Current hair:

Former hair:

Cut bangs: yes? Or no?

Or just cut it all off & call it good?

I was doing so well. I blogged through my father kicking the bucket. I blogged through my subsequent emotional freak-out. I blogged through two huge deadlines and all sorts of unreported school drama. And then – and then – just when I should have been able to truly devote myself to the NaBloPoMo thing for a couple of days, what did I do?

I fell asleep.

Yeah, that’s my big excuse for not posting yesterday. I had the laptop in bed like I usually do, and I was all snuggled up with the kid who just would. not. go. to. sleep, and I thought “I’ll just cuddle with him for a little bit” – and then I woke up and it was 12:05 and I’d missed a day of posting. Just like that!

Gah. My lameness, it is staggering even to me.

In other news, it looks like I may fail somewhat more spectacularly at NaNoWriMo, even though I swear I will need psychiatric intervention if I do because I NEVER MISS A DEADLINE and yet, here I am, 3/4 of the way through the month with only 16K words. Oh yeah, I can totally write 34K in the next week and a half. No problem whatsoever.

Tomorrow my big project deadlines, so, yay! In the meantime, I’m tired, and the kid isn’t helping matters by boycotting naps (yes, again). And it’s been like a week since I’ve worked on NaNoWriMo stuff, and I feel ungood about it, so let’s not mention it, okay?

‘Night.

I have weird pain in my side. Not the appendix side; the other one. Feels like stabbing and burning. Not So says it’s probably my stomach, and he’s probably right, but will that stop me from fretting? It will not.

Honestly, it’s probably stress-related. This whole working-like-a-mad-person so I won’t have time to feel any pesky grief for my stupid dead father thing is coming back to bite me in the ass. Or the side, as the case may be.

I need a day off. Like, badly. I *might* be able to take one next weekend, if I can catch up with everything else before then. And assuming I’m not dying of some obscure side-pain related ailment.

(Off to Google the likelihood of that…)

I was going to post a picture, but I’m on Not So’s laptop, which means I’m only using one browser, which means – you really want to hear this? Okay – I’m not logged in to Flickr under my Cranky Mama alias, so I can’t grab the code for the image I want. The short version is “because.”

Today I went to the office, where there is STILL NO BLOODY INTERNET, and spent the day stitching together the various and sundry body parts of a new batch of Cranky Pals. Then I came home so I could work some more! My life, you wish it was yours. Also, I wore unflattering jeans, but that’s okay since I haven’t exactly been feeling like a sex beast, what with the death in the family and the…death in the family. Yeah, weirdly, that’s not hot. I was surprised too.

The kid is currently sleeping on my chest (I’m in bed, which is the beauty of using the laptop). You will note that is is 9pm; he’s been out since 8. Miracle? Why yes, if you call the Great Nap Boycott of 2007 a miracle. At least it means I can get some work done without anyone jumping on my head. Yes, cats, that means you.

*…not really. But it made me giggle, so it stays.

I grow weary of all my angst-filled posting, so I bring you fluffy bunnies. Look, the bunnies. They are so fluffy.

We found a place to have Happy Fun Baby’s birthday party (yay!) and as soon as I have the time/energy/misc. I will figure out invitations and food and suchlike. I think I have a loose theme in mind: frogs. The kid, he is obsessed with frogs. Like so many things, he says the word backwards (‘gof’), which makes me snicker every single time, because I am 12. (Anyone who frequents my favorite message boards will recognize the ‘GOF’ acronym, and will probably snicker accordingly too.) But, yes. Frogs. I think I might doodle up a frog illustration and make it into a shirt for him, either as a stencil (easy) or a felt applique (…less easy, but still not hard). Oooh. That gives me an idea for gift bags. Score.

I just discovered that the kid carefully placed his uneaten banana segment inside my running shoe. There are things you expect to say as a parent, but an earnest dissertation involving the words “Please do not put your banana in my shoe” is not one of them. I don’t think it had much of an impact, anyway – our shoes are currently host to his Boy Doll (stuffed head-first into Not So’s slipper), a small plastic cow, and several Duplo blocks. And, uh, apparently some (dry) corn flakes, which I totally would have missed until I tried to put that shoe on. Sigh.

It’s a good thing he’s so damned cute…