A.) On a fabulous shopping spree.
B.) To try out for So You Think you Can Dance.
C.) To be fitted for our own Olympic style beach volley ball outfits.
D.) To take Elly to the doctor.
If you haven't guessed yet, and I'm sure your choices have left you bewildered, It's D!! And, if you don't know why this is comical, read on down a few blahgs back sista. She had a low fever last night, I gave her some Motrin before bed. She seemed fine otherwise. This morning still low 100.2, but said her ear hurt.....thus we are going to fund the doctor once more. If this were a Tuesday, I would've given it a day,,,but you know, it's Friday and I don't want to take a chance on her feeling bad all weekend. Now, you know you've been to the doctor a lot, and your raisin' your 4 year old Southern girl right, when you give her an outfit to put on and she says "hasn't the doctor already seen me in this?" So fashion conscience, that Elly is. She needs to give her Mama some lessons. Yesterday we had an unexpected visit from the Union man. Apparently they are trying to drum up business at hubby's work. I'm sure you're asking yourself what outfit would be appropriate for a visit from the union man...might I not suggest a pair of really tired jersey shorts, and a two sizes too large T-shirt that has bleach spots and spaghettio stains all over it. Now, the shorts are OLD, did I say that already, and the shirt is long, which makes it look like you might, or might not have on shorts, you know the ones. The shirt itself is navy blue, but has little white dots all over it where I have apparently been sloppy in pouring bleach into the laundry, or toilet, or where ever else I thought their might be a germ. But that's not the worse thing girls. Ms. Elly Grace HAD to have Spaghettios for lunch. That stuff will stain anything, and if you drop the lid to the top of the can on your chest and it rolls down the front of your body as you are carrying an armload of garbage to the can.....it leaves a pretty mark, all the way down. So, this is the pretty sight Mr. Union got to see when I came to the door. I would never have answered the door if one of my kids had not beat me to it...yes, we've talked about that one. When he left I thought to myself how terrible I must look, as I walked to the mirror to check for myself, are you ready...wait for it,,,,,I had a spaghettio on my chest! Just below the left one. Yes y'all. Mr. Union, his card says from Washington D.C., comes all the way down here and gets to see that. I have disgraced us all. I do apologize.