kitchen reveal!

I feel a bit like Paige Davis, all bouncy in my blue jeans and grinning and eager to show you MY NEW KITCHEN! It's not new-new, really, more a matter of paint and accessories; no walls, cabinets or appliances were altered in this redecoration project.

But first, the back story. When we moved it, I had the kitchen walls painted a very neutral taupe-y shade. My library is painted burgundy, the downstairs bathroom peach, the laundry room a bright green, the upstairs rooms are blue and yellow. But the kitchen was just drab and bleh.

It wasn't until I spotted some photos on Pinterest (oh, Pinterest, you time-sucking devil!) that I began to explore a specific color scheme. I found these sites that cemented my decision to move ahead:

Aqua and Red

House of Turquoise

Let the AQUA and RED kitchen begin

This:

became this:

(same cluttered fridge, but look at the WALLS!)

I went from this (note the black rug beneath the stove--BOR-ING):

to:
Look how that punch of bright blue makes the room cheerful. Inspired by the aqua and touches of red/coral, I painted my recipe box and the basket o' potholders. (New red and turquoise potholders.)


The five new knobs and rugs look grand, too.

I like how the shot of color catches my eye when I come around the corner in our living room.

All new dishtowels in bright red!


Everyone seems happier in my new kitchen. Team Testosterone like that it's cheerful and bright. I like that it's fresh and decluttered (because there's no way you can clear off all your counter tops for the painter and not feel compelled to rid yourself of some of it). I even scrubbed the grout between the floor tiles. My happy new kitchen has inspired me to bake 2 batches of brownies, a blueberry muffin cake, 4 loaves of banana bread and a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I want to be in my kitchen, and that's sayin' something.


It's true that color can change your mood. If a space makes you crabby, a bucket of paint might make all the difference.

Spill it, reader. What space have you improved upon with a gallon of paint?

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first of three promises

I did promise you video proof of the infamous throwing and catching of a sword.

I'm a woman of my word.

Voila!

(And you're welcome--I managed to edit the thing so you wouldn't be subjected to the entire demo.)

(Good golly did I need a haircut.)

(I bounce a LOT when I walk. Note to self: work on that, eh?)

(Yes, those karate pants are the least flattering things in the world to wear.)




But. The important thing here is the CATCHING, right?

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head to toe and in between

A full-blown head cold has taken over just in time for the weekend. Since I've decided to divulge fun facts about my health in today's post, I've included a list of true facts about my body:

1. I do not require eyeglasses or contacts. Aren't I lucky?

2. My left thumb is double-jointed.

3. I am a devoted knuckle-cracker.

4. When I was pregnant with Mr. T, a lump started to grow on the right side of my neck. After determining that it was benign, it sort of shrunk after he was born. Then we had a tough time getting pregnant again (see: miscarriage, pre-cancer cells in a pap smear) and it grew again. (I wore a lot of turtlenecks, scarves and long hair during these years.) Finally, I'd given up hope of being pregnant and scheduled surgery to remove it. I went in for my presurgical exam and the nurse asked if there was any chance I was pregnant. I told him no. He had me take a blood test anyway. A few hours later this ENT nurse called to tell me I was pregnant (with Mr. B!--I asked the nurse if he was absolutely certain I was pregnant and he assured me that yes, I was--no shit!). As it happened, I didn't have the tumor removed until Mr. G was about 3 months old. When they finally took it out, it was the size of a grapefruit. All that remains is a scar on my neck that sort of blends in with the lines on my neck and it's a lot less embarrassing than a huge goiter.

5. I have chronic tailor's bunions on both feet because of the way my bones push my little toes inward, pushing the edge of my feet outward. Once I saw a podiatrist who recommended breaking my feet and resetting the bones to make the bunions go away. I got a second opinion from a doctor who recommended wearing wide shoes. Guess which opinion I ran with.

6. My fingernails grow freakishly long and strong, which I hate, so I'm always having to cut them.

7. My calves are bigger than Mr. D's. I know this because we measured them once. I come from hearty German ancestry.

8. My right kneecap kept popping off when I was young, so I had it reattached to pull the opposite way when I was 14 years old. I have a screw holding my right knee together and a big smiley-face scar running beneath it. It never bothers me except when I have to kneel on it, then it hurts.

9. I have mild scoliosis, one of my hips is a half inch higher than the other. I used to think hemlines were crooked, it wasn't until I saw a chiropractor in my 20's for back pain that I learned it was me who was off-kilter.

