The Scene In Which The Words Are Back

When you used to blog all the time and haven't really in, say, more than a year (with minor exceptions), starting off a post can be sort of weird and awkward. It's like running into someone you used to be super good friends with and then didn't talk to for awhile and then ran into at the market and you're like "oh....hi...." and then some weird conversation ensues about how nice the weather's been, and if you're like me you sort of sway awkwardly from side to side because what you really want to do is blurt out something like, "Did you ever break up with that one dude that was totally an asshole and screwing with your head? Also, it's weird you never called me back, right? Are we just pretending that didn't happen?" and you're talking, but mostly just resisting the socially unacceptable word vomit urge.

.......um, anyway.

So for awhile there I had tons of stuff to blog about, and everything seemed like a funny story, and the words would pop into my head faster than my little fingers could type (which is saying something if you've ever seen me type: my husband refers to it as "violent") and then OUT OF NOWHERE, the well ran dry. Thank god I make my living in flowers, not words, because it was just gone, and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. And not only that, but I started putting all this weird pressure on myself to KEEP DOING IT, and BE FUNNY, because that's "what my thing is" and then one day it sort of occurred to me, hey, eff it. IT'S A BLOG, and on a good day, like three people read this.*

I mean, really. There was no drama, people! There was no strife! There was no complaining, no crazy house stories, no insane travels, no hilarious pratfalls! I was a happy newlywed living in my cute little house and working on my gardening and decorating projects in my spare time between puttering around my flower shop and cavorting with my hunky new husband and our adorable puppies. Had I any tendency towards pastels and soft, wavy haircuts I was an Estee Lauder "Beautiful" ad**.

That is, until I decided it would be a super bright idea to not only re-do all my website and print design pieces but also found myself looking for a new studio AND packing our old one AND renovating the new one AND moving during wedding season AND hiring a new employee AND doing all this when we aren't really working too much AND meeting with new clients AND, AND, AND....and for awhile there really nothing that didn't involve flowers or paint or moving boxes or figuring out cash flows was really first and foremost in my brain. If "Beautiful" had a sister perfume of "Tired, Stressed and Financially Insecure" I was wearing it this winter, at the shop. (Sidenote: wow. Many thanks to my husband for still loving THAT version of me all winter.)

Also, because this post is nothing if not about rambling thoughts, I turned 30 this winter, and with that came not the mounting dread of getting older, nor the mental berating of myself for not completing everything on my "bucket list," but an honest to goodness sense of "oh thank god." Rather than dreading it, 30 to me represented the ability to completely rock my own sense of person (which, I believe, if you're lucky you spend your 20s trying to figure out- or at least figure out enough that you claim to be able to own it at 30), embrace what I am and what I'm not, and say eff it to the rest.

HECK YEAH, my brain told me, you  made it through that crazy-ass decade known as your 20s. Congrats, kid. You got a degree. Hell, you got two. And then you got a job, and then ANOTHER job, and then you decided to heck with it, and opened a business, and it WORKED! And you survived dating! And found THE ONE, and somehow managed to convince him to marry you, WOW. And you had a condo! And now you have a house! And rent another house to work in! You're like a FREAKING LAND BARON, and you have dogs to boot. AND you get to do stuff you like doing and you don't have to pretend to like stuff you don't like because it's the "cool" thing to do! WAY TO BE. You earned a decade of rocking it out.

It's sort of incredibly freeing, right?! Be yourself. Be TRUE TO yourself. Yay thirty.

Also, I pierced my nose to mark the occasion, or at least that's the excuse I used when I was in the situation where I could finally get it done and didn't have any  major life event (i.e. my wedding) coming up in which I'd be forever scarred by my adolescent bad decisions in having random facial piercings in my eternal memory.

So far it hasn't been a bad decision. Even my mom, who answered my "Guess what I did!" photo text with a voicemail saying, "So.....you stuck a diamond in your face." thinks it's cute.

(where was I going with this? Oh yes) so all that happened and STILL NO WORDS.

