This time tomorrow I will be sitting with my wonderful, beautiful, fantastic friend Vicki, and I’m so excited I can’t even type properly! I’ve been looking forward to meeting her for simply ages and this will be too cool to even imagine ahead of time. Whenever I try to think about it too seriously, my mind flips upside down and goes all junior high on me, and I’m pretty sure I’m hearing giggles and squealing and I fear the sounds are coming from me. . . .

The beauteous Grace was supposed to be one of us, but she is not able to attend BlogHer after all, due to a death in her family. Grace, my darling, we will all miss you terribly. (I hope she can feel all these hugs I’ve been sending her direction for the past week.) Bless you, dear friend.

I really should be packing, but I can’t until the laundry is done. I’m going to bake some bread for my lovely hostess, but I can’t till the house cools down a bit more, for the night.

I did change the kitty litter, so when the Mittenless Kittens step into the pan to poop, all three at once, there will be clean litter to paw over the side and all over the floor.

I really need to buy better quality litter pan liners. When I picked up this latest bouquet of turds, the bag split and my feet were pretty much buried in. . . them. Honestly, these three kittens are like three little Skittles machines: take two steps, release a rainbow; take two steps, release another rainbow. . . . etc. I go sifting in the litter box at least twice a day (and you thought I hated ALL sports!) but even so, it fills up faster than I can sift. Anyway, I washed my feet, so don’t go picturing anything TOO gross. . . .

I am a fair driver, discounting the fact that I can’t see squat, but because I tend to be very “stick to the speed limit,” Belle is doing the driving.

That reminds me, I need to burn some cd’s so we can sing along, really loudly, all the way up to the Windy City.

Hey, BlogHers, that really large dowdy woman who is helping with registration? That’s me.

Question: How does one pick up a pile of damp kitty litter and about eight pounds of turds, assorted colors and sizes, that’ve spilled all over the floor? (Item: you have a broom but the dustpan has apparently run away.) (We’re talking AFTER you’ve removed your feet from the worst of it and brushed the few dry particles off. . .)

Answer: You’re probably better off not knowing how I did it, but I’d be interested in knowing how YOU would have done it. Come on over and show me.