I take forever to get ready.

Yesterday morning we decided to drive around and casually see a little of the Windy City.  I especially wanted to visit Wrigley Field. (Where do the White Sox play? Who cares, really? I mean, they have 'sox' in their moniker so they can sux it.) When Jeff and I headed for the shower at the same time, I knew I was in trouble.  I know how ridiculously long it takes for me to get ready -- that's why I stopped doing it for the past year (yes, you're math is correct... I have only been out of work for the last six months.  See what I mean about my lack of effort?).

I have made a conscious decision to shower, put on makeup and dry my hair everyday while on this trip. It's an effort that is hard to justify when you know you're going to spend most of the day in the car or at the Motown Museum. Sweats and a ponytail are all that is really required for most of my activities.

Loretta's has what she refers to as the "3%" theory. I have never listened long enough to actually understand the 'science' behind it, but it has something to do with meeting more people, finding love, happiness, wealth... like I said, I really wasn't listening. When trying to convince one of us to do something off the beaten path she always says "3%!" Next thing you know she is off at swim camp or biking through the wineries of Westchester, while Crissy and I are drinking Bud Lights on the deck.  Along the same lines, Leola used to say, "life is not a dress rehearsal." (Actually, she said it so often that I have really come to loathe that expression.  Now I'm quoting it.  Are we all destined to become out parents? If so, look out world - mama needs a cocktail!) I interpret this as an edict to look decent while traveling, so everyday I have spent my morning putting on makeup and straightening my hair.

To go for a Sunday morning drive, poor Jeff is blissfully unaware of Loretta's 3% rule.  What if I meet the love of my life while standing in front of Wrigley Field, but he takes one look at me and says "If only that red hair was straight... but curly? Come on!  Hey, who's that cute blonde?"  When I finally emerged upstairs, Jeff was already sitting in the car with the kids. Oops.  I could sense him mentally tapping his foot as he suffered for my high maintenance.  Only later did I figure out that they were waiting on me for their morning Starbucks run.  Ahhh.  Well that's a totally different story.  Actually wait, what if I meet the love of my life while double-parked in front of Starbucks and he takes one look at me and says...