One day I tripped and, sadly, my personality leaked out and rolled down the hill

No, I didn't really fall down literally. I mean it just seems like my personality has been missing from this blog in recent weeks. That's partly because I was busy with National Novel Writing Month, of course. And now my cat is exhausting me. It's like taking care of my dying mother all over again -- medicating round-the-clock, cleaning up, running to appointments. To ease our minds, Kiddo and I have been planning our future fur family. We want a minimum of 2 kittens. Those needy little red Somali kittens that act like puppies and look like foxes? Oh, yeah. It would be uber cool to have one of those in the family.

The husband is plotting the leather sofa he wants to get when the cat croaks (which we hope will be months, if not years, from now) and is threatening me with a dog and a fence. Big meanie.

The blind kitty is letting us know she is not dead yet, for crying out loud. She is so freaking determined to get around that she's absolutely hilarious. Today, she sat in front of a black leather IKEA chair, just gazing at it for a long stretch of time. I finally figured out she thought the chair was the front door when someone opened the door and she turned toward the sound with a look of shock.

Dear Spooky is frequently missing her litter box by a mile, but at least she's trying to hit it. We've moved her litter box close to her pallet (in the front entry of our house, which is no fine way to greet a guest, but hardly anyone ever drops by so it's not a big deal) because she simply could not figure out how to navigate her way through the kitchen and around two corners to get to the usual place.

And, that bag of litter near the corner of the wall, in the usual place, was getting pretty hazardous. It kept hitting her in the nose.

Let's get bookish:

I've got several children's books that I've put off reviewing, so I'm going to make tomorrow a Children's Day. I love doing that.

And, later tonight, probably tomorrow night (I forgot to ask an important question, so check back) I'm going to post info about a giveaway that you will love so much your cheeks will burn, your mouth will water, your fists will clench. "I must have that book!" you will shout aloud and your family, pet or roommate will turn to ask if you're okay. I can hear it, now. Either that or I'm wildly imaginative, but check back. Chef Alain Braux has agreed to let me offer up two copies of his nutrition/cookbook -- the one my family is so crazy about!!! Squeee!

On Wednesday, I will post a sneak peek of One Simple Act by Debbie Macomber and review it. It's a sweet little book about generosity that I am just loving. And, then maybe I can toss in my November Reads in Review (which I've already written, by golly -- getting a leap on things) on Thursday. Friday, I'll post a sneak peek of Essie in Progress by Marjorie Preston . . . which I've not yet begun to read. Thanks for reminding me.

This is what my mailbox has looked like, lately---->

Oh, man. How sad is that? Look at that big empty, vasty nothingness. It's deliberate, of course. I've stopped requesting books. I'm turning down anyone who summons the courage to offer, even after reading the notice in my sidebar. And I hate doing that because I adore authors, love books, thrill at being a part of the process of helping them get exposure but my house was about to do something bad, like . . . I don't know, explode? Rebel? Keel over in protest? Spontaneously combust?

Of course, there are certain authors I would never, ever say "no" to, but I'm sure they're not biting their fingernails and crying out, angst-ridden because Bookfool said she has to stop accepting review books. Simon, Pat, Colleen, John, Cindi . . . people I adore will find I'm still somewhat pliable.

Plus, I fell so far behind on books sent for review that it's humongously embarrassing. I know the reviews are going to be so late they'd make the White Rabbit turn himself over to the Queen of Hearts for punishment, but I'm going to slowly review them until there are no more. On my honor, I will try to do my duty, to God and the publicists and publishers of America . . . 'cause I was a Girl Scout, you know. Not a very good one, but we don't have to saunter down that road, now, do we?

Today, Kiddo and I hauled 36 books to the library and donated them to the perpetual sale corner. Oh, yes, I did check out one book. You have to expect that of a gal who calls herself "Bookfool", don't you? It's Extras by Scott Westerfeld. I'm only halfway through Specials but I figured what the heck. Might as well read the bonus book if it's available to check out utterly free of charge.

I am still reading Life After Genius (halted after husband's dental appointment, during which I sat in the car and read 50 delicious pages) and need to pick up my giant volume of Bone graphic novels . . . which somehow managed to move itself all the way to the bottom of a gigantic stack. I began reading Can God Be Trusted? and am curious whether making a man that handsome a priest (the author) is God's form of a joke or I'm just hormonal. I set aside A Novel Idea because I want a mental break from writing, but I'll get back to it. And, over the weekend I read Logan's Run -- my tattered original, which I happened across whilst cleaning house -- during a time when I was sitting up to wait for the proper time to give Blind Kitty her eyedrops.

Head spinning? I recommend a glass of water and a fluffy pillow. I think I'll leave you alone so you can go get them. Up next will be a drawing post, followed by Children's Day and all that other jazz. Oh, and I have two drawings on the 2nd of December, so check back on the Wednesday for the winners' lists.

That is all. You may now lie down and breathe a sigh of relief. Nighty-night!

Bookfool, who is finally starting to get back to blog-hopping!!! Squeee!