Some mornings I wake up with too much on my mind. This has been one of those mornings. Before I could even uncurl and begin to process them, some of them had fled me. This is indeed a great pity since some of them may have changed the world or a world even. If you let such things die, they really do affect someone.

I had a child that died once. My child was a MUD. Long-term readers may remember mention of it. It was through no fault of mine. I nurtured it, fed it, watched it grow. Nevertheless, it still died. Well, it died for most people. I still have documentation to prove it lived. I wonder if I could have a child like that again and if I could make it live forever. They say all things are possible.

"[My husband] said you looked really nice today. He thought you were trying to impress someone but he wasn't sure who."

That is a quote from my friend Missy yesterday. It appears that people haven't noticed the changing of the diva into a divine diva. After years of letting certain statements simmer on the fire of my brain, I have decided to internalize them. One never does something without having first thought about it, after all. The comment in question was one that my twin Stephanie made once when we were spending time together. She posited that one should always look beautiful for themselves first. I completely agree with that statement--not because I am selfish and narcissistic, but because if you aren't happy with who you are, how can you expect anyone else to be? Anyway...

Late Saturday night, I came home to discover that I had a message from my Bostonian wife, sister, daughter, best friend (she is, after all, very important to me). She was letting me know that she would be in town with our handsome little boy. I was excited. In truth, I was so excited that I woke up yesterday morning and plotted out the best course to claim her from the hospital and whisk her back to my place for chocolate chip cookies.

I also decided primping in the mirror wouldn't be a bad idea. I even used the curling iron she gave me. I know. I know. The sad thing is that all this primping took me about a half hour. Of course, I had to do this before conference, so that upon returning from the south, I could hop in the yodamobile at any moment and go claim my beautiful blond prize and handsome little gentleman. Either I did a good job with the make-up and hair or my Aravan should be my professional photographer, but that shall have to wait until I am not yawning...

"If you're feeling low and lost today
You're probably doing too much again
You spend all your hours just rushing around
Do you have a little time
Do you have a little time for me?
Slow down my love you're confusing me
If you're feeling stressed just try calling
You spend your time waiting for anyone to see
Do you have a little time
Do you have a little time for me?
If you should stop for a while
You will find me standing by
Over here at the side of your life
I'd like to hold you still, remind you of all you've missed
If you have a little time
If you have a little time that is"

"Why do you still run when you could walk with me
Life will pass you by when you move as quickly
What can you see when you're spinning around
Do you have a little time
Do you have a little time for me
If you should stop for a while
You will find me standing by
Over here at the side of your life
I like to hold you still, remind you of all you've missed
If you have a little time
If you have a little time that is"

~Dido

...to be lied to anymore.
...to be treated like a fool by people who couldn't even comprehend my shallowest thought.
...a silly online village.
..."friends" who tell me I am conceited, selfish, a liar, unhappy, whiny, worthless, etc. when I spend far too much of my time being there for them.
...to be a telephone--no matter how sleek and sexy.
...to wait anymore for the inevitable.
...to see everything around me so clearly.
...to have my cat's paw in my mouth--EVER!
...to know what I know...

Much of my days seem to be wasted on other people's inability to think. I am rather tired of it, but when one tries not to hurt the feelings of others, they tend to get stomped. It is very hard to be a decent person in the world today. On all sides, people feel they must tell you what you are doing wrong, even if it is a lesser sin than their own. Of course, we all deny our sins...

I am fire, I am flames
I burn with so many names
You try to replace me with impure heat
But only freeze in your deceit
For irreplaceable is one trait
That I have found is my fate
Though I burn, bring you pain
You come to be calmed by rain
Falling from my eyes on burning lips
But you lose, my heart slips
I love another who loves true
So no more flames warm you

It seems that my many duties include but are not limited to:

Putting barcodes on fiche.
Locating records for fiche.
Making sure records for some books are correct.
Checking names to make sure they are correct.
Deleting records that never should have been placed in our database in the first place.
Keeping people smiling.
Stalking the candy box (the sugar likes it).
Answering questions that I probably shouldn't even have the answers to.
Testing other people's work to make sure everything will go smoothly.
Fixing other people's mistakes.
Ranting about the GPO.
Decorating the spare cubicle.
Locating missing materials.
Labeling books and fiche and sometimes disks and CDs.
Stamping books and fiche.
Talking sense into random electronic equipment.
Shelving books.
Answering questions such as, "Is this the machine to put money on my card?" about the microfiche reader.
Knowing the difference between microfiche, microcards, microfilm, and microopaques.
Knowing the difference between an analytic and an imbecile.

