It's Baaaaaack...

So my back goes out on me, I'm talking emergency-room-shoot-me-up-with-morphine-and-muscle-relaxers kind of out, every two years like clockwork. Well how time flies; this is apparently my lucky day!

Unfortunately, it happened halfway down the driveway while lifting a heavy trash bag.  I got stuck out there. Could. Not. Move. (Note: I was actually out of my jammies and dressed which is a rarity for that time of day. #Uptick)

No phone with me, no one home to hear me screaming... no one to help me.  BUT... at least three neighbors drove by and gave me a little wave as they scuttled past me for work.  Really?!? I looked like a friggin gumby doll flopping around in different positions desperate for relief from the intense pain surging through my upper torso. Yep... pretty sure my distress was obvious... thanks for nuthin neigh-bozos.

It took me 20 minutes to limp, hobble and eventually crawl back to the house, writhing in pain the whole way.  I call Mike. No luck, he just landed in Chicago.  I call Jordie... the soonest she can get to me was 10.  Then, magically... Nick calls ME! "My superhero is gonna save me" I thought.  Wrong again; his Landcruiser got towed from "the library" last night and he doesn't have the $175. to get it back. "Call your father", I grumbled.

Next I called Robin. If she didn't answer I was going to have to call 9-1-1. She answered... Yes!!! She was 30 minutes away yet but she was going to get me to the E.R.!  I managed to find a position on the couch where the pain was less intense; it just so happened to be right next to yesterday's $4760.80 Emergency Room bill for Nick.  "How can I get through this without another one of those?" I wondered to myself. 

So I called Mike's masseuse; she's incredible at manipulating the body back into submission. No go. Then I called my doctor (since his office was now open). Typically, if I'm in this much pain, he'll send me straight to the E.R. And typically, I would go. But that damn bill was staring up at me, not to mention today's 175 buck screw-up, so I did what most of us mothers do... I sucked it up.

Robin put a bag of frozen edemame on my back and fed me 4 ibuprophen with a banana and peanut butter.  The doc called back and after some haggling, (i.e.
pleading), he agreed to call me in some muscle relaxers.

So here I am... in bed... probably for the next three days, watching The Price Is Right.

Hmmm... the irony.

Spam… it ain’t just for breakfast anymore.

Santa brought me a new laptop for Christmas.  I’m somewhat suspect that he had me mixed up with someone else this year, because he brought me a tablet as well.  Let’s face it… I wasn’t that good!

Much to Mikey’s Santa’s surprise, I was way more into the tablet than the laptop.  So much so, that I did the bare minimum to get it up and running; the only sense of immediacy coming from Nicholas, who was psyched about getting my leftover Toshiba.

Fast forward to today when I finally got serious about my email accounts.  Realizing I hadn’t checked my spam-trap account since early to mid December, I knew it would be chock-full of junk.  But sift through it I did, just in case there were some real ones in there, which of course there were!

My rough estimate would be in the range of a 300 to 1 ratio; Pure Crap to “Holy Crap… free Brad Paisley tickies for tonight?” Damn the spam-trap!

But whereas when you or I send an email, the “From” field has our name in it.  Not so with the fine folks who flood our spam accounts.  Allow me to share some of the "less creative" aliases with you.

Genie Bra Works, Pennies for Hot Items, Lint Lizard Clean (not to be confused with Lint Lizard B1G1 OR Lint Lizard Features), Credit Card, Top Credit Card, Credit Comparison (aka: I’ll decide!), Insurance helper, Insurance Finder, Health Insurance Helper (those 3 have the makings of a love triangle on Match.com!), Free Credit Report, Get Subsidized Housing, Depression Help, Burial Insurance… honest to Pete, they came in that order… can you say foreshadowing??? Scholarships for Moms, Become a Ultrasound Tech (does that come with a scholarship I wonder?), Asian Dating, Private Jets, Alaska Cruises, Internal Revenue Service (Twice!), Alcohol Rehab, Quit Smoking (if I quit drinking, I would quit smoking… so that’s a wash!), and my personal favorite from this latest batch… drum roll please… Need a Larger Penis?

Of course I have my usual stalkers; they at least use their names (wink wink).  Veda J has a real thing for me. He’s always sending me a JPEG file and asking me to return the favor!  Dane Carlson is FAT with Business Opportunities for me.  Then there’s Devon Davenport, who keeps insisting he can “put me in the lap of luxury”.  Go Devon go, you big hunk of… wait, that’s not even his real name, is it! 

These men will try and court me for a few months before finally moving on to some new trollop; that’s just the way they are, short attention spans.  But women who troll the internet are a completely different animal.  You ignore them and they want you that much more.  Case in point? Anastaysia: a young Russian woman who has a direct - do not pass go, do not collect $200 - route into my recycle bin. But she is relentless in her pursuit.  All she has to do is switch up one little letter in her email address (Anastasia) and she is back in my box. (Ha… she wishes!)  Anastaysia you see, insists I am the answer to her long, lonely, cold winters.  As long as I have a credit card and a webcam…

Let me state for the record, I have never… ever… tasted Spam.  I will go to my grave with that being the case.  But add a "–trap" to the end of it… and Spam becomes a delicacy in my book!

Pinch Me...

Am I really here? Do I exist? You can actually see me, right?



Because I’m starting to think otherwise…


Yesterday, I had to go down to the DMV to tag our three cars. For most folks, this is done either online or through the mail these days. But since I have a 'KU Med Pink Ribbon' plate on two of our cars, we have to go down in person, which only proves to strengthen my Mom’s theory that “no good deed goes unpunished”!


Nissan Maxima, check. Toyota Landcruiser, check. GMC Yukon Xl… Ru-roh. “Maggie” got a funny look on her face, “this car hasn’t been registered since 2009, according to our records.” Good thing I had brought along the yellow packet from the glove box that has every single registration receipt in it since 2002 when we bought the damn thing! Suffice it to say there was a “glitch” and after a couple of phone calls to the 'State', Maggie put my car and me back in the system.


Then this morning, I look outside and all my neighbor’s recycling bins have been emptied, but not mine. Ring-ring-ring… “Hello Deffenbaugh? You guys missed picking up my recycling this morning, can you send the truck back around?” After giving her enough information to award me ‘National Security Clearance’, she informed me my account was closed in 2008! “But you guys have been picking up the Deffenbaugh bin YOU gave me every week for as long as I can remember Karen.” (I do love getting on a first name basis with people I don’t know!) “Hmmm… there must be a glitch in the system” she replies. Again… after 15 minutes of which I will never get back, I’m back in existence!


