Slatterns

Olivia is still sick.  The RSV has stuck, although the UTI never materialized, thank goodness.  Along with her cold she now has a bad case of the baby runs and is fussy like, well,  like a baby who can't breathe and whose hiney is chapped.  Boo, hiss!  This could be due to her cold, or (drumroll, please!) because her teething finally bore fruit and she has a teeny little toothlet in the center of her bottom gum.  Hooray!  We're a mixed bag of emotions and effluvia here at Me Show H.Q.  That can hardly be said to be news, but the experience has certainly been heightened.

To cope with our troubles today Olivia and I declared ourselves shameless slatterns and took a day to be lazy.

We chilled on the floor, one of us looking awfully sick.

Snot haze.  Mucous trance.

And I introduced Olivia to a family favorite, Oklahoma!, because nothing says "family time" like Curly trying to convince Jud Fry to commit suicide in his smokehouse.

"Mom, this shit's twisted."

Horrifyingly, Olivia loved my absolute least favorite part of the movie, the Dream Laurey/Dream Curly sequence.  While I usually make the film's dance break into my own bathroom break, Olivia sat rapt during the shocking whorehouse scene.  As the vibrantly costumed saloon girls tormented the virtuous Laurey by lifting their skirts to expose their technicolor petticoats, Olivia slapped her thighs, laughed, and squealed at the screen.  Clearly, the hussy blood runs strong in this family.

Here's a little video of Livy in partial action.  As usual, the presence of the camera rendered her a lifeless shadow of her usual vigorous self.

Then, spurred on by Curly's speech to Jud about leaving the hole he lives in and doing something healthy for a change, we went for a walk.  On the street in front of our house we saw this:

If you know how this got in front of my house, please never tell me.

I can't decide what's funniest about this: that it's a rubber glove on the street, that its middle finger is raised, or that I'm the kind of homeowner who took a picture of it to post on my blog rather than throwing it away.  I call it a three-way tie.

We also saw a dilapidated house decorated with fake red geraniums.  The scene just screamed "Mayella Ewell."

Shudder

Upon arriving home, I found that Livy's fever had spiked again and she was too hot.  After spilling half a bottle of formula on my jeans, we both resigned ourselves to pantslessness.  So we hung out on the bed for a while reading Newsweek and snuggling in our skivvies.

Aaaaahhhh - sweet relief!

We proudly compared fat rolls.

It's a draw!

And we grinned at each other in blind, stupid love.

"You're awesome!"  "No, YOU'RE awesome!"  No, WE'RE awesome!"

Lesser women would be ashamed of a day like today, and that is precisely why we do not associate with them.  Either you roll pantsless, or you don't roll with us.