10. I have had asthma forever, compounded by allergies to animals, mold, dust and tobacco smoke.

Spill it, reader. Fun facts about your body!

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she slices, she dices

One of the worst parts about getting a black belt of any degree is the Demonstration. It's not enough just to perform the required moves and show your instructor you've mastered the knowledge. No, you have to DEMONSTRATE your skills in front of a live audience. To music. In public. Did I mention that this demonstration is performed to music? It's like some kind of sharp-edged pom and dance routine executed in snazzy karate uniforms instead of the more Fredrick's of Hollywood-inspired dance team uniforms. Oh the horror.


We'll agree right now that the latter uniform would make this experience even more humiliating for me, so I am thankful to wear the former.

Let's dig into the psychology behind why I dread Saturday night when I'll finally FINALLY get my brand new 2nd degree black belt: I am the only adult in my group. I hate performing in public. I feel stupid. I know I'll look like a total dweeb. It's one thing to do karate in the dojo for fun and fitness, it's another to do it in sync with a tune by Big Time Rush. Yet the Demonstration is part of the karate world in which I circulate.

As it happens, I'm also a bit quiet about the karate stuff IRL. Let's face it, the geek factor is pretty huge and while I'm not normally prone to giving a crap what other people think about me or my interests, I also don't go grocery shopping wearing a t-shirt that says "Ninja Princess."

I'm supposed to be a good face for the school, for martial arts. As the only adult in this graduation, I'm supposed to inspire other grown ups, be a great role model for the kids, promote the school, be proud of my own achievements. Mr. O expressed a bit of disappointment when he learned that I haven't invited all my friends and family to come watch me. This also made me feel a little bad, but it doesn't erase the fact that I don't want to do the Demonstration.

Here's where the funny part comes in. I'm in the back of the stage for most of this business, I planned to blend in and keep a low profile. This is mostly working out except for in Weapons Demonstration where I am to begin the whole thing solo, doing some XMA stuff with a sword.

Solo. Sword. Performance.

But wait! There's more!

As the grand finale to this little XMA combo, I have to THROW the sword into the AIR and then CATCH IT.

To this end I've been tutored by Mr. K, the XMA guru at the school. He's loaned me his gorgeous sword (so light! shiny! sharp!) to use. I brought it home Saturday and Team Testosterone went wild with weapon lust, each taking a turn holding it and admiring its beauty.
Then I began practicing. Throw. Catch. Throw. Catch. Throw. Drop. Curse. Throw. Throw. Catch. Throw. Drop. Curse.

Reader, one of two things is going to happen Saturday night. Either I will look like a bitchin' karate goddess, slicing, dicing, spinning, throwing and catching the sword OR I will look like a complete moron slicing, dicing, spinning, throwing and dropping the sword.

I keep telling myself, Chin up, buttercup. Just do your best.

And now, dear reader, I'm off to throw a sword into the air 100 times.

On a bright note, the weapons demo is to a song of my choosing: Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz.

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progress report

It's good to take stock every now and then--just when I think I've become a total slug, accomplishing nothing but keeping up with the laundry rotation and stocking the pantry, I step back and reflect. Back in January I made this list:

To date, I've scratched off most of my goals for 2011. I exceeded 100 trees planted. We've attended 3 cultural events this year and I've got 3 months remaining to bring Team Testosterone to one more play, concert or museum. I eliminated a number of piles of junk in my house--all of the living room cupboards got cleaned out, the basement is tidy and I even tackled one of the huge piles in my bedroom. All that really remains are those darn photo albums...
I made homemade bread, edged the garden and read almost 30 books so far this year. The laundry room still needs attention--forgot I'd written that down. I didn't compete in a karate tournament. That last one was tricky--there were 3 possible tournaments this year and one took place while we were in the OBX on vacation. Another was yesterday. I really wanted to spar, but with less than 2 months remaining until I earn my 2nd degree, I figured it was stupid to risk getting hurt. Now if I do enter a tournament, it'll be as a 2nd degree, making the competition even tougher. It's disappointing to realize I won't achieve this goal, but I have to concede some of the reasons were beyond my control.

Speaking of karate stuff, my 3-mile run time Saturday was 27:35, so I shaved a little time off. I may get to the 26 minute range yet. My muscles feel like a giant bruise today, but overall the training went well this weekend. No new injuries, just the same old soreness/stiffness.

