of the projects that were staring me in the face, and only have one to finish up today before I can call it quits (sadly, it's not this blog update. bummer).

The thing I had on Friday got moved to Monday.

Mr. Poo, Mr. Fan...back to your corners. I'm not ready for you yet.


*************The next day...***********************************

Since I am posting everyday right now...some of my posts are going to be winners, and some are going to blow...this is the latter. I'm letting it ride, but if you are new here, skim down a few posts, most of them are better than this. :)

shhh...

Shhh, dont' rat me out. I'm hiding.

It's nearing on 10AM and I am in my jammies. I am on a quest of some sort, trying to see how much coffee I can consume while thus attired. I have put forth a valiant effort, three large cups and I drained the coffee pot so if I want more I'm going to have to make it.

I think I'm done with coffee for the morning.

It's Labor Day, and Brian and I have very different views on how the holiday should be celebrated. He believes in the apparent logical meaning and he has uttered the four words I dread to hear from him, " Let's get things done." He would like to spend the day in labor. work. *shudder*

While I, a traditionalist, believe that the day should be spent as far from labor as possible. Oh, sure, there are children to raise, meals to prepare, messes to tidy--but the 'tweener activities I think should be more relaxed, more labor free.

So I'm hiding at his moms house. I actually spent the night here (we do this a lot- she and I are TV compatible) and his Frightful Four were texted to me at 8:30 this morning.

Let's get things done.


Let's not and say we did.

So right now I am "helping" his mom (she is tidying and I am offering emotional support). In a few minutes I will take a shower and get dressed, then I have some "errands to run for her" (she ran out of milk). After that, who knows, I'm trying not to plan and think too hard. It sounds too much like labor.

However you are spending this first Monday in September, I wish you well. I hope you do exactly what you want, and accomplish whatever lofty (or un) goals you have in mind.

It's bound to happen

Whenever two women live in the same house, it's bound to happen sometime.

If the two women have similar taste, it's bound to happen a lot.

Even if one is a middle-aged, curvy mom, and one is a thin, teenager.

Yesterday, Bekah and I went up to our rooms to get dressed for the day.We really were just hanging out, the only plans were a jaunt to the library, and piddling around at home. It's the "piddling around at home" part that has me make-up and hairstyle less. This is REAL housewives, my friends.

I came down first, looking like this:

Bekah came down second looking like this:

We just looked at each other and laughed. And, because we were just piddling around at home, neither one of us changed. Or put on makeup. Or did our hair. We just piddled. Ok, that sounds bad.