I went to see The Pogues!!!!!

Okay. So it was 2 weeks ago, but I remember it like it was just last week.

In case you have somehow missed it The Pogues are my most favorite band ever! If you know anything about the Pogues then you know how awesome they are and that they are only sort of still together. They haven't put out new music since 1996 and rarely tour and even rarer, come to the US. And even rarer still come to Atlanta. In fact, I think I have seen the Pogues and Shane McGowan every time they have been in Atlanta: 1989, Shane with his band The Popes in 1994(or was it '95) and then two weeks ago at the Tabernacle.

I can remember the first time I heard The Pogues. It was the summer before my senior year of high school and I was dating this guy (who I will spare his name because I don't want to make him mad.) We had been together for a few months and the relationship was getting a little stale. I remember we were riding in my car and he popped a tape in and said "You have to hear this band. The Pogues. John says they are awesome."

Ugh! John! I thought. Having never heard of The Pogues but completely over anything related to "John" (since just about every guy I knew had a some kind of man crush on him and his name and "cool" were constantly finding themselves together into conversation with me.) and also because of my waning interest in this particular boyfriend-- I flippantly told him; "I hate The Pogues" and popped the tape out and tossed it back to him.

I'll admit, I could be, back then, a little bit of a bitch.

Okay, I can still be a little bitchy but only sometimes-- like when you don't let me have my way. (I am kidding. I never get to have my way anymore. I have kids. Having my way ended when they happened.)

Shortly after that I was in a car accident and totaled my car and broke my pelvis. I spent the rest of the summer in the hospital, at home in bed or hobbling around with external metal bars screwed into my hip bones and on crutches. If you think I was bitchy before you can only imagine how being crippled for 6 weeks made me behave. So that yeah, that guy and I broke up. I will say he was (and still is!) really cute and a very nice guy. No hard feelings, right?

By the time school started I was still on crutches but had had the metal rods that held my pelvis together removed. John, you know the guy everyone but me thought was completely awesome, was in my World Lit class. He thought it was really funny to call me "crip" and made fun of me everyday.

After about a week or two of this and me not being completely stupid--having been down this road with other guys before-- knew this meant that he liked me. And me not being the patient type asked him out first (worst you'll get is a no and little ridicule. And, clearly, I'm okay with that).
We went to the Piedmont Art's Festival.
We had a great time and when I dropped him off at home he asked me out.
The conversation went like this:
John: "Uhm hey, Natalie. I've an extra ticket to The Pogues next Thursday. Wanna go with me?"
Me: "The Pogues! I LOVE them! Absolutely!"
John: "Great! See you at school Monday!"

So Monday after school I went to see my orthopedist and got the clearance to give up the crutches and was declared healed-- though he did ask me to use a cane and to take it very easy and to do nothing physically active until I finished up my 6 months of physical therapy. He ran off a list of activities I could no longer do: gymnastics, aerobics, running, dance, and even PE--all out of the question.

I told him no on the cane and okay to everything else. Then I went to Turtles and bought The Peace and Love album and listened to it all week to familiarize myself with "The Pogues" so I would not look like a total idiot in front of John who, by the way, I had changed my mind about and was thinking he was pretty awesome after all (well, for awhile at least. You know how teenage girls are).

So I showed up at the Pogues with John, fresh off my crutches and thinking that every single one of The Pogues songs sounded pretty much the same.

In case you have never been to a Pogues concert let me give you an example of what the crowd's enthusiasm is like: This is the last half of Fiesta (the final song) in the encore from the March 9th 2009 Atlanta show. We had been right up front for most the show but I couldn't take the abuse of the pit (or the stink--someone ate A LOT of onions)so we moved back for the last songs:

Anyway, I have to say back in 1989 I had NEVER been to a concert anything like that and definitely think that was exactly the sort of physical activity my orthopedist had told me to avoid but whatever! After the first song of that show in 1989 I was a die hard Pogues fan. I had the absolute best time and no concert, until two weeks ago has come close to rivaling the fun I had. And I didn't even drink then! Okay, well at least not at the Pogues since we were underage.