In other updates, remember I mentioned a professional request for one of my manuscripts about a month ago? I learned Friday that my book was selected for publication. Stay tuned--I'll be promoting the crap out of it over the winter.

We have an abundance of apples, so things will get saucy around here soon.

And that is all.

Spill it, reader. Have you made some noteworthy progress lately?

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in pictures

We entertained heavily all weekend--finally dumped out the ice, put the coolers away, ran a final load of towels through the wash and got caught up with the dishes. Fun times had by all, but equally pleasant to kick back and be quiet today. As I bask in the lovely post-party bliss of a clean floor and leftover raspberry pie (homegrown with REAL whipped cream), I'm thinking of "good things" to share:





This stuff is awesome. SkinCeuticals Physical Fusion UV Defense, SPF 50, broad-spectrum UVA/UVB sunscreen. Tinted, water & sweat resistant, paraben free, chemical-filter free. A sweet nurse from a local cosmetic surgery office gave me a free sample to try in North Carolina and I loved it. I had NO sunburn/tan, it did not feel greasy or heavy on my skin and it lasted really well in the surf and sand. I bought a bottle of it from her today--cannot recommend this product enough to my outdoorsy friends. Fabulous protection, worth every penny. (I'm not keen on product promotion, so you know this is serious when I tell you to check this stuff out.)

Have you caught Zen on Masterpiece Mystery? It's fantastic.

Mr. B playing baseball--he did okay as catcher, but really shone as a batter. His final tournament game was pretty cool--in the second-to-last-inning, he hit a double with 2 RBIs, really helping his team pull ahead. In the final inning, they got through the entire batting order, a great finale to the season.

He looks pretty sharp in that uniform.




Team Testosterone has been making movies, movies starring a big black dog. Behold! Even the Coen brothers started out in their own back yard, right?

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more green and the start of a legacy

Mr. G brought this home from school Friday--his favorite green things. It was too darn-tootin' cute not to share. That first one is "soda" not "Yoda"--he loves Mountain Dew, even though he only drinks it on rare occasions. For years I'd successfully convinced the boys that it was beer and therefore off-limits. (Yes, I've deliberately lied to my children--if you're judging me right now, then I'm sure you haven't got three sons.) A couple years ago some "helpful" adult at a graduation party clarified for Team Testosterone that Mountain Dew is soda and perfectly fine for them to drink. Continuing clockwise, he's got "army" and "snake" and "T-Rex."

But Mr. G loving green things isn't the legacy I want to brag about today (even though Team Testosterone receives the bulk of my love and resources). As regular readers know, I've been president of the Happyland Elementary PTA for years. My dream was threefold: 1) not kill the group 2) double its fund raising prowess 3) do more than buy construction paper and glitter for the classrooms.

On count #1, I'm glad to report the group didn't die out under my leadership--granted, there were a few meetings where only 5 people attended and I got panicky. But another woman and I brainstormed and figured out how to recruit members to increase parent involvement. We're rich in numbers now, volunteers come forward to work events all the time and the committees have the most diverse populations to date (instead of the same 3-5 people running every single PTA thing).

On count #2, we've done pretty well financially--back in November 2004 the treasurer's report was $2,458.81, November 2009 we had a balance of $14,672.13 (this is all public record, I'm not revealing any classified PTA secrets here). We've bought big pieces of playground equipment, books, furniture, supplies and technology. Happyland PTA is a force to be reckoned with, doing good and leaving their stamp all over that school.

Count #3 was my vision--I wanted Happyland Elementary to be more than a fund raising group. I wanted them to have political voice to advocate for our school to the community and its leaders. I wanted them to use their resources to do more than purchase school supplies. I wanted them to become a group engaging in discussions about education and kids and parenting--not bogged down in planning sock hops and bake sales. I about burst out of my seams at meetings these days--the parents involved are bringing in experts on parenting to run seminars on discipline and boundaries. They're understanding that they can and should use their voice at school board meetings. They're wanting to do more for the elementary school than plan monthly events.

The coup de gras begins today: the first artist-in-residence booked and sponsored by Happyland Elementary PTA is in town doing special art classes with our kids for the next two weeks. The enthusiasm for this program is amazing--a meet-and-greet breakfast for the artist and staff was hosted by some moms in our group. For the next two weeks the artist has at least 2 volunteers to assist her in the classroom. The PTA caught the vision of how we can enrich our school and my dream is that this year's artist-in-residence is the beginning of many in years to come--songwriters, dancers, actors, musicians, writers, poets, painters, sculptors.

