A smorgasbord of updates… and maybe a random story at the end

Um, yeah, about my last post? I’ve decided that in order to get results about something… anything… I have to blog about it. We had record high temperatures here yesterday. Sixty-SIX degrees Fahrenheit to be exact. So I'm obviously ever-grateful to the infinitely marvelous blogging gods for not only hearing my whines, but REWARDING me for them. Can you believe it’s so warm that my kid is already donning a new farmer tan? I know, I know. Now I’m bitching about too much sun. But you all were right. Spring has shown up after all just like you said it would.

ALSO. While I haven’t the cojones to actually dye my hair blonde. NOR can I get in the car and drive to a hair salon AND THEN allow someone the freedom to cut my hair anywhere above my chin…… I DID take some scissors to my own head and gave myself some layers. Have I mentioned that I can cut hair? I can. I just can’t make my own head look totally fabulous like I could make yours.

AND. Remember the grapes story? The “To be continued” story?? I bought boatloads because, if you remember, they were on sale and all… I did this in hopes of getting my child to look at me and say, “Ha!! Guess what, Mom! I’m DONE with grapes. You just dropped $500 on grapes for nothing!” Because it was an experiment. And that’s what she does. It’s her “thing” to make me spend money on food she won't eat anymore BUT. I blogged about it. So everything became Twilight Zonish and upside down and now she still loves her grapes even after I made her unload all 80 bags from the back of my SUV. See how that reverse psychology blogging thing works?

Lastly, because you asked Strauss and I just need any old excuse to bring it up, Rosetta Stones has finally been PRINTED. And BOUND. With a title page and an ISBN number and an honest-to-god table of contents like a real-deal book. But it doesn’t have a cover yet. The artist is still working on it, which is good because I don’t think I’m quite ready to handle it in its entirety without puking on my shoes. Needless to say, it will NOT… I repeat… NOT be out in April as originally scheduled for anyone who actually marked their calendar. Sorry, Dad.

I know nothing about getting published, really. Therefore, I had no idea that a book gets reviewed by three hundred million entities which include but are not limited to booksellers, authors, associations, nice people, church people, pet owners, and others of whom I need to come over and mow their lawn… because I especially feel like doing that sort of thing now that the weather is balmy…. AND because it might be a nice gesture if and/or when they give me a decent review. All of this takes time, and we aren't quite done with all that yet. But you can be damned sure I’ll keep you posted! (I couldn’t keep this crap to myself if I tried.) And I so very dearly love you for asking, Strauss.

Oh and really lastly this time, the unrelated story that I mentioned up in the title… My baby. She’s been saying HI! a lot lately. Not real newsworthy stuff if she did it in response to seeing me first thing in the morning. Or when peeking out of the bathroom after demolishing my magazines. But this is different. It’s when she’s pointing to Emma’s leftover grapes lying on the counter. “HI!” she says as she looks at me longingly.

Allan: Did she just say Hi to the grapes?

Catherine: It sounded like Hi. But I think she was saying it to me.

Allan: But the tone… it’s not like a FRIENDLY hi. It’s more like a “COME HERE!” hi.

Catherine: That’s true. It’s kinda demanding, isn’t it? You think she wants the grapes?

Kyra: HI! HI! HI! HI!

Allan: Maybe.

I hand her some grapes and she immediately quits with the Hi’s. So I start noticing a pattern. Emma takes a book from her hands, Kyra immediately starts screaming HI! HI! HI! I yank her third banana from her hands, I hear HI! HI! HI!

I’m thinking, Aww. That’s kinda cute. She says Hi when she means, “I want this!” I wonder who taught her that?!

And then the strangest thing happened. I was sitting in front of the boob tube watching Lakisha kick ass all over that American Idol stage when my son took the popcorn bowl from my hands and walked over to the rocker. “HEY! HEY! HEY!” I yelled. My head MUST have been glowing a soft, white, incandescentish glow from the lightbulb that went on at that very moment.

HI HI HI.

HEY HEY HEY.

So all this time I thought Kyra was saying, “I want this! I want this!” she was actually saying, “Bitch, give me those grape right now!” or “Dammit, who do you think you are taking this squished banana from my hands and throwing it away, huh?!”

Like winter. And grape addictions. Review jitters. And bad haircuts…. I suppose this too shall pass.