My goodness, y’all are all talky today! I leave for less than two hours and come home to find three pages of new entries. I get through those—and there’s another 25 new in the time it took to read them. I guess most of you are all excited about D*C. The only thing I regret about not going is missing meeting those of you who will be there.
Katie is going through all the CDs we own, playing snatches of anything she doesn’t recognize. Music here is very, um, eclectic today. But mostly alphabetical, so we went from En Vogue to Tammy Fowler to Michael Franks to Peter Gabriel and so on.
R is home sick. I think it’s just a cold, but when he got home from school yesterday he was dragging as if he had 50 lb. weights on each arm. Poor boy. He’s in bed after being plied with Gypsy Cold Care tea and vitamins and such.
I was awakened by the kittens this morning. When Shelley comes to get in the bed, it’s to snuggle. She doesn’t usually bother getting on the bed if she’s just going to do the “feed me!” yowling. To the kittens, though, a bed is simply yet another piece of the jungle gym that is life. While they will eventually fall down and get all sleepy and cuddly, it obviously wasn’t going to happen soon. And I find myself unable to sleep while I’m part of a mock battleground of running, pouncing, exploring under the covers, and sharp little claws and teeth checking out Mommy’s ears and fingers.
Mica is meeping again. That usually means he can’t find Moonstone.
