….that it’s not really pronounced bluebomment.
….that she did not, in fact, lose her teeth “a long long long long long time ago” and her baby teeth grew in after them.
….that an entire morning of board games is one of the most effective forms of torture for parents. Yes! please! You may now play your iPad!
….that Chris Kratt is married with 5 kids and like 40+ years her senior.
….that it’s about time the 2T polka dot jacket she covets was sent out to pasture.
….along with that favorite dress that’s looking more like a shirt these days.
….that she has Nutella all over her face.
….that as much as you love playing “Ninja Turtle Scares Mommy,” there are only so many circles a mommy can stand to run around the couch.
….that “eecause” starts with a B.
….that I really love it when she comes and snuggles in my bed, especially when she starts flailing and throwing her legs over me.
….actually, go ahead and tell her that part, about the leg flailing thing.
….that her stubbornness and determination will probably make her a real go-getter one day, but probably more like a complete asshole to work with.
….that she’s cute.
….that those shoes are too big.
….or that those shoes are too small.
….just…it’s best you just stay quiet and try not to make any sudden movements.
As a part of the Netflix Stream Team, each month I share my favorite things to stream online.
My Netflix watching has been all kinds of random this month. But you know what? That’s the beauty of Netflix.
Christian and I bought a new TV as an early Christmas present to ourselves, and we’ve just been having fun with it. Our old was was about 11 years old, and he found a great deal, so we went for it. I’ve never been one to need the latest and greatest, but man, those zombies on The Walking Dead are coming through crystal clear.
First, what we’ve been watching….
Burt’s Buzz – I first heard about this from my friend Corrin at Oh Hey, What’s up? Burt’s Buzz is a documentary centered around Burt Shavitz, the eclectic co-founder and face of Burt’s Bees. It was so interesting to see the distant relationship he holds with the company and hear how he, a no-frills loner, feels about his “fame.”
Django Unchained – Not gonna lie, I didn’t want to watch this when we had the option to rent it from Amazon. I just wasn’t interested. But we pulled it up one night on Netflix, and it really is a fantastic movie. Gory to all hell (it is Quentin Taratino after all), but a good story with fantastic actors. I loved Christoph Waltz’s character (you may remember his as the complete asshole Nazi from Inglorious Bastards), and Leonardo DiCaprio gives a great performance as a slave master. And Jamie Foxx’s Django was completely lovable and badass at the same time.
Fun fact: Did you know that Zoe is named after a character in a Quentin Tarantino movie? We settled on her name after watching Death Proof. We’d been having trouble for weeks coming up with something we really liked. One of the characters in the movie was named Zoe, and I said, “Huh. Zoe. I like that.” DONE.
The Walking Dead – What, you aren’t watching this show? We’re all caught up to the latest episodes, but we started watching the first three seasons on Netflix. Christian had already watched some of it, and finally convinced me to give it a chance. The first episode I thought I was going to completely lose my mind, I was so anxious. “If the rest of the episodes are like this,” I said, “I can’t do it.” But of course as with any good show, we have gotten totally invested in the characters. Daryl forever, y’all.
I was sick this past weekend, so I was able to catch up with Katniss in Catching Fire before I head out to see Mockingjay soon. And yes, I’m still watching Sherlock. Benedict Cumberbach, you are growing on me, sir.
The kids are watching all kinds of silly holiday and non-holiday goodness, so I thought I would round up a few of our favorites. The best part is that we don’t have to commit to anything and don’t feel bad about turning something off if it’s completely terrible, which may or may not have happen last night.
Robin Hood – One of my all time favorite Disney movies.
The Muppet Christmas Carol – Who doesn’t love the Muppets?
Wild Kratts – Zoe could watch the Wild Kratts all day and all night. She has a terrible crush on Chris Kratt, but it’s her undying love for animals that really keeps her interest. She spouts out the most random things she’s learned from the show, and her enthusiasm is unwavering.
What are you watching?
This post is graciously sponsored by Uncommon Goods. Uncommon Goods believes that it is their responsibility to use their business to impact the world in a positive way. Thank you for supporting the businesses that support this little blog.
I have a new desk! Of my own!
For the past, oh, forever, I’ve had my laptop firmly planted on the dining room table, unless I took it with me when I firmly planted my butt on the couch or on my bed. We live in a smallish house, around 1600 square feet, so there’s not a lot of extra room personal space. The dining room table, although in the middle of the house, was the only place where I could carve out a little space.