We all have days we wish we could disappear. Hit the bricks. Go away for a while.


But it’s March Madness. Spring is finally here. I have a big birthday coming up next weekend not to mention another National Basketball Championship to revel in; I’d really like to be here for all of that.

 So if you see me around in the next few days, don’t just passively raise your hand up and say “hi”. Pinch me…


I need to know I’m not just a glitch!

Time for a Weather Report

It’s cold out there folks. Bone crushing cold. The kind of cold which will wrench the spirit out of a young man, or forge it into steel.



Quote: courtesy of the show Northern Exposure, Lost and Found, 1992

It is currently 4 degrees in Kansas City. We are expected to wake up tomorrow morning to 8 degrees below zero. 30 below if you factor in wind chill.


I’m not leaving the house until next Tuesday when the heat-wave hits; we're expecting 38 glorious degrees!


In the meantime, I just ordered me some cozy, warm shearling slippers from Cabela’s. Yes we have a store nearby, but that would entail going outside; I prefer to wait inside for the mailman instead. If anyone is looking for me, my arse will be planted right next to the hot fire.


Stay warm, stay safe and for God’s sake… stay inside!

Wayward Christmas Gifts

So you know “that” gift you rediscover every year under the Christmas tree when you go to take it down? You know the one; you opened it up, rotated the box a few times and searching for words, you said something along the lines of “Ahhhhhhh… I saw these on TV. Very cool, thank you”!

Later, when you are tidying up the morning mess left in the wake of opening gifts, you pick it back up and neatly place it under the tree, not really knowing what to do with it but certain it’s way too soon for Goodwill. So there it stays until the day you finally take all your holiday décor down as you kiss one more year goodbye.


Now however, you are forced to face the gift.


This was mine: the “Gourmet Chia Herb Garden”.


Not quite on par with last year’s As Seen On TV phenomena “ The Snuggle”, but way, way better than a package of Sham-wow’s whose ASOTV promoter wound up in the hospital this year after a hooker bit his ear off. (Apparently, there is a no kissing rule he was unaware of; hope he’s not a cuddler… ouch!)


But I digress.


When I rediscovered my “gift” today, I gave it a better look. “Why not?” I thought. The kids got Uncle Lazy Bum a Homer Simpson Chia head one Christmas and he had to give it haircuts regularly! And since I failed to bring my herbs indoors last fall, this just may be my solution for a long winter ahead with no fresh grown herbs.


So plant I did.  But I am holding off sending that Thank You note until after the harvest!
Let's hope I’m more successful than I was with TC’s sunflower garden!


 I’ll keep you (com)posted!


Update:  Just as I thought... a complete and utter bust!  2-1-10

10 Good Reasons to Accept Weight Watchers Free Registration Offer:

1. To end the vicious cycle of either sipping on a cocktail or chewing on a Tums.



2. To save $19.99 on Spanx every time I have to maneuver into my one pair of black slacks that still fit me. The reason for buying them repeatedly is that I keep a pair of scissors in my car to cut them right down the belly-seam as soon as the party is over.


3. So I have one less hour of free time on my hands in which to eat and drink with reckless abandon.


4. To put hope back into my doctor’s eyes, who after my last blood work and physical lost all his humor and most of his personality.


5. To replace “Girls Night Out of Debauchery” with a more respectable social function, even if we do have to call it “Fat Chicks go to Weight Watchers”. (And no ladies; we cannot go to Ihop afterwards!)


6. To reduce the noise pollution in my house, i.e. grunting, while dragging my sorry, ample ass up our stairs.


7. To steady my heart, particularly when viewing the holiday photo’s and pondering, “who the fat chick is” before recognizing my own sweater.


8. To be able to get out of bed in the morning without having to walk for the first 3 minutes on my tiptoes while whispering “ow-ow, ow-ow, owwwww”!


9. To lose enough weight so that I can go back to the gym without fear of 9-1-1 being summonsed after just 10 minutes on a cardio machine.


10. Because it is a New Year, a New Decade and God willing… a new me!


 
Have a happy and healthy New Year everyone; I hope each of you realize your dreams and reach your goals in 2010 and beyond.

Gobsmacked!

There are certain words I occasionally come across that demand I add to my vocabular repertoire. The challenge quickly becomes to work them into conversation that day. As soon as possible in fact, one might even consider me obsessed.


Sometimes it’s not just a word, but more of an expression; “wicked” comes to mind. My friend Karen Haaaa-pa, (Harper to most of us), from New England always tickled me with that expression. Coming from her mouth, one that can rival even mine… it never got old. When Karen said something was wicked funny or wicked scary, the intensity of her story intensified! Lots of people say things are awesome; for me that word has long ago lost its awesomeness. Wicked still gets my attention.


Case in point… I recently blogged about the word “verbose”. I don’t use it much, but I love knowing it’s in my arsenal. Sometimes my heart skips a beat when I think I actually made a word up. “Vocabular” is an adjective which means “of or relating to words or phraseology”. Who knew? I do now as my skipping heart sinks! Dang it…


Today’s new addition is “Gobsmacked”. Twice I tell you I read it. It’s said to be of Irish origin (gob means mouth), and is used to describe the feeling when your gob drops open in response to an astonishing event rendering you speechless. “Chin hit the floor” is the term I “used” to use.


It is obvious by those who know me best, that I am quite uncomfortable with awkward silence. More often than not, I fill the void nervously with my own senseless chatter. Well no more folks, from here on out, I am going to thoroughly enjoy my Gobsmacked moments.


Yep…
Listen, cringe perhaps, and then enjoy!

I am Verbose…

Verbose is not a word I’m unfamiliar with, but if I think about it, I doubt I’ve ever actually used it myself. Someone used it today in the comment section of a Facebook friend; I fell in love with the word, it “spoke” to me and decided right then to look up its official definition rather than rely on my own loose interpretation.

· Main Entry: ver·bose
· Pronunciation: \(ˌ)vər-ˈbōs\
· Function: adjective
· Etymology: Latin verbosus, from verbum
· Date: 1672

1 : containing more words than necessary : wordy ; also : impaired by wordiness 2 : given to wordiness
synonyms see wordy
— ver·bose·ly adverb
— ver·bose·ness noun
— ver·bos·i·ty \-ˈbä-sə-tē\ noun

Ru-roh.

