as i write this, Princess Messyface is on my lap, scribbling with a pen and saying "A, B, C!" she's not even two. she continues to amaze me. every time she drops something she says "sorry." she tells stories now. no one is sure what she's saying, but we know it's important.
today i layed out on the deck listening to the moulin rouge soundtrack, reading dangerous angels. it's a rather thick book. and a rather long CD. suffice it to say that i'm rather crispy. i just got tired of the unbearable whiteness of being...see, my arms are tan from taking the kidlets outside every day for water play. but with the whole dress code thing, my shoulders back and legs are the color of, well, i can't think of anything that's really this color except really pale people. alabaster, marble, etc. but now my back is a lovely shade of burned. i'm hoping it will fade to tan.
then i came inside and fell asleep for four hours. woke up headachy and weird. i don't know what it is, but i don't want to go out anywhere this weekend. i just want to stay inside and quiet and secluded. all those hermit tendencies reappearing, i guess.
time to go put the sleeping bags in the dryer, then take a little blue migraine pill. comatose sounds better than in pain.
anyone know a good cure for wanting to sleep all the time?
beatpoetgrrl
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