Love-a-Lot Bear You love to take care of others and people love being around you because you make them feel appreciated. You are very sweet and soft-spoken. You are also a romantic and consider yourself an excellent matchmaker, so you tend to be a bit nosy. But everyone still considers you the sweetest person they know.
Take the Which Care Bear Are You? Quiz!

:: putting fists on hips and tilting head like The Church Lady ::

WEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelll...

Isn't that special?

Hee-hee. I thought so.

I finally got around to updating my dream journal to include the hideous nightmare I had the other night. It's still so vivid. Dead Journal entries can't be linked to directly (I don't think they can, any way), so pretty much everything I've written on there will pop up. I'm so glad I left that journal open. Those dreams have been relocated between three separate journals so the original dates have been lost, but I guess the dreams themselves are more important than the dates.

I took down the style I created there, though. I like the simpler one anyway and I can still use my pretty autumn-leafy background. I thought about deleting all but the dream entries, but a lot of things happened while I wasn't in DiaryLand and I want to hold on to all of that.

I'm so completely exhausted. Zoe kept me up until after 2 am and Trent got up several times during the night, the two most notable times being when I had to jump out of bed to keep him from using my desk chair to climb up on Larry's dresser, and the time he actually made it over the gate. We let him sleep with us because it keeps the Toddling Terror from running unchecked around the house at night, or worse, from waking up his sister.

I put the chair out in the hall after the dresser incident and mistakenly left it too close to the gate. Trent scaled the gate, ran into the bathroom and grabbed Larry's toothbrush (chewed the hell out of it too), then went into the kitchen and climbed up onto the counter to get at the bowl of apples we keep there. Fortunately hadn't gotten into anything that can hurt him. The cabinets have those childproof locks on them. Most of the time those only slow him down a bit, but the ones on the kitchen cabinets seem to work like a dream.

Of course, I could wrap barbed wire marinated in jalapeno juice around everything I don't want him to get into, and he still would. He's a very resourceful boy, my Trent.

And this is the kid the state wants to convince us is disabled.

Uh huh.

Whatever.

I just started reading See a Grown Man Cry, Now Watch Him Die, by Henry Rollins. Whoa. Hank needs a hug. It's amazing to realize that a human being is capable of holding that much rage and pain within himself. I get the impression that his writing reflects it but doesn't release it, not in the way keeping my journal helps me to release. Reading his work is a lot like looking upon the scene of a tragic car accident. You relate to the victim's pain and it hurts you to see it, yet you find yourself helpless to look away. His guts are spread all over the road and I'm thoroughly absorbed.

I have to do something with this house today. No one else will, and even though I'm not quite recovered and would much rather not, the mess needs to be dealt with. There are things to put away, dishes to wash, floors to vacuum.

:: singing ::

"...our house...in the middle of our street..."

I'm off.