Cutting our hair into mohawks:
It's actually "mohawk" singular, as the rest of us decided against a single strip of hair across the top of our scalps. Not every Crisler is as fierce as the Atticus, and I mean "fierce" in a very Project Runway sense of the word. (Dear Husband: I promise not to mention PR again in this post. You may read on without fear.) And no, I have no shame over watching Project Runway (whoops- sorry, Derek): It's like the 4-H Style Reviews I competed in every summer growing up, except with fewer sunflower dresses, crueler judges, but about the same amount of histrionics. (People who know my mom: You should absolutely ask her about that year a girl won Grand Champion with a dress my mom knew in her bones she didn't make herself. My mother is the absolute opposite of a stereotypical stage mom, but even now that girl's name hisses through mom's teeth like she's talking about the antichrist. Give how even-keel she usually is, it is completely hilarious.)
We went to the Iowa State Fair last weekend, which we attend almost exclusively for the food. Family favorites this year:
Derek: Jumbo Chili Cheese Dog; Cheese Curds
Kristy: Cheese Curds; Giant Soft Pretzel covered in Chocolate, Slivered Almonds, and Sea Salt; Caramel Apple
Adelaide: Cheese curds; Caramel Apple Sundae; Honey Lemonade,
Atticus: "Every food."
Caedmon: Cheese Curds, Honey Lemonade
|Fried peanut butter and jelly on a stick. It was... okay. Just okay.|
Iowa friends, feel free to skip the Fried Apple Pie on a Stick and the Mexican Grilled Sweet Corn, as both were dismally disappointing.
I've let entirely too many posts go by recently without a single flower pic. Forgive us our trespasses:
Hello, hydrangeas. You make August beautiful.
And lastly, this has had me laughing for days at random, often inconvenient times.