Today the kids and I went with our church's youth group to the first ever Northern Virginia Harvest Rally. It was pretty fun with good preaching, fun games, great music, funny skits put on by representatives from six Christian colleges, and pizza for lunch. The girls are not required to wear skirts to these events, but I usually do because, um, I don't know why. I just do. Anyway, this morning was a little chilly, and since I hate panty hose more than illegal immigrants getting in-state tuition rates, I only wear them to funerals. Not even weddings. So I put on my favorite knee-length denim skirt with really cool brown/black/yellow argyle knee-socks, and smurfys (that's what Abbie named those clog-like shoes that all the kids wear that I think were first made by Birkenstock, but I can't afford the real ones on account of two children in college). And Abbie, being the fashion maven that she is, wore her usual jeans with a short skirt over them. We found out at the end of the day that the photographer had taken a picture of my socks and Abbie's outfit. So here I am, age 46, a successful wife and home schooling mom, and I will be remembered for my funky knee-socks. Sorta sad, but I guess it's better than nothing. I need to pay more attention to the fashion gurus.
Be thankful ~