Honestly, for awhile there I wasn't sure I was going to have the words, ever again (spoiler alert: you're reading this). I even went so far as to think about deleting this blog, because I just thought it was sort of sad that it just kind of tapered off....into....nothingness....

And then. AND THEN.

I was baking yesterday, because in my spare time I'm a housewife, and I was thinking to myself that I wanted it to be the last time I was baking these items using boxed mixes, because of course this whole "we are eating food that's been genetically modified and packed with riboflavin, and who the hell knows what that actually is" thing has been really hitting home for me lately, and I've been trying to figure out how to cook more, and it occurred to me, "I should totally blog about this," which seems completely normal except that it's a sentence that hasn't entered my brain in 8 months and HOLY COW, THERE WERE THE WORDS, and there were LOTS OF THEM, and there was a WHOLE POST before I knew what was happening and then my rational brain took over and was like, "Whoa. You haven't blogged in like ten months, you can't start out with life lessons in blueberry muffins, chill out."

And then I got my first CSA box today and, people, I have been so freakin' excited for this since we signed up, but also a little bit nervous, because I'm new to this cooking thing and I knew there would be things I didn't know how to use and MAN, did I jump the gun, because when I opened that box today there are things I don't even RECOGNIZE, and I'm in for it now, because I'm going to have to Google Image search my food.

And then HOLY COW, THERE WERE THE WORDS, and there were LOTS OF THEM, and there was a WHOLE POST before I knew what was happening and then my rational brain took over and was like, "Whoa. Ok. You might be on to something here, but you need to go warn these people first."

So, there you have it. I lost the words. I planned a wedding. I turned 30. I pierced my nose. I'm still happily married. I'm still happily self-employed. I'm learning to cook. I found the words.

And I'm not sure what this blog will be about going forward, to be honest. Maybe it's part of the whole thirty-thing but I don't feel the pressure to be always funny, or always have some major story, or always....anything. It will probably mostly be happy, because I think there's such a thing as oversharing, especially when it comes to problems and/or marriages and/or struggles, and that works for some people, but I really don't feel like I need to document that all for the internet (see: awkward blogs about marriage problems that turn into awkward blogs about divorces and DUDE, YOUR KID READS THAT). Everyone's life has unfunny parts from time to time, but to be perfectly honest, this blog is probably going to read more like the highlight reel of my person, lest my potential future children ever stumble upon it. I feel like I should warn you that a good portion may be about cooking, so if you're like "oh god, is she going to turn into one of those people raving about how Monsanto is ruining our lives or how awesome her bread pudding turned out," I mean, I don't know. Probably. They pretty much suck***, so you're not going to find any sympathy for them here, that's for sure. I may write about work. I  may write about music. I may write about awesome things.

All I know is that the words have returned, and I'm hopping on board. Join me for the ride, won't you??


*I'm fairly certain more than three people read this. Maybe like 8.
**I can totally make fun of it 'cause I wear it. BAM.
***"They" being Monsanto, of course, because nothing about bread pudding sucks, except people who do it wrong.

The Scene In Which We Get Married

We are married.

And let me tell you, it is amazing.

For starters, the thing about being married is that when you wake up the next day, that person next to you? the one that's your best friend? the one who knows all your silly stories and smart-ass sayings and serious secrets? the one who you want to raise a family with and grow old with? is your husband. Or your wife. Or your partner. Or whatever label you choose to ascribe them with. They are yours.

It's lovely.

Our wedding was a beautiful, amazing weekend of celebrating with friends and family in a truly gorgous place. Naturally there were also some hilarious moments.

In hindsight.

Among other things, we had a fantastic wedding party that included our closest friends and siblings. On Friday night we had an amazing rehearsal dinner night where Cute Husband and I had the pleasure of toasting each of them and sharing silly stories of how we met them all.

On Saturday, despite the threat of inclement weather our Golf with the Groom and Beach with the Bride events were both a hit, though Beach with the Bride did turn into "Poolside with the Bride under Tented Cabanas with Food and Indoor Entertainment" which doesn't roll off the tongue quite the same way but was fun nonetheless.

I'm told our welcome party on Saturday night was a fantastic evening with wonderful food and a fun time to mix and mingle. I, however, was....um....otherwise occupied during the party.

