Thirty in thirty? Sure. No big whoop. Because really, on Wednesdays, I just post a picture. That takes me down to 25 posts. Because this here post is post number one. This Monday, I'll remind you to vote on Tuesday. On Tuesday, I'll remind you to vote again. On Wednesday, I'll either a) throw a party, complete with funfetti cupcakes, or b) piss and moan. That takes me down to twenty-two posts.
Tomorrow I will answer the first set of questions for the Intriguingly Titled Open Book Schmopen Book. I have a handful of pressing items that must be answered. (21 posts left)
You can be sure that someone in my life, or some other random person, will be exceedingly stupid or annoying, and cause me to climb the stairs to my soapbox at least once a week. Because it seems that is how things are going lately. (17 posts left)
Somewhere between the middle of the month and the end of the month, we will be having THE ULTRASOUND, and if Sweets is a forthcoming little hussy, we will quite possibly know Sweets' gender. Or is it Sweets's? I can never remember. (16 posts left)
Family Thanksgiving will be good for at least a post. (15 posts left)
Cutie Pie Dimple Head turns two, and that kid is blog fodder if there ever *was* blog fodder to be had. And I haven't told you about trick-or-treating, so that's at least two about that kid. (13 posts left)
Miss O has a loose tooth, and I have Teeth Issues, so that whole scenario is probably good for at least two. (11 posts)
Operation Christmas Child. Supercool way to teach the shorties about giving. (10 posts)
I'll be in Miss O's classroom doing centers two or three times, and with the way that went last time? You should plan on one. (9 posts)
All those exciting non-events, and only nine posts left to think about for the whole rest of the month. Without breaking it down like this, I was thinking this whole NaBloPoMo was a little crazidiculous. But really? Not so much.
If you want to know who's ACTUALLY crazy? Check out my girl ChurchPunkMom. She's.Just.Nuts. But in a good way. Delightfully nuts in the way The Mister calls me Delightfully Neurotic... well, that's only when I'm not pregnant. I think I am not quite as delightful when I am pregnant. Just glowier.