The night that I wasn't boring (for a few hours, anyway)

My class at church is known as the Beehives.  I don't know why that's the name, but the girls are 12 and 13.  They are fun and energetic and silly and darling and hilarious.  I was none of those things as a teenager, so I have been surprised at how much I enjoy their ridiculous flair.  A few weeks ago I concocted a scheme to host the Beehives for a New Year's Eve bash.  Several of them enthusiastically accepted my invitation. Boy oh boy, did we have fun.

First of all, these two loud crazy awesome girls giggled and screamed through my house an hour before the party started.  I cleaned my kitchen.

Three others joined us at nine, and later my co-Beehive-leader came to play.  As a group we played Table Topics, Apples to Apples, Headbandz, and I Can Do That.  We also stuffed ourselves with yummy food and colored on the paper tablecloth.  One girl thought it was fun to rip the tablecloth, smash the paper into wads, and throw it across the table. Another quietly painted her fingernails 10 shades of pink (all mine).  I tried to be a moderator slash fun person.  I'm not sure how successful I was.  Did I mention that Garry, Zach, and Tyler were there, too?

The Crazy Girls brought makeup and a crimper.  They determined weeks ago that I was getting a New Year's Eve makeover.  It wasn't a let's-make-you-gorgeous makeover. No...it was the kind of makeover that involved wickedly bright eye shadow, sparkly eye liner, and crazy hair.  I decided to roll with it.  And I wore red pants for the occasion.

We ended up on the living room floor, playing with hair, applying (gaudy) makeup, telling stories, and laughing. Good times, good times.

Eventually we wandered downstairs for the Times Square countdown.  Then almost everyone went home.  The three remaining girls were crazy hyper and totally hilarious.  We took lots of pictures because we looked FABULOUS.

And then, at the very end, I answered the door and found my bishop standing on the porch.  He was just there to pick up his daughter, but it was still a deer-in-the-headlights moment for me.  After all, I had a mustache painted on my face, four colors of eye shadow on my lids, and crimped hair sticking out everywhere.  And don't forget the red pants.




    (That's the bishop)

 All in all, I count the night a success.

Happy New Year...from one very tired, boring, old lady.