Is this some sort of divine intervention? Is there a “Word-God” out there orchestrating said intervention regarding my verboseness? Will family and friends be awaiting my arrival soon at a dingy motel room with a list of demands I must agree to or risk losing them forever? Do I talk too much, do I ever shut-up, AM I VERBOSE???

Well the good news I suppose (for you), is I’m only a delete button away. For me the dilemma is much deeper. The words that actually hit the keyboard are a mere fraction of the words whirling around in my ever-churnin noggin.

In fact, the verboseness in my brain is verbosely a verbosity.

I’ll be quiet now!

“I’m Published, I’m published”!!!

I’ve waited a long time to say those words; truth is I never put too much stock in it ever happening. Good friends and family have long told me I have the gift of the written word, but what has always held me back from taking that next step and actually pursuing some of my work to be published was my own lack of confidence.

Admittedly I suffer from anxiety every (each?) time I hit the “publish” button on my blog. I worry about proper grammar and punctuation, neither of which I’m any good at. “No worries” people I’d confide in would tell me, “I love the way you write.” So although I still may cringe a bit when I publish a post, for the most part I’ve become comfortable with Popeye’s mantra… “I am what I am” which for me interprets as “I write like I speak”; direct and from the heart with plenty of foul language sprinkled in.

I was recently given an opportunity through KC PetConnect to write an article for the September issue of Metro Pet Magazine. TC was always my biggest cheerleader in anything I chose to do. It was she in fact who suggested the name “ChrissyCan” for my own business because she believed I could do anything I set my mind to. “Chrissy can do anything” she used to tell people. It does not go unnoticed by me that in some distant way, TC was the one who got me my first gig!

1000 to 1500 words was what I understood the length of the article would be limited to. I wrote with reckless abandon because this was something I was passionate about; my sister TC and the legacy she left behind, KC PetConnect. When my trusty word counter reached 1749 words, I knew I was in trouble and worked feverishly to cut it back down to 1459. I was told the magazine had an “editor”… which is now a four letter word in my vocabulary… who would “neaten everything up for me”. Ru-roh!

Tom is a very nice man, Irish Catholic and grew up near Breezy Point in New York where my family is from. An instant connection was made and I thought, “This won’t be so bad”. I handed him my paper, he glanced at it and said “Whoa…. this is way too long. It can’t be more than 800 words”. I felt like a knife was jabbed in my heart. No way could both TC’s story AND KC PetConnect’s story be told in 800 words. “You have two different stories going on here, nicely merged, but too long.” I knew then what would happen to my story… slash, slash, slash.

Metro Pet hit the newsstands yesterday; I flew out the door to get a copy and actually copped 10 of them. They’re free and can be found at most all CVS pharmacies, Blockbuster’s, Price Choppers and a slew of other business’ most likely including your favorite Vet. I had not seen the final cut so my eyes could not read fast enough while sitting in my car outside the store. I hate the first sentence; really? The word “finally” used twice in one sentence? And I’m the one with the lack of confidence regarding grammar? But I read on as I sipped my coffee to settle my nerves and the rest of the article is full of my words. I can appreciate that they gave TC credit and had a very small space to do so; I’ll just have to post the article in its entirety here soon. Bottom line I’m published; even if it is in a pet magazine!

I always like to look for the “lessons learned” from new experiences; if given the opportunity to write again I will be better prepared. The lesson learned this time around will come in very handy when I finally write my book that is currently stuck somewhere between my soul and my keyboard. Two simple words…

Self publish!!!

Note: Metro Pet is also offered online, you can check out my article by clicking on their link, then clicking on "Latest Issue". As of right now, the September issue has not been downloaded, check back soon. Ideally though, pick up the magazine at a CVS or Blockbuster near you; they're free and chock full of great pet info!

My head is bursting…

I have so much to blog about, but just can’t find the time right now. Granted, that’s a nice problem to have; life is full right now and for the most part good.

Among the things I can’t wait to share is the extraordinary weekend Robin and I had in Indianapolis with my friend Josie. Robin and I donated the equivalent of 4 needle biopsies of healthy breast tissue to the Komen Tissue Bank, the only one of its kind in the world. “Our” tissue, “our” bodies (collectively) we are convinced, hold the answer to the cure! I’ll give a head’s up on Facebook when I get this exciting post up. I hope you read it and become inspired to help; we are so close!

KC PetConnect is another area I’m dying to tell you about. We’ve grown “leaps and bounds” (pun intended) in the past few months and incredibly exciting things are in our near future. This is a free community service, a non-profit organization founded by my sister TC before she passed away from breast cancer in November of 2007. From what started as a simple promise to TC to keep her legacy alive, has grown into an army of volunteers, fundraising and incredible amounts of pro-bono work by animal lovers and advocates from around the country to make it the “one-stop-shop” for reuniting lost pets with their families. I can’t wait to share all the going’s on with you!

ChrissyCan, “my little company that can”… is undergoing a vast and exciting makeover. At 48 years old, I have finally begun to ratchet down what I want to be when I grow up. I’m working on my business plan, my Slogo, I need a graphic artist for my “soon to come” new website and I want to design some really kick-ass business cards. Why? Because “ChrissyCan”!

There is one thing however that can’t wait a few days or another week until I find the time to post. That’s my heartfelt thanks and “Shout-out” to Tucker’s Vet, Dr. Steve Shelor of Spring Hill Veterinary Clinic. Tucker, if you follow my status on Facebook has had a tough summer. He is enjoying the double whammy of bad hips and a non-functioning thyroid. At least twice recently, Mike and I have wondered how on earth we can prepare the kids for yet another lesson in the “Cycle of life”. Dr. Steve has twice gotten him back to “near perfection” regarding health at least; those of you who know Big Tuck are rolling your eyes and giggling at the many memorable moments (aka: naughty behavior) he has exhibited over the last nearly 10 years.

Dr. Steve is what I would call a “practical vet”. He’s out in the country, a “farm vet” we call him. Always concerned about Tuckers girth, we tried every kind of “diet” dog food out there. Sharing my frustrations with him on one visit he matter- of- factly told me to stop buying all those over-priced foods, feed him less of what he likes and supplement it with canned green beans. “Green beans?” I said. “Yes, they are full of fiber, will fill him up and have virtually no calories. Feed them to him whenever you think he’s hungry.” I stopped by the store on my way home, bought a case of generic brand green beans and low and behold on Tucker’s next visit to the vet about 9 months later, he was down 17lbs!