Brides. Heed my advice. If you should start to feel a little, ohhhhh, under the weather at your welcome party? Like you're about to star in your own version of "Bridesmaids," and not so much the scene where they all band together and sing Wilson Philips with coordinated dance moves but more like....the scene where they're trying on dresses?

Cut and run. Don't wait to see what happens. I've seen what happens. It's not pretty.

In a moment of BLINDING CLARITY it becomes apparent that something is really, really not right here, and that it's about to become really, really wrong, and that time is right. now. and let me tell you, when that moment of brillance happens, you lose all pride and sense of polite decency and you worry about one thing and one thing only and that is GET ME TO THE BATHROOM.

I don't think I actually shoved anyone out of my way, but I was definitely on a mission.

Awesomely, at this point, approximately, oh, everyone at the party has seen me heading to the bathroom at one point or another. I didn't so much mind that, or really care who in the public bathroom got to witness the amazingly glorious site that was me hurling my guts in said white minidress.
What I cared about? Was making sure everyone knew I WAS. NOT. PREGNANT.

I'm pretty sure I advised everyone who had the guts (no pun intended) to come near me that night of that fact. Classy. Let me tell you.

Spoiler alert: I lived. My mom actually came in my room at 2 AM after Round 3, when the meds started kicking in and it became apparent I would live through the night, and said "Don't worry. Nobody really even realized you were gone. And at least this will make a funny blog post!" to which I'm pretty sure I groaned and moaned "TOO SOON." Alas, she was right. Well played, Mom.

Sunday dawned gorgeously and thankfully barf-free. Despite high winds that forced us to move off our original beach site, our wedding day was sunny and beautiful.

Our ceremony was beautifully officiated by one of my bridesmaids (and former college roommate) who is now a wondeful minister. The dress fit like a glove thanks to the couple pounds I'd miraculously shed the night before (again, see Bridesmaids reference), Cute Husband looked amazing in his suit, the flowers were gorgeous, and dolphins literally danced in the surf just outside our ceremony site.

OH YES. Top that, wedding gods. Dolphins frolicking during our vows.

The reception was absolutely amazing thanks to the hard work of John, Monica, Elise, Ben and everyone who helped us with the design and decor aspects of the day. The food was fantastic, the lounge area was thoroughly enjoyed, and the live music during our ceremony and cocktail hour were amazing.

For the dancing portion of the evening, we hadn't provided a complete playlist for the DJ. We'd simply requested that he stick to pop, Top 40-ish songs, and work in a couple slow songs that I'd provided and a couple house songs that Justin had provided. No Katy Perry, no Beyonce. Nothing against those ladies but, eh, not my favorites.

We'd also requested he avoid such *amazing* wedding hits as the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Cha Cha Slide, and, well, basically anything with any type of universally accepted dance movement.

Easy, right? Great.

In retrospect the first Katy Perry song should have tipped us off.

Possibly also the beginning of a trio of 80s songs that no one recognized.

If not either of those things, I probably should have realized it when the strains of OH OH OH, OH OH OHHH OH OH ALL THE SINGLE LADIES! began ringing through the air, but I was in the bathroom at the time, and really, have YOU ever peed in a wedding dress? Let me tell you, that requires enough attention, thankyouverymuch.

Also hard to do in a wedding dress? The Cha Cha Slide. Oh but we did. Slide to the left! Slide to the right! Take it back now y'all! One hop this time! Two hops this time! Criss cross! Criss cross! Cha Cha now y'all!

Which was the first time - but oh, not the last - that Cute Husband caught my eye on the dance floor and mouthed "What the eff?"

However, the point of the evening during which it became blindingly apparent that we had completely lost control of the music? was me leading a conga line through the reception hall to "Jump In the Line."
I'm pretty sure the DJ just assumes that you are so ravingly drunk at this point (oh sad but true: copious upchucking the night prior leads one to spend most of their wedding night stone cold sober) that you don't actually really care what he plays, and besides, who wouldn't want to Shake! Shake! Shake! Senora! at their wedding?!?!?

