Tuesday, January 31, 2012


Had my eyes dilated at noon. Three hours later, and my pupils are so big that I have a horrible headache and look like an anime character.

It went like this:

optometrist: Okay, so these drops will dilate your eyes. Do you need to do anything that involves reading today?

me: I'm a writer. All I do is read and write.

optometrist: Nothing else?

me: Sometimes I sleep.

optometris: Can you go home and take a nap?

me: Nope. I have two kids under 5.

optometrist: Bad news...

And then he put liquid poison in my eyes.

The worst part is that being on the laptop or reading makes a big ball of angry hatred pulse behind my eyeballs, so I have to go find something non-reading/writing to do. Something that doesn't involve bright light, focus, coordination, or concentration. I mean, I slipped on a Han Solo figurine while trying to do dishes and almost wiped out.

So... what's left?


Monday, January 30, 2012

oh my, indeed.

I'm so honored and excited to see Wicked as They Come included in this hawt ad for the March edition of RT Magazine, one of the biggest venues for romance book reviews in the world.

Plus, Wicked includes both vampires *and* circus freaks, so that's a lot of bang for your buck.


In other writing news, here's what I'm working on, two months before my first pub date:

* planning the launch party (Friday, 3/30, 7pm, FoxTale Book Shoppe, Woodstock, GA)

* writing an e-novella in the Blud world while listening to a lot of Gotye

* getting ready to write the second half of Blud book 2, out in Spring 2013

* wearing and loving the custom Sang scents from Villainess Soaps

* putting together steampunk costumes for Anachrocon and Dragon*Con

* networking and hoping to get involved with local lit festivals, cons, and book groups

* writing guest blogs and doing author interviews-- so much fun!

* planning to invite interested readers and friends from all over to participate in street teams to spread the Wicked word and receive perks like signed books and... other things I haven't dreamed up yet.

If anyone has a good idea for promoting the book, please let me know! I'd love to be on debut author panels at conferences within driving distance of Atlanta, have Skype chats with book clubs or writing groups, and do any sort of author interviews or guest posts on related blogs with followers who would be interested in steampunk paranormal romance.


It's scary, and I would rather be eating frozen cupcakes.


Saturday, January 28, 2012

behold the sekrit smellies

Things are in the works. Marvelous things. SEKRIT THINGS.

I will tell you this:

1. Brooke at Villainess Soaps is a lovely person and a super talented perfumer.

2. I now smell like Criminy Stain and have nearly sniffed myself delirious.

3. There may be a way for you to enjoy these in the future.

4. Smelling my characters is ONE OF THE COOLEST THINGS that has ever happened to me.

Extrapolate from that what you will.


I <3 you x1000, Brooke!


Thursday, January 26, 2012

the rockin' rainbow

So my Kindergarten-age spawn won the "Most Colorful" award in her school art show.

I can't really take any credit, aside from letting her use my "grown-up" watercolors. Just as they say the cobbler's children wear no shoes, so does this former art teacher's daughter receive very little art instruction. I've seen too many children her age forced into artistic conformity. It's so very heartbreaking when a seven-year old says, "My dad says I can't draw cats good. I'm a horrible artist!"*

So I only help my kids with art when they ask for it.

But shall I reveal what I believe to be the secret of successful art projects?

Use adult-quality materials.

If you give your kid the super-crappy 99cent Wal-Mart brand watercolor set and some computer printer paper, they're going to be disappointed and frustrated with their creation. It is simply impossible to create satisfying artwork using sub-par materials. When I taught kids' art classes, my supply fee was often a little higher than other teachers' fees, maybe $20 to their $12. And that was because I went to the art supply store and bought actual supplies instead of the cheap junk from school supply stores. Not the most expensive stuff, of course. But good enough that the children and their parents were always pleasantly surprised by the end result.**

That painting up there-- which was required by the school!-- was made using my own personal watercolor palette, one of my brushes, and a double-wrapped canvas. I just reminded her to wash her brush and dry it off on a paper towel in between colors and left the room. There was no discussion of what she was going to paint or how. That's simply what she did of her own free will.

And, honestly, I don't think my direction could have improved it a single bit.


* It was a joy, teaching that girl how to draw a cat and watching her gain confidence. She was a ginger with a fantastic smile. She gave me a drawing of a rhinoceros that I still keep in my studio and repeated my class for a year.