My husband, Ryan (aka Grizzly Adams) wasn't such a huge Pogues fan but went as my chaperon to the show and is now too a die hard convert saying it was one of the best shows he has ever been to. Personally I can't imagine what could top it since my number 1 and number 2 are Pogue shows and number 3 is the Pixies when Ryan and I saw them at their reunion show at the Fox a few years ago. Good times. Good times.

I sure hope that I don't have to wait another 20 years (especially since I don't think Shane is going to live to see another 20, but you never know) to see them live again. I have to say that I feel pretty darn lucky to have seen them twice and I hope and I pray that they will come back next year.

And those not privy to my Facebook page here is some of the photos and other videos from the show:

On my way in the car driving ITP, riding shot gun and drinking a pint! Soooooo excited!!!!!

Me and Pookie (my sister). Please note my hair. It is sober in this picture:

Crowd before the show. Everyone has giggled about the dude with the tiny bad ass mustache. Set list courtesy of Dogwood Girl's husband.

I have cute picture of me trying to make out with Dogwood Girl but not posting it since I don't want to make her mad since she has some pictures of me that she could post on her blog in retaliation.
Must stay in Dogwood Girl's good graces. . .

Me and Steph! (she has no incriminating pictures of me since she never brings her camera. Of course, I have no incriminating pictures of Steph either because she is in the always good girl club. Psst. It is cause she is lawyer and is smart.)

Pogues coming to the stage and before all hell breaks loose.
All hell breaks loose and we are going . . . we are going . . . where little girls get trampled and pressed up against the stage! Woo Hoo!


Getting crushed in the pit when they opened with Streams of Whiskey!Arghhhhh!!!!!
My shirt strap (made of chains) got ripped. I had to tie the chains together. Then my hair and clothes made a fast downward spiral.

Shane McGowan!
Spider Stacy singing Tuesday Morning!
In the pit! Love it!

I did though, I will not so proudly admit, almost get in a fight when some guy shoved me out of the way. It was one of those "You will not put baby in the corner" kind of moments. Only it was a little less 1959 and a lot more redneck and I'm a gonna kick your ass kind of moment cause I am klassy when I have a few pints (yes really, only a few. I'm a light weight). Ryan was holding me back and I was like I can take him! I can take him! He's tiny! I'm a marathon runner!
It was totally the beer talking.

Okay! Done now with the getting smashed and thrashed about.


Me and Ryan after the show.
Or, our hair on The Pogues.
See, see how drunk my hair got? It took me almost 2 days and 3 shampoos and conditioning to get all the knots out.
My hair?
It had a fucking fantastic time!

More videos:
Rainy Night in Soho! Every band has their ballad!

I hear you talking in my head
I'm not singing for the future
I'm not dreaming of the past
I'm not talking of the fist time
I never think about the last

Now the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
Still there's a light I hold before me
You're the measure of my dreams
The measure of my dreams

Aw, just makes me fall in love. . .
And...
One of my all time favorites: Sally MacLennane


Okay, people, here's the bottom line: Yes. I love beer.
Yes! I love to drink!
Absolutely! I love to have fun.
And yes, The Pogues epitomize that lifestyle.
But the fact of the matter is that they are amazing musicians with an incredibly unique sound and some phenomenal-- on the level of modern poetry-- lyric writing. The pairing of Shane McGownan's gravelly and "been through the ringer of life" voice with the peppy and uplifting Irish/big band sound is just so . . . tangible. It is like complimentary colors: red and green, blue and orange. The sounds both belie and endorse each other; a fine and complex pairing.

Just look at this:
from Thousands are Sailing written by Philip Cheveron
. . .Thousands are sailing
Again across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Postcards we're mailing
Of sky-blue skies and oceans
From rooms the daylight never sees
Where lights don't glow on Christmas trees
But we dance to the music
And we dance . . .
I am sorry but that speaks for more than just good old Irish drinking music. There is darkness, there is optimism and hope and well, reality.

