They call you what?

Phyllis.

They call me phyllis.

Some of you fellow blog readers have asked the question, "Why is your blog titled phyllis?"

Well, since I'm nice and like the sound of my fingers hitting the keyboard, I'll share my story.

Back in the early nineties I was just a little tike. I liked to run around with no shoes on and sometimes no pants. Always a shirt though, I had to keep my dignity somehow.

I didn't care what I looked like in the least. There were better things to be gettin' into, cowgirl clothes to put on! And of course little brothers to boss around!

What? It's not my fault he always listened.

Anyway, I always woke up with an awesome set of bed head growing up and it wasn't just your typical bed head hair.

It followed me everywhere all day long.

It was breakfast hair.

Then playing outside hair.

And afternoon nap hair.

And "go tell everyone dinner is ready" hair.

Then my Dad would get home from work and we'd all drop what we were doing to dart fast to the back porch to give him a hug and he'd turn to me and ask so lovingly, "Did you brush your hair today?"


And I'd reply, "What's a brush Daddy?"


From then on I was named after the great Phyllis Diller.

Don't quote me on the great part. I'm not even sure what she used to do. 

But I do think she'd be pretty great at scaring little kids. 

Thank the Lord for hair product!