But it was never a perfect solution. The kids are constantly drawing, and we’ve amassed piles and piles of drawings of Ninja Turtles, baby spiders, family portraits, Hello Kitty, and then there are the fun times when Zoe goes on a snowflake-making bender, leaving itty bitty teeny weeny microscopic pieces of paper littering my floor like confetti. I myself have kind of a “paperwork” problem, where I collect any and all papers that I need to read, respond to, fill out, remind me of something, along with my calendar, notebook, and other random, super important crap.
The worlds were going to collide, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. I needed a space of my own.
A few weeks ago Christian got a wild hair to rearrange our bedroom, which allowed space for an old desk we had sitting around collecting dust. Years ago it was my art table, so its black formica was paint splattered and stained. For the past several years, every time the bulk trash people came around, I was tempted to put it on the curb, but it never found its way out there.
Thank goodness, because look at this baby now!
I cannot believe how good it looks, and you would not believe how happy it makes me. For the longest time I’ve wanted a little space to call my own, and if i can’t have my own room, dammit, at least I have my little haven. Before I painted it, the area was so dark and dreary. Our bedroom gets terrible natural light, even with the huge sliding door on one side (pro tip: do NOT buy a house with a sliding door in the bedroom, unless you want to play revolving cats all night, every night). Painting the desk white and stealing the kids’ lamp from the playroom has really brightened up the space.
The great people at Uncommon Goods sent me the beautiful piece of art hanging on the wall. When I first chose it, I wasn’t sure where I would put it. Maybe the girls room? My gallery wall? I wasn’t sure. Christian suggested I hang it above my desk, and so it was. And it was this piece that inspired me to get the ball rolling on refurbishing this terrible ugly desk that is terrible and ugly no more.
Plus, I kinda need this message too.
Uncommon Goods has long been one of my favorite places to buy gifty things. It’s one of the few physical catalogs that I hang onto so I can flip through it while the kids eat their after school snack. Uncommon Goods supports and provides a platform for artists and designers. About half of their products are made by hand, many incorporating recycled or upcycled materials. There’s a huge range of unique items for those people in your life that just don’t need another pair of gloves or socks (find great gifts for your wacky aunt here or something unique for your hard-to-shop-for brother here).
I love sitting down to work at my desk (which I am doing RIGHT NOW). I love looking at it from the other room. I love how much bigger and cleaner it seems with it’s fresh white coat of paint. I kinda feel like a grownup sitting here.
Then Rachel sat down and pretended to be me. She set up all of her little tchotchkes and got to work drawing some ninja turtle pictures. And apparently this is the face I make when I am working?
I really hope she lets me keep these here. Every blogger needs a snake/kitty/ninja/Batgirl team to keep her pumping out kickass content.
Oh. How sweet. Two seconds after this I caught them drawing on my new white desk. No pictures, because we need to retain the beauty of this moment. And my desk.
Uncommon Goods also sent me a package of these adorable little paper angels (find more Christmas gifts here). I love the different colors and patterns and the simplicity of the design, and I can’t wait to include them in my Christmas decorations this year. This one just might stay here on my pretty new desk with me.
This weekend was overcast and cold – like two pairs of pants cold. Saturday we had soccer and a fire in the fireplace and napping, so Sunday I decided I had better go for a run to get my muscles going and work off some of the Christmas-wrapped Hershey Kisses I downed, cold, misty weather be damned.
I was about to google how many minutes one had to run per Kiss, but then I decided not to depress myself.
By afternoon the annoying misty rain had quit, but it was still pretty cold. I headed out in my Under Armor compression capris (the ones with the hole in them from getting snagged in some Tough Mudder barbed wire 2 years ago), running tee (Kirkland’s Best, y’all!), and my C9 running jacket. And today I carried my phone in my husband’s FlipBelt.
My old iPhone 4s armband has worked just fine for my 6 up until recently. The 6 is bigger, so it’s a tight fit, and I sometimes have to velcro it SO tightly onto my arm – especially if I’m wearing a slippery long-sleeved tech tee – that the phone’s power and volume buttons go haywire. My last few runs have been interrupted by my music getting turned alllll the way down or alllll the way up. Stopping to fix these things takes away precious energy. Not to mention is is just hella annoying to have your favorite song just disappear while you’re mid-jam.
