I always wake up in the morning with interesting bits and pieces of journal entries. I write them in my head in the shower. Then I come downstairs, write in my notebook (not necessarily what I've been thinking about in the shower), the day starts and by the time I get a chance to sit down and update my blog, all interesting bits and pieces have been buried in a flood of worn-out sludge.

So, doesn't that sound wonderful? I am going to treat you all to a bit of worn-out sludge. It's like when you go to the refrigerator and you pick up the milk and you taste it and it's bad, and then you hand it to your husband, saying, "Gah! This is awful! Here, taste it and see!"

Yeah, Saturday Night Live.

Ethan has discovered our Cuisenaire rods, but he doesn't use them to build with or play little math games or anything they ought to be used for. Instead he carries them around and makes them have conversations with each other. The red block is the baby block, and the green block is its Mommy. They must watch Veggie Tales and sing "The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything." They also trip happily along the metal bleachers at gymnastics, making very loud twanging noises that echo so very nicely in the huge, empty warehouse space that is the gym, so that everyone on earth can hear them.

On the way to gymnastics today, Garrett and Katie were talking about moving. "And maybe we could get a house with a pond, and wouldn't it be funny if we had a pond and a pet Liopluridon? We could throw him meat!"

I can't even spell Liopluridon. I am sure I've misspelled it here, but I am too lazy to go look it up. And Ethan is telling me he's stinky, so it looks as if I will be changing a diaper momentarily.

The most important random bit of sludge: we are indeed moving. The first week of April. And it is just beginning to hit me how much work we have to do before then.

So, yeah, after I change a diaper, I should take my sludgy brain off and sort through some of the junk in my room.