Girls' Night Out

Usually every two weeks or so my eyes start to cross, my temper gets short(er), and my sanity dribbles through my fingers like cream of wheat on a fork. (Poetic, huh? I've got a way with words, what can I say?) These unmistakable symptoms are from Early Onset Insanity caused by prolonged exposure to toddlers. The only known cure is difficult to get and expensive; it's (drum roll, please) - - - -

Girls' Night Out.

First, this retired mommy headed to her favorite coffee shop to indulge in a jug-sized coconut latte and a Mediterranean panini. (As for the "retired" part, I'm just pretending I'm Brett Favre. I'm retiring and then I'll be back before the next season, i.e. day, starts). I seriously debated buying the entire case of scones, but I figured my thighs didn't need any more padding.

Can you tell I was excited to be alone in the car?

Then, I headed to my friend Esther's house where we met to (supposedly) watch the Olympics. Hah. We were talking and laughing too loudly to understand what was going on. Esther's a very good mommy. How do I know this?

Her daughter was already attracted to knitting. That's Flip-floppin' Momma working on a sock. (Now that I think of it, every time I see the woman knitting, she's knitting a sock. Also, the sock is always only about an inch long. Then, a week later, she pulls out this yard long sock and says, "see what I knitted!". I am starting to have suspicions of little sock knitting gnomes she keeps hidden in her cupboards . . .).

This is my friend Nikki, who is making a bouquet of roses for the Wiggles concert. She says it's so that her son can give it to one of the Wiggles, but I know the truth . . . She's really a Wiggles groupie!

The last woman of our bunch was Liz. Liz disgusts me, because she says, "oh, you're so talented, you can knit! I wish I were talented!" and then sits down and draws amazing portraits as if it's dot-to-dot. She showed me drawings of horses she had done that were simply beautiful. My drawings of a horse would look more like a sad genetically unfortunate dog. Huh. Too bad she's not talented. (I'm employing sarcasm here, people. I really like Liz a lot. She's cool.)

Unfortunately for me, Liz probably won't like me anymore. Especially since I'm going to publicize this video of her laughing.

(By the way, I DARE you not to crack a smile when watching this.)