A Mystery!

Okay gang, I've been a lax Tigger, and haven't posted anything in a looooong time. Been very busy with work and the end-of-school festivities, which is really no excuse at all. So, how about a contest? Everyone loves a contest, and I haven't ever had one, so...here's my first try. And YES...there will be a prize! No photo of the prize yet, but be assured, it is something in my possession. And could shortly be in YOUR possession.

The winner is the one who can most accurately define and describe what is shown in the photo above. I'm DEFINITELY going to use your description as a basis for determination of the winner. Contest officially ends on Sunday - midnight, Central Standard Time. Ready...set...go!

Memorial Monday

During my D.C. visit, one of the most moving experiences was my trip to Arlington National Cemetery. As we celebrate this Memorial Day with our fancy grills, coolers full of beer and the blessed day off from the daily grind of our jobs, I realized that I will never again "see" this holiday in the same way. Even living with a Vietnam-era veteran on a daily basis has not made me appreciate the meaning of these holidays as much as walking through Arlington (sorry, Rog).

Believe it or not, witnessing the somber wreath-laying ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknowns brought me almost immediately to tears. Here, the Tomb Guards begin the ceremony:The Tomb sarcophagus is placed above the grave of a soldier from World War I. Three white marble slabs that are flush with the plaza mark the graves of unknown soldiers from World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. Advances in DNA techniques led to the identification of the Vietnam War Unknown. He was United States Force First Lieutenant Michael Joseph Blassie. Lieutenant Blassie's remains were returned to his family on Friday, July 10, 1998, and were buried in his hometown of St. Louis, Missouri, the following day. It has been decided that his former resting place on the plaza will remain vacant.I've often seen photographs of Arlington's rows of headstones. Similar to the one below, they only show a minute portion of the over 300,000 people buried there.While on a tour bus during my first visit to the cemetery, I shot some footage of the rows and rows of headstones. They seemed to go on forever. I couldn't figure out how to edit this video properly (neophytism), but approximately halfway through this clip, you will see what I mean about the vastness of the cemetery. Words cannot express my thanks to all those who have given so much in service to our country, as well as to those who continue to serve, every day.

Getting Down and Dirty...aka Political

You know I hate to muddy the pristine, cheery waters of the Neophyte blog with atrocity, but a situation has been on my mind that just won't go away. An article written by Nicole Belle on March 25th, 2007, describes something that seems abhorrent to me. Entitled, "You'll Never Look at Potholes the Same Way Again," it details how "the pulverized remains of bodies from the World Trade Center disaster site were used by city workers to fill ruts and potholes." This is according to a city contractor statement in a sworn affidavit filed in a Manhattan Federal Court.

According to the article, which you can read in its entireity here, "Eric Beck says debris powders - known as fines - were put in a pothole-fill mixture by crews at the Fresh Kills landfill on Staten Island, N.Y., where more than 1.65 million tons of World Trade Center debris were deposited after the Sept. 11 attacks."

"I observed the New York City Department of Sanitation taking these fines from the conveyor belts of our machines, loading it onto tractors and using it to pave roads and fill in potholes, dips and ruts," Eric Beck said.

Thanks go out to Mugsy for bringing this to my attention.

Fun Monday Poetry

Willowtree, who evidently has an alternative lifestyle, tagged Nikki to be this week's Fun Monday host. Her assignment was to:

1. Write a short poem. It can be about anything and it doesn't even have to be good.

2. Whip out your crayons, markers, paint, etc. and illustrate your poem (or have your kid, dog or cat do it).

As I have extremely limited poetry skills, unless I'm allowed the use of rampant expletives, I decided to let the kid do the entire assignment. Actually, The Offspring had this poem posted on her myspace blog a few weeks ago, and we had a very interesting discussion about who she was referring to in this piece.

the ending getting started

this is my first ending
it's an ending with you
you may not be through
but i'm ready to end it
and now i have found another
and we're so close to one another
so hopefully you'll understand
this ending poem starting
with someone new
someone great
someone new for you to hate
i love him
and he loves me
and thats the way it's gonna be


Deep thoughts...must be the hormonal phase.

It's Finally Begun!