Work your body line. Work it all the time.

The thing about the wedding music is, it's a party. It doesn't matter. In the end, you plan everything down to the very last detail and you know what? stuff goes wrong anyway. And nobody cares, least of all you, because what went RIGHT? is that you got married.

After a week of sunshine with family and friends, we came home and back to reality. Wife-dom has apparently triggered a new instinct in me and in the couple days we've been back, I've been cleaning up a storm, cooking homemade dinners (whatever. two dinners is a plural. Who cares how many days that's over??), and grinning like a madwoman every time I refer to Cute Husband as, well, Husband!

And THAT, right there, tells you that the best part of the whole thing? Is that now we are MARRIED.

(that, and the new Keurig.)

The Scene In Which I Did Stuff This Summer. When, You Know, I Totally Didn't Blog.

Instead of ignoring the fact that I pretty much just neglected to do anything on this blog for, oh, four months out of the year, I decided I'd take you all on a little sneak peek into what I called "The Summer I Was Totally Busy, Yet Nothing New Happened," and by that I mean, we just sort of spent a few months doing the exact same things we'd been doing the months before.

Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful for the summer I had! Cute Boy and I got to move into our new house, spend some time doing repairs, I was thrilled/ amazed/ humbled by all the weddings we did at the studio, and of course, we've been planning the wedding....and I managed to do most of it without causing bodily harm or hilarious damage to myself. Hence, no blog.

So here's what we did:

Went to the 500. Bought a house. Took a picture of it before we ripped it up. Ripped up yarn. (Princess.)

Celebrated a fabulous friend on a fabulous fortieth!

Made a ton of flowers.

Rolled right through the big one- and kept on going! Totally unrelated I'm sure, the car spent at least two days of every month in the shop this summer for assorted issues.

Went to see Peter Gabriel and the New Blood Orchestra in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Solsbury Hill live (with a transition to an orchestral Simple Gifts at the end. Gah. OMG). Nearly cried. Took zero pictures.

Tore out the weird pass-through, tube-TV, 1980s wannabe entertainment center. Ripped up the vaguely off-white-long-ago carpeting. Searched for new flooring. Bought new floors and had *help* transporting them home (Finnigan).

Made some flowers. Put some in bouquets. Put some around cupcakes. Put some on cakes.

Power washed the porch. Thanks Dad! Admired the cool stylized power-wash-sprayed name. Realized that the amount of dirt on our new porch was such that my dad could literally spray my name into it. Kind of shuddered.

Went to see Dispatch in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Elias, Carry You, The General, and pretty much every song they played live. Had a discussion with my fellow concert goers about how the youth of today have absolutey no pot-smoking-concealing skills. Debating blogging about that. Forgot. Took zero photos.

Made some more flowers. Some went in a tent. That was a long day.

Organized all my books into alphabetical order (Whatever, OCD.). Counted the number of each book (by author last name) to see which I had the most of. Debated writing a blog post about said counting. Forgot. Hung with some pals for 4th of July and checked out the new Tiger Forest at the Zoo on a quick break from a Zoo wedding setup.

More flowers.
Got new floors! Got a rug from Old Time Pottery. Got towed from Old Time Pottery. Got to experience Mom's first tow truck ride with her. Got the bill. That was fun. Debated writing a blog post about it. Forgot.

Made some brides happy! These four plus (in June, July, and August only) 31 more. Love happy brides!

Though I guess you'd be happy too if you got to eat cake. More flowers on cakes. Yum........

Got a fireplace! Got framing around a fireplace. Got walls around a fireplace. Took a nap.

Went to go see Indigo Girls in concert. Totally geeked out hearing Devotion live. Took zero photos.
Went to an EDM festival. Finally remembered to take some photos. Went backstage. Thanks future seeeeester!

Went to Atlanta with Brother for the second (hopefully annual) Cousins Trip. Got stalked by Earl Grey. Saw whale sharks at the Atlanta Aquarium. Crawled through the kid tubes. Went to a Twin Peaks themed bar that did not have pie. Heated discussion ensued.

More flowers for tables and bouquets. Tons of amazing flowers this summer.