Well, again I have run out of time about all that I have and want to say but I think you should give the Pogues a listen and even if you don't like their sound I still think --if you get the opportunity-- it will well be worth your money and your time to see them live. Might change your mind.

It is over! Christmas is over!

So why haven't you taken the tree down yet? Beau keeps asking.

He has been saying it over and over and nagging me about getting Christmas gone since the 26th.

And here it is the 31st and I am ushering out the old to bring in the new. But when I gave Beau the boxes for his tree and ornaments (yes both kids have their own Christmas trees in their rooms. That way they leave mine alone) he asked why? Why do I have to pack up my tree?

And then was further dismayed, upon coming downstairs, that I have un-Christmas-ed the whole house. Even big fat blow up Santa that he has spent the last month stabbing with his sword and deflating is packed up.


It is over. It is really over.

Thank you baby Jesus. And heck no. I am not waiting until the Ephiphany to take my tree down. I am not Catholic but am a born and raised Southerner and my family says tree gone by New Year day; bad luck to bring last year into the New Year, or so I've heard it said.

Yeah, I don't know if I'll be having black eyed peas (with money in 'em) and collards tomorrow so I might be screwed anyway. Eh, nothing new there.

We did have a great Christmas! And I have included some pictures from Christmas day. Yes, Santa brought the kids a trampoline. And yes, Ryan and I are both really excited about this since neither Bubbles and Poppy or Pop and Lala let us one when we were kids. It has been great fun already!

But no I am not really ready for 2009.

Nor do I really want to look back and carefully assess all the 2008 foibles and follies.


I gotta say, it has been a rough few years for us and while I think maybe the rain has stopped, the fog lifted and the clouds are beginning to part and let the sun shine back into our lives it is still hard for me to leap into the new year with unbridled optimism. Having been so beaten down I, if nothing else, am a bit more cautious and dare I say it lest that too comes back to bite me in the ass, I might even be a teeny tiny bit wiser. So with baby steps I am inching into 2009, looking left, looking right, left again and back over my shoulder before I move a single damn inch. Definitely no leaping.

And no Carrie, per your phone call this morning; I do NOT have a New Year baby costume complete with diaper, 2009 sash and Champagne glass pasties.

If only I did though . . .


Hey! Maybe that should be my New Year resolution: To find an apropos costume for all holidays and festive occasions. Right, wait let me be more specific: A slutty, stripper like costume for all holidays and festive occasions.

Switching to the running gear it looks like it is going to be a big fat ready set go for me on January 17, 2009 at the Museum of Aviation marathon. I have successfully bumped back up my mileage in December and finished the month out at 215 miles-- complete with 2 21 milers and yesterday I ran a spectacular 24 miler. I even ran 63 miles last week and avoided injury. So it is yet again taper time and I will be keeping my fingers crossed and saying my prayers that maybe in 2009 I will finally run that 3:30 marathon that has alluded me in 2007 and 2008.

Have a safe and happy New Year everyone!

Can't Wait for Christmas

I know I've been lame (okay, lame-er) on the blogging lately. My apologies. Christmas is a busy time. Normally during December I have an off month but this year I am making a genuine effort to be ready for a marathon in mid January.

Last week I got my mileage back up to over 50 mpw and I got in a 21 miler for the long run. Everything felt good (it has been 3 weeks since my marathon) but by the end of the week my legs were dead. I took yesterday off and cleaned out my house. My plan was to do my long run today (either 21 miles again or 23.5 miles) but the high today is barely in the 30's and currently it isn't even 19 degrees. Seeing how my lungs react to the sub freezing temps-- and I'd like to not be sick this Christmas (was last year)-- I think I will do my long run tomorrow when the low/high is 45/57.

