So I apparently like brussel sprouts.

But then, almost anything would taste good basted in avocado oil and balsamic vinegar, hanging out with carrots and taters and the odd parsnip.

There is a phenomenal article in the July 2015 issue of "The Ensign" which is directed at young adults but applies equally to this less-young one, on the virtues of arising early (check!) and going to bed early (oops!)

I tried last night. I really did. Picked up Fourthborn for what I thought was a doll meet, only to discover that I had gotten the date wrong (for the second time in ten days), and we were at PieFive one week early. So we went across the parking lot to In N Out for burgers and were reasonably content. The dolls aren't speaking to us (dolly joke). Came home and went almost directly to bed.

Fourthborn had been up since 1:00a.m., and I had slept in until 5:30. So I said my prayers and called it a night, only to wake about two hours later by the warbling call of nature. Back to bed. And awake about every hour and half after that, for one reason or another, notwithstanding that at the end of the midnight comfort call I dabbed my forehead with lavender massage oil, which usually does the trick.

When I reached for my phone this morning to wake it up, I discovered that I had not quite plugged it in. So when I did, it registered at 43%. Which is about where I feel at the moment.

The day will get better. I will figure out breakfast. Fourthborn will stop reading hilarious Tumblr memes at me, and I will be able to complete a sentence without cracking up. We will pick up our quilt blocks with Firstborn, then come back to Garland to check out the flea market, and an organic gardening store somebody told me about.

I have a short but comprehensive honey-do list in my head, but items keep flying off because I am snickering. I need to get off the computer, forage in the fridge, take it into my room (the food, not the fridge) with a notepad and pen, and close the door. Love my kid, but she is literally too fun for words.