I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right.

Let me stress AGAIN how glad I am to have been in a coma for most of 2011 so far because this year has been b-b-bumpy for family and friends already! To any of my nearest and dearest going through a rough patch right now, I love you and know you'll come out the other side relatively unscathed, even if it doesn't seem like it at the moment. One foot in front of the other.

I have not had my hair cut in almost a year. Which I believe is the same thing I said last year at this time. I need to get the thumbs up from my doc tomorrow for a dye job (I don't want our monster coming out with three heads because I couldn't live without peek-a-boo highlights) and then I'm treating myself. This mess is even too long for an Ann-Margaret 'do and that just doesn't work in my book. I refuse to look scruffy.

Carol's birthday shin-dig is coming up at the end of the month which means the debut of Lady Leadfoot. I'm excited about that and having a bowling ally grilled cheese, equally. I just have to train the mutt in my gut to WANT to rock out. Or at least to allow ME to rock out. I refuse to sleep through a bunch of fun bands and celebrating a lady I lurve. If you're looking for me, I'll be at the counter eating one of everything (I WILL have my appetite back by then, I WILL).

Speaking of mutts-in-guts, I predict that Vincent will be born on January 19th. I don't know why but I have a feeling he'll make an early debut. I'm pretty good at predicting what kind of junk the unborn will end up with but I've never taken a stab at due dates. So...January 19th. You heard it here first.

That's all. Hard to entertain when you've become a championship napper.

Baby blather here.