Hey

So hi.  I don't know when I last hit a Friday night and didn't feel like I was skidding into home on my belly, complete with all the dirt and scuffing up of one's knees which that image implies.

I know I had something to say, but I don't remember what.  Hmm.  While I think, check out this.

(Elevator music plays...)

Nope.  Still don't remember.  I'm going to bed.  I should maybe not be so excited about this, but I am.  I've come to love sleep, perhaps partly for it's relative rarity.  Martha Beck talks in one of her books about chatting with a fellow grad student who was studying sleep-deprived mothers.  Her fellow student noted that these women spoke of sleep in the same way a crack or heroin addict speaks of the next hit.  Well, duh.

On that happy and so terribly intelligent note (and just before I break into my mommy's-gone-crazy, she's-mocking-the-ads-on-the-radio-again voice), hope you're looking forward to good, solid rest, kindness, and tenderness this weekend.  And some good, solid fun, too.  Maybe you'll need to whip out your crazy radio-mocking voice.

XO.