Took naps on the bed. Took naps on the chair. Took naps on the floor. Went to the groomer's. Went swimming. (I want this life.)

Got paint. Put it on walls. Put it on clay pots. Stopped painting, had guests in town, and went to an Indians game. Caught the game winning ball- great shot I got of that, huh?!? Yeah.


..........that's all folks! Thanks for checking out the summer! :)

The Scene In Which We Buy A House!!

We bought a house!!!

After several weeks of searching for homes (and one unsuccessful, adrenaline-pumping 24-minute mad dash to submit a bid for a house we wanted that had gone up for auction that day) Cute Boy and I finally narrowed our search down to four, two smaller homes we liked in an area we loved and two larger homes we loved in an area we liked, about 10 minutes away from the first area.

The day before we were scheduled to look at them all, we learned that House #4 had sadly accepted another offer. Since we had loved that one, we asked Realtor Brad to find other houses in that area that might be on the market. Unfortunately, there isn't too much out there right now- apparently, folks tend to stay longer in those homes. (Green light!)

We did schedule one "mystery showing" for the end of the day, and took our parents and Justin's sister to see our top three choices. Each had their pros and cons, and let me tell you, they're easier to see through the eyes of others. (We didn't end up liking house #4, so I haven't included it.)

House #1:
My mom: This is cute!
Me: Yeah, I really like it.
My mom: The yard is nice, but are those businesses you can see over there?
Me: Yeah...that's the Mousetrap.
My mom: Whaaaaa?
Me: It's a bar.
My mom: Oh.
..........
.........
My mom: Well.......

House #2:
My dad: This is nice. I have a few ideas for easy ways you can make the rooms bigger, too.
Me: Yeah?
My dad: Yeah! See, I don't think this is a load bearing wall.....
Me: Uh huh.
My dad: So what you do is cut this wall out....
Me: Uh huh....
My dad: ......move it over here, move this door, move this window........
Me: Uh huuuuuuh....
My dad: .....then in THIS room, move THIS door here.......
Me: Um, I think we should go to the next house now.

House #3:
My dad: I like this house.
My mom: I like this house.
My future mother-in-law: I like this house.
My future seeeester: I like this house.
Cute Boy: We love this house.

So the next day?

We bought that house :)

Or I guess I should say, we put an offer on that house, it was accepted, and we are currently in the process of inspection/finalizing/insurance/preparing for closing in LESS THAN A MONTH!! Keep your fingers crossed for us that everything goes well!

The Scene In Which My Mom Does Not Like Pina Coladas

I've been vacationing in Florida for the past, oh, week or so (I know, rough life) and this Friday, my parents arrived from Chicago for their vacation week. We overlap for a few days, so we're staying in the same apartment room at the lovely small island resort we love so much.

To welcome them to their first day in the sun on Saturday, I whipped up a batch of my now-famous strawberry pina coladas, and, as you'd naturally expect, treated them to a loud, somewhat off-key rendition of "IF you LIKE Pina Coladas....."

To which my mother announced, in a fit of years-held-back disdain, that she "HATES that song."

"Seriously?" I asked (since I'd been singing it all week.)

"Oh my GOD, yes," she replied. "That guy is such a douchenozzle!"

Let's pause momentarily in appreciation of the fact that my mom not only knows, but uses, phrases like "douchenozzle." Because it pertains to later usage, here are Mom's definitions of the phases of "douchiness."
A douche is just kind of like your average idiot.
A douchebag is somebody that actually causes me some problems, like somebody in traffic who cuts me off.
And a douchenozzle is just a breath away from being a dickhead, or possibly an immediate elevation to major dickhead.

You heard it here first.

Back to the story.

I couldn't get the song out of my head, so I kept on singing and that's when we started coming up with all the douchiest lyrics in the song and rating them on levels of doucheness. My helpful dad looked up, and then began to read aloud, the lyrics. My mom inserted helpful appropriate remarks.