Well, another meeting with the builder to show him THIS:And now, there's no turning back. The house plan just needs some tweaking (a door from the back of the garage, making the laundry room section two feet larger, moving my island a little more forward...just small stuff) - and the builder has taken my plan home to make the adjustments. The major adjustment involves this:
The room above will be the new music studio, and it really should orient the other direction. To do that, the garage will increase to 28x28, and the entrance from the garage will be expanded. The stairs will also come from another direction, but it's in his hands now. He sounded confident that he knows exactly what to do to make it perfect for us.

See this lovely gravesite?
It's actually the first hole for the "perc test," which is a test to see how well the ground will percolate for a septic system. I think a body would fit in there...creepy.

The plumbers put out all these little flags to show where the lateral lines for the septic system will go. I've been instructed NOT to mow over them.
They dug another gravesite perc test hole, but with the trees all around, there are too many roots to make it viable for seeping sewage:
I have new photos on my flickr site that show the new acreage that we bought to buffer us from the neighbors, plus all my new trees.

I guess it's GAME ON now!

Fun Monday Cuppage and BONUS Material

I know Willowtree has been wanting to do this coffee cup thing for a while, but I spoiled all the fun by posting my favorite cup a few days ago. His assignment was as follows: "I would like to see your favourite Coffee Mug. But wait there's more, I'd also like to see your favourite glasses for a) non alcoholic drinks and b) alcoholic drinks. If you want extra credit you could also post your favourite plate. Note I said favourite, not best."

I don't have a favorite OR a favourite plate, so I'm a photo shy of making the grade. But, I have a bonus video to make up for it!
To start, another look at my favorite coffee cup, from the front:
And now, from the back:
I LOVE big coffee cups. I drink one of these, full to the brim, each morning. It's only when I'm having a very groggy day that I drink another half cup. Here's my second favorite:
I've also found that when you borrow over a quarter-million dollars to purchase a business, your lender will gladly give you a coffee cup. This one is five years old, and I use it during travel:
And what kind of business owner would I be if I didn't have my OWN cups made?
Now for my favorite non-alcoholic glass to drink from, even though I do use it for Tom Collins' every so often:
This is my favorite wine glass, because it makes that neato noise when you run your finger around the rim of it:
And what classier way to drink beer than from this?
Don't know about you, but I'm kinda bored - so let's move on!

Now, this is the BEST thing I've seen for Mother's Day. I know it's not part of Fun Monday - but is a LOT more interesting than my coffee cups and glassware, and made me laugh hysterically.

All of a sudden, I wish I had a couple of sons.

Just in Time for the Weekend

Got this little gem from my long time friend Brent, and was amazed by its simplicity! Plus, I had to scoot those morning photos down a bit. They were scaring me.

Not sure if this can be done while there is still wine in the bottle, but it's worth a try!

OH! And one more little weekend trick to try! I actually saw this and came to the office and just tore the place UP! We had a lot of old phonebooks around, and I amazed my coworkers by making Incredible Hulk noises while performing this trick. (Sorry, my shirt didn't rip off - but I made some really scary faces.)

Have a great weekend!

Mean Meme

Robin at Pensieve has issued the most difficult meme EVAH. And like Robin, when I get an assignment, it consumes me until I can get it completed, like a monster gnawing on the back of my brain, threatening to end my life if I don't get it done. Call me anal retentive.

As Robin put it, "It started with Lisa Samson over at Author Intrusion who asked Rachelle and others 'to show [their] morning faces! Yes, she wants to see that no-makeup, just-got-up, haven't-had-coffee-yet face. Are you up for it???' Rachelle, in her post, went on to explain, 'Lisa slyly asks us... if we don't want to do it...why not?'"

Why not?!?!?! Because we are going to scare off our READERS, that's why not! Then again, I don't have a blog for fame and fortune, so what the heck.