What a legacy to contribute towards--infusing children with a passion for the arts.

This year's artist is painting a mural in our cafeteria--an industrial space currently painted boring beige and white. Three panels of one wall will colorfully interpret a theme she works on with the students--a permanent record of what Happyland Elementary PTA envisions. The students will also paint several canvases to be hung around our school--hopefully these canvases inspire generations of students with their beauty and creativity.

I wanted to leave a legacy--something more substantial than empty jars of glitter and paste and used-up reams of construction paper. Today it's beginning and I feel so excited. We've got the resources in place to continue an artist-in-residence program for years to come and I know it will because I've seen the enthusiasm growing for it over the last couple months. After these two weeks, I feel confident that "Artist-in-Residence" will be as anticipated annually as the Sock Hop.

Spill it, reader. What's the legacy you're working on leaving behind?

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green things

On St. Patrick's Day it seems fitting to make a short list of green things I love:

* asparagus * "Green" living * spinach * pistachios * turtles * lizards *Key Lime pie * John Deere Green * Green Bay Packers * clover * grass *trees
* soft, fresh, new leaves in springtime * peas--straight out of the pod while standing in the garden

* mint chocolate chip ice cream * lily pads * Godzilla


* tadpoles * frogs * baby grasshoppers * beans * cactus (cacti?)
* the first shoots coming out of the ground in spring * Spring Green!

But never, not ever do I drink green beer. The only green drink I love is a margarita on the rocks, salt on the rim.

Spill it, reader. What green things do you love?

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does anyone counsel a girl before she gets a tramp stamp?

Team Testosterone and I enjoyed our overnight at the waterpark in the Dells--we went down every waterslide, played basketball, raced down the body flume (which I dominated due to my weight advantage) and rode the roller coaster (my back is still sore from all the jolting and jarring). Getting away like that was a great relief. Plus, it's fun to just hang out with my kids and not be nagging at them to do their homework or clean up their junk.

While there, I was again amused by the prolific amount of body art--particularly on twentysomething men who seem to slap tattoos on their bodies in the same way my sons paste temporary tattoos on themselves. It's so random. One guy had a knife sketched on his love handle, a bottle of beer on his opposite shoulder, a heart on one arm, a miscellaneous Chinese character on his other arm, bands around his lower legs and a cross on his chest. But they were all really cheap looking, no color, blurry lines, shapes out of proportion.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate good body art. We saw a couple while on vacation this summer--both had the most detailed and intricate designs covering their entire torsos--like turtlenecks. The colors were vibrant, the work clearly planned out in advance, the precision quite professional. They looked artistic--amazing, really. But there's a world of difference between "good body art" and really pathetic, bleeding, fading ink jobs. What I saw in the Dells was cheap, and it seems a shame to inject that much bad black ink into one's skin without proper thought and planning. I mean, that's a painful decision to correct or erase! If you're going to adorn yourself permanently, I think you should put a little quality and consideration into it.

But one guy had me howling. He sported a seagull flying over waves on his one arm (in black, but not really black, more like dark navy--no color added), the requisite Chinese symbol on his other, a knife impaled on his right shin, some writing on his left. I floated behind him and his girlfriend down the lazy river, noting his attempt at growing facial hair (patchy) and wondering how much a substandard tattoo costs these days. Then their inner tube turned around and I saw the tattoo taking over his entire back. In letters 4 inches high, all caps, Gothic font, he'd asked someone to write "Lone Wolf." Below was a drawing of a wolf.

Which made me think of this, of course:

And I started to giggle. Alan Garner from The Hangover.

Alan Garner: You guys might not know this, but I consider myself a bit of a loner. I tend to think of myself as a one-man wolf pack. But when my sister brought Doug home, I knew he was one of my own. And my wolf pack... it grew by one. So there... there were two of us in the wolf pack... I was alone first in the pack, and then Doug joined in later. And six months ago, when Doug introduced me to you guys, I thought, "Wait a second, could it be?" And now I know for sure, I just added two more guys to my wolf pack. Four of us wolves, running around the desert together, in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine. So tonight, I make a toast!