** Note that this doesn't necessarily apply to crafts. I think it's fantastic, giving your kids egg cartons and greeting cards and old buttons and just letting them go to town. I'm talking strictly about fine art-- watercolors, acrylics, colored pencils, pastels, oil pastels.


Wednesday, January 25, 2012

in which I keelhaul reality

What do we do when we don't know what to do?

We put on a costume and pretend to be a steampunk pirate!

It's so much easier than coping.


The shirt, Vixen corset, and green stagecoach skirt are from Damsel in this Dress. I was so pleased with everything I purchased from her that I've already ordered another corset-- a black and cream damask underbust to wear with my Steampunk Librarian costume.

The plum skirt is from Park Avenue Thrift store-- $4. The boots are Nine West and not period-quality, as they have zippers and pointy little heels. The hat uses a felt wide-brim hat from Target, purchased on sale for $9 and decorated by me.

One day, I'll do a post on its transformation. Today, I'm just showing off.

Notes on steampunk outfits:

1. They are very layer intensive.
2. There are lots of long, dangly laces that have to be tucked in.
3. They are rather heavy.
4. They sincerely depend on cool accessories, of which I don't yet have enough.
5. They are addictive.
6. Corsets really should return to everyday fashion.


Monday, January 23, 2012


A list of things that are not words but should be:

weasely, rabbity, badgery, snuck, knelted, squonk, squee, argle bargle, fetchy, adorkable, snarkalicious, cakesy, slurpy, slugtastic, chonk, podingo, moar, LOLLERBALL.

Seriously. They're so extremely self-explanatory.

Also, the word steampunk is a word, so stop it with the red squiggles.

That's all. I'm angry at Justified and going to bed now.



Saturday, January 21, 2012

five minutes of my life

biscuit: Why does the Grinch hate Christmas?

me: I don't know. Maybe Santa ran over his dog once?

biscuit: Or maybe his heart is too small?

me: Yes, I suppose it could be a congenital defect.

biscuit: I think Darth Vader had one of those.

t.rex: Or maybe his bottom is too flat.

me: Maybe his bottom is WHAT?

t.rex: His bottom. It... it kinda flat. And too big. And hairy. It make him sad.

me: But why would that make him hate Christmas?

t.rex: Maybe it itches more at Christmas?

me: *totally straightfaced* Yes, maybe the Grinch hates Christmas because his big, flat, hairy bottom itches too much on December 25th.

t.rex: Or maybe his house fell down?

me: What does that have to do with Christmas?

t.rex: I don't know. Maybe his mom died. Or Spiderman came to put him in jail? Spiderman put the Vulture in jail. Vultures are green. We saw some vultures by the bookstore one time. You wouldn't let me pet them.

me: What... are we talking about?

t.rex: The Grinch. The Grinch, mom. His TV fell down and he knocked the glass down all over the place and--

biscuit: SUPER GIRL TO THE RESCUE! *rides by on her scooter in a nightgown, sunglasses, Mardi Gras beads, and giraffe slippers*

t.rex: *chases her, waving a sword and a gun* SUPER PUSS IN BOOTS G.I. JOE IS THERE! REAL AMERICAN HERO! MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE!

biscuit: Okay, now it's time for the Noisy Horse Tap-Dancer Parade.

me: Wow. Just... wow.


my magic buns

Last year, I swooned over those razors with the built-in shaving cream.

Because that's totally brilliant, right?

This year, I'm swooning over Spin Pins. If you wear your hair in buns as frequently as I do, they're a lifesaver.

And I made a video to show you how.

Warning: It's very badly done.

You can get 2 for $6 at Target or a package of 3 knock-offs at Hobby Lobby for $1.99.

Totally worth it!


Thursday, January 19, 2012

where art thou?

See that? That's my Writer Hat.

It has a feather quill pen and an ink pot. For all my steampunk writing adventures. In hot air balloons, I hope.

I have this other hat, you see. I bought it at Target, and the plan is to turn it into a pirate's hat through the use of ribbon and string and feathers and pointy things that I have no business using. That's why I found myself in Hobby Lobby today.

And that's where I had one of those tiny epiphanies.

