Seriously, I have started and stopped and started and stopped this post at least half a dozen times tonight.

First, I was going to talk about how I’ve decided I really need to be in a music video (not in a video-vixen) type of way, but, like, learning really serious dance moves, going to a destination other than Norfolk, and having wardrobe and make-up styling that makes everything else look like the cosmetics boat at Walgreens).  I think it’s the dancing that is really making me want to do this.  I peeped out a few minutes of DWTS while I was folding some laundry the other day and Nicole Sche-here-hahe- Pussy Cat Doll chick was killing it.  And I thought, “Pfft! I could do that!”  — yeah, I said that about a nurse taking my blood pressure and look where that got me.

Anywhoodle, thinking about dancing made me start thinking about Mo and Co and the myriad of  the summer plans we have finally hammered out.  In the coming weeks, the girls will be doing the following, which includes, but is not limited to Vacation Bible School, FPC camp, soccer camp, gymnastics camp, a week with the grands, a week at Martha’s Vineyard, and an art camp (relax, relax, each “camp” is really just 5 half days. I haven’t shipped them off to Swiss boarding school — yet).   I realized I needed to finish registering the girls for the aforementioned camps and finding all the requisite uniforms/gear/assorted paraphernalia that goes along with it.  I stopped typing to get on the ‘net to complete the various registrations and shop for shin guards, Sambas (how cute are they going to look!), leotards and so forth.

All this cyber shopping and deposit confirming made me kind of stressed in an end-of-the-day-and-I-still-have-a-billion-things-to-do kind of way, so instead of digging the buy-one-get-one Coldstone coupon out of my wallet and throwing the girls in the car, I opted for a glass of wine.     The girls were already upstairs in their beds, and I had no where to be. What’s a glass of wine or three between me, myself, and I?

Foolishly, I had opened a Pinot Grigio instead of a Riesling and let me tell you my friends, that makes a difference.  The sweeter the wine, the less likely I am to need a snack to go with it.  The Pino activated my sweet receptors, which forced me (really) to head to the pantry. Searching, searching, searching. . .I’m nothing if not well stocked.  I dumped some Trader Joe’s granola-esque trail mix into a dish, pulled up a cushion on the sofa with my wine glass and kicked on the TV.

Netflix has recently gifted me with another set of episodes from my newest addiction, “Lie to Me.”  I want to say I’m loving it, but it’s more like an intense crush.  The premise, a guy who can read micro-expressions in people’s faces in order to determine whether or not they are lying, is pretty unique.  The lead, Tim Roth, is stellar, but the rest of the cast is kind of meh.  Maybe because I’ve been watching one episode right after another, it’s gotten tedious.  I think I need that week in between that comes with watching regular network TV in order to fully appreciate it.

Once I had maxed out that disc, I put in the next P90X work-out disc for the morning and started moving the furniture around so I wouldn’t have to do it at 4:45am.  Yes, I am still grinding it out with Tony in the mornings.  I think I’m hitting a wall.  It’s week 8 and my motivation is going down, down, down, down. I’m at the point where I’m waking up before the alarm, but it’s still a struggle to get upright and down the stairs.  I will admit, I always feel better after I did it, but before and during, P90X can suck it.

So, I started my night-time routine of prepping for the morning, which included throwing in some laundry, taking out some laundry, making lunches, setting out breakfast stuff, setting out gym bags and tennis bags and school bags, putting out the recycling and charging my phone.  I remembered that I was going to upload some songs from iTunes, so I fished out my USB cable to plug into my computer.  When I cleared the screen saver, I saw where I had begun to finish — or was it start —  this post.

Whatever.

Any time I can get some words on a page in a fairly cohesive grouping, I’ll take it.