I figure I'd start where this process begins - at night. This was taken after I'd washed off my makeup and was ready for bed. That's why I have a happy smile - I get to go lay down and REST! Well, that, and I just finished a glass of wine before brushing my teeth.
Okay - here it comes. The WORST look of the day. Hair askew, and barely able to hold up my coffee cup. This was taken only after I had POURED the coffee. Not after I had taken any sips. No makeup. Puffy eyes. Only able to force a smile because I know it's all for YOU.
This is my coffee cup. LARGE coffee cup. It gets me thru the morning, and see that french press in the background? If you don't have one, GET ONE. Makes the best coffee in the world. However, I program the automatic one so that I don't have to think that early in the morning.Since I'm baring it all - why not one FRESH OUT OF THE SHOWER? And yes, I'm naked. And no, you can't see. But the smile is wider, because I finally got to drink some of that coffee.
So...now to the finished product. As a reference, my alarm goes off at 6:45AM. Much to Roger's dismay, I usually hit the snooze button until at least 7:03AM. It takes me a total of 3 minutes to put on my makeup. Impressive, huh? I don't wear much. (MAKEUP. You're still thinking about that shower pic. I know it.) Flattening the mess that is my nappy-head takes about 10 minutes, if I blow dry it first. I'm usually out the door and in the car by 7:55AM. I'm a low-maintenance girl, for sure. And all that, while sharing the bathroom with The Offspring, Roger and sometimes the cat.
Okay, I've completed the meme. I won't blame any of you who decide to abandon my blog after this post! Especially after I tag the following to show their morning face: Marnie, Julie, Mist(who I can't imagine being brave enough), Shauna, and Arkansas Songbird! You may all commence to hating me now.

Fun Monday Voyeurism - UPDATED!

It's another Fun Monday, and today's hostess is Vicki, also known as the Horny Redneck Christian Woman. She is the ultimate voyeur, and her assigment was to post photos of our springtime view from our front door. I'm hoping this is the LAST spring I will be posting this view! Vicki is so honest about her intentions for today, as she states: "Today is the day I can peek through your door and see what you see everyday. It makes us BFF. It almost shows my stalker personality. It satisfies my sweet tooth. Makes me feel all cozy and warm inside when I get to peek into your world."
It's garbage day on my block, so I thought I'd treat you to a front view of the house first. It's not the best thing in the world to wake up to a street lined with garbage bags, though I made an effort not to show them in the next photo. Roger mowed the lawn this weekend, and I wish I could dig it up and move it to the new property. It's St. Augustine - a beautiful, lush grass that grows like crazy. When The Offspring was little, it was nice to have a lawn that was good for tumbling and rolling and just laying back on to enjoy the sun.
I wish you could have seen my springtime view last month, as my azaleas were all blooming in glorious splendor. Red, white, light pink, dark pink, along with an abundance of purple iris. Sadly, they are short-lived and gone now. I can see the neighbor's iris from my front door - a lavender cluster around the base of the tree. You can't see them too well here, but look under our flag, and you might see their purple haze.
Now for the back door photo - actually, this view isn't STRAIGHT out the back door...because I was late for work this morning and almost forgot to take the photo. So it's my view as I'm getting in my car, with my very sad dog. Poo Woo doesn't like to see me go away, as evidenced by this pouty look. Roger is going to be home today, but it's just not the same for Poo Woo. Roger may be the pack leader, but I am his "mom."

My next post will be photolicious, as I had a very exciting weekend with some folks from Japan. And for those of you who are curious as to what the view looked like last time, here is your link!

Thinking Genius and Updated Linkage

I'm nothing if not tardy, as Julie nominated me April 11th for the thinking blogger award. It's not that I can't think, it's just that I've been covered up at work and The Offspring's science fair project (remember LAST YEAR?) has been all-consuming. Worst of all, so many of the people I planned to honor have already been nominated! One of the requirements was to refer back to this, so there ya go.

1. James Burnett. Always smart, entertaining, and makes me think about things from all perspectives.
2. Mocha Momma. She's not blogging much now, but when she's got something to say - listen up!
3. Piglet. Writing straight from the heart, with poetry thrown in to make you think even more.
4. Angelina. Read along, and you'll find yourself exploring new mental paths.
5. Mist1, who basically makes me think that my life is completely dull.

I'm wondering if any are duplications - so I've thrown in two bonus clips of "sound bloggers," that make me think differently...about MUSIC!

This first link was sent to me by a friend. I absolutely love the way he thumps the guitar and keeps a beat. His name is Andy McKee, and you can check out his new album here.

If you know Bella Fleck and the Flecktones, then you might know Victor Wooten. If you're not a fan of bass guitar, you will be after you watch this:

Tiggerlane's thought for the day: I'm pink, therefore I'm Spam.

Spy Games

Julie at Another Chance Ranch is hosting this week's Fun Monday, and her assignment was to post "your best spy camera photo and the story behind the photo."

