I called my mom this morning as Henry and I were leaving to run some errands.
I got her voicemail...what!?
I thought she just sat around, cell phone clutched in her hand, waiting for me to call. Waiting to talk to me...her reason for being.
Nope, guess she's got a life.
Who woulda thunk?
Piggy and I had to run to the mall, where I was hoping to find some black boots to wear with a dress for Henry's baptism. Turns out my calfs are too girthy for any boot sold in the United States. Maybe I'd have more luck in Europe. As Karen, from Will & Grace would say, "I have the calves of a Hungarian shot-putter."
I also needed to look for some new bras. I won't go into the horrific details of how my old bras no longer fit because my once decent looking human breasts have morphed into tiny, mole-hill like pancakes that I could probably tuck into my belt if need be.
Well, I guess that pretty much sums it up.
So, my huge calfs and tiny boobs and I are going to go ring in the new year. Maybe we'll stay up 'till 10.