I wondered if his tattoo was intended to be ironic.

But the hands-down winner of "Most Regrettable Tattoo" belonged to the 18-year-old lifeguard who'd had "Kim + Nate 4Ever" written in cursive on her lower back. Yeah. She'll be asking someone to change that in the next couple years.

And speaking of wolves ... did you know they're related to dogs?

But that's a story for tomorrow, maybe.

Spill it, reader. Your funniest tattoo sighting.

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in which she speaks of politics, religion, education and biker/disco fusion

The most controversial issue consuming Happyland's school board of late is this: Should high school students be allowed to ride snowmobiles to school? Yep, that's a sign that we live in the country snowmobiles dominate school board debates for almost 8 months. The answer, for those of you interested, was a 4-3 vote against this seasonal mode of transportation. Nevermind that no snowmobile trail leads directly to the high school, or that the insurance company, county sheriff, town police and state sheriff opposed allowing snowmobiles on school properties. I believe one of the major deal breakers for the school board members voting on the issues was where to park the snowmobiles.

***

And speaking of politics and education with a side of religion dished up, I'm on a panel discussion at my church tomorrow morning. The topic? "School Choices for Your Children." I'm representing the "Public School Option" alongside the charter school moms, the homeschooling moms, and the parochial school moms. When it's over, I'll race out in time to don my hairnet and apron and serve sloppy joes to at Mr. T's PS (parochial school).

***
I would love to buy the soundtrack for Sons of Anarchy--if such a thing existed. Sadly, I have to go on the official SOA website and find the list of songs for each episode and then buy them individually. Alas! But I'll do it--a little bad-ass biker music makes an excellent addition to my disco play list. They both make me run faster, disco makes me run in a happy, bouncy kind of way, SOA rock makes me run in a more determined, woman-warrior kind of way. Biker/disco fusion. It could become a whole new fashion trend.

Spill it, reader. What's your fusion of choice these days?

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the fame didn't go to my head

it went straight to my gut. True story, readers. While the rest of you were ignoring my post on lovely things here yesterday, my Eco Women post was featured on "Freshly Pressed" over in the Land of WordPress.

For a day I experienced the heady rush of being a "popular" blogger. "Popular" meaning "read by a couple thousand people." My inbox was full all day, 90% were very encouraging, agreeable comments. But honestly? By 3:00 when I went to gather Team Testosterone back into my loving arms after school, I was quite tired of it. A little fearful. The stats kept climbing, the comments kept coming, I felt the edge of panic scrape against my nerves. Later that evening I checked in again and another 30 comments barreled into my inbox, clamoring for my attention. This Freshly Pressed business is only a 24-hour honor, right?

The Eco Women blog has a singular purpose: encourage people to live more thoughtfully and carefully on our planet. This blog? This is all about connecting with readers, making friends, sharing advice, opinions, stories. You all are my neighborhood coffee klatch/Bunko club/Stitch n' Bitch. My heart is here.

I felt compelled to respond to all the comments over at Eco Women yesterday--an overwhelming task. I felt the urge to visit all of their sites and check them out--an unreasonable expectation--no way can I become bloggy pals with all of those people. I had to quelch the urge to be "Green Girl in Wisconsin," mild-mannered, friendly Midwesterner; and wear a more professional, guarded hat as "Enviro Girl." I had to behave totally opposite of how I behave here.

I realized that this rash of comments explains why the famous gals like Jen Lancaster no longer allow comments on their posts. They'd spend entire days just reading the comments, without responding to any of them.

I felt a little naked and exposed with all those people reading my ideas and thoughts--which seems silly since blogging is all about exposure, right? The very premise of a blog is to throw yourself into a public forum for some kind of attention. I felt hypocritical about my sudden hesitation about the entire business--like people on reality TV shows protesting people watching their behavior once the episodes air--I put my work out there. Of course people are going to read it. DUH. But these people are strangers. The people over at Green Girl in Wisconsin are my friends. There's trust and context and mutual support. Then I started to reflect on how this experience might compare to one of my books selling. Hundreds, maybe thousands of total strangers paying money to read my work. What if they hated it? What if they felt ripped off or angered by what I wrote? Would I spend hours online watching the stats on Amazon.com, obsessing over who is buying my work and why or why not? After yesterday, I think publishing might be terrifying in a particular way. Maybe there's a good reason why I haven't landed a book deal for it yet. God knows I may not have the stomach for it. Perhaps He's protecting me from myself and my foolish pride and ambition.

