1. When I have too many things to think about, I number them. Mostly, I have the brain of a policy debater (don’t know what that is, look here … crazy, right?) and number everything in my head and polite conversation. Welcome to my brain.
2. I have a lot of things to tell you, bliggity blog-o, but I’m hesitant to be oh so open with you even in this world of constant and complete technological disclosure. Why? Le sigh. I don’t frickin’ know. One part of me thinks, “Well, I say everything else I think, might as well not stop now”. The other part says, “But, this is some powerful shit that’s different than things you previously said, even contrary in some regards, and … well, what will people think?!” Ah yes, I really just said that. Shit sticks. Tell me bloggy world, what’s a girl to do? Out herself via interwebs so she can blog without censoring, or keep mum and keep the peace? Comment as you see fit, please.
3. In the middle of that last point, our 75+ pound rough collie tried very successfully to sit in the middle of my lap. That Boy is brushing the other dog (a less than brilliant golden retriever), and Mr. Smarty Pants I Should Be Herding Small Farm Creatures knows from the first spritz of the whatever the hell it is you spray on dogs before you brush them, he didn’t want anything to do with being in the vicinity. Since he doesn’t climb stairs, and as such cannot flee that far, he apparently thinks sitting ON me, literally in the middle of my being, is a solid alternative. This is exceptionally fun when I’m trying to write for you fine people. I tried to use him as a table, but the clicking of keys distracts him and he lifts his head to see what’s up, effectively tossing the laptot (yes, tot, not top … it’s a wee little baby lappie) into the back of the couch. Grrr. I shake my fist at you, dog.
4. Someone needs to make gluten free oreos that don’t taste like cardboard or garbage, and they need to deliver them to my house post-haste lest I start gnawing off my hand.
5. I just remembered (literally, just now) that I had planned on making upcycled (the hipster name for used to be trash) home goods throughout the winter so I could spend my summer hocking them at the Farmer’s Market. Oops. I suppose there are still a couple weeks left. I should probably get on that, eh?
6. I’m so going to lose the Biggest Loser Round 2. Sure, I can lose a million pounds at the beginning, but then … nothing. Who can eat salad and vegetables and not GLUTEN for weeks on end and not lose another stinking pound? This girl, apparently. I should probably write my $50 check to Brit right now.
7. I’m tired. Not tired enough to sleep, though, maybe. I haven’t tried yet.