The poor dog has also always been cursed with allergies, usually resulting in a painful steroid shot twice a year when his itching resulted in hot-spots. This caused Tucker to have “Roid-rage” for the next 10 days causing everyone in the family to want to take him for a ride in the country and leave him there! Again, at a routine visit I mentioned this to Dr. Steve. He told me he could sell me some pricey canine antihistamine to help Tucker through the allergy seasons, but first suggested I go to Wal-Mart and buy some “Wala-dryl” (not Benadryl mind you, no sense over paying for the exact same product!) and give him one in the morning and one at night. Tucker has not needed a pricey steroid shot since!

And when I say “pricey”… it’s almost a joke. Dr. Steve’s prices are so reasonable it’s worth the 30 minute drive out there. A couple of weeks ago when we ran the whole gamut of tests on Tucker to find out what his latest lethargic behavior was about, was the first time I have ever written a check with 3 digits on it. This included a complete check-up by the good Doc and every blood test you can possibly run on an animal. The only thing it would not rule out is any type of cancer and since he showed no signs of it, Dr. Steve suggested we not “spend the money” on X-rays until we’ve ruled everything else out. How refreshing is that? A mere $110 later, we found out Tucker’s thyroid is barely functioning and a simple and cheap daily medicine is expected to liven him back up. I remember getting his thyroid tested at our local JoCo vet up the street nearly 7 years ago and paying 80 bucks just for that test alone! He wasn’t even sick; the vet just wondered why he was so big. Anyone who knows “Big Tuck” can see the dog is a monster… his head is huge, his paws are huge and his heart is huge. Dr. Steve would never have ordered a test like that back then.

Sadly, the roller-coaster we’ve been on the last couple of months is back down at the bottom with a big hill to climb in front of it. Tucker has been down for more than 2 days now, whining and whimpering… his hips have got the best of him again. Mike is out of town, I’ve been a mess over it vacillating between denial and ministering the dog last rites through sobs. Last night I slept on the floor with him the entire night, if I took my hand off his body he would cry out. I could see his big brown eyes locked on me even in the darkness. No doubt about it, Tucker and I are besties.

This morning couldn’t come quickly enough; the kids and I had contemplated an emergency room vet visit in the middle of the night, but as long as I held Tuck's hand he was calm. I didn’t want someone else who doesn’t know… and love… him telling me the news we are all dreading; I needed to wait for Dr. Steve. And Mikey to come home too. The clock finally struck 6a.m. and Nicky helped me carry the big lug down the stairs. We were both drenched in sweat forcing our bodies into awkward positions in order to protect Tucker’s. When we got to the bottom, I called the vet out of stress and panic… how long can this go on? To my amazement a man answered the phone. “Is this Dr. Steve?” I asked. And it was. He came in early to check on an animal he was worried about and heard the phone ringing out in the office. He knew exactly who I was and more importantly who Tucker was. He doubled the meds he’s taking for his hips, assured me since he’s still eating he doubts there is anything new internally going on which was my fear last night. He told me to give him lots of TLC, get him up to change positions from time to time throughout the day and he really thinks the extra dosage of deramax will do the trick; we just need to be patient. “You are welcome to bring him in, we can do x-rays for your peace of mind, and if his discomfort is too high, we can certainly hospitalize him until we get the condition back under control.”

Those were the words I was looking for. Words of hope, understanding and comfort. If anyone is going to deliver yet another canine miracle to us, it’s Dr. Steve. Tucky and I have wiped our collective calendars clean for the day; we’re spending it on the floor rolling his red “baby” back and forth. Sometimes I catch that look in his big brown eyes and I know what he’s saying. And right back at ya Tuck… no matter what happens, thanks for being the best buddy a girl could ever have.

My new gig…

I have tried over the past few years to hold on to the childhood belief that “you can do anything you put your mind to”. I’m strictly speaking about business here and must say… some days have been harder than others. I got my Real Estate license 2 years ago… (Crummy timing, huh?); but although I’ve been successful given this market, I was never passionate about it. I’ve got it, I’ll keep it for now, but I’ll be limiting my business to Buyers and Referrals.

I also started my own company, ChrissyCan Inc. a few years ago which is categorized as a Services Business. I helped open an upstart transportation company in Denver, I currently contract for a large pharmaceutical company out of New Jersey, I of course share some responsibilities for KCPetConnect.com, and I run my real estate biz through ChrissyCan as well. Its structure has fit my short attention span well, as an independent contractor I can command higher pay and most of the time I can work in sweats or even jammies! But again… nothing was setting me on fire.

But now I’m smokin! I have accepted a position with “Photographer in the Family”, a photography company based out of Keller Texas. PITF is owned and operated by my friend Terri Bahun. She has made a huge success of it because she is so talented and focused. Terri asked me to join her team a year or so ago as her copywriter for all her ads. Stupidly, I declined.

This summer we got together and Terri sat me down for “the pitch”.
“Chrissy” she said, “next month I am hiring someone. The business is growing, I’m opening another division which is in the development stage, I’m still without a good copywriter and the only person I want to hire is you.” Well I don’t know if it’s because I had a few cocktails in me by then, but without any hesitation I said, “when do I start?”. My only regret is that I didn’t join Terri sooner.

I’ve been working behind the scenes now since mid-June; the position is already growing and I’ve not been this excited about anything professionally in a very long time. Today was my “coming out” announcement if you will, on Terri’s blog.

Photographer in the Family is Growing…

We are thrilled to welcome Chris Baker as the newest member of our PITF family. Chris has officially joined us as Director of Business Development, but will be involved on the creative side of the business as well.

Chris spent 25 years in Corporate America, (finance) before taking a few years off to stay home with her kids during the “tweener” years. It was then she was able to devote time to her true passion of writing and storytelling, which resulted in her first blog 4 years ago. “Terri’s Blog” is one of the projects Chris is looking forward to working on in particular. She’s already given it a new jazzy look and has exciting new ideas on how to increase its benefits to you, our customers.

Chris has a photography background, which makes her the perfect complement to the business. Her comfort zone in photography is the 'storytelling' and graphic design. She is perfect, isn't she???

“Photographer in the Family offers me the chance to utilize my business skills in a creative environment”, Chris tells PITF. “Dominated by its Left Side during my corporate years, my brain is delighted to be letting its Right Side finally flow.”