I’ve used the FlipBelt around the house to store my phone while I’m doing housework and listening to podcasts (Serial, y’all. Listen to it. It’s amazing.), but this was the first time I had run with it. It didn’t jostle or ride up or down, like my annoying compression pants do. But about a mile into my run, I felt something tugging on my earbuds, and I looked down to see something dangling from my waistband and OMG IT’S MY IPHONE HANGING BY A PURPLE EARBUD WIRE.
You know, I had a dream the night before – a nightmare really – that I had dropped and shattered my phone. I have never broken a phone to date, and I don’t intend to start now.
So I continued on my run, hip-checking myself every 3 seconds. The 6 is a slippery little fucker, and I was paranoid that it was going to slide out again. This wasn’t supposed to happen with the FlipBelt. It was designed to hold all of my belongings, safe and snug and secure, and so I could zone out and not think about running while I was actually running. But all I could think about was how every step was a step towards death for my poor phone. The constant checking wasted precious physical and mental energy. I’m still so fresh and out of shape after my injury, I have no time to waste with faulty gear.
“It’s just that there’s pocket openings all around the belt, so there’s no safe place for my phone!” I said to Christian when I got home and told him about my phone’s near death experience.
“Well, yeah. You put your stuff in the openings, and flip the belt over. So they’re covered.”
“Flip it over?” I said. “Oh…I guess that’s why it’s called a FLIPBelt.” OH. I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE.
You guys, the patience with which this man deals with me is unprecedented. Bless him.
To be fair, FlipBelt’s own damn logo is on the same side of the belt as the pocket openings. So once it’s flipped, you can’t even see the logo, AND there’s a tag on the non-pocket side, totally making it look like the underside of the belt. AND all of the ridiculously fit and tan people in their photos are wearing the belt with the logo facing out. That’s just confusing for us dumb people, and poor design if you ask me. I know you didn’t, but still.
So next time will be FlipBelt 2.0, new and improved, and with it’s actual intended purpose. I’ll keep you posted on whether or not it works, but I’m sure it will. Things usually do work when you use them the right way and all.
• • • • •
In running-related news, I’m excited to announce that I’m serving as an ambassador for ZOOMA Texas and the ZOOMA Women’s Race Series! I ran ZOOMA in 2012, where I was also an ambassador, and it was such a good time, and the event that I credit to “making” me a runner. Since then, as you all know, I’ve been suffering from terrible sciatica that stemmed from a herniated disc in my lower back. But I’ve ben deemed well enough to not only run, but start training again. I’m still terrified that the pain will return, but now at least I (and my physical therapist) know how to manage it if it does.
ZOOMA Texas is held on March 28, 2015 at the gorgeous (and hilly!) Hyatt Regency Lost Pines Resort and Spa in Bastrop, TX. Registration is now open for the 5K, 10K, and the half marathon. Save 10% on registration for any of the distances by using the code LEIGHANN15. Find more info about ZOOMA Texas here. Will I see you there?
I have a crush on David Sedaris. Yes, I know he’s gay, and I’m married, he’s in his 50s, I’m super young and vibrant. It’s not a romantic crush of course. Just that feeling that you want to surround yourself with this person, learn all of their secrets, and maybe absorb some of their talent and greatness just by being in their presence and maybe you just want to rub your face on their blue corduroy blazer.
I wonder what it’s like to be the someone that others always want to learn something from and rub their faces on various clothing items.
Seeing David live was an impulsive decision for me. I found out about it a few days before and contacted my friend Missy, a fellow writer and humor-lover. If she couldn’t go, I contemplated going by myself; that’s how badly I didn’t want to pass up this opportunity to see one of my favorite writers in person.
I could tell you all about how great it was to hear David read some of his essays on stage, how truly funny he is, how endearing he was when he spoke casually in between readings, and how, even though I’ve read a lot of his work, his crassness caught me off guard time and time again. I could tell you about the Sasquatch sitting in front of me who kept leaning forward, then back, then side to side, like he had a bad case of hemorrhoids, making it so I was playing peek-a-boo with the stage.