(If you read The Pioneer Woman, and yet don't know Julie, I'll boil it down for you. Remember the movie "Beaches?" As Oklahoma ranch girls go, Julie is the Barbara Hershey to Ree's Bette Midler.)

Now, I knew going into this assignment that the Spy Queen, aka the Horny Redneck Christian Woman, aka Vicki, was going to rule hands down. I'm not sure if it was that knowledge, the fact that I pored thru dozens of photographs this weekend, or Matt's self serving boob contest that led to my photo choice. But I came to the realization that the best spy photograph in my possession was actually taken OF me and my husband.

In 2003, we took a "mini-vacation" in Eureka Springs, AR, in addition to our regular vacation. We just needed to get away for a few days, and drove a short jaunt up to the Northwest corner of the state for some fishing, shopping, dining, etc. It's tough to schedule a good time for a family portrait, so when I spotted the "Old Tyme Photo" studio, I dragged Roger and Amber inside. Our last photos were made in 1997 at Judge Roy Bean's studio, so it was definitely time for an update.

We had the traditional family photos made, and then shots of us individually. Amber quickly got tired, and the photographer wanted to take a few of us as a couple. As his assistant left to help Amber change out of her clothes, the photographer worked to adjust the flash umbrellas. Now, if you know Roger and me, you know that we tend to goof around and pick on each other quite often. Well, here we were, all gussied up, and me looking like a saloon tramp.

Roger did what came naturally, the photographer had been "spying," and this photo was the surprising result:

D. C. Salivations

One of Swampy's best tips in preparation for my D.C. trip was to suggest that I take in the tapas at Jaleo, located at 480 7th Street NW in the heart of Downtown. Tapas, according to the Jaleo site, are "the traditional small dishes of Spain, the small plates of this and that served at bars and cafes across the country." Basically, they are appetizer-sized portions, and though I wasn't brave enough to try the blood sausage or the squid offerings, I was satiated beyond my expectations after dining here.



Earlier today, I found the actual recipe for patatas bravas, which when topped with a bit of crumbled bleu cheese, was my favorite.

We had quickly discovered that the restaurant located at the Watergate Hotel, called "Aquarelle," was aqua-expensive for aqua-not-much-food. Like you see pictured to the left, it was a lot of plate, some sprigs of stuff, and a dribble of sauce...all yours for $17.50. Welcome to fine dining in D.C. Nothing against the accomplished chef - a LADY chef, at that - but when I pay that much for a meal, it had better be enough to fill me up. Luckily, the full-stocked bar made up for my lack of food, and KM didn't mind me partaking of a wee bit of liqueur.

According to one of our tour guides, there are 68 Starbucks locations in and around Washington, D.C. It was VERY convenient to slip in and get a "pick me up," anytime the need arose.

The Front Page restaurant, located in Dupont Circle, was a place we stumbled into as weariness set in. I had warned KM that Dupont Circle had a more "alternative" feel - and she passed me a few wide-eyed looks as their representatives passed by our window. I felt more like an educational tour guide, as I have close friends from all races and persuasions. All this to say that the Page One burger was really good, and priced well for lunchtime.

I love eating out - and if I'm on a vacation, I REFUSE to eat at an establishment that has a franchise close to my home. I want something totally different, and preferrably, a restaurant that serves alcohol. Living in a dry county makes me long for real tablecloths and libations with a meal. So, I have to know - where are your favorite places to dine? Who knows...I may go on an eating tour!

Fun Monday Hair Disaster

Robin at PENSIEVE is this week's hostess, and her assignment was to: "Pull out your old photo albums and find your WORST BAD HAIR DAY." Wow...that's a tough one! There were two I was torn between, so you get the privilege of seeing them both. Along with BONUS material: flagrantly bucked-teeth.
Here I am early on in life, when it was extremely easy to tell that I was adopted. (Either that, or my mother was the talk of the neighborhood, for having an "off-color" child.) My mother is bathing me, and my hair is in its most unmanageable stage - curly, kinky, in an afro. I can only imagine how my mother tried to tame the mane until it grew long enough to put in pigtails. However, I was really hip with this '70s look.

I think my mother was so worried about returning to this stage that she never again cut my hair. It grew exceedingly long, as you can tell from this photo:
This was taken while I was in the fourth grade, only a few months before my hair was chopped off to shoulder-length, a story I've shared previously. My mom used to unbraid my hair every night for washing, and then we would rebraid it in the morning before See those yarn ribbons? They were a staple at the top of the looped braid.

