Diary of a mad white woman

Sorry about the delayed evening report. I had written one last night and then spent the better part of what should have been my sleeping hours tossing and turning over its appropriateness. I errased part of it at 3:30 am, and then given our much wider audience, decided to delete it in its entirety when I woke up this morning. Better judegement won out (though I will take the liberty here that Cort assured me it was totally fine, and since Cort is the soul of discretion...).
I thought, hey, we're all family. We've each gone up the mountain and visited the three thrones. We've all had the pleasure of spreading creme on her cute little bum. At what point do things become inappropriate? I guess when they keep you up all night wondering. You can ask me later if you really want to know.
Ok, Cort just came in and was reading over my shoulder and has declared me official physco-blogger. He's unsure about the confession of staying up all night thinking about the blog. He said that, although appropriate, now I just look weird. Oh well. I guess I'd rather look crazy than crass...and you all already knew I was a little nutty anyway. And besides, who am I kidding? I DO think about this blog all the time. It has taken over my life. I think about title ideas in the shower, pictures I want to take while I'm changing diapers, and polls I have to add while ordering my Diet Coke at McDonalds. In fact, I think I've passed "pyscho-blogger" status and have moved right on to the highest security inmate of Blogger Jail. I am the Chrome Domes slave and will do its bidding, regardless of time of night or previous responsibility. I've turned into a blogging monster!



As for mom, pretty uneventful night. We read "Jane" for most of the evening with only a few interuptions. Two potty and one blood. Her last bag was hung around 8pm, so hopefully they didn't wake her up when it was done. Given her ability to sleep like the living dead, I'm sure she was fine.

p.s. Somewhere in my hours of mania last night, I had a dream that Cort found Angus. "But I saw him dead in the road! He was completely driven in half!", I said. "Oh no", Cort replied. "That was a different 10 pound black miniature pinscher that just looked exactly like Angus". Right. (Insert crazy clown music here)