Call me whatever you want but I don't see the point in torturing myself if I don't have to.
Right, right, right.
It could be really cold race day. . .

The way I see it is that it won't make a difference if I get sick and can't train and run on race day. Better to get to the start line healthy. I'll worry about how cold it is when I absolutely have to.

So, like I said. I've been busy; shopping, wrapping up gifts, decorating, cleaning etc. As the kids get older Christmas is becoming more and more fun and we've been busy with family activities, shenanigans and parties. This year we had some visitors from the North Pole: Walt and Rosie.

These are two very mischievous elves that Santa sent to the kids. Oh boy have these two made quite a ruckus at our house: tp'ing, leaving gifts and little notes, rearranging the furniture, making forts with all the cushions, un-decorating the Christmas tree and just this morning I woke up to q-tips and cotton balls over the house. Walt and Rosie had even gotten into those furry red handcuffs that Pop gave me and Ryan. I KNOW!!!! Don't you just want to know why my Dad gave me such a thing? Yeah, I'll get to that. . .

So, yes, I have been greatly entertained by the kids this year. Particularly Beau and his inability to wait for Christmas. Apparently he either doesn't like surprises or doesn't understand at all what is meant by "surprise."

It is funny but my sister Pookie is the exact same way. When we were little she use to not only unwrap all her presents under the tree (and then wrap them back up) she would also unwrap everyone else's. It killed her to not only NOT know what she was getting for Christmas but to also NOT know what everyone else was getting.

Me?

I'm okay with surprises. I even like them. In fact, I've been DYING for about all my life for someone to throw me a surprise party already.

Okay, in case they are reading, I did have some friends in high school who threw me a surprise party once but they ended up telling me about it beforehand because-- as they said-- they were worried I would "make other plans and not come to the party." But these days my social calendar is a lot emptier so feel free to throw me a party and rest assured I will be there because I will have nothing else to do.

But my sister? She must hate surprises. She would say stuff like "Do you want to know what Aunt Harriet got you?"

And I would say, "No. I can wait until Christmas."

And she would say,"It is perfume. And Mom got you a leather skirt--a black one, and Kathy got you a gift medallion from Turtles-- 10 dollars worth. What tape are you going to buy with it?"

It got so bad that Lala just let Pookie help pick out all the gifts she bought and then paid her fifty cents a gift to wrap and I guess, bribe her to keep the gifts a secret. And it wasn't just Christmas--birthdays too-- and she was this way ever since she could talk. We couldn't tell her any secrets. She can't keep them. And for that matter, Lala, can't keep a secret either.

Oops, starting to digress. Let's bring this back around.

So I have discovered that Beau is like Pookie. I can't help but wonder if is genetic or just a youngest child thing. Can anyone else weigh in? Youngest child versus not being able to wait for Christmas without peeking. . .

My first indication of Beau's inability to contain a surprise was about a week and a half ago. He told me that he had made me a present at school and couldn't tell me what it was and I would have to wait until Christmas. And in the same breath he said: "It is an ornament. For the Christmas tree."

And I said: "Beau, you aren't suppose to tell me what it is. You are suppose to keep it a secret so it will be a surprise Christmas morning."

And Beau rolled his eyes at me and said: "I didn't tell you what kind of ornament it is." And with that off to school he went.

Fast forward to that afternoon when he comes home with said present:

"Open it," he demanded, thrusting the present in my hand.

I start to protest, saying I should wait until Christmas morning. . .

"It is an ornament, " he tells me yet again as he helps me pull paper off and before the unwrapping is done he says excitedly, "It is a snow man!!! With a sled!!!!"

The next day Beau comes home with another gift. This one he gives to Carmella and thrusts it in her hand and says "Open it now. It is a star. I sewed it."

Carmella was quite gracious and complimented him and told him she made the same star when she was in kindergarten too but that his is much nicer.

Another day goes by and the kids decide they need to buy some gifts. They clean out their piggy banks for what little is left. I think I have mentioned this before but if not, you should know my kids keep the school store in business.