I almost didn't post this photo, due to the HORRIBLY offensive teeth. I had four permanent ones yanked so that the orthodontist could fit the rest of them into my mouth. My palate had also become misshapen due to years of thumb-sucking, probably related to my early abandonment. Thank goodness for $3,000 worth of braces that allows me to smile without scaring folks too terribly.

There you have it! Now I have to go check out all the rest of the hair disasters. (Oh, and in case you're wondering, one reason I don't have anything worse to display is because 1) I've NEVER had a perm - for obvious reasons, and 2) I've never had my hair colored - EVER.)

Bumming on the Metro

Before I left for D.C., I was told it had one of the best transit systems in the country. They don't allow any food, drink or smoking in their Metro stations, which keeps things clean. I know this photo is fuzzy, but here you can see how many folks commute during the 5 o'clock rush hour on the Metrorail. This was taken at Metro Center, where three separate lines meet.

Early in our trip, my traveling buddy, KM, had seen a homeless man scouring the trash for food. I had literally overlooked him, having reverted back to my "city ways." I learned growing up on the outskirts of Houston that you don't engage the bums - no eye contact, no looks of pity, no offerings of help. KM felt horribly sad for his plight and amazed that he would actually eat leftovers from the trash. My response must have seemed harsh: "Don't give him any money, because he'll just buy booze with it."
During our walk to the hotel each evening, KM would point out these poor souls as they bedded down. The impressions of their bodies would remain visible in the grass each morning. One indigent fellow changed her perspective, however, as we boarded the Metro on our way to a mall in Pentagon City one evening. While waiting for the Metro to leave, we hear loud expletives. Every other word is the f-bomb or some maternal variation thereof. Luckily for us, the offender boards our car...spilling the contents of his trash bags all over the floor - RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. I play nonchalant - looking straight ahead, emotionless. KM's eyes widen, and she whispers, "We need to get off NOW."

As batteries, vials of liquid and cigar tips roll around near our feet, F-Bomber is still cursing a blue-streak, interjecting the statement, "DON'T YOU BE LOOKIN' AT MY M*****-F***IN' BATTERIES!! YOU WANNA F***IN' START SOMETHIN'? I'LL START SOMETHIN' RIGHT THE F*** HERE, M***** F***ER!!" I'm still playing it cool, as the train pulls away and F-Bomber decides to return to our area of the car to retrieve his m*****-f***in' batteries that KM is DEFINITELY not looking at. She and I both are statues as he bends down to pick them up, giving us a final "DON'T YOU BE LOOKING AT MY M*****-F***IN' BATTERIES!!" before returning to his seat. KM is whispering that WE NEED TO GET OFF AT THE NEXT STOP, and I'm trying to convince her to play it cool - as I'm realizing that F-Bomber is not really talking to anyone but the voices in his head. The screaming expletives are continuous, and I faintly hear the sound of the Metro driver call for Metro Police to meet us at the next station. As we are about to stop, KM jumps up, ready to bolt the second the doors open. I notice two other passengers ready to exit, and watch as they simply get off the car and onto the adjacent car to continue their trip. We follow suit, and sit where we are facing the car containing F-Bomber. KM is concerned that he will see us, realize we avoided him, and come back there to finish us off. We both notice a poor young girl, seated right in front of F-Bomber, still enduring the expletive rant that is also audible in OUR car. Of course, we reach our destination, and F-Bomber gets off as well. Luckily, Metro Police have been observing him, and detain him for a quick search and questioning. I'm not sure what they did with this man - after all, do they really have jails full of guys like this? Probably not.

The next day, KM seems relieved that we have lived thru the experience and is actually hoping for another glimpse of F-Bomber. We never did run into him again, but did see this lovely creature outside Union Station, pictured above. (I didn't take these photos of bums - that's another rule of mine.)

And, don't be lookin' at my m*****-f***in' batteries.

Neophyte Q&A!

How could I NOT participate when the host is a blogger named the Ice Cream Mama? She's an easy gal, and I don't mean that in a nappy-headed 'ho kinda way. She's assigned us QUESTIONS...which are always a snap for me. I either go for the truth, or total shock value, or both - which is usually as close to the truth of Tiggerlane as you can get. So...strap on your boots, here we go!