PITF is known for “Storytelling Photography”, be it through Portraiture or Visually Communicating the heart of what your business does. Our team looks forward to telling your story soon!

Yes, it’s no accident it looks so much like this one; why mess with a good thing! I think the photographs particularly pop against the black background, I have so much more I want to do with it but this is a good start.

As far as the Photographer in the Family website, it will be getting some touch-up as well. And the new business, TB Virtual Communications will be up and running soon.

I will slowly be bringing PITF “up north” as the Texans like to call anything past the southern Oklahoma line. I look forward to sharing that growth with all of you and hope to do business with you as well.

www.terribahun.blogspot.com
Take a look-see and become a regular.
We’d love to have you!

A Disgrace to my Heritage…

I just made a pound cake; the mix came from a box.
My first conundrum arose when the ingredients for me to add were a “choice”; add milk OR water.
For God’s sakes, don’t screw with me, just tell me!
“Mo”, (eenie, meenie, miney, mo…) landed on milk, so that’s what I went with.
Two eggs later, a quick couple of minutes with the electric beater and voila’, my culinary masterpiece was ready for the hot oven.
Unfortunately though, when I went to put it in… my heart sunk. I’d never turned the oven on to warm it up! But what’s another 10 or 15 minute delay when the result will be pure buttery goodness with a hot cup of Joe.

Cooking time said “48 to 52 minutes”.
I was using a glass pan and could swear from past experience (and I use the term loosely) that glass meant lower temp. But in my defense, no where did that bitch Betty mention that on the box!
So into a 350 degree oven it went, and I set the timer for a mere 45 minutes.
You know me… always playing it safe!!!

Ok, in the spirit of full disclosure, there was one other tiny mishap.
I’ve blogged here before regarding my limited attention span.
About an hour after turning the oven on, I wondered why it kept “clicking”. Only then did I realize I’d forgotten to put the cake in. By this time the batter had (oddly) risen to about twice its original depth. This was my first inkling that maybe I should have gone with the water. Who knows?

WHO KNOWS???
I’ll tell you who knows… my Papa!!!
Francis Duddy owned and operated “Duddy’s Bakery” in Queens New York, from before my mother, her 6 sister’s and one brother were born, to not long before he died in the late 60’s.
From Grandma and Papa Duddy, I get my 50% Irish blood.
Duddy’s Bakery, the story is told (backed up by a torn and yellowed old newspaper article including a picture), used to have customers lined up around the block for one of their famous pies.
They offered all the goodies any bakery would, but Pies is what they were famous for.
I have never made a pie.

My 50% German veins also have incredible Baker knowledge and experience flowing through them.
My Oma, who baked the best damn Apfelkuchen and German Butter Cookies in the whole entire world…, is probably turning in her grave this morning at my lame attempt to bake!
From a BOX, no less!

To make a long and personally painful story short… yes, I burned it.
And then yes, I tried to salvage it by cutting the burnt ends, sides and bottom off.
Even then, it tasted somewhat like I would imagine a sponge to taste.
A clean one!
But in the end, I called it for what it was…
A complete and utter failure, as well as a disgrace to my family heritage.

I’ve still got my stinkin sweet-tooth, so I’m going out for a Ding-Dong now.
Sorry Oma and Papa.
But if it’s any consolation to you, your great-granddaughter is an awesome Baker… both kinds!

My (New) Blog List

As is clear from the number of posts to my blog this year compared to years past, it may seem as if ChrissyCan Cant has not been high on my list of priorities of late. It’s not that I don’t want to write more, I just don’t have the same kind of down-time I used to, nor in all honesty, do words come as easily to me as they once did.

When I first started my blog, I had just left Texas and moved to Indiana where I knew no one. This blog was my connection to all of you. When we rushed back home to Kansas City because TC’s cancer came raging back, the blog took another unexpected turn and became both a means for me to vent as well as a way to keep all of you up on TC’s battle. When that battle was settled, notice I don’t say “lost”… the battle continues in TC and millions of other women’s names, I became very quiet, for obvious reasons.

I’m finding my way again, but clearly I’ve lost some of the wind in my sail. I think I used to write better back then and that baffles me. Maybe it’s just that the things I write, basically for amusement (both pre and post illness) will never rival the passion and love I put into writing about TC and even Dini. I think I’m finally back at square one now, and the original intention of this blog.

Understand this: my memory sucks. Anyone who knows me will tell you that; I’m talking serious suckage. The good news from my point of view at least, is stories don’t get old, good jokes are still funny the 2nd and 3rd time around, and I can honestly deny stories by saying… “No, that was NOT me dancing on top of that table with a bottle of tequila” and really mean it.

The downside goes something like this: We will go days without milk in the house, I spend great amounts of time trying to remember words like “ulna” just long enough for a broken arm to heal, and most of the time when I’m chatting with a casual acquaintance…. I have absolutely no idea what their name is.

I picture myself many years from now, rocking on my front porch as I read these entries. Some people journal, which I’ve attempted plenty of times, but more often than not, I forget. Others like me… blog. It’s the lazy man’s diary; I have very low expectations of myself. My only one in fact is that this blog provide me a window to my past during my golden years. I only wish I had started blogging sooner. According to my friends, I have some wicked stories from my past. Some that make me cringe on the outside when hearing them, yet at the same time, I feel a warm “devil be damned” attitude (or is it gratitude?) flowing through my veins. Somewhere, deep down in the bowels of my shaky memory… I do remember, (with a little help from my friends)… and I smile (wickedly) to myself.

But I digress. The whole point of this particular entry is to share my new sidebar. Even though I may not be writing my own words as often as I used to, I voraciously read other people. My taste in blogs is simple yet unforgiving; funny and/or well written, that’s all I require from my fellow bloggers. Obviously if someone can offer both… they’re a God to me. That brings me to the new Gizmo I’m adding to my front page, it’s called “My Blog List”. Although I view lots and lots of different blogs, the ones on this list are my “go-to” blogs, I don’t miss them. Two of them are God-like to me.

I’ve been reading “Dad Gone Mad®” for several years now; Danny Evans is split-your-gut funny. Occasionally, he is dead-on serious as well, but even in those entries he is able to inflict humor in a way I truly envy. His most common criticism by some readers is his proficient use and spicy variations of foul language; he strings naughty words together that might even make Mikey blush. In fact, he has even made up (and copyrighted) some of his own. I’ll leave you on your own to discover those gems! If you are not easily offended by colorful language, check out Dad Gone Mad®. Just one other warning… never read him while taking a slug of any kind of beverage. I can’t tell you how many times it has come out my nose because of him!

