Some deep fried lovin'.

My brother Josh finished his finals this week and celebrated by going to a Taylor Swift concert last night with friends. He came home smiling from ear to ear and wearing a pink tiara cowboy hat. His (free!) ticket was a box seat, and he was served catered snacks as he watched Miss Cutie-Patootie in all of her dancey, prancey, hair-swishing glory. We were a little jealous as our evening consisted of eating peanut butter woopie pies and putting Skylar to bed.

Then he presented Micah with a consolation prize that erased all thoughts of Taylor Swift and her teen angst.....leftover fried chicken. No matter that it was 11 pm. Or that the chicken had been sitting in a warm car for 6 hours. Like an evil temptress, Josh explained that it wasn't "fried" it was "lightly battered" which is practically diet food in the south. So when you put it that way, why not......

So he did. After all, we aren't going to be in the south much longer with fried chicken on every corner. It's now or never.

And he got to keep the hat too.