I've been haunting art supply stores all my life. I know which brand of acrylic is better for painting canvas vs. paper and which India ink smells the worst and the only kind of tempera that doesn't crack on windows. I love to run my fingers over paintbrushes-- the expensive ones that I've never been willing to pay for. I love posing the wooden mannequins, looking at rows and rows of pristine pastels, and giving myself tattoos with the rainbow of Sharpies.

In short, I'm an artist.

Except that I'm not anymore.

I saw canvas on sale today and thought, "That's a pretty good price!"

And then I realized that I no longer want to paint. That I don't even think I'm a very good painter. That although I can draw better than most people and have years of training and experience, for the most part, I've left visual art behind to pursue my writing career. I'm a much better writer than I ever was as a painter, and when I find a postcard from one of my shows lying on the floor of the garage under a bed of leaves, I feel a little sheepish. For so long, I thought that I would become a great artist. But it never happened.

Instead, I became a writer.

I now feel about painting the same way I feel about guys I used to date. They were nice. They were great at the time and have much to offer the right person. But for me, it was never meant to be. Each time, I thought OH MY GOSH, THIS IS SO PERFECT. ALL MY DREAMS WILL COME TRUE! And only once did that actually occur, which is why I'll be celebrating my tenth wedding anniversary next May.

Art has become an ex-boyfriend.

I walk into an art supply store or a gallery, and I feel old, wise, smirky, nostalgic. "I've been here," I think. "I used to do this, too. I have been around this block. Good times." And I leave empty-handed and heavy-hearted, knowing that even if I travel that road again, everything will be different. Knowing that, deep down, it was just a stepping stone.

I like to imagine myself at sixty, taking a watercolor class. And the instructor will be someone much younger who will explain the color wheel and transparency and masking, and I'll just smile gently and think, "I know, honey. I know."


Wednesday, January 18, 2012


I'm joining most of the internet in protesting yet another bill that was devised by clueless old men and giant megacorporations to strip of us our rights. Want to know more about how to fight SOPA and keep your favorite social media sites legal? Go here.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

would you like to be wicked?

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Wicked as They Come by Delilah S. Dawson

Wicked as They Come

by Delilah S. Dawson

Giveaway ends February 05, 2012.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Now you can, and over a month early. Whoever wins this ARC can be demandy, too, if they're one of my blog readers. I'll sign it, write secrets in it, whatever.

And if you're on Goodreads, you can add WICKED AS THEY COME while you're over there. Who doesn't love two-headed vampires and blood-sucking bunnies?


Monday, January 16, 2012

seriously, seriously WICKED

See that bracelet?

It was a surprise gift hand-made for me by my dear and talented friend Stephanie over at Pinafores & Pinwheels. Here's her post about it, including how she made it. If you like sewing and crafting, check out her beautifully handmade clothes for kids, not to mention the purses and jewelry she makes as gifts, which can be seen on her blog. She's so amazing!

Needless to say, the only reason I've taken it off today was to gaze in wonder at it. It's got some of my favorite quotes *and* my book title on there, along with beautiful little cogs. And it fits. And it's so pretty and smooth. And just SQUEE.


It makes me so happy I just about can't see straight.

And it's going to look great with my steampunk outfits.

And with the beautiful octopus necklaces my friends Heidi and Alice gave me and the pretty bead cuffs from Carrie. Seriously, y'all. I have the best friends.

Thanks so much, Stephanie! I love it, and I'm going to wear it until it just about falls off.

Totally made my day!


Saturday, January 14, 2012

thanks, sevenly!

I get to review a lot of really cool stuff for Cool Mom Picks, and I correspond with some seriously lovely people throughout the process. One of my favorite parts of working for my amazing editors is when a company or artisan I've reviewed sends a thank you note and I get a warm fuzzy from knowing I've helped a real person.

I received a thank you package in the mail from Ryan and the folks at Sevenly this week, and I am LOVING this shirt. It's soft, comfy, fits like a glove, and includes two of my favorite things: freedom and feathers. Plus, $7 from the purchase of every shirt goes to charity.

If you're looking for a cool shirt that does good in the world, check them out. They have a new shirt each week that's designed by an artist in relation to that week's charity.

Thanks, Sevenly!


Friday, January 13, 2012

The Creative Cycle Will Kill You, REALLY.

