ostentatious

Grandma Jan came to visit yesterday, bearing a sack full of mardi gras beads she'd recently been awarded in Florida. Why there is some confused wanna-be New Orleanian passing out beads there, and what my mother did to earn them are questions I never got around to asking and don't necessarily want to know the answers to.

So mom got them out and one by one the girls chose strings of beads they liked until all of them were distributed. They were happy and fascinated and smiling ear to ear as they piled them on, transforming into mini-Boy Georges. Or Liza Minellis. Or her ex. I dunno, one of those diva-types anyway.

The happy fascination lasted for a short time and then the battles for particular strings started. And then frustration when the beads got tangled together. And then frustration at their sister's nearly choking them to death to remove them. And then frustration when yanking them from their sister's neck, and almost choking them, resulted in a string breaking. And then total meltdown when I told them I can't put it back together and choking your sister is a necklace-losing-worthy infraction.

It's not easy being beautiful.