1. In process of moving. Like to another state. To Tennessee to be exact.
2. We are moving into a LOG CABIN. A log cabin that has wood paneling all over EVERY wall. And wood floors. These people seriously like wood.
3. I drove myself to TN to get the house set up, and to take a load of our crap. Sans kids and dog.
4. I turned around the next day and drove back (to Georgia). To pick up said kids and dog.
5. Party hardy with the fam, decorated cookies, walk of shame ensued. Happens every year. Usually twice.
6. Sickness happened, yep- to me. Ear infected. Super OWIE! Not bad now, just sloshing my way around. You know the feeling when your swimming or taking a shower or something and you get water in your ear? Thats what I'm living with. No amount of antibiotics or decongestants have helped ease the slosh.
7. Rest of fam flew out to Utah. Here in GA alone with the kids and dog. We are leaving tomorrow for TN. Hope the sloshing stops soon.
So, to get back to the whole "walk of shame" issue...
We were all jamming out to They Might Be Giants "Flood" album while decorating cookies at Bert's house. This happens every year- and has happened since Bert introduced us to They Might Be Giants way back in the 90's. They were cool then, and they are cool now. Don't hate!
I was assigned to the role of "Cookie Picker-Upper" which is to say I had to keep the table around my hubby and the TrueFather clear of already decorated cookies so they could assembly line this process. And by assembly line I mean slap on a bit of icing, throw on some Red Hots, and move along to the next one. FYI, Red Hots are the only reason to eat sugar cookies, try it and thank me later.
See!?! I'm starting to get in the groove. Yeah Baby, yeah!
I was returning to the kitchen with a tray of assembly lined cookies. I was jamming out to "Whistling in the Dark," and something bad happened. See, I have what is known as a Ghetto Booty. Sometimes this ghetto booty has a mind of its own. Once I set it in motion there is no telling where it will stop. Picture Flubber, with a side of Jello and a pinch of Big Momma. On this night I lost control, I didn't keep the booty in check. It decided to keep on swinging one way while I tried walking in a totally different direction. I'm not sure what that dance move is called, but its a doozie. I should totally patent it. We could call it the "B-Dub Booty Shake" or something.
Ooops, I did it again....
Only it made me drop the ENTIRE tray of cookies. I, B-Dub, am personally responsible for wasting Red Hot covered cookie goodness. It's shameful. Perhaps it was my ghetto booty's was of telling me that I shouldn't eat any more of the cookies. Perhaps it was a cry for help. QUIET DOWN Ghetto Booty, I will deal with you after the holidays!!!
Walk of Shame. Or should I say, Clean Up of Shame?
And then, like five minutes later my dear sweet hubby decided his head was cold. I did what I could, if only for a few minutes. Personally, I think he just wanted a snuggle and didn't know how to say so in front of the TrueFather. We've only been married for what? 6 years. He prolly knows there is something going on with the two of us by now. I did have your babies and all. No reason to still be scared, if he was gonna have you iced he would have done it before now....
My issue with this picture is that my arm looks really fat. I guess I am gonna need a diet after all. And can you say "Serious bad hair day?" I obviously used a sub-par flat iron, and it was totally raining. Yeah, thats it! Rain.
I like this one better anyways.
Except I still look fat. And C looks goofy.