For some reason today's blog post crammed itself down there below my steampunk costume post. So you can scroll down or click here to see why I'm like a balloon and craving Captain Crunch.


Thursday, January 12, 2012

in which I blubber over a blurb

You guys. YOU GUYS. I got my first blurb!

That's the short version. Here's the long version:

"WICKED AS THEY COME is as good as it gets! Delilah Dawson, I love your steamvamp world of Sang! And I long to hear super-hot bludman Criminy Stain whisper those three special words in my ear: 'Here's the sequel!'"

Thanks so much to Nancy!

Now, as my friend Stephanie says, "WORTHY OF A CUPCAKE!"


Wednesday, January 11, 2012

getting vaguely steamy

I'm finally doing it!

I'm putting together steampunk outfits.

I want two separate ones. One a sort of Maid Marion/pirate and the other more of an adventurous librarian.

Oh, and I can't take decent pictures.

So first, we have Vixen corset, shirt, and stagecoach shirt from Damsel in Distress:

Or, for the full effect with my bad photography:

And the basis of the steampunk librarian:

That's a big plum circle skirt, white blouse, and black pinstripe vest.

I still need a leather harness, something to hold a pocket watch, and two seriously fabulous hats.

It's all about the accessories.

It's funny-- only in the last couple of years have I learned to accessorize my normal wardrobe.

Now I have to learn all over again.

Note to self: cogs, brass, octopi.


If you were going to dress up in a steampunk fashion,
what would your persona be?
Pirate, adventurer, inventor, diva?


The Creative Cycle Will Kill You

First of all, you can thank my art degree and the glories of MS Paint for that fabulous image.

Second of all, the Creative Cycle will kill you.

But! And here's the kicker.

Only if you let it.

See, right now, I'm in the deflation part, which means that instead of doing anything useful, I'm haunting Twitter and Facebook, stalking Goodreads, shopping for corsets I don't need, and occasionally stealing glances at my Gmail waiting for a seratonin hit like a lab rat hooked up to a sugar dispenser. But that's part of my creative cycle. It happens every time. Let me explain.

1. First, there is the seed.

The idea. The spark. The inspiration that grabs your heart at 11:37 at night and makes you scribble on the back of a drugstore receipt with an eyeliner pencil. The idea fills you, expands you, makes you realize you can do anything! You dream, you chew it like a unicorn gnawing on magical glitter cud. You live in your mind until you have it all figured out.

2. And then you have to do it.

This is the doing phase. You have to write that book, no matter what. If you want to stay home in the same fleece pants for two weeks and eat nothing but calamari and never sleep, you do that. If you need to dress up and go out and sit at a place with free refills and drink coffee all day in your fancy boots, you do that. No matter what it takes, you do it.

And then it's done.

And for about twenty minutes, you feel overwhelming relief.

Then the next day comes, and you feel...

3. The deflation.

No energy. Honey badger don't care. You want a nap. Or maybe you should work? Should you look at it? Start the next revision? What if someone else is writing the same concept and finishes it before you do? What if an editor has a space for it and you miss it? What if THE WORLD BLOWS UP? So you look at it, and then you realize that...


There are plot holes. Characters that have issues. Messed up view or tense. You've completely forgotten that chapter 1 centered on the heroine being an only child while her brother becomes a main character in chapter 4. The motivation is off. The pacing is off. The bit with the robots is FLAT OUT. There's so much work on this rotten piece of trash that it will never become anything more than a crap smudge on a thumb drive.

And that right there is what will kill you if you let it.

You can't let yourself forget that you have reached the bottom point of the creative cycle. The PMS of the menstrual cycle of your mind. If you can get through this bit, it's all downhill from there.

Because one day, you think... maybe I'll look at it again. Maybe it's not too bad.

So you decide to do the hard part.

4. You look at it. And you fix it.

You lay it out, graph it out, and the holes are easy to see. You know how to make him more likable, her more real. You know exactly how to amp up the excitement in the middle. You can fix it, and it will be good.

So you go back to work. It's not manic and panicked and frenzied. It's measured. Intelligent. Planned. Fulfilling. Logical.

And when you're done with the careful work, you've come full circle.

And it's done.


The hard truth is that making something of value takes time.