Blogging for me is about the give-and-take. It's relational. I get a lot of joy and love out of this site and the places it leads me to (Georgia, Germany, California, Florida, England,Tuvalu). There's a world of difference between here and there.

But I still have a lot of "freshly pressed" thoughts to process.

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word girl!

Sure, that looks like Green Girl and Mr. G, the adopted monkey-boy, but it's really Word Girl and Captain Huggy Face from PBS Kids. It could be me, though. I love words. I get a charge out of reading unusual words. I enjoy listening to people talk. I take pleasure in arranging and rearranging words on a page. Words are power, they're the primary way to get our thoughts across, they command and question and explain. Some of the best words carry multiple meanings--like run and light and dream. Some words leave an unmistakable taste in your mouth--greasy, dread, gaunt, lope. Words can be wonderfully precise ("Drive 2.7 miles north past the Cty. E intersection, we're the first blacktopped driveway on your left.") or vague ("God bless him for that. That's really something!") Words manipulate, inspire and ultimately make us feel less alone. One of the biggest thrills of motherhood is watching my sons learn how to read. It even trumps potty training on the List of Major Accomplishments and Milestones. Listening to them read and reading with them, parsing out unfamiliar words and discussing definitions delights me every time. (I adore alliteration the way some people revere rhyming.)

As a child I was a voracious reader. I'd read the ingredients off the back of a shampoo bottle in the tub. I'd read the back of a cereal box at the table. I'd read, read, read, read. If I forgot a book on a trip to Grandma's, I'd read her old copies of Good Housekeeping and Ladies' Home Journal just for something to do. And as a grown-up, I still read whatever's on hand--I've even pulled out the owner's manual to the Momvan on occasion, while waiting for my kids to finish soccer practice or karate class.

When we built our house, I even chose the old-fashioned style faucets that read "Hot" and "Cold" on the handles. I wanted words in every room of my house. We have piles of books in every room, and my favorite art has words written across or on it. I even wear a repurposed Scrabble tile on a necklace--because it has a LETTER on it!

Kathy makes letters, letters to make words. If I were to draw my name (which I can't because I'm not going to enter my own contest--how selfish would that be?), I'd totally choose this from her Four Dog Day Etsy shop:


Or this:

Are you overwhelmed by the choices yet? Kathy's a whiz--she makes all kinds of marvelous things, useful, lovely, quaint. I'm picking one lucky winner tomorrow--every comment in the comment box is an entry to win the item of your choice from Kathy's Four Dog Day shop.

Spill it, reader. Are you a word girl (or guy)?

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a three ring circus!

No, I'm not referring to politics today... (ba-dum-dum-ching!)
Nor am I referring to life here with Team Testosterone. Although I do feel like a ringmaster and they act like clowns a lot of the time. I jump through a lot of hoops and getting past the Legoland/Brio train/battle castle/Spy Gear set up upstairs is an acrobatic feat.
No, I'm talking about a real circus!

We're going to the circus Saturday!


Our weekend is jam-packed like a clown car with fun, starting with play dates after school and bowling tonight. Sunday winds up with the Academy Awards and this year I'm going to a party which will be much better than watching the awards at home where no one else appreciates them like I do. I've tried, you know. It never works out like I plan. But this year will be much better. I'll be with girlfriends. And then Monday morning I get to read Saucy's Oscar re-hash which has become my other favorite part about the weekend ahead.

But I digress. The circus! My favorite part is always the trapeze artists. Awesome names, spangly costumes and high-flying tricks on swings!

Acrobats are nothing to sneer at either...


The boys are excited to eat cotton candy and see the animals. Mr. B and Mr. G have asked me to protect them from the clowns. They're afraid clowns will be there to take our tickets at the door--I've assured them that circus clowns are friendly and don't want to scare anyone--if they're nearby and they think kids are scared, they back off. The boys are still wary, but willing to risk clowns for Big Top Fun.

I haven't been to the circus since I was a kid and I'm excited to bring Team Testosterone to see the show--the greatest show on earth.
Spill it, reader. What's your favorite part about the circus? Cotton candy? Clowns? Lion tamers? Elephants? Cracker Jacks? Acrobats?

Don't forget to click over to Eco Women: Protectors of the Planet--our 2 year blogiversary bash wraps up today!

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