A strong cadidate for "Queen Procrastinator"

This blog. I promised myself I'd do a better job of documenting my thoughts, and if you can't rely on yourself, who CAN you rely on?

The cherry Tootsie Pop I just ate. It was one of those that gets a sharp edge and cuts your mouth. I had to take a break to A) figure out whether it was BLOOD I was tasting or a new recipe for the Tootsie filling and B) tell the person adjacent to me what just happened, her Tootsie Pop might be equally dangerous after all, and I wanted to compare notes.

Facebook quizzes, even the ones that are pseudo embarassing and let you know which True Blood character you're most like (Lafayette). What's that, you've never seen what Disney Princess I am? Of course not. I'm not lame enough to actually POST the results of all of them. Sheesh.

And then, there's Web sites that are vortexes of pictures that I fall into a pattern of "just one more page and then I'll get back to work." Examples include:

• Cute overload
• People of Walmart
• Awkward Family Photos

Love the Olympics

I don't know the difference between a triple axle and a triple toe loop or between a 1080 or a corkscrew-flip-doomahickey, yet I feel completely qualified to judge which athlete's performance is best.

How 'bout those figure skating costumes? From Johnny Weir's hot pink fishnet hotness to Lysacek's snakes and Kim Yu-Na's little Bond dress...I love them all (except the shiny blue leotards worn by that couple from the Ukraine) and think that all the haters are overcompensating for their secret desire to wear such frivolity.

The calves on the women bobsledders...they're massive and intimidating and remind me of the legs I (think I) had in college. Speaking of bobsledders, I can't help but giggle thinking about the person in the back who's all folded over having to smell a stinky toot every once in a while. You know it's happend, and you know you're smiling thinking about it too.

Bob Costas. Sometimes, I wonder if his hair is real or whether he's drinking a magical smoothie made of bananas, whey, and monkey brains from the Temple of Doom to stay "on" around the clock. Either way, I can't imagine the Olympics without him.

The whole thing triggers memories of an old Sega Game Gear game I used to have of the 1994 Lillehamer games. I'd always choose to be either Jamaica or France. Don't ask me why. I remember enjoying the Slalom. And for the record, I still have my Game Gear.

It gives me an opportunity to be all "U-S-A! U-S-A!" alongside people with whom I otherwise couldn't bring myself to chant such things.

Grateful for new life...

It's winter. Dead cold and icy. I hate it. It's only February and I've had a jonesin' for green grass and that hot smell that's inside your car when it's 90 degrees F outside since Winter Solstice. And in the midst of all this, new life springs forth and I have a new niece, Aaliyah.

She's tiny. Itty bitty, even. She's almost five-and-a-half pounds with the longest fingers I've ever seen on a baby. She's got her mother's eyes and her dad's toes.

News of her coming birth was unexpected, but I'm grateful for the ways she's already facilitated reconciliation and brought joy beyond belief to our family. Seriously. All that and she's only a week old.

So in the middle of the season for sleep and restoration, I've recently welcomed a niece who is a reminder of the promise that new life will bud forth (allergies and all) in only a few short weeks. Just as I wonder about what my new irises will look like come May, I also get caught daydreaming about little Aaliyah's future and hope it's full of more warmth than cold, more joy than sorrow, and more peace than strife.

And in the meantime, maybe, just maybe, by the time my irises bloom, I'll have a cure for this baby fever that's taken over my brain and be even more in love with all my nieces and nephew than I am now.

Oh yeah, and just for the record, I DID make that crazy cute pink cap with the perfect pom pon.