It takes excitement, hard work, patience, pain, an acceptance of criticism, and a dedication to making it right, no matter the cost. I didn't understand that, when I was younger. I thought things could spring fully-formed from my head and be perfect.

They can't. Not for me. Not for anyone.

So don't let it kill you. Don't even let it get you down. When you hit the point of deflation, do whatever you must to get past it, even if that involves going to bed for three days with a box of Captain Crunch. It's a natural part of the process, of the cycle.

We are creatures controlled by chemicals and muses and gods and monsters and things we'll never understand. The one thing in our power is choice. You choose to create. You choose to strive.

And when things get hard, you choose to go on.


Tuesday, January 10, 2012

a morning three-way

A morning three-way conversation with my children, that is.

t.rex: I tink dere are bad guys here.

me: At the bus stop? Why do you think that?

t.rex: Because dey are dark. You no can see dem.

me: What do they want with a bunch of sleepy parents and kids?

the biscuit: Um, maybe you're forgetting my piggy bank? And all my JEWELS?

me: Sweetheart, bad guys need more than $3.72 and some plastic gems. They want billions and
billions of dollars.

the biscuit: What about my computer?

me: The one that plays a Barbie song?

the biscuit: Oh.

me: Yeah.

the biscuit: Is that my bus?

me: Yep.

the biscuit: Oh, BORING. I hate P.E. day!

me: Hate is a very strong word that we don't use. But I hate P.E., too, so I guess that's okay. Have a good day. I love you!

the biscuit: Bye! I love you! Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down!

me: Duly noted.

t.rex: It is time to pick up Sister?

me: No. She's not even on the bus yet.

t.rex: Then it is time to eat oatmeal?

me: Yes. Let's drive home and get you some oatmeal.


me: I'm pretty sure that's Kai's mom.


me: This isn't Hoth.


me: I'm not wearing shoes. It's not cold.


me: And what is Princess Leia doing in our neighborhood at 6:53am, walking home from the bus stop?


me: Wow. You totally brought that one around full circle!


me: Not a chance, dude.


Sunday, January 8, 2012


See that? It's one of my proudest possessions. A mint condition, hardbound, first edition of the Pennyroyal Edition of Alice in Wonderland, signed to me with warm regards from one of my all-time favorite illustrators, the marvelous Barry Moser.

This was my first signed book, and here is the second.

A signed copy of The Black Doll's Imbroglio by Edward Gorey.

Not personalized, as he was dead by then. I found it at the Gorey shop in New York in 1994, and even though one of my children ripped the dust jacket, she yet lives.

See? I can be merciful.

My third signed book is a copy of Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry.

And when I started writing and meeting authors, my collection really expanded.

Note: The yellow My Little Pony is Skydancer, who was a gift from author Seanan McGuire. I should have asked her to sign the pony's bum before mailing.

Since I stopped collecting Breyer Horses in middle school, I haven't really collected anything until now. It feels good to gather beautiful things, one by one, to open them and remember what it was like to meet an author I admire. Each of these books tells a story I won't forget.

Recently on Facebook, one of my favorite authors, Matthew Stover, said he wanted a signed copy of my book, and that was possibly the most flattering and twitterpatering thing I've ever heard. I'm still fanning myself. Of course, he has to sign my battered copy of Heroes Die, first.

Anybody else have a signed book they cherish?


Friday, January 6, 2012

my first review!


I woke up this morning to find the first ever review for WICKED AS THEY COME!

5 out of 5 stars.


It's here, if you'd like to read it, but it contains many SPOILERS, so BEWARE.

The ARCs have gone out, and I will now spend most of the day googling the book and holding my breath. So I'll probably be pretty dizzy until, oh... April.

There are mixed opinions on whether authors should read their reviews, but I just couldn't help myself. I really appreciate Lexie's thoughtful, thorough, and above all interesting response. She feels the same way about the characters that I do, and that tells me that I'm doing something right.

I know there are going to be bad reviews and meh reviews, and I'm trying to steel myself for them. For now, I'm just smiling really big.


Thursday, January 5, 2012

happy net karma ahoy!

So a fun thing just happened.

2. They did an image search for "broken Nook" and found my picture from this post that I wrote on my 33rd birthday.

3. They used it at the top of their article. Me! With crossed eyes! And a Nook that looks like a bustier sprouting from zombie Gertrude Stein.

