Night owl

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Note to self: iced coffee is yummy, but it has just as much caffiene as hot coffee, and even more if it’s a large glass. Don’t drink it with dinner.

Willow fell asleep last night at 7:30. That was great, until the kids who could not fall asleep woke her up right before they finally crashed at 10:30. So, I started the newest book (borrowed from my sister) on the stack, the devil wears prada, while she played with her school bus and its little people and watched Kipper and Spot and Teletubbies. Now I love to stay up all night reading a well-written fluffy novel as much as the next girl, so given that I had some chocolate in the fridge and had already had too much coffee earlier, I wasn’t upset. I even got to do something to commemerate the blue moon that fell on Saturday. I had hoped that we could all celebrate by doing something that we love to do but hardly ever get to do. Of course, like always, things were too hectic to plan anything. Okay then, every once in a blue moon I stay up all night reading and eating candy bars. I made it through twelve chapters before Willow fell asleep. She was so cute. She came over to the end table next to the couch where I was sitting and pointed. I handed her the sippy cup of soy milk there and she shook her head no. Kept pointing. I handed her the book. No. I point to one of the two empty candy wrappers; she flaps her arms, laughs and says yeah yeah yeah!! I went to the kitchen and got her some chocolate and she was so cute while she ate it. So very happy and funny. She kept muttering yum, and yeah to herself. And I thought to grab the camera.

The book is funny. It’s about a young girl who is an assistant to the most demanding and unreasonable woman ever. I marvel at the parallels between her life and mine. No, really. I don’t wear designer labels, but we both are on call 24/7, never get to sleep or socialize, and often alienate our loved ones with our weird devotion to our callings. Our bosses give us precious little information and expect us to not only read their minds, but anticipate their desires. Things must be JUST SO, or they are not worthy of accepting. Oh yes, I know how it feels. But, while her life is certainly more glamorous, mine has buckets more love. And I don’t have to worry about spilling food on my clothes, usually. But, uh, maybe I should.

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