I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long. (DICK, she muttered under her breath.)
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.(OH, yeah, NICE, she's laying right next to you, you jerk.)
And in the personals columns, there was this letter I read:

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain. (I mean, come on! She's looking for someone with half a brain and then later, he doesn't realize that it means SHE THINKS HE DOESN'T HAVE ONE?!)
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the love that you've looked for, write to me, and escape."

I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.(Yeah. Douche. )
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine. (Asshole. Anyone who calls their girlfriend their "old lady" is automatically a douchenozzle.)
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.
And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad. (Right.)

"Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.
At a bar called O'Malley's where we'll plan our escape." (See? SEE?? Already planning to ditch her. What an douche.

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew". (See, this relationship is already doomed. How do you NOT know these things? BAD COMMUNICATION.And they're both willing to be adulterers.)

"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the cape.
Then you're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the love that you've looked for, come with me, and escape."

At this point my dad offered up a philosophical question. The narrating man may have been willing to cheat on his "old lady," but was she the bigger douchnozzle for having been the first one to place a personal ad??

My mom pondered this for a moment.

"No, I guess just deserve each other."

The Scene In Which My Mom Learns To Text

Recently my mom learned how to use text messaging on her phone. It went sort of like this:

7:34am - Mom Cell: Im learnig how to texts! Gits Fun!
7:35am - Dad Cell: Mom is learning to text
7:37am - Younger Brother Cell: Oh god, Mom is learning how to text.

Since then I've received a couple text messages here and there, mostly alerting me to cool new gossip like when people I know get engaged or are having a baby or something else fun. Unlike when we first introduced Mom to other forms of new technology 'round about the time I left for college, she now knows that technology does not always equal a real-time reply....

.....like when she learned to use email.
Ring, ring....
Becky: Hello?
Mom: Hi Sweetie, it's Mom
Becky: Hey Mom!
Mom: I want to check my email. How do I do it again?
Becky: Double click on the Internet explorer.
click............click.
Mom: It didn't work.
Becky: No, click two times, really fast.
clickclick
Mom: Ok.
Becky: Did yahoo come up? (We had it set to come up)
Mom: Yeah.
Becky: Now type in your username.
Mom: What's my username?
Becky: (says username)
Mom: Ok.
Becky: Now your password.
Mom: What's my password?
Becky: (says password)
Mom: Ok.....I'm in.
Becky: Ok.
Mom: You didn't reply to my email!
Becky: Are you serious?
Mom: I sent you one earlier. Why didn't you answer?
Becky: We're on the phone!!!!!!

........like when she learned to use AIM
MomName: Hey Becky
AUTO-REPLY from BECKYUSERNAME: Studying..... - then insert ironically witty alternative music lyric quote to represent the drudge of studying here -
MomName: Hello?
MomName: Becky?
MomName: Are you there>>
MomName: What does that MEAN?!>
MomName: Ok, call me later
(5 mins later)
MomName: Are you there>
(2 mins later)
MomName: Ok, bye

Yes, there have been lots of hilarious moments with Mom and Technology meeting over the past several years.....but I have to say that, by far, the MOST. ADORABLE. TECHNOLOGY. MOMENT. EVER is the one that just occurred when I received a text photo from my brother asking which of the 4 ties pictured he should wear to a function tomorrow. Because as tech-savvy as my parents may be now (and my dad is, I should mention, quite tech-savvy), they are still my parents, and when they do adorable things like this while trying to use technology it just makes me love them more.

"Younger Brother needs help picking a tie," I announced to the room at large (I am at my parents house this week). They are sitting on the couch watching the news with our two adorable golden retrievers and my little pup Finn.

I show the photo to my mother. She takes her glasses off her head, puts them on, squints at my camera's tiny photo, and says, "I can't tell the difference between any of those."

I show the photo to my father. He takes his glasses off, puts them on his head, squints at my camera's tiny photo, and says, "I can't see a danged thing in that photo."

I call my brother. "Mom and Dad can't see the photo," I relay.

"What colors are they?" my mom asks. "Tell him I can't see them."

"Mom couldn't see them," I say.

"Tell him to wear the red one," my dad adds helpfully.

"Wear the red one." I say.

"I don't have a red one," my brother replies.

Oh, bless. My parents are just fantastic.