coffee

I'm on cup number three, and it's only 1:30.  I have managed to put things in the washer.  Don't get me wrong, I didn't over exert myself (it's not started).  I have eaten breakfast, fed and made silly faces at the baby, and cleaned up the kitchen.  Oh and watched Ruby trash the living room in record time.  Productivity seems to be what you make it to be.  Or something.

Eisley has trashed no less than four blankets and has generously doused herself with essence of spoiled milk.  Twelve different times.  

I have allowed myself exactly fourteen pieces of pepperoni and 1/4 of a cup of shredded mozzarella cheese, so this may play a significant role in my less than chipper attitude.  I'm not starving myself; more like training my stomach to desire an acceptable amount of food.  And when your life revolves around sweets (and butter...and junk in general), you have to make cuts to keep the good things around.  I'm concocting my own cookie sandwich recipe.

 My brain cells must be dead from the constant running around they do.  I feel the need to make cards, scrapbook, organize, crochet, make up my own recipes, read, figure out the whole applique business, and make a fun shower curtain.  Instead, I sit here, worn out by my own brain and overwhelmed with options.  Watching Finding Nemo for the 857th time almost sounds more appealing.  Don't ask what I should be doing - that's not any fun.  Perhaps I should pretend there is a wolf in the washer to prevent me from doing the laundry; similar to Ruby using that figment to get out of taking a shower.  Not sure how I can follow her suit with the cheese on the pancakes excuse (who comes up with excuses not to eat pancakes, anyway?)

Tomorrow, I will scoot my blind self on down to the eye doctor where the is the first one more clear, or the second?  First one...or second one?  banter will surely make me feel like I did in calculus class where I actually understood 0% of the things discussed there.  Is it just me that can't tell the difference in half of the comparisons?  Add to that, a doctor with no time to wait for answers, so he repeats himself and flashes the pictures so quickly, I think I might need to find some xanax prior to my appointment.

 my blue-eyed girls

There are hundreds of miniature cookies on the counter, taunting me.  I wonder if it's a really terrible thing that I have tried (and consumed) so many different cookie recipes that I was able to use my favorite ratios to create my own.  I have to put the finishing touches on; I'll get back to you on that.