Updating website information.
Helping to plan parties.
Baking cookies.
Answering questions I probably shouldn't have the answers to.
Caring about people.
Helping other people work through rough patches.
Distributing hugs to beautiful girls (that is a job duty every one wants).
Reminding people that they are loved.
Sending out e-mail about all the cool things that are going on.
Turning the other cheek and the other and the other....

Washing dishes.
Scooping poo.
Cooking delicious meals.
Entertaining demons.
Being a mattress and/or heater for demons.
Scrubbing toilets, sinks, floors, counters.
Answering the phone and fielding questions (yes, that I probably shouldn't know the answer to).
Giving moral support.
Sweeping the floor.
Removing science experiments from the fridge.
Vacuuming Rodney off the floor.
Sorting mail and throwing things into the trash that never quite made it there.
Putting away the dishes.
Talking laundry into and out of the dryer.

Making quilts.
Making journals.
Making bags.
Making stationary.
Making cards.
Making jewelry.
Sewing other various and sundry items as the mood hits.

Writing in my online journal.
Writing love letters.
Writing bad poetry.
Writing semi-good poetry.
Writing novels.
Writing photojournalistic pieces.
Writing goofy stories.

Sadly, I am not getting paid for the majority of these tasks. A few I get the reward of seeing smiling faces or closed fanged faces for, but most of them go unrewarded--at least, I am not rewarded for them. Odd how that works, isn't it?

Anyway, I finally acquired some pictures of some of my items for sale, but I can't load them to the site. It seems that I may have to upgrade some of the angry software on my poor ancient girlfriend. *sad face* We all know I hate to do that, but we also know I could use as many pennies as I can scrape together. I do have two dependents (unless we are going to count my personalities), after all. Back to perusing the "to do" list.

The concept of living like you are dying is much simpler if you are actually dying, one would imagine. You wouldn't have to worry about making any long term plans. Basically, you could forget about anything that couldn't be finished in the next life. Thus, what you believe awaits on the other side of death's door would greatly influence what you did?

So why am I so happy today? I don't know. I know that isn't the answer people want, but I am not a dictionary and frequently fail to define my happiness. I guess it is just contentment with where things are going. I think it happened sometime yesterday between cleaning my house and ambling away from the most relaxing bath I have ever taken in my life (well, my adult life. Life gets more complicated when all your friends aren't made of plastic).

In case you are searching for happiness, I will offer some tidbits from my day thus far to give you an idea of what may have made me happy. People will assume what they will, after all.

I got up and read some articles in my church magazine. I prayed and pondered a bit. I fed and gave attention to the cats. I even made the rounds and started setting clocks forward an hour. Then I got ready for church. I wore my black velvet dress with the red roses, so maybe that was it, and my shiny knee-high black boots.This is perfect apparel for warming up ones car, especially when the doors are iced shut and one is trying not to slip in the snow as they slam their hip into the door with massive amounts of force to dislodge the ice. I had to do this to both sides of the car. It was even more awesome the second time.

I sang hymns. I shared my testimony. Maybe I should elaborate and recap the highlights of my testimony:

Some days, I feel like receiving blessings is kind of like that game show where they put you in a plastic box filled with money and turn on a fan. Bills are flying everywhere and you are trying to grab at them. It would just be easier if they would turn off the fans and let you scoop bills up from the floor, but it isn't that easy though it is worth it.

I also pointed out that it is important to be prepared to share your testimony wherever you are. Even the smallest nugget of truth can be enlightening. Like an experience I had where someone seemed amazed I had a Bible on me. "You carry around books that aren't even part of your religion?" I had to explain that I do indeed believe in the importance of the Bible. I also believe that studying the Book of Mormon and teachings of latter day prophets like Joseph Smith, Lorenzo Snow, James E. Faust, Gordon B. Hinkley, and Thomas S. Monson is also important.

Then I quoted (rather poorly) the one poem that I know mostly by heart. I'll try again. It is Faults by Sara Teasdale:

They came to tell your faults to me
They named them over one by one
I laughed aloud when they were done,
I knew them all so well before, --
Oh, they were blind, too blind to see
Your faults had only made me love you more

That is how I think Heavenly Father and Our Saviour see us and how we should see each other. We aren't perfect. We need each other. We are where we need to be. We may not know what impact we have on the world around us, but we are here for a reason.

