*I did not become a size 12 overnight–in case anyone thought that was a possibility. For the record, I was, once, when my hipbones stuck through my jeans and I got to know my food coming and going. If I was a size 8 at this stage in my life, I’d be able to use my boobs for knee-pads, and nobody wants to see that….
* Ladybug and I have come to an agreement. She gets out of her crib, sits down next to the toybox in her cluttered room, and sleeps there all night, so that she has her pick of stuffed animals the next morning when she cries for me to come get her. Do I understand this logic? Not on your life. But, hey, whatever lets us all get to sleep before 1:00 a.m.
* Ladybug is now the proud bearer of two tiny earrings in that pretty light purple color that most Aries I know would rather sport than the regular diamond that is their birth stone. I don’t know why this is, but it is so (and if any Aries out there disagree, by all means let me know, because I would feel far less guilty about my totally groovy star-sapphire that I get to call my birthstone as a Libra. If you are insanely jealous–although I don’t know why you would be–it may help you all to know that I look like crap in blue!) My Latina students will be so proud of me–they were telling me that I had waited too long as it is. And if anyone is wondering how I could possibly mutilate my sweet little girl like that, I’ve got to tell you all that the tantrum she threw when Chicken took Cave Troll to the other end of the mall was bigger, worse, and uglier than the little whine she gave when the second ear was pierced.
* Floyd (aka Tabitha) is starting to read BOUND for his third review. I’m expecting to get red-penned within an inch of my life, but, well, hey… type as thou shalt o, or something like that.
* I’m waiting (WAITING) not so patiently for my galleys for BITTERMOON. Honestly, I’d be getting a lot more reading done if I could make myself stop checking my e-mail for my damned galleys! (Although I’m almost done, Roxie, and I love it so much–for the uninitiated, Roxie’s eye for color detail in her fiction is exquisite… I can practically feel the colors and see the textures of her stitch patterns of her well-woven descriptions, and her character, Sanna is so much fun! Okay…done gushing now…I’ll save the rest of the gush for the ending, and my review on amazon;-)
* Chicken did me proud as an observer of human nature the other day. The guy who takes out carts at Target is one of the nastiest people I’ve ever met to hold down a job. He’s been working there for five years and says NOTHING. AT ALL to the customers, although I’ve heard him frequently cursing out the human race as a whole when there’s no one close enough to be offended enough to complain. I was telling Chicken to beware of him–basically, just stay out of his way, because he looks mean enough to mow down the unwary with his carts–when she suddenly did a passable Meg Ryan imitation from ‘French Kiss’. “My ass is twitching. You people make my ass twitch!” I was laughing so hard I actually smiled at the nasty man. He mentally cursed me and my offspring to hell, but since we’re practically pagans and probably going there anyway, I figured I should let him have his fun.
* My back was doing great until I took the Cave Troll for a walk tonight. He gooooooeeesssssss soooooooooooo sllllllllooooooowwwww… it hurt just to go that slow sometimes, but that’s not why my back hurts. My back hurts because at least six times he turned around and launched himself at me when I wasn’t ready, and little dude weighs 45-50 lbs. plus momentum. OUCH!
* And, after using up two skeins of Lorna’s Worsted, Camouflage to make Big T a pair of socks and my Uncle (as it turns out) a hat, T wanted a hat like the one I gave away. And I had to buy one more skein. And I asked, cheekily, because I’m so damned done with this color, “So, T–what should I do with almost this entire skein of yarn I have left.” The answer–and promptly, I might add– “Fingerless Mittens!” Well, shit…feet, head, hands…and he’s promised to wear them to school. Cool.
* So, I spent my evening watching ‘snakes on a plane’–you know, the movie w/Samuel L. Jackson and, well, lots of fake snakes. On a plane. And all I can say after watching it is that the knitters would be the only ones who would live. Why? Because we have big pointy sticks and we know how to use them.
* And if you’ll excuse me, I need to venture into the land of the Farting Dog (aka, the living room) and rescue my husband, who has been hinting to the two older children for ice cream for the last ten minutes. My husband as a whole tends to be a subtle, sly & dry sort of person. I can’t convince him that this is lost on teenagers, and the poor man may die of ice cream deprivation if he depends on them to serve him with quart and spoon.