Motley Monday… or Tuesday as it were

Editor's note: This post written yesterday is actually three or four posts crammed into one. Because lately Catherine's been a sleep junky who can't, or won't, make the time to clean up, if not organize, her mental ooze.

You all have been so kind to me as I continue to lag in my visitations/posting/answering emails problem. Here it comes... cue violins and real saltwater tears... I don't deserve such good virtual friends! But believe me when I say how much I appreciate you. Thanks, regulars, for reading, commenting, showing interest in my noveling endeavor, and making me feel like I'm not a TOTAL boor for the soon-to-be marketing of what some would label "edgy" fiction to those that might not be able to see the deep and meaningful forest for all the provocative trees in between. By the way, I didn't get to meet Tony Hillerman, Linda. YET. Until then, I pray to the writer gods for one measly opportunity to begrime his beautiful feet with my appreciative kisses. An aside: I'm still not DONE discussing all the potential problems with this novel, but I'll spare you the angst for another day.

Instead, I'll share all my angsting over the baby stuff in my garage -- strollers, bouncers, cribs, high chairs, bassinets and the cutest little slipper socks this side of the Rio Grande -- all the stuff I need to get rid of because it's taking up precious room that could be used for things like exercise equipment but can't now because I’ve had a hard time parting with them since... YOU JUST NEVER KNOW. I am not pregnant, by the way. Not peaky, sensitive or even tender in certain key places. Although I am in the midst of feeling EXHAUSTED. If I didn't know better I'd say sleep is my long lost BFF from way back when, and we've got SOOOO much quality time to catch up on. Doctors are running tests that, thus far, say I'm nothing but a whining hypochondriac. It's embarrassing. All I want to do is go into hibernation. And for somebody to explain to me why that is exactly… while they're unloading my dishwasher and throwing out the trash. Actually, it's making me think that maybe I'm NOT unhealthy... but also NOT one of those lucky people who don't need regular exercise like I thought I might be. Maybe I really do need to jump up and down occasionally. Pull my arms and legs into some sort of downward facing dog. Or maybe I'm really 35. And this is just the less-energetic, not-25-anymore ME. So. If you have a spare treadmill, one of those immobile bikes, those in-line skates (or a laptop you’re all done with??) and would like to make a trade for a boatload of baby whatnots, I'm TOTALLY in. ‘Cuz god knows I need STUFF to be physically active. AND, really, I am not pregnant, in case I didn’t make that perfectly clear the first time.

In other baby news, my eldest turned ten today. TEN. My lanky little girl is officially in the double digits and asking me if she can borrow my deodorant and shave her legs. In celebration of the day she was forcefully removed from my labor-induced body, Antonia wanted to see the new Harry Potter flick which... for anyone who hasn't seen the movie and has every intention of doing so, I won't ruin anything. Just remember to take some Kleenex. And a fly swatter to remind the person sitting behind you that repeatedly kicking your seat is too a crime worthy of corporal punishment, and, YES, you ARE related to Dolores Umbridge, thankyouverymuch.

Harry Potter...I know you’re not quite done hearing about him, right?? OHHH, but he's in the very air we breathe. *inhales deeply* Of course Toni requested the latest and last of these books for her birthday. I'm not usually into big finale hooplas, but it is Harry Potter after all. And we here at house Dix are big into all things Mr. Potter. So the night of the latest book’s release we did the local Hogwarts Express thing.



The making wands thing.



The getting our fortunes from Professor Trelawney thing.



The Sorting Hat thing.



The well-endowed Fat Lady's Password thing.



The best-dressed Muggles thing.



And, of course, the Birthday Thing.



"For future reference, I LOVE cake," Jonah says to me afterwards. Everything is for future reference lately. And SOMETIMES he hits the mark. More often than not, though... he's kind of throwing it in for a bit of prestige and believability. "Foh few-chuh wef-wence, you look willy pwitty today, Mom." Then again, maybe he knows EXACTLY when to use it.

So much more to say but I’m surpassing the ethical limit of subjects to tackle in one post. Therefore, I'll be back just as soon as I get caught up on all my blog-reading.