When Barb Jones tells you to do something you do it...

Barb Jones is my mom. She's a pretty cool lady. Makes a mean chocolate chip pancake and laughs at my jokes so I keep her around. And by keep her around I mean she lets me live at home for free.

Occasionally I follow her around the house too closely or when she cooks. Occasionally I sneak up on her while she's in the laundry room. Occasionally I prank call her at work. Occasionally I put fake bugs in the butter for her to find while she's making her english muffins. Somehow she still loves me.        

However, she does not love the banner on my blog or my most recent blog post about my awkwardness. She called me today from New Orleans (where she claims she is there for work...I personally believe she's there celebrating Mardi Gras with her friends and didn't want me, Tim, and Helen tagging along but whatever. I'M ON TO YOU MOTHER.) During her phone call she said and I quote:

"I think you're blog is really funny, but can you put some cute pictures of yourself up there. You keep picking out the awkward ugly ones and people are going to think that I did a bad job dressing you. I DRESSED YOU TO THE NINES WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE."

So for the record my mom tried to make sure I didn't look like the supporting cast of Annie when I was younger. However my future love for plaid and denim could not be tamed.

So please do not blame this woman. She did her best.

--A