But what really stuck with me throughout the evening getting to see a little about how David ticks as a writer. He didn’t talk a lot about writing itself, but it’s safe to say that for someone like him, writing is a way of life, a saving grace. Most of all, it’s a habit.
David shared some excerpts from his diaries, and afterwards, when he took some questions, someone asked him what he writes in his diary that he wouldn’t want people to read. Maybe they were expecting a juicy horrible secret.
“Well,” he said. “I write a lot of boring stuff, really.”
That’s right. David Sedaris, master satirist, writes everyday, boring entries into his journal, just like you and me. Specifically, when traveling, he gets up every morning and writes a review of his hotel room. You heard it here, folks.
David Sedaris is an observer. Most of the best writers and artists I know are. It’s whether or not we harness that observation and channel it that decides the fate of our creativity.
The thing is, when someone like David is up on stage in front of an audience that has paid good money to hear him read his own words, it’s normal to think that every day they wake up and just fart brilliance. Clearly their writing process consists of sitting down at their computer in a nice, quiet house (in the English countryside, no less), opening up their computer and typing. That’s it! The words just flow. They don’t self edit. They don’t get discouraged, because everything coming from their fingertips is amazing! Funny! A compelling weaving of life and life lesson.
Are we really all that insecure about out own abilities that we put someone successful up on a pedestal of unattainable brilliance? I’m not saying that all of us – or any of us, for that matter – will ever be “the next David Sedaris,” but it doesn’t mean we are bad writers. Maybe some of us aren’t practicing our craft enough. Maybe we’re comparing ourselves to someone else. Maybe we’re allowing ourselves to get discouraged before we even try.
On stage David said that when he’s on tour, he likes to promote books of other writers he admires. He brought out Ann Patchett’s This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, a collection of essays about her commitments to writing, family, friends, her husband. “Ugh, she’s the bomb,” Missy whispered under her breath, as he read an excerpt from Patchett’s essay “The Getaway Car,” which David himself described as the best essay for a writer to read.
“You can either spend 4, 6, or 8 years going to school to learn to be a writer,” he said, “Or you can read this essay.”
And then he said, “I just really wish I could write like her.”
To hear someone as revered in the writing world as David Sedaris say that he wishes he could write as beautiful as someone else was not as much a shock as an affirmation. We all do this. And it’s okay. I will never write like David Sedaris, because I am not David Sedaris. But I can let David Sedaris, and others, inspire me with his wit and observations and his mastery of creating a story.
• • • • •
After the reading Missy and I stood in line to get our books signed. We were having a riveting conversation with each other about a mutual acquaintance’s yoga pant-clad derriere when we approached the table.
“So what were you guys talking about while you were waiting?” David asked.
“Yoga pants,” I offered up, sadly aware of how typical suburban mom I sounded.
“Butts,” Missy interjected, always the Peppa to my Salt. “Specifically our butts in yoga pants.”
“Oh! And how does your butt look in your yoga pants?” he asked me as I handed him my book.
And as I gave an idiotic explanation of how it depends on whether or not I’m running, (“like not at the moment, but you know, in training HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”) David is drawing this in my book with his arsenal of Sharpies:
And then he draw this:
And you know, I can’t even be offended. Because how many other people can honestly say that David Sedaris illustrated his own book with a drawing of their butt?
Last Wednesday was a “challenging” day for Zoe at preschool. I believe her teacher said (and I’m totally fine with this) she was “a little toot” that day, which is really her nice way of saying she was a little shit.
I know this Zoe. This is the Zoe who is feeling too big for her britches and too cool for school. I don’t like parenting this Zoe. It’s hard, and to date she’s been my easiest child. Unfortunately it seems like I’ve taken her ease for granted.
Often her attitude is related to her being tired or hungry. On that day in particular, she fell asleep in the car, 4 minutes into the 10 minute drive home. Kids and car naps: making grownups’ necks hurt by association since forever.
This new school year has kind of shattered all of Zoe’s expectations from the previous year. She expected to walk into school to a class full of friends and a teacher who doted on her. But her friends were all separated into different classes, and she didn’t understand why she didn’t have the same teacher. Miss M and been Rachel’s teacher, then Zoe’s first teacher. It just made sense: Miss M was THE teacher.
When her new teacher – also Miss M – was going through her roster, everyone sighed wistfully and said, “Oh, Zoe T. She’s a special girl. You’ll love her.”