I also touched on the fact that when we are striving to do what is right, we will be blessed. If we stop and we listen to the still small voice. It will not lead us astray. This realization struck me after much pondering on changes in myself that others have noticed. I can't say that I have consciously sought after some of these changes. They just seem to be happening as a result of listening to little promptings. It is truly amazing what we can do when we open ourselves to the knowledge that we have a Heavenly Father who loves us and just listen to his advice.

After that, I got to play with babies. Someday Jaxon will stop running away from me and the crayons. He is at that delicate age when mommy and daddy (and Daniel) are the coolest people in the world. Isaac seems to find me amusing though. And I stole baby Asher for a little bit and he didn't cry. I was stunned and pleased. Who else needs to love me if the babies do?

On the way home, I came up with another completely inappropriate car pick-up line. I was watching a 2006 Ford Mustang drive toward me. The person driving it literally had only cleared snow off the windshield, so it was wrapped in a fluffy white coat. I instantly thought, "I'd love to clean the snow off your car." If you say it with the right intonation, you'll understand how naughty that sounds. It's kind of scary that I can go from nice to naughty in two point five seconds, isn't it????

As always, I ramble long. I just hope it makes a difference to someone besides me...

The latest tests of our tap water have got the country buzzing. We will all be drinking even more of it in order to cure what ails us. If we chug gallons and gallons each day, we can have ourselves nicely dosed with all sorts of fabulous medicines. Maybe they have one for cats who are watching the little black box make its speedy way across my screen as I type. If so, I may never be able to take a shower again because Ziggy will be in the bathtub drinking as much tap water as possible.

In other news, the internet was super iffy at work today. Normally, I wouldn't mind, but it kept me from disappearing one of the many piles of fiche on my desk. This means very little to most people in this world, but it means the world to the fiche and the amount of clutter on my desk.

My new phone is working splendidly, for all the interested parties. When it rings, it tells me who wishes to talk to me (or actually one of my co-workers because it is a wrong number). When I hang up, the sound of voices goes away. It is amazing how simple that remains.

Other things are not so simple. For instance, balancing out the activities one goes to is not simple. Some days it feels like I have seen this all before. How do I shake it up? How do I make it new? I don't know. I am going to ask Ziggy for her advice if she has recovered from watching me type. Wish me luck and enjoy your Monday. Someone has to do it, and we know it won't be me or Garfield...

The girl I used to love used to light up my door
But she doesn't live or love here anymore
Her thoughts have flown with you to another shore
And I will never again hold the girl I loved before

The girl I used to love has given her sparkle to you
She opens up her heart, reveals what I never knew
When she says she cares, you don't believe it's true
Won't you open up, love the woman I never knew?

The girl I used to love is trapped by your eyes
You weep when she isn't looking, see only the disguise
Think she is indifferent or she could despise
But the girl I used to love, loves you and sighs

The girl I used to love, I confess I love her still
But she'll never love me, for love you, she will
She lingers waiting, peering over the windowsill
I can not touch her without giving her a chill

The girl I used to love has taken you to be her flame
You burn into her core, she is no longer the same
You've captured a heart that no other could tame
Only you win, I love the woman who'll take your name

Christmas socks.

Some days, you just need to mix it up. Okay, so I just got these lovely gifts after a long wait, so I am showing my appreciation for them. They have penguins on them and go all the way up my calves. This keeps the pesky cold from getting to my lovely skin. Of course, having woven cotton clinging to my calves is different than leather or pseudo-suede, so it has been giving my legs odd sensations all day. But what is life without the oddity.

At the urging of Leda, I have taken a few moments to make the background color less atrocious. I hope your eyes are thanking me as you read through this more friendly version of the 2008 March journal.

In my excitement, I have neglected to mention more baby visits. I visited some friends yesterday and was holding their son. He didn't fuss too much, so maybe I am baby compatible. He also claimed me. I think his parents were mortified, but I am used to such odd behaviors. After all, I am a cat lady.

This evening I got to visit another friend and her son. Everyone needs more hobbits in their life after all. He entertained me by putting on her shoes and walking around the living room. Children are so adorable. All my friends should have them so I can go from house to house to house reading Knufflebunny and Knufflebunny, Too. In the meantime, we may just have to keep having story hour with the students who work in the office. Have I mentioned the job perks of working in my office? We have a sauna, random comedy routines, some crazy chick who dresses up and reads children's stories, microfiche, many donut appreciation days, and a boss who makes everyone feel like a hobbit. You know you envy us....