What is your favorite word?
Love.
(Can you see me sighing and grinning right now?)

What is your least favorite word?
Smegma.

What turns you on (creatively, spiritually or emotionally)?
MUSIC. Kisses. Truth. Passion. Intelligence. Laughter.
Dang, were we supposed to do that in order?

What turns you off?
Smegma.
And horrible smells.

What is your favorite curse word?
The f-bomb.

What sound or noise do you love?
Vocal harmonies, blended into a symphony of voices.
The sound of my daughter's laughter.

What sound or noise do you hate?
Okay....the absolute WORST and most HIDEOUS thing....ugh. I can barely type. You know that kinda noise that makes your insides all congregate at your bellybutton? That sick, pointed type of auditory convulsion that somehow involves a connection between the ear and intestines? For me, that would be the sound of a pencil with a COMPLETELY WORN DOWN ERASER, attempting to erase.

Excuse me, while I go barf.

What profession, other than your own, would you like to attempt?
Attempt? Uh...not attempt. SUCCEED at: Broadway performer.

What profession would you not like to attempt?
Mortician.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
"Come on in, your friends and family are all here."

Foggy Bottom

So, back to more about my trip! In case you didn't know, there are several "areas" of D.C., one of which is Foggy Bottom. This is where our hotel was located, on the Potomac River, on the West side of town. This is a historic district, with lots of "rowhouses," like those pictured here. Foggy Bottom is also home to The George Washington University, and I was pleased that it meant we were also close to their Medical Center.
During our "Monuments at Moonlight" trolley tour, one of the passengers fell and hit the pavement in front of the Lincoln Monument. As he was reboarding the trolley, he had blood streaming down his face and a goose-egg-sized hematoma sprouting on his forehead. Our trolley driver took a quick detour to the hospital, and delivered him to the emergency room.

Each day, my buddy and I would walk from the Watergate Hotel to the Foggy Bottom Metro Station, which was just a few blocks away, nestled in between the university and the medical center. We always met college students and young medical students, and some pretty hot young doctors! But even more fascinating were the rowhouses. They had tiny little lawns, no bigger than 3 ft x 3 ft in most cases. I was also surprised that most folks in the area had dogs, judging by all the barking we heard as we passed by. I wondered what it would be like to live in a house like this - stacked up three stories, with neighbors right next to me. I hadn't lived like this since my college dormitory days. I also can't imagine living like that again, seeing as I feel cramped on our 66' x 150' lot and my excitement about our new house to be built on 2 1/2 acres. I joked to my friend that the yards were so tiny that residents would only have to use scissors to cut their grass. No room for lawnmowers! Well, the very next day - guess what we saw?!?!?!?







Yup! Can you see them?
I snuck this photograph, b/c I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing. This lady had no clue that I was spying and giggling, all at the same time.

Here's a close-up of her hand, just to prove it.

Crazy, huh? I still think my husband would want a new weedeater for this task.

Fun Monday Embarrassment

Here it is, another Fun Monday! Amy W is hosting this week, and her assignment was to "find something in your closet you are keeping for some ungodly reason (the sweatshirt with all the holes, the jeans your kids used as a drawing table with markers, the shirt with the stain you only hope no one notices) take a picture of it and tell us why you are keeping it and how it got that way." Well, just in time for Easter, here is my item:
Yes, this is indeed a rabbit fur coat. Now, back in the '80s, this was THE THING to have. I begged and begged for this coat. I finally convinced my parents to purchase it for me during my Senior year of high school. I was SO PROUD! Here I am, wearing it for a photo in my Senior yearbook. Can you see my glee?
I've had it all these years - 21 to be exact, and just can't bear to get rid of it. Not too many years after I had been sporting it to every event imaginable, I found out the horribly cruel process involved in raising and slaughtering the many rabbits it takes to make just one coat. I was mortified, and I've never worn real fur since.

I'm not sure why I still have it - but I can't seem to get rid of it and promote the donning of fur as acceptable. I'm not a tree-hugger or anything, but knowing what I know now - I just can't in good faith wear it again. And yes, it still fits.

So it sits in the back of my closest, a cruel testimony to what a young girl is willing to put the Easter Bunny through - just to have the "it" item of the year.