Not Georgia. Never been. Would like to, but only in say, January.
Yumminess. It's what's for dinner.
My Moose peeking at me as I type from behind bars. The bars on his top bunk, don't fret. In a minute he'll climb down and accost me with his savage morning breath. It may melt my face, but I can take it, cuz he's my Pooky Head.
Trying to convince Pooky Head to get a haircut. He is opposed. He may be a hippy before I know it; hanging out on the corner, wearing love beads and tie-die, driving a VW bus and crashing my commune. Hey, get your own commune, boy! I was clear on the tie-die rules.
He just asked me if I was typing to the boys. That makes me sniffly. I miss them. You guys reading this? I MISS YOU TURKEYS!
Finding a house. Always starts out So Incredibly Super Fun, then slides down the Richter Scale to Not As Much Fun, then all the way to This Is Frustrating. Scouring craigslist though just never gets old however. I can buy a wheat grass juicer!! Not kidding. I can commiserate with the mad guy who wrote a diatribe about property managers exploiting all his money for application fees and then telling him the house he wants is already rented to someone else (except I'm not at the point where I'll cuss about it and use all caps. Yet). I also liked the ad for a wine rack that announced WINE NOT INCLUDED SO STOP ASKING!
Babies. I can't help myself. If anyone has an extra, please mail me one immediately. My neck has not been drooled on for quite some time. Dang Moose is about to be four. What happened to my baby?? Did he eat him? I need someone to snuggle and cuddle and hug and kiss and name George.
First payday on Thursday!!!! Do the payday dance!! Pirouette and chasse, pas de bouree, and LEAP!! Repeat! One more time! This time, FASTER!
Settle down and have a wheat grass smoothie.
Speaking of haircuts (yes, we were, try to focus, dear reader) Cora wants one. My little tomboy. I'm thinking of allowing her to get an Audrey Hepburn pixie cut but only on the promise that she'll wear cute headbands, or barrettes and learn to style it. Thoughts? Not you, Papa, I know you like it long; other people's thoughts?
Seeing my bachelor brother get hitched soon. I hope the Mr. and Mrs Downum enjoy their wine rack (WINE NOT INCLUDED, SO STOP ASKING!)
My book. I'm at a stage where I feel as though I'm writing filler...books are long. How do authors churn out all these books? I'm creatively depleted and I'm only on 16,000 words.
Breakfast. See ya!