"I want to see your chrome, so how about we shower together?"

I have been generally displeased with the filth of my car's exterior since Sunday. As anyone who has driven after the snow knows, all sorts of fascinating residues spray up from the road onto the body of even the sexiest cars. Some people (like my neighbor who loves his Pontiac) wash their cars immediately. Others wait until the weather is glorious and we have recently awakened from a nap to go about this fine work. I fought with the garden hose. After much sweet talk, I finally got it hooked up and dragged around to where I could aim it at the filth on my car. I sprayed happily. Then I realized my roomie's car was also disgustingly coated, so it got caught in some crossfire.

After fighting the hose back where it belonged, I went back around to peek at my darling yodamobile. I discovered it still had some crud on it. I decided to bring out the big gun or rather a washcloth. I wandered around my car, scrubbing and saying all those naughty things people like me say to cars. By this time, I am sure the neighbors were totally entertained. I was not so kind to my roomie's car. I am fine with people observing my lewd behavior to a car that deserves it, but my roomie's car...well, it just doesn't scream "hot". Maybe, if it was green, but even then, I think it would fail my hotness test.

I am opposition in all things. I have said it before. I have said it far too many times. I am working on that problem as we speak. I am trying to become more stream-lined, more complete, more totally the diva that some know and love and others find so intimidating that they wet their pants in anticipation of what she'll do next.

Opposition, it seems, is drawn to contradiction. This is just another form of narcissism, for contradiction is opposed to itself. Contradiction asserts no need for a glass of water while hungrily eying the glass. Contradiction assures any who will listen that it knows what it is talking about though it has no idea now and won't remember later even if it does find a big fat clue. Opposition finds this puzzle too intriguing. Opposition needs to find new puzzles--ones that pull one into focus not slide one into the backdrop.

So I am thinking of names for my children. After the death of Horizons (which I didn't even name), my children haven't been getting names that stick. I keep finding something that works better (for a time). Then I have to find a new name. Even these lovely journal entries can have numerous possible subjects and titles before I post them.

So what is the topic for today? Today's topic is my age-old favorite. It is hard to truly know someone if you aren't trying. For instance, I am a crazy cat lady. This moniker comes with many assumptions. Among those assumptions is that I only like cats. That would have made today a rough day indeed as I was charged with looking in on a friend's puppy. Princess is now the official head of the Walk a Diva Club. I don't think I have been walked so much in years. Aside from that, the day hasn't held too many stories I should tell. Of course, I always have stories I didn't tell. Divas have to be like that or what will our fans have to uncover when we die?

Today we are looking for a leprechaun to lead us to his pot'o'gold. We are looking for buried treasure and rainbows with every step and every breath. Some of us hide our treasures so well that no one will ever see them let alone steal them. I pride myself on being one of these people. Yes, I said PRIDE. Yet I am more humble than many who would deign to lecture me, and more aware than many who have felt compelled to tell me what they read in a book. This diva has lived more and died more in the years she has lived than most will live and die in all eternity. Then again, I find no shame in admitting to having my own special Mrs. Hyde who comes out and greets the day when Dr. Jekyll can no longer handle standing before you with a smile while you insult her or while you slowly freeze her to death.

So I declare my disapproval of the ongoing low temperatures by putting on a springy green outfit and stepping into the world. This way I avoid the pinches and tell Old Man Winter that it is time for him to tuck himself back into bed. The diva has spoken. Is anyone really listening?

One of the key qualities of a good diva is knowing what she wants. For instance, I know that I want Thin Mints. If you give me Thin Mints, I will be eternally grateful, so I am eternally grateful to the workstudy who gave me my own whole box of Thin Mints to appreciate. I needed a pick-me-up for my Monday, so my day was greatly improved.

I also know what I do and do not want in the ways of love, knowledge, finances, hot hot hot hot cars, and respect. Have I yelled at you for your advice? That is because you gave it based on what you think I deserve, usually it seems to amount to a cracker and a piece of string, not based on what I want (or worse, based on what you read in a book).