I like Miss M2 a lot. She’s a great teacher, she’s fun, and she’s is doing fantastic work with the kids to get them ready for kindergarten. She’s just different from Miss M1, less doting and more matter-of-fact and tell-it-like-it-is. Some kids respond really well to that. Zoe responds well to feeling like a princess.
The thing is, Zoe needs to feel like she’s special. I can’t think of any other way to say it. I’m not saying she should get special treatment, but she flourishes when she’s given a little more attention. The fate of the younger sibling of identical twin sisters is either make yourself seen or you fade into the background. Zoe prefers to make herself seen with a charming, gregarious personality that hardly anyone can resist, but also hanging back when she senses her sisters are being too overwhelming. She practically got away with murder for way too long, and we had to reign her back in with some discipline after we royally kicked ourselves in the behinds for being so enchanted with her. She’s tricksy, that one.
“I like you,” she said, a few weeks into the school year, “But I don’t like you as much as Miss M1.” She was just being honest. She’s 4. Miss M2 wasn’t offended; this isn’t her first rodeo. She thanked her for her honesty and went on with her day.
She’s acting out…spitefully. Oh, you want me to put this book away? Sure. Right after I take my time flipping through every. single. page. Don’t spin around on the carpet, you say? Fine. I’ll wait until you look away, but then my ass is spinning.
Honestly, I think I’d rather she was having trouble with her “listening ears” as opposed to vengeful disobedience.
I can see why she’s having a tough time. She stood out in her first class. Not so much here. So she’s trying to make herself seen, even if it’s with less-than-desireable behaviors. It makes her look like she’s spoiled and maybe she is just a little bit. She’s my baby, and I can’t resist her snuggles and sweet kisses.
But she’s also helpful and funny and wicked smart. These little dips in behavior make up only a small percentage of what we see at home, so it makes me sad that they make up so much of her day at school, that her teachers may not be seeing her potential to be a really fantastic kid when she’s given the right motivation.
This past weekend was a weekend. Like many weekends, I had some thoughts. I share these thoughts with you now.
• If a Toothless toy randomly goes missing, will its owner ever miss it? YES. Yes she will. Because she will watch the movie on a Sunday, and all you will hear for the rest of the afternoon will be “Where’s my Toothless? Did you find my Toothless? I guess I’ll have to get another one. Did you find it? Now did you find it? This house is always losing things. I hate this house! Waaaaaahhhhh!!! Did you find it yet? What about now?” Seriously, this house is not that big, and to make it worse, I actually cleaned this weekend, so, you know, everything in its place and all. Except for that damn dragon.
• I’m not going to eat any more Halloween candy. Today. Until after lunch. Okay, I think I can hold off another 5 minutes.
• Give me all of the Kit Kats.
• Why did I eat so many Kit Kats.
• I wonder when it’s going to cool off around here….NOW. NOW is the time it’s going to cool off. My children haven’t worn anything past the knees since April, and now it’s gone from 85 to 55 degrees overnight (like literally, not a euphemism), and we have a 9am soccer game, and they are going to FREEZE their little Texan butts off.
• Who knew it was possible to miss practically an entire soccer game taking two 6-year-olds to the bathroom? Well, now I know that. Sorry, Zoe.
• NO, I have not found it yet. Stop asking.
• Are those planning on doing NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo completely insane? YES. Yes they are.
• Honestly, I’m a little jealous of the NaNo and NaBlo people. They’re working towards a goal! I’ll have to remember that long about November 23rd, when they all want their laptops to die a fiery, miserable death.
• This time change thing? Not so bad with two 6-year-olds and a 4-year-old (loads better than the sufferings of two years ago). Sunday I did some laundry, went to the grocery store, made lunch, took one of the girls clothes shopping (see above about no pants), whittled a wooden bird, cleaned my desk, did the dishes, completed a 500 piece puzzle, wrote the next Great American Novel, and WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S ONLY 2 O’CLOCK? Good God, this is the longest day of my life.
• I’m tired.
One. From 4th grade up to my late teens, I was a dog show kid. My parents bred and showed Miniature Schnauzers as a hobby, so just about every one of my weekends in my formative years was spent traveling to podunk Texas towns for shows. The Christopher Guest movie Best in Show satirized the larger, national events, but most of the shows we went to were held in small towns, at muddy fair and rodeo grounds, where we had to set up our grooming stations in barns. Larger cities like Dallas and San Antonio allowed for more civilized convention centers with actual floors.
