just another weekend morning at the Turners

The setup:  Michael's mowing the lawn--girls not allowed outside. I'm ready to get in the shower, so I give the usual "don't do anything for the next 15 minutes, girls" warning. I undress in our bedroom...and hear the front door open and close. And I know it wasn't Michael.

So I run out of the room, doing a terrible job of covering my top and bottom parts with my hands and arms. I get to the front door and realize I can't just open the door when I'm stark naked. So I grab a nearby jacket of Michael's. It's black and waist length. You get the picture. Since the bottom half of me is stille exposed, I decide to crouch to the left of the door as I open it.

Now, imagine you're standing outside, witnessing this scene. You see a woman huddled by her door, wearing only a black jacket, crazy-ass bed head hair, yelling for her kids.

After three good shouts over the noise of the mower, I look up and Michael's staring at me from the porch -- giving me the "OMG, Andrea, what are you doing?" look. I weakly say, "I'm getting the girls."

He rolls his eyes, the girls come inside, and I hang up the jacket before going back to the shower. Just another morning at the Turners.