A Message From the Public Broadcasting Service.

If the post there's been some clamoring for is delayed again, it's because I have so many comments to read today. Wow! I may hit the double digits!

Truly, I need to spend time answering Ann D.'s questions. It's fun. I like tests. Some of you may have been the victims of this.

I've never mentioned how much I like comments. I stopped having them sent to my Email box, because I like looking at the actual page to see what's new. I'm still confused as to what the etiquette is, so sometimes I answer personally, sometimes in the comments themselves, and sometimes on the other blogs or not at all, if no reply seems warranted - most often after some time has passed and I can come up with something thoughtful. Or quickly and briefly so that I sound like a jerk. But I read every one, and it's like getting a phone call with good news or a nice little pat on the back. Even you lurkers, and I know who some of you are, are nice to have around. I'm happy and grateful that I feel like a part of something. Thanks. I try to write for myself here, but once you know there's an audience, you can't help but perform a little.

But today, to hold over until a real post, I just want to say THANKS! IT MAKES MY DAY TO SEE Y'ALL CHECKING IN. I started this for myself, as I've said, because I can type faster than I can write and the format suits me. I didn't realize how much I crave attention, and I hope I'm not being too vainglorious - I'm just being myself if you know me.

Yes, I intend to catch up later, because I've just received the necessary gossip required to tie everything into a cohesive post, and got the ok to blog about the new job. I'm waiting for permission to put a picture from Josie's session up. Damn copyrights.

But, before I get to doing the things around the house that will give me the time to write later:

Ann D., you should also provide the disclaimer that the answers to your questionnaires may cause marital discord. When Steve reads my answers, he says they sound like they've come from a reasonable, intelligent, calm and collected person who has researched her position thoroughly, and who has responded to each situation with a mix of rational thought, warm emotive response, great flexibility and humour. He's wondering where that person is. Okay, and really he said something to the effect that they sound like they're from someone who has her s#it together. Okay, he didn't say that either - he just snorted and walked away shaking his head. I'm wondering if he'll notice I spit in his coffee this morning and used his toothbrush to clean the grunge around the taps in the bathroom. (hahaha - not really, but I am NOT going to use dryer sheets to make his clothes soft and smell nice when I do his laundry this week - take THAT naysayer!)

But just in case he's right, you should also disclaim that the answers might bear no resemblance to the actual authors - who actually may be cranky, irrational scatterbrains who haplessly thumb through only the relevant sections of books, seeing them through bleary tearstained eyes while desperately trying to find a comfortable position on the floor next to the crib and trying not to spill their bourbon and who are wondering just how bad a dose of drowsy-making Tempra given for purely non-medical reasons would be for each party involved. Dog included.

That goes for blog posts too - but, really, they actually do resemble a snarky, slightly ditzy, formerly responsible and intelligent person who used to run an entire department that generated over half a million dollars a year and handled things worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, but who now changes poopy diapers, exercises amazing stain removal capabilities and who fights the clean floor battle daily; and who is wondering how she's going to handle eighteen hours a week in a store with many breakable things and a toddler in tow and still maintain her household to the already lax standards in place - and who is writing this with a toddler who just fell asleep on her lap when she wasn't supposed to and her freshly poured coffee is cooling in the kitchen all. the. way. downstairs.

A ten o'clock nap means she'll need one later and I'll get to post, right? RIGHT?