The school, in addition to the school store, puts on a "Holiday Store" so the kids can go and buy little gifts for friends and family. Total racket, but a trip to the school store motivates the heck out of my kids and gets them ready for school way ahead of schedule.

When I picked the kids up from school that day they are waiting in the carpool line with their arms laden with gifts. We drive home and their excited chatter was indecipherable. We arrive home and I help them pile out of the car. Carmella tells me she has gifts for me, Daddy, Lola, Beau and her friend Ashton. Beau tells me he has gifts for Daddy and for himself.

I instruct them to go put their gifts under the tree. Carmella complies and goes off to do her homework. Beau puts his gifts under the tree too. But then, after a moment, he comes back and gets the one he bought for himself. I feel compelled to add that my sister also shops for herself at the holiday. In fact I think she spends more on herself than she spends total on everyone else. Seriously, is this a "baby of the family" trait or what?

"I'm just going to open this one right now," Beau tells me. "I already know what it is," he further explains.

I try to dissuade him but he already has it opened. Then he abandons "the gift"--a pad of paper and fancy pencil--on the couch and goes outside to play. He returns a few minutes later and asks if he can open the present Carmella got him.

"No," I tell him.

What about the one he got for Daddy, he wants to know.

Confused I ask, "but don't you already know what you got him?"

"Yes," he says, but he wants to open it anyway. Then he starts asking me where the gifts are that I got for him.

I tell him, "I'm not putting them under the tree until Christmas Eve."

"Why," he wants to know.

"Because you will unwrap them," I tell him.

"No . . . " he says smiling, knowing that I know he is lying.

He even tried to unwrap a gift for him at Lala's. She caught him and he told her that he was "just removing the bow" so he could "get it open faster on Christmas."

Yeah, right.

So everyday Beau asks me where his gifts are, what they are and can he have it right now? The suspense of Christmas is killing him slowly from the inside out. He can't stand it. He even told Ryan what I got for him--as if that would give him some sort of fix. And he only knows what I got Ryan because the UPS man gave Beau the package when he playing outside the other day and he opened it before I could get it away from him.

And Ryan upon learning of said gift-- I guess because he is the baby of his family-- asked if he could have his boots before Christmas too.

I tried to play dumb: "What boots?"

"Beau," he said, "told me you bought me boots. Let me have them for my hunting trip with Dusty."
Sigh. Darn UPS man for giving Beau the package. Note to UPS: Do not let children accept packages!

"There are no boots," I tell him. "They were the wrong kind. I returned them. You, like Beau, are getting potatoes and switches and coal for Christmas. Maybe Dusty will keep your feet warm on y'all's broke back rendezvous."

So Saturday, Ryan and I dropped the kids at Pop and Lala's to attend the annual Loser Christmas Party. My Dad, barely able to look me in the eye and at the time I think it is because I am wearing my Vixen costume, thrusts a gift in my hand.

He tells me that it is for me and Ryan and to not open it until I get to Dee Dee's. He says, "If you don't like it give it to Pookie."

Ryan is in disbelief that I ride in the car, not tearing into the gift, not even peeking. I repeat to him that Pop said not to open it until I get to Dee Dee's.

See, it is a youngest in the family thing and while we are in the midst of discussing my theory my sister happens to call. Of course I can't resist telling her that Dad got me a present but that I am to give it to her if I don't want it. And of course she is pissed that I got a present and she didn't.

"What is it?" She wants to know.

And I tell her she'll just have to wait until she gets to Dee Dee's.

Changing the subject I ask her if she is wearing a costume. She says she is but that I'll just have to wait until I get to Dee Dee's to find out what it is.

Whatever I can wait.

So we get Dee Dee's and finally my sister gets there and we open it.

That's right. My Dad got me The Naughty, Naughty Christmas Kit.