Other random things that happened to stimulate my synapses today: I found someone rather obviously staring at my legs while we were talking. He knew I knew he was looking and stared anyway. He hasn't changed in all the years I have known him. How lovely for him, right? In light of recent events, it just makes me laugh. I understand, you can just ponder staring at my legs to see what the fuss is about. Ladies at the library do, but that is enough of my conceit.

I also spent most of the day with an onerous stress headache. I need to relax. Yes, President Kimball, I know it all lies in that word that starts with f: forgiveness. This didn't help me accomplish much. I do think it kept me from being totally unamused by ten minutes of bad St. Patrick's day riddles. Having wished a happy birthday to some of my favorite leprechauns, I think I shall go find my rainbow to slide down.

I don't know who hurt you, but I know it was not me
Won't you open up your eyes, take a closer look and see
I would never harm you if it is in my power
I would race across the world, awake at any hour
Just to answer your call, take your hands in mine
Give you that assurance, softly speak to remind
That no one has a right to hurt you, that you indeed
Have a friend who wishes to stem that slow bleed
That keeps you lashing out, pushing away anyone
Who reminds you of who hurt you, I have only begun
To understand what goes on beneath your troubled eyes
But I know I don't deserve to be someone you despise
So forget the one who hurt you, take a chance to know,
To hope, to heal, let the beauty of this friend show
Don't leave me lingering here, wishing I did not ache
From wanting the world to be right, for your sake

Sometime between the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges, another group of fabulous men graced the screen. The Ritz brothers recently came to my attention in some movies from the 30s. I love them. They dance, they sing, they wear funny costumes, and, best of all, they sing about long underwear. That's right. I am also a fan of long underwear.

These are the sorts of things I learn about in those hours between sleep and sleep. I only have some much time to appreciate the world, so I might as well appreciate parts of it that amuse me and make me smile. I can even appreciate the motto of the Boy Scouts to always be prepared. It comes in handy when the lights go off while you are avidly brushing your teeth in the morning. Ironically, I had multiple candles and a lighter ready to go. If my hair looked a little imperfect today, I shall blame it on the lack of real light, but our ancestors managed to look smashing for years with only a candle to guide them.

So the word I got in my inbox this morning is "karuna". It is a sanskrit word meaning "loving compassion". As I ponder the fact that today is Good Friday, I wonder if they picked this word on purpose. After all, what shows more compassion than laying down your own life for another--let alone the whole world?

Lest I become too spiritual and philosophical for the average reader, I shall move on to less interesting subjects. I am digging in my heels and preparing for the joy that is Spring Break. For the average college student, this means being whisked away to sunnier climates where many will lose their minds, their clothes, and all memories of what happened to them over the seven days of freedom they are granted at the end of the semester. For the average me, this means that I will find my new calling as an animal sitter.

My mother once referred to me as the Pied Piper of Thornshire. This was prompted by me walking across the railroad tracks with a variety of creatures forming my train. I have boasted an entourage that included many cats, a wolf, dogs, and even a groundhog. (The groundhog was just plotting revenge.) This week, I shall add another puppy to my extensive fan club. I am pretty sure the two cats are already dues-paying members. When I pulled in to claim the key, one of them came running toward me. Granted we have met once, but usually that doesn't merit such affection from cats. She begged for love. She received love. Cats are supposed to be the strong independent type, but when it comes to me, they just want to be touched. I am sure this will result in some journal-worthy stories.

I also got to have lunch with a beautiful and intelligent friend of mine. As we were chatting over my high-carb and her low-carb meals, I told some of my best stories. These are the stories that never make it here because even though I live them, they seem too unreal. She has recently become a blogger so she encouraged me to blog about them. While they would make for great reading, I don't think the men involved would like to have their souls bared as only a diva can bare them. I notice far more than I am given credit for and far more than I should (according to the standards of normal and socially acceptable individuals). Then again, despite the rumors, I get the feeling I do a good job of behaving in society. I haven't won any social diseases or been exiled to an island. I do still have time for that though. Exile me?

Be wary of puppies when wearing scarves and cats following you home when you are a cat lady. Need I offer more sage advice than this?

" What you dislike for yourself do not like for me." ~Spanish Proverb

"The essence of immortality is the tendency to make an exception of myself." ~Jane Addams

The only way to avoid hurting other people is to have no contact with them. If they learn to love you, even a little bit, they will hurt for you. If they want to care for you and you don't want to be cared for, they will be hurt by this. You can't make them not care, especially if they know better than most how to love. Lest any morons confuse my meaning--the one who knows how to honestly love is me. If you lie about love, you don't know how to do it.

