Zoe’s friend was over last night, telling us about her dad needing to go to the doctor’s for some testing.

Me: “What kind of testing?”

Zoe’s friend: “Diabetic testing.”

Zoe (eyes as wide as dinner plates) : “They’re testing him to see if he’s EVIL?”

Me and Zoe’s friend: *???*

Zoe: You know, an evil, diabetical plan??

Me: That’s diabolical, sweetie.

Zoe: Oh.

Zoe’s friend: Diabetic is when all you drink is Diet Coke.

Zoe: Oh.

Zoe’s friend: I can’t believe you thought my dad was evil…

“Hi, Mom, this is Zoe. Ummm, there is a color of paper here? And, ummmmm, when I look at it… my eyes? Ummm, I just get a really, really, really, really bad headache? And I accidentally looked at the paper? And now, ummm, I just have a really, really, really, really bad headache, and so I was wondering if you could come and pick me up… Ok, bye bye.”

**beep**

“Hi, Mom, this is Zoe again? Umm, I still have a really, really, really bad headache from looking at the paper, and so I was wondering if you could come and pick me up right away. Ok. Bye bye.”

(I’m wondering what color makes my child’s brain hurt so badly. I hope it’s not pink, or her life will be over. Also — for the love of her brain — I hope she can stop accidentally looking at it.)

I’ve taken my sleeping pill for the night, which means that any time now I could start doing/saying some really weird stuff. I have no intention of being your laugh-slave for the evening, so I’ll make this quick.

Chapters? Are being written, guys. Thousands of words… tippity-typed out. w00t! Are they all genius? No, but that’s beside the point. The first draft is just the bones, right? The understructure for beauty. The rewrite is when you go back and weave in all the pretty stuff. At least, that’s my plan.

And also? I’ve written a lovely, moody little tune on my flute. It’s slow and flowing and composed in some melancholy minor key… and it goes along with a scene in my story. (Not to give away too much, but the scene involves a lovely young princess who is stolen away into the woods by the nymphs… the male nymph seducing her with a lovely tune on his wood flute.) The tune was there in my head so I took a little time and figured it out, and then enlisted the help of my flute instructor to get it written down properly. Now if only I also played the piano, classical guitar, and perhaps the harp so I could properly compose the whole thing… *sigh* oh well.

And now I’m off… there are weird phone conversations to be had, and strange items to be eaten, and crazy yoga poses to be contorted into before I finally check out for the night.

Nighty-nighters all.

(Have I mentioned the yam situation in Africa…?)