fly’s in the buttermilk

Chris and I after a few rounds of “Skip to My Lou”. Complete with the singing and the snorting (which invariably accompanies any thing we sing) and the skipping past people who clearly think we’re just a little bit ‘SPECIAL’.

But never mind. The way I see it, if you can’t sing cow’s in the cornfield while bounding through a theme park with your sister on a cold December night…then the terrorists have already won.

Fly’s in the Buttermilk

p.s. One of these days we might actually get a blow out and wear makeup and, like, put on a dress or something when we have our holiday photo taken. But probably not.