The people who try the hardest to put me in my place are more insecure than me. They have no idea who or what is standing in front of them. Perhaps, that is why when they don't get exactly what they expect, they must throw out more accusations. Do they want me to cry? Do they want me to retaliate? I don't know. My tongue, however, is not only harsh but true. I have been well-trained to not speak in anger. I know the power words can have even over those who claim immunity.

I know that many people's minds are turned to our Saviour on this day. It amazes me that we feel remembering Him twice a year is enough. How about the other 363 days we are given each year. How can we live every other day of the year without that same knowledge? How can it be worth it if you don't know what it is all for?

We live in a country where we get angry when we are told not to be wasteful. Compare life today to life about a hundred years ago. We pay to have a place to exercise. Then we go home and sit on the couch and watch television. We drive a quarter of a mile to check our mail. We complain about the price of gas. We want everything quick and easy--everything. If we have to work a little harder for it, it must not be worth it.

Animals and small children know best how to love. They don't need to feel forced to show appreciation for something extraordinary. They can feel the innocent love of another and they are drawn to it. They don't feel self-conscious or worry what everyone else will think. Haven't seen it? You aren't looking hard enough.

People love to tell each other how to fix their lives. This would not be such a problem when our own lives are broken. How many people have told me how to fix what I don't see to be broken when their own souls are bleeding all over me? How many people have told me how to live my life when they aren't living their own? I have been told what I should want by people who don't know what they want. I have been pushed away by people who wished they never had to watch me walk away (even if they like the view). We've all had it happen, but how many of us are aware enough to notice?

Those are only a few of my observations. I have new ones every day. This makes me a cynic, but that smile I can pull out to lift your spirits even when my own are slogging in mire--well, that's just a gift, now isn't it?

This heart bleeds with every beat
I can not live in such deceit
I can not lie, pretend not to care
Sleep each night and reach for air
When there is warmth awaiting my skin
But none can love me, only wish to sin
To forget that more exists than lips
And hands, a heart, a body that understands
That love can bring both pleasure and pain
Leave you panting, drive you slowly insane
But none has strength to break through this
And tame the strongest heart with a chaste kiss...

What can cure a lot of our social illnesses? I am a firm believer that not saying things we don't mean would help a lot. We can't trust each other. We can't even trust ourselves. (This from a poet who hates poetry. You see?) Why do people tell us we look lovely in an outfit that they think no one on earth should wear? This just encourages us to wear it again, probably when we will see them.

Another cure is one I read about when I was still in my youth (not that I was ever a child). This is the one that counsels us that if we don't have anything nice to say, we shouldn't say anything at all. It also keeps us from lying. If someone is pushing us to agree that their new poem is fantastic and we think it is crap, we can just remain silent.

Last night was spent in the pleasurable company of some friends. We had dinner. We quizzed each other as to who the artist was for random songs on the radio. We also ate which is always a plus when hobbits are involved. We even dropped into Coldstone and had sweet treats. And despite the fact that I lack grace and accidentally kicked one of my friends, I still had the same number of friends at the end of the evening. So I put forth that a friend is someone who understands your flaws and is willing to forgive you as long as you don't kick them in the shins.

Of course, with all that sugar in my system, I couldn't just go to sleep. I stayed up a little past my bedtime watching a movie featuring Patrick Swayze (King Solomon's Mines). I was about an hour into it before I realized it was four hours of fun (luckily, I could skip commercials). It wasn't the most astonishing film I have ever seen. In fact, parts of it were far too easy to see coming, but I find that people don't like surprises. The more you surprise them, the more defensive they get.

Today was spent in more pleasurable company. I didn't get to do a dramatic reading of Dr. Seuss as none of us remembered to bring one with us. In fact, I couldn't convince myself to buy myself some Who-cakes. I didn't feel my myriad of dental specialists would encourage me to devour anything that was topped off by a lollipop. All the members of the lollipop guild will be sending me hate mail. I know. I'm sorry. You just haven't had to listen to my pushy dental specialists. They make me want to go back to gnawing on teething rings and having my mommy talk to them for me as I say, "gooo gooo gah gah...KITTY..."