Things you should know about dog shows: White dogs are covered in chalk, black dogs are dyed blacker, and the scene is probably more political than Washington. The smell of hairspray mixed with dirt and cigarette smoke is permanently engrained in my memory.
I did a few years of junior showmanship, but I spent most of my time reading, doing homework, wandering around bored out of my everloving mind, and crushing on a fellow dog show boy. And eating lots and lots of concession stand food.
Two. When I was in kindergarten, I tried to change my name to Elizabeth. My own name was full of random letters that made no sense together, and I thought Elizabeth was the most beautiful name in the world. When I asked my mom how to spell it, she wrote it on a pale blue Post-It note for me in her impeccable handwriting – E L I Z A B E T H. I took that Post-It directly to my teacher and informed her I had changed my name.
Unfortunately, since I had given her my cheat sheet, I had no idea how to actually spell ELIZABETH anymore. So I just wrote a jumbled mess of letters at the top of my worksheets: probably an E, maybe an L, and a Z. There was definitely a Z. I should have practiced more! Who changes their name and doesn’t learn how to spell it? A 5-year-old, that’s who.
Later in the day Miss Barrow, my kindergarten teacher, crouched next to me at my table and said, “I’m going to need you to write Leigh Ann on your papers from now on, okay?” And that was the end of my run as Elizabeth. It was good while it lasted. I think. I don’t think I really got any satisfaction from it since I couldn’t even write it.
Three. As a child and teen (and an athlete), I had kind of a love affair with the emergency room. I made 11 visits for various injuries including (but not limited to):
- chipping my ankle bone when I slipped off a step (1st of 3 times on crutches)
- splitting my head open on a diving board while back flipping (1st of 2 times with stitches)
- Spraining my ankle twice (2nd & 3rd times on crutches)
- Splitting my head open again in college (staples!). Beer, piggy-back rides, and metal hair clips do NOT mix.
- Splitting my pinkie finger open (2nd time with stitches). This one’s a story. I used to play fast-pitch softball. Coach gave me the signal to bunt, which as a lefty, I did often. I was thrown out at first base, but as I walked back to the dugout, my finger was throbbing. I blamed it on bat vibrations in the cold November weather, until I looked down and saw that my entire hand was covered in blood. Apparently the ball was inside and hit the bat exactly on my pinkie, causing it to burst open from the pressure of the ball. It didn’t explode or anything, but the more it swelled up, the wider the split became, and there was gross finger insides starting to stick out. Six stitches. I still have a scar.
I used to be able to recall all of them, but my memory fails me now. Best part is I have NEVER broken a bone.
Four. I have never been stung by a wasp or a bee or anything more harmful than a mosquito, and I am TERRIFIED of them. Like “sacrifice the children and run for the hills” terrified. Once as we walked from our front door to the car, a wasp dive bombed me, grazing my neck. I took off down the yard, leaving my poor children standing there on the front walk. MOTY. But that shit hurt!
A few weeks ago I was chatting with my neighbor when a yellow jacket (hornet? YOU BUGS ALL LOOK THE SAME TO ME) landed on my leg. MY LEG. I completely froze, and my neighbor was all, “Um, you have one on your leg.” And all I could muster was, “Getitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff!” until he flicked it off for me. We’re very close in this neighborhood, flicking bugs off each other’s legs and all.
Five. I went to high school with that guy who was in Argo and Gone Girl. No, not Ben Affleck. This guy.
And by “went to high school with him” I mean we he was a year or 2 ahead of me, and we had no interaction whatsoever. I don’t think I ever would have placed him. I only remember seeing his name on the cast listing for Argo, and thinking, Scoot McNairy….Scoot McNairy….where do I know that name from? Then I saw where he was from, and it clicked. Back then he went by Scooter. And now he’s popping up in practically every movie I watch, so I can say, “Hey! I [insert finger quotes] went to high school [end finger quotes] with that guy!”
So….who do I want to see write up 5 random facts about themselves? Let’s see…
Corrin from Oh Hey, What’s Up?
Kari from A Grace-Full Life
Andrea from About 100%
Angela from Jumping With My Fingers Crossed
Amy from Banana Wheels