Joe Posnanski is my all-time favorite writer. He is a Kansas City Star sports columnist, who just (and finally) got picked up by Sports Illustrated, both the magazine and their online site. I have secretly lived in fear for several years now that Joe was going to be “found out” by a much larger marketplace than KC and whisked away. Joe has written two books, “Buy the Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip through Buck O’Neil’s America” about Buck O’Neil, a hero to most anyone who knows Buck’s story (and if fortunate enough to have met and heard him share his wisdom and grace in person, his status goes even higher.) And, “Buy the Good Stuff” a collection of his columns which contributed to Joe twice being named winner of the Associated Press Sports Editors national columnist of the year award. But Joe Posnanski does not just write about sports. In fact, he just wrote a review on the Bruce Springsteen concert, the same one that I attended and lamely wrote about here. Much like the concert, Joe’s review was magical. He is a true wordsmith and I wish I could take credit for a comment one of his readers left him after that review. She said, “Oh Joe. I wish you wrote everything I read.” So when you have some time, click on his link and indulge yourself, I promise you’ll keep going back for more.

And lastly, although not in the same category as the first two by a longshot, Snarkywood® was always a good giggle for me. I originally found it because Danny Evans of Dad Gone Mad® fame was a contributor. The two original founders, Martha and Jen are apparently also big in the blogosphere, but I never really kept up with them; there are only so many hours in the day and I have to pick my poison! Snarkywood® has actually shut its doors, (both founders have had books published and life has gotten in the way of their cattiness) and that’s exciting for any blogger with a pie-in-the-sky dream of writing a book someday. Danny Evans is also writing a book and has been either threatening to do so or actually trying since before I ever discovered him. When someone with his caliber of talent (and readership) is still “trying”, that’s a real mental hurdle for those of us with just a dream and not much more to back it up. Touché to them! So in the spirit of “making fun of over exposed Hollywood celebrities” … check out Snarkywood®.

If you have some personal favorites, send them my way. Just remember, although I’ll check them out… they have to be consistently hilarious or extremely well written to make the list. Both is best, and yes… I do realize how subjective this is!

Tramps like us... Baby we were Born to Run

That’s the T-shirt I bought at the Bruce Springsteen concert Sunday night in Kansas City.
There were several to choose from, but come on… there was only one choice for me. And I wear it proudly!

The “anticipation music” as I refer to it, (I’m sure it has a real name… instrumental music that they tease you with right before the band appears on stage) was what you would hear play on a carousel at an amusement park. Fun and whimsical, the mood was set. Then out he came dressed in a warn black shirt and his signature Levi’s… the crowd went wild.

This is the third time I’ve seen Springsteen and in my opinion it was his best concert yet. And yes… that does include “Born in the USA” which I never ever thought could be topped. Maybe it’s because I’m older and more appreciative of his lyrics than ever before. Bruce Springsteen is probably one of the most socially conscious mainstream artists out there, and his lyrics, old and new, are as relevant today as they’ve ever been. But more than that even, simply put… Springsteen and his E Street Band outdid themselves. They were on fire, clearly into it, and we in the crowd gave it right back to them. It was a truly magical, rockin night.

The song set was incredible too; apparently they mix it up pretty good from show to show, often performing basically on the fly. Bruce and the band responded to signs held up by the crowd which is a refreshing change from most strictly choreographed shows. It’s just incredible to me that they could play something from their repertoire with little notice (or practice), with such precision that the crowd never knew it wasn’t on the original song list. I’ve got to believe having this sort of flexibility is a key element in keeping his shows so fresh and exciting night after night. Well, that and his “arse” in those Levi’s!

Case in point… I read about a guy who was at the Charleston show a week or so ago and had the good fortune of staying in the same hotel as Bruce and the band. Further good fortune caused their path’s to cross around 4:45 in the afternoon. This guy took advantage of the opportunity and asked Bruce if he could put in a plug for "Double Shot (Of My Baby's Love)." Bruce leaned back toward the guy and said, "What?" The guy responded, "You're in the home of Carolina beach music, and I wanted to put in a plug for "Double Shot." Bruce stroked the hair below his lower lip for a few seconds and said as he looked at the guy, "It's not impossible." Five hours later he opened the show with “Double Shot”. Wow.

At nearly 60 years old, Bruce Springsteen sounds as good live as anyone out there, and it’s a good bet he’s still better than most.

My only regret of the evening?
That I didn’t splurge on that second T-shirt I really liked.
It too was black and printed on the front of it…

“Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands across my engines” …

Anytime Boss, anytime!

I’m a V.I.P. Who knew?

It has been a very long time since I was a V.I.P. of anything, and even then, in retrospect… that was probably all in my head.
No… more recently and somewhat reluctantly, I’ve realized I’m more O.P.
Ordinary person.

But I didn’t feel very ordinary today, and neither did Jordie.
Today… we were Rock Stars!

It all started oddly enough with Mikey telling me about a sale at Nordstrom.
I’ll admit I like new stuff, but I also hate to shop.
I’m an online gal, or if I have to go to a store, it more than likely has a parking spot right out in front of it.
I am definitely not a Mall girl.

But it started to rain mid-day, I needed a break from what I was doing and Jordie was still without a birthday gift from last weekend when she turned 15.
We decided to hit Nordstrom.
It should be noted at this point that when I decide to do something on a whim, I tend to not pay too close attention to what I look like.
Suffice it to say I was none to “Nordstromy” looking!

The rain was coming down sideways when we pulled up to the Mall.
I had about 3 minutes worth of patience to find an open parking space in the covered lot which came and went quickly.
“We’re runnin and gunnin Jordie” I said, and with that I whipped into a space and we ran like the wind to dry land.
As luck would have it, we entered into the Men’s department.

“We’re just checking out the sale rack Mark, my husband needs some new shirts for the office” I told the clerk when he offered his services.
Being the efficient shopper that I am, I scooped 4 shirts up and looked around for Jordie to check out but she had moseyed over to the shoe department by now.
I asked Mark if he could hold my stash at his register, we were apparently going to look around the store some.
No problem he said asking me my name; I told him we’d be about an hour.