I know! I'm a little scared of my red lipstick too. Scary clown face! I never wear red lipstick. Clearly with good reason but I did giggle at myself everytime I looked in the mirror.

So then we called my Dad for an explanation about the gift.

He said he figured anyone who wore such naughty costumes for Christmas must need a naughty present. And he added that it was the only present I was getting since certainly I was on Santa's naughty list.

What!? You mean I'm not getting a frying pan or ham? Darn!

Hey Pop! Beau would like you to know that he loves ham. In fact, he hugged a ham today at Trader's Joes and begged me to buy it for him. You should give him a ham. He'll appreciate it. Really. He nearly a 1/2 lb of ham today by himself.

Okay. Just to summarize:

Beau? Doesn't understand surprises.
Ryan? Loves me so much he'll wear a goofy ass costume.
My dad? He gives the gift of ham. It is his thing.
Me? I wear costumes and am clearly my parent's favorite.
My sister? She unwraps her presents before Christmas.

And yes, of course. Like any good big sister would do I took those red fuzzy hand cuffs and hand cuffed myself to Pookie.

I hope everyone has a fun and happy holiday this year and doesn't take themselves too seriously.

I know, I know Jesus is the reason for the season. . .

But I know that if it was my birthday that I would hope everyone would celebrate by having some fun and enjoying themselves.

How the Cheetah Got Her Spots

It is a classic tale.

So remember my post a few back with me in the silly hat and glasses?

And with this picture?
And I told you to stay tuned. Well, your patience has paid off!

But first I have to show you some pictures from Halloween. Cause Halloween? It's my favorite holiday. I mean candy? Dressing up? Being silly? What is not to love? Just the bestest ever!

Warning!! Warning!! The Mainstay, Pookie, Lala--you better skip these next few paragraphs.

Okay, I lied. Let's get this out of the way:

For inquiring minds that want to know about my injury and all that boring running stuff I have been really good and didn't run for 7 days straight. I did cycle 4 days for a total of 115 miles--I know, for 4 days that isn't saying much. It was a little cold this week. I also swam twice for a total of 4600 yds for the week and I did yoga once and lifted weights twice. I even did the elliptical but couldn't make it much past 20 minutes on it. (How the heck do people do that thing for an hour?) I also stretched a lot. Needless to say not running 50 or so miles this week has left me feeling a little chubby.

This morning I woke up with a "touch of the flu". But it was my first day back running so I sucked it up--meaning I took some of that nasty BC powder and ate a lot of Halloween candy and sucked down some coffee.

Head hurt and tummy felt turned but my left calf was not swollen and nothing in the legs hurt. Not even that tendon in my calf that gives me so much trouble. When I gave the calf muscle a big ole stretch it gave no argument. I was all loosey goosey and could touch my toes and walk down the stairs without my ankles feeling all crunchy. I was ready to run--well except for that "flu".

I hit the Leita Thompson trail for a little trail run. I felt so light on my feet and definitely went out bit faster than I normally do for the first 2 miles. I started to feel a little bad and my feet were feeling achy and my calf seemed like it might get tight so I slowed down. I finished the 5 miles in 42 minutes feeling great. I was going to quit and started walking for a cool down but I was feeling good so I added on another 2 mile loop and finished the 7 miles in 62 minutes. We'll see how that feels in the morning. Keeping my fingers crossed for an easy 10 and then a short speed session with my old buddy the dreadmill on Tuesday. The faster pace will be the real test. I definitely feel like I have taken two steps back with my running and well, I am trying to not let it get me down. I guess I couldn't keep getting faster forever but I was hoping it would last a bit longer and I would see some bigger improvements at the 10k, half and marathon. Oh well. At least I can run far still, even if it is slow. Hmm, maybe this post is really about how the Cheetah lost her spots. . .

Okay, Lala, The Mainstay, Pookie you can read again.

Friday was Halloween and our good friends Steph and Dee Dee were having a costume party. They invited us to bring our kids to come trick or treat with their kids. Costume party and trick or treating? You don't have to ask me twice.