4. The delightful Kate Hart identified me and pointed the article out to me via Twitter.

5. I was flattered, so I commented with a couple of link drops.

6. The Litreactor folks kindly gave me credit for the image and even PUT UP A BIG OL' PIC OF MY BOOK COVER WITH LINKS.

7. I squeed and told everybody I know about it, because it made me feel FAMOUS.


This is how the internet is supposed to work.
People sharing information with the kindest intentions,
and then spreading it all over the place like glittery marmalade.
I now have a warm fuzzy.

Thanks, Litreactor!


Wednesday, January 4, 2012

the latent violence of bibliophilia

me: (working in studio)


me: Dude, what are you doing? Are you okay?

t.rex: GO 'WAY. I BUSY.

me: (runs to living room anticipating trouble)

And what do I see?

The scruffy little nerfherder pulled down every book on the kids' bookshelf.



me: Dude, it's over there on the floor, where you left it yesterday.


me: You're a violent enigma wrapped in trouble wrapped in bacon.



Tuesday, January 3, 2012

would you guys please do me a favor?

So I have a book coming out this year...

Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are. Not only because I actually lived up to my potential for once, but because I somehow managed to write sex scenes even though people I actually know are going to read them.

Like maybe my kids' teachers. Or my aunt. Or kids I used to babysit.

And I might be slightly freaking out.


If you haven't, I would be overjoyed and obliged if you would "like" my author Facebook page since I'm trying to swallow my own terror and do the self-marketing thing.

As we count down to the release date, which is March 27, I'll have news to share about giveaways, possibly some freebies, and a book launch party we're planning in north Atlanta where I will blush a lot and snarf cupcakes and red wine and just thank everyone a thousand times.

And I'd love it if you (and you and you) would be there.


In the spirit of how this blog started out, here's a quote from my morning:


me: You know what? The big secret is that the oatmeal tastes the exact same no matter which
bowl you eat out of.

biscuit: My secret is that I sleep in my underpants.


me: I think you guys are missing the point about the oatmeal.



Monday, January 2, 2012

so that explains a few things.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was born.

Technically, it was 1977 and Atlanta, but whatever.

Most little girls of my generation grew up wanting to be Barbie or Cinderella or Cheetara from the Thunder Cats. But my childhood idol was a purple cat who sang in a nightclub.

See, there was this movie called Banjo the Woodpile Cat. It was one of Don Bluth's many animated films in the late 70s and early 80s that made children cry by showing what happened if you disobeyed your parents or had the bad luck to be an orphan.

In this case, a small and naughty cat named Banjo runs away from his stern parents and ends up nearly dying 60 times before an older cat mentor named Crazy Legs (voiced by Scatman Crothers) tells him how to get home. The part I remember most is when Banjo and Crazy Legs went to a sort of speakeasy/cathouse where three fabulous and colorful cat sisters sang a song.

Now, to be quite honest, I haven't seen this movie since I was 6. I don't actually remember which cat in that picture above is Zazu. I just remember that she was glamorous, sparkly, oddly colored, oddly named, sang well, and seemed to have a hell of a lot of fun.

And that's who I wanted to be.

When other kids on the kindergarten playground would lay claim to being the mommy or the big sister or Jem or Princess Leia or the girlfriend from Thriller, I was always quick to yell that I was Zazu. And no one else had any earthly clue who Zazu was, so I would go play quietly in a corner, shaking my tail and pretending to be a rebellious purple cat and singing sleazy nightclub songs.

Personally, I think that explains an awful lot about my childhood. And my adulthood.


Anybody else have a weird childhood idol?


Sunday, January 1, 2012

how to make a DISCO BEAR

1. Obtain a bear-shaped container of animal crackers.

2. Eat all the animal crackers. Not all at once, though.

3. Blow the dust out of the container, but do so in a way that makes animal cracker guts lodge painfully in your eyeballs. Or you can skip that step. I didn't.

4. Put some glittery Christmas ornaments in there and shove a bunch of Christmas lights around them in a way that vaguely reminds you of intestines.

5. Realize that you have no idea what to do with the plug

6. Shove the top down anyway.

7. Plug in and cause a huge fight between your children over who gets THE DISCO BEAR.

All in all, I'd say it was a success.


Special thanks to Ericka for giving us a plastic bear full of snacks.