I didn’t immediately find Jordan in the shoes but I did run into a neighbor/friend of mine. She has 3 boys and a husband… a day out shopping alone must be a dream to her!
What caught my attention first actually is she had on a shirt that I had just this morning received in the mail… further proof of my online shopping habit.
It looked completely different on Dana than me, she’s tall and thin and I’m, um… not!

When I actually looked up at the face behind “my” shirt I was thrilled it was Dana.
She was trying on a pair of fancy shoes for her brand new fancy dress she needs for a party in Switzerland next month.
She also had several pair of boots spread out around her; when touring the Alps, one must have proper footwear!

That was a defining moment in my day.
As I stood there in shorts and a T-shirt from Target that I am almost certain did not cost a combined total of $20, I felt invigorated by my pricey surroundings.
I asked the “shoe salesman” who was helping Dana if the new season’s “must-have” UGG® boots were in yet.

“Michael”, in a very professional way, let me know that he is not merely a shoe salesman.
Michael is a “personal shopper”.
Michael… is Dana’s personal shopper!!!
He has worked for Nordstrom’s for 13 years, and has opened stores on both coasts.
I fell in love with Michael; he’s the perfect combination of fashionista with just a hint of snarkyness.
I want him to be MY personal shopper!

About this time Jordie sauntered up; she’d been hunting for the new UGG’s.
Michael asked if we were V.I.P.’s.
“Not that I’m aware of Sir, and I’m typically pretty well aware”.
“Do you have a Nordstrom card?”
“Nah… I’m a cash and carry gal I told him. If I don’t have the cash, I got no business carrying it home.”

He seemed to like that answer and said “come with me”.
Jordie and I were very excited when he led us into the back of the store; he had to use a key!
Once back there he explained what all the shelves full of beautiful shoes and boots represented; the newest fall line from the biggest designers.
We, meaning Jordie and I, can pick from them now before the “general public”… (boo-hiss on them)… AND we get very special-won’t–happen-again prices!

“What a deal” my friend Dini used to say.
She would have LOVED Michael… Dini was a shopper!

Jordie picked out a pair of “Cardy’s” by UGG®, and a sweet pair of Ed Hardy’s.
When Michael heard us discussing a designer purse, he brought us over to that department’s “locked doors” to peruse those too. As I was trying to explain to Jordan how important it is to dollar-cost-average an expensive bag over a few years, Michael stepped in and said she could buy 3 or 4 fun purses instead of the one Juicy Couture® she had her eye on that will be “oh so last year” in a matter of months. “There will come a time Jordan, when a nice designer bag is important to you, but it shouldn’t be now” he told her.
I liked Michael even more after that.

Since his next appointment wasn’t coming in until 3, and he seemed to like slumming it with Jordie and I, he insisted that he take us up to the 3rd floor and introduce us to Sarah, another Personal Shopper only a few years older than Jordie. Brass Plumb is the name of the department up there and it is chock full of great teen clothes at un-Nordstrom-like prices. They too had a room locked and loaded full of the Fall Season’s must-have’s. Jordan chose a pair of skinny jeans, and a great cable knit and wool vest. The wool pattern is that of a man’s plaid/hound’s-tooth combo, all the rage this year according to those in the know! She got the newest Northface that was just put out and a cable knit cardigan with cap sleeves… cute, cute, cute.

Everyone gave us their card; Michael even put my # in his cell phone.
Sara and Jordie exchanged phone numbers and voila…
We have personal shoppers at Nordstrom!

3 and a half hours later, we tried to slither past Mark in the men’s department who was holding those 4 shirts for Mikey.
I didn’t know which I was more mortified over, the fact I was 2 and a half hours late, or that I pretty much ran out of money in that time.
But as luck would have it, Mark spotted me and asked me if I was ready to ring up.
I told him about our huge haul in the rest of the store and how we spent all kinds of money but won’t actually have anything to show for it until next week, which is odd.
“Oh, he said. You must be a V.I.P. That’s when instead of “buy now, pay later… you pay now, buy later”.
Well yes, yes I am a V.I.P. Mark”, somewhat confused how I just dropped all that cash but have not one shopping bag for all my trouble!
(The “I” in V.I.P. apparently does not stand for intelligent!)

“I’ll tell you what” he said. “Can you get your husband to come in here and let me give him a good once over with a measuring tape? That way we will know his exact size and you won’t be having to be comb over the sale rack, take a gamble by bringing it home to him just to bring it all the way back here if it doesn’t fit.”
My thought is again like Dini’s… what a deal, now Mike has a personal shopper too! But could I get it past him?
We took 2 of the 4 shirts (that’s all we could afford!) with us and promised Mark I would run his idea past Mikey, of which I did.

“As long as he doesn’t touch my junk” is all Mikey had to say.

So now I’m broke, have nothing but 2 sale-rack shirts to show for it, and am for some reason ecstatic with my new V.I.P. status.
Michael says he’s going to call me next week; that’s when we get to come back and pick up our "V.I.P. only” stash.
Gosh… I hope it’s not a zoo.
But I doubt it will be; they obviously keep out the riff-raff.

Cha-Ching!

Today is the first day of my new and glorious life…

And why is today so different from the rest you ponder?
I’ll tell you…

I discarded my Bunn “Drip” coffee pot and replaced it with an old fashioned Percolator!

Pure Coffee Bliss.

I must credit my mother with my new transformation; she went back to a percolator a few years ago. Whenever I’m at her house, it’s like a treat to sip her brew. One day I realized… I can start each and every day this way; a true epiphany!

The next obvious step was to “not-so-coyly” secure a percolator. “Ma…I want a percolator for my birthday” is how that transpired. Pure genius I am at times!

There was one slight delay to my morning ecstasy; Mom initially bought me a 2 to 4 cup percolator. Silly, silly woman.

My new 10 to 12 cup percolator showed up on my doorstep yesterday and it took everything I had not to brew a cup last night. In the interest of sleep, I displayed great patience.

I actually beat Mike downstairs this morning. I fired that puppy up and was immediately transported back in time. The sound…blurp, blurp, blurp…was a symphony to my waking ears.

I watched as little vapors of coffee spit out of its spout; the smell was overwhelming, awakening all my still lagging senses at once.

When I poured my first cup, there were just a few tiny specs of coffee grounds flowing into my cup. I thought of my Grandma then, and if I were a smoking gal, I’d have lit me up a Pall Mall no filter.