Here are the kids:
They were too excited to sit still for me to get a good picture of their costumes. But kitty and skeleton. Pretty basic. Carmella--ever the minimalist wanted the simplest, least frufru costume we could find and Beau . . . well, Beau wanted to be anything. Everything was appealing.

Beau, Max, Livi and Carmella
Our hosts, Steph the Mummy and Dee Dee the sexy mommy witch:

Okay before I show you my costume I just want you to know that I bought this one because it was $15 and it came with everything. If money were no issue I assure you that this would not be a costume I would pick.
But it was a good deal and it fit me.
Ready?
Brace yourself.
It is pink. . .

Pink Cheetah!
Yes.
Those are furry pink leg warmers.
And no.
They do not do my giant calves any favors.
Like I said $15 dollars--dress with tail, kitty bell, kitty ears, kitty mittens, kitty leg warmers. Stilettos and pink fishnets I already had. It was a deal. You try shopping for a costume with your 5 yr old and 7 yr old and see what you come up with.

Here is me with Tara and Dee Dee. Tara is wearing the dress and shoes from my tooth fairy costume.
And yes. I walked around Dee and Steph's neighborhood with my kids dressed like that. I have no shame. But if you keep reading you will see I come by it naturally.

But before I get to that let me show you Ryan's. I warn you. It is pretty insensitive and if you are one of those sensitive, politically correct types and watch Animal Planet all the time this is probably going to offend you and you should stop reading now.

I won't tell you what he is, I'll let you figure it yourself, but you should know that I had nothing to do with any part of this costume--the idea, the design or even the making of the stuffed animal on his chest. Ryan did it all by himself. I did supply the needle and thread and the hot glue gun but beyond that it was all Ryan.

Okay, ready?
Ta Da!

Not sure? Need more pictures to figure it out?
I laughed my ass off all night long.
Here are some group shots from the party:
The Girls:
The Guys:


So when I mentioned that I come by this dressing up and being all silly and goofy naturally I wasn't kidding.

I am sure you are familiar with the whole nature vs nurture debate?

Well, bless my heart, this tabula rasa didn't have a kitten's chance in a dogfight. Clearly, it is not only genetic but is bred. And obviously, it doesn't skip a generation.

Exhibit A: Lala, my mother

All fancy frying that "brown popcorn" aka, okra (gag).

This is my cousin Diana:
My cousin Kathy:

My cousin Betsy:


My cousins Kathy, Ray, Isabella and Amelia:
Carmella:

All the women dress up:

The reason for all this dressing up was to honor and celebrate my great Aunt Boo's 80th birthday. She likes animal prints, fancy hats (this I didn't know) and white wine with ice.
When she talks all her vowels are long and drawn out. She says double diphthongs-- if such a thing exists. For example, my family nickname is Pooh--as in Winnie the Pooh--not poopie. She pronounces "Pa'ewww". And if you say something like "I have to pee." She'll say, "Pa'eww. Don't be a red neck." And flamingos are pink ducks. And you should always "be sweet". And at Christmas when she answers the phone she says "Christmas gift!" instead of "hello!". And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

There was a performance too. A new rendition of her favorite song Deep Purple.
I know you are thinking "Poor Nat!" She had to wear that unfortunate color purple but you know there are just somethings you are willing to do for family. As you can see in the above picture wearing a boa was not one of the things Carmella was willing to do for family. When I asked her "cape or boa?" she seemed relieved at the option of cape and snatched it right out of my hands.

Anyway, I hope this post cleared up the possible question of why I like costumes and am so ridiculous acting sometimes. It's up-bringing. I can't help it.

Hope everyone had a fabulous Halloween!

Ha! And I bet you thought this post was going to be about running fast!
Whatever.
Even if I am not fast I am still a Cheetah. This old cat isn't quite ready to hang up her running shoes (or furry pink leg warmers).