So today presented me with the chance to bring joy to five cats and one puppy. The puppy has far more energy than I think I ever had. I may have to develop cat lady obedience school for dogs. I just have to figure out how to make the puppy worship me like the cats do. You'd have to see them appreciating me to understand. Even Lil' Guy has finally succumbed to my charms. The other night, I picked him up and he snuggled into me and was none too thrilled when his daddy tried to claim him. *laughs to self*

*yawn* I probably shouldn't journal when I didn't get enough sleep. Oh well. Just picture me as a tiny toddler with some blond curls, chasing a kitty with a huge sticky lollipop. That's all you need to amuse you and make you forgive me...

"Did you ever hear of Carrie
Mother of six
Angel to a thousand
You may have never seen her
But her actions spoke much louder"

If I spent half as much time writing novels as I do caring about people, I would be rich by now. I spend more than my fair share worrying about people (some of whom would be happier thinking no one cares--sorry, I care). I can't seem to help it. It is part of who I am. It is just more of me being a mutant. I know I have observed before that we live in a world where caring about anything but ourselves is shocking.

A few of the worries currently on my mind? I worry about my friends who are expecting, particularly ones who have a history of rough pregnancies. I worry about the women in my life who hide things under a smile--what aren't they saying? I worry about saying the wrong thing to people and having them completely misconstrue my meaning since they don't have the nerve to ask. I worry about the people who keep lying to me--do they realize they are hurting themselves in so doing? I worry about the many animals under my watchful care. I worry about my brother's next tour of Iraq. This means I worry about my sister-in-law's impending loneliness. I worry about my other brother's lack of desire to take care of himself. I worry about dozens of people who still remain oblivious that I care even though I have told them and shown them in a million little ways.

So I bumped into a friend the other day, and, as any conversation that involves me tend to do, the conversation took a turn for the bizarre. We began discussing "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". I, of course, was thinking of the original with Gene Wilder and that fabulous mop of hair. Somehow the seven deadly sins snuck into the conversation. This lead me to ponder which of the sins each of the children exhibited. I realize that there were only five children, so I decided that lust needed to be dropped from my list to keep it all clean and wholesome. Thus we have the following analysis of which sin is most evident in each child and in Mr. Wonka--as perceived by me. (This is Bella's journal after all).I even think the last names back up my assertions.

Sloth takes the form of Mike Teevee. How does he spend his time? Very much like I spent my time to research this mini-article. He spends it in front of the television with his eyes and attention totally focused on the shiny box. For most people watching teevee is a way to accomplish very little, and a wait for three-toed sloths to spend the quite hours before going to bed in a tree.

Pride is best exhibited by Violet Beauregard. She always takes the opportunity to remind her friend, Cynthia?, that she has been chewing her gum longer. She doesn't listen when she is told not to eat the experimental gum. Why should she when she is an expert on gum after all? With a name like Beauregard, she should take pride in being looked well upon, right?

Greed has a firm hold on Veruca Salt. In ancient societies, salt was used to pay workers. A girl with such a last name is destined to want more than she needs, especially since her mother and father give her anything she wants. They even try to buy things after being repeatedly told they are not for sale. We all know what happens to bad eggs like that one though, don't we?

Gluttony eats away at Augustus Gloop. Or perhaps he is eating away at it. In every scene, he is happily putting something in his mouth. Well, he isn't in the last scene where we see him, but we all know he wants to be. His tendency to "gloop" things onto his plate keeps him from getting his ultimate desire--a lifetime supply of chocolate.

Envy has a hold on Charlie Bucket.Charlie's food bucket is frequently filled with cabbage water, so he is often envious of what people around him have. Luckily for him, he overcomes this problem thus becoming worthy of the responsibility of an immense factory full of delicious treats.

Wrathful Willy Wonka leads this circus. The very premise of the story is that he became enraged by people stealing his ideas for his competitors. Then he opens his doors and seems to deal rather harshly with his guests. In the end, however, he shows that he has a heart of soft, sweet chocolate.

So that was today's tidbits to keep from talking about the things that really have me distracted. Hmmm. I wonder what they could be? Eclipses, maybe?

It's been a long day. My patience has been worn too thin to see my silver lining right now though I know it is there. I just hope my silver lining learns to see its own worth. I tire of seeing wonderful people insulted and debased. I tire of people who deserve to hear a quote from Pretty In Pink ("She thinks you're [crap], and, deep down, you know she's right.") passing judgment tends to make my day a little blue. Maybe it will turn into a smurf. Since this entry is going nowhere fast, I think I will turn off the engine and call a tow truck...