I can’t remember the last time I spent less than 100 bucks on a coffee maker. They keep coming up with faster, hotter, sleeker models. This guy was $40, once again proving less is more.

Drinking coffee is an art. It’s a right of passage. A good cup of coffee is like a best friend.

Coffee shouldn’t be tap water quickly dripped though some grounds lying in a paper product. It should be brewed. Percolated. Anticipated.
And when that first sip finally meets your pallet, everything will be right with the world.

Just like our friendships, a few grinds floating in the cup, though some might view as an “imperfection”, is really what makes them unique and strong.

So if you’re in the neighborhood, drop in, I’ll brew you a cup of Joe. Just be sure to allow a little extra time!

Welcome (back) to the 70’s.

Last week, as you may know, I “misplaced” my cell phone.
I finally got around to ordering a new one yesterday.
It was with, I might add, great trepidation!

Also last week, I blew out the hard drive in my laptop.
That proved, in the beginning at least, to be quite an inconvenience.
The ever present lure of instantaneous communication in this WiFi world is toxic.
But I’m over that now too!

I am now living in an almost “tech-free” world.
AND…I’m lovin it!

Oh, I’ve got a cell phone in my purse I can turn on if I choose to.
We have 5 of them after all, for 4 people in the family, not including Mike’s work cell; this is a truly sad commentary on consumerism, but that’s another blog!
The point is, only 3 people have my temporary number!
Love that.

And I’m holed up in our home office right now using the Desktop to write these words.
I only logged on for the first time yesterday, and already had to reacquaint myself with the simplest of commands.
Had I not been jonesin so badly to feed my writing chops, I’d probably not have set foot in the office at all.

It’s clear to me however, that I lack disaster preparedness skills.
Although Mike installed fancy software on my laptop to regularly prompt me to “Insert CD disc #4 and backup data”…I would tend to get annoyed by the intrusion and bypass the prompt for another day.
Oops!

The good news is that I never did back up my phone #’s in my cell phone to my computer, so at least I don’t have to kick myself for losing them twice.
Once did the trick just fine; I still can’t get hold of anyone.

Next week, when I re-enter the twenty first century, I’ll take the necessary precautions to protect my data.
I will also register a password this time with my carrier, so I can “retrieve” my email messages. (In my own defense though, really…Why do I need to “call” my cell phone for my messages? I just “listen” to them, ON my cell phone, duh!)
I understand now.


But until then, I’m just kicking back enjoying the simplicity of these long hot summer days.
The lady I spoke with at Sprint yesterday was nearly hyperventilating when I told her I lost the phone on August 14th.
Replying, “How can you survive?”, she nearly insisted that I pay the 15 bucks to have a new one delivered to my doorstep by 10am today!

“Nah”, I told her.
Snail mail is just fine with me.

In the 1979 words of Gloria Gaynor’s hit single…
“I Will Survive”.

Just fine thank you!

To Whom It May Concern:

I have lost my cell phone.
Yes…I have checked the recycling bin, thank you.

I am near positive I lost it in the house.
To make matters worse, the battery was dead.
Boner move, that I would rip my kids a new one for.

It seems every time we’ve lost a cell phone in this house, it’s been turned off, had a dead battery or was on vibrate.
Hence the rule…NEVER turn your phone off, let the battery die or put it on vibrate.
My bad.

But I digress.
Bottom line, if you’ve called me and I’ve not returned your call, it’s not because I don’t want to (which is my standard excuse),
Really, it’s because I don’t know that you “have” called, and if I did, I can’t call you back because I have NO ONE’S number!

It will no doubt be a few days before I rectify the situation.
It’s not as simple as calling Sprint for a new one.
We have 5 phones with them; 4 are out of contract.
If there was ever an opportunity to bail, this is it.

The logistics of that endeavor makes me want to stay in bed tomorrow.
First choose a carrier, which any seasoned user knows, will have no less issues than the one I’m quitting now in disgust, it will just have a different logo on its invoice.

Next, get everyone “the” phone they want.
Nicholas actually thinks he’s getting a Crackberry!
He must be on crack.
Jordan wants something conducive for “texting”.
My mom? Honey is a nightmare with cell phones; she actually has 3 of them, this is really going to throw her for a loop!

As for me…
I just want my old red Motorola flip phone to find its way back to me.
It wasn’t fancy, although it could be if I’d bothered to learn all that it had to offer.
But instead, I took it for granted, believing it would always be there for me.
But I set it down (somewhere), and it snuck off and took all of you with it.

So please call back in a few days when (surely) I’ll have this settled.
Or call the home # if you have it.
867-5309.
Oh…that’s Jenny’s!

And you can always email me your number.
That way I’ll have a backup.
Now there’s a good idea!!!

My Eyes, My Eyes!!!

Well I pulled a boner move last night.
In my haste to gather up the morning’s newspaper and place it in the recycling bin for today’s pickup, I apparently “scooped up” my (Ralph Lauren) glasses which were sitting on top.

They were hauled off to the dump early this morning.
I know this because the truck woke me up at the crack of dawn!

Now I’m trying to read the paper but my arms are too short.
Like my Mom says, “This gettin old ain’t for pussies”!!!

Just call me “Coach”

Last night was our first night of games for Jordan’s summer league volleyball team.
This team consists of girls who will hopefully be making the High School freshman team.
It’s a competitive league, and more importantly it’s a scouting opportunity for area coaches.

It didn’t start out so well.
Out of the 11 girls we have on the roster, 3 were away at camp, one has a severely sprained ankle and Jordie…shocking as this is…is hurt again. (Shoulder injury this time!)
That left us with just 6 players and no subs.

Worse yet…we had no Coach; she’s in Hawaii.
Being the most experienced parent on the team, yours truly did the honors.
It started off horribly; we were down 7-0.
After a bit of a rally the opposing team called a timeout, clearly trying to screw up our momentum.
The girls, (my girls) all ran off the court and circled around me.
“Holy Crap” I thought, this is when I’m supposed to have something really inspiring to tell them.
I had nothing.

Quickly I scanned all the other courts and checked out those girls.
And then it came to me.
“You girls are the best looking girls here, our uniforms rock. We get Best Dressed!”

They started screaming and pumping their fists into the air.
We all gathered our hands up over our head and on the count of 3 yelled “weSpike”, our team name.
They took to the court where for the next 15 minutes they schooled that other team, winning in the end 25-12.

And they looked damn good doing it!