Time for a little soul baring here.

If you were shocked by my thing for vampire/werewolf/slayer love, stop reading now. It's only going to get worse.

I LOVE Kid Rock. I think he's incredibly hot. Yes, incredibly sleazy, I know that. It's not rational at all. And I'd like to think if he were Random Guy walking down the street, I wouldn't feel this silly attraction. But boy, do I.

(Feel it's necessary to mention I don't own a single Kid Rock album. So the songs I know are mostly singles. And the raunchiest of his songs don't get played on the radio or MTV.)

I remember the first time Adam and I ever saw him -- on an outside stage at some MTV awards show or event, just rocking on the guitar. I've been impressed -- and oddly enthralled -- ever since.

Someone asked me recently why girls always go for bad boys. And I don't know the answer to that. I dated a few along the way, but certainly didn't marry one. And maybe I should be embarrassed about my Rock love. I certainly hope he thinks he's funny and tongue in cheek rather than serious about the persona. But either way, he's got me hooked.

Maybe it's just he looks like the guys I grew up around. And while I certainly wouldn't go back and hook up with any of them, I can admire this one from afar.

I went immediately home and told Adam the first time I heard "Picture" (his duet with Sheryl Crow). I had no idea who it was. It sounds like an Eagles song, so even if I weren't a fan of his other music, you've gotta love that. Usually, I get quickly burned out on local radio, overplaying songs. I'd listen to that one every time. Singer/songwriters are my thing, and that song has that '70s feel.

And continuing with the '70s trend ... his latest album (in addition to a shot of a finely muscled back and a giant tattoo) has a cover of Feel Like Makin' Love. By Bad Company. One of my favorite songs, ever.

And, OK. So the video has leather-clad flight attendants who don't stay clad for long. And when I went to find the song for myself, his website shot at me. I'm still loving it. The hard-rock choruses are a bit out of place. (Is he mad that he feels like makin' love?) But I can't think of a sexier voice to carry the ballad. Or fingers I'd rather watch strum the guitar.

So, take that, Rocksnob.

Now I'm going to watch the video again ... and wish it starred Spike, too.

Edith Wharton. Norman Rush. J.D. Salinger. Anne Lamott. Graham Greene. Harper Lee. Abraham Cahan. Vladimir Nabokov. Alice McDermott. Rohinton Mistry. Art Spielgman.

I've read a lot of "important" books in the last year.

Stephen King. J.D. Robb. Stuart Woods. Orson Scott Card. Laurell K. Hamilton. Jennifer Weiner. Jeffrey Deaver. John Sandford.

I've also read a lot of what "readers of important books" probably consider trash.

And I've loved both equally.

Well, that's not true. I love Laurell K. Hamilton and J.D. Robb most of all.

Sally loaned me her Anita Blake, "vampire hunter" series, and I plowed through nine of them in one month. I read the next one, as well as two in another series of hers, the next month. And I don't know the last time I had so much fun.

Sally warned me as I started they were supernatural porn -- sort of a mix of horror and detective books, plus heavy romance. As I read the first few, I thought, "She's clearly never read any porn." She was right, though, and the series gets pornier and pornier as it continues. I tried explaining to Adam one night how hot this scene with Anita (a necromancer in addition to the aformentioned vampire hunter), a vampire and a werewolf was, but he just didn't get it.

And it's SO much fun. Reading a series like that, one after the other, is always exciting. I had invested so much time -- even considering how quickly I went through them -- in the characters that I was wildly disapointed as it ended.

I did Sally a favor, too, and introduced her to Eve Dallas, heroine of the trashiest series that adorns my shelves. I love the "... In Death" series. They're just murder mysteries that happen to be set in the future. They're not sci-fi, but there are AutoChefs to cook your meals, droids to open your doors and interplanetary travel is available to the filthy rich (filthiest of whom is Eve's husband). They're completely fluff, and they're so very much fun.

My "What I'm Reading Now" list has two books on it. I never read two books at once. But Sally's coming this weekend, and my mother-in-law bought me the new Nora Roberts/J.D. Robb novel. (It pisses me off that the book even exists, as my trashy taste doesn't extend to Roberts, though I would and have read her in a pinch. But I'm not falling for the gimmick; I'm not suddenly going to be introduced to Roberts and love her. And I didn't buy the hardback -- all of the Robb books are paperback -- either. So there.) So I'm getting through the Robert to get to the Robb (there's a mystery in the present day romance of the Roberts' half, and I assume it will be solved by Dallas in the future), and I'll hand it off to Sally while she's here.

And we're both eagerly awaiting the new Hamilton book, due out in January.

I read a lot. And I try to read something "good" for me as often as I can. But if I'm not enjoying it, I put it down. As much as I want to be literate, I also don't want to be bored. And Eve and Anita never, ever bore me.

So, Michel is cooler than I am. I know all the grammar (well, in this case, style) rules, but he researched the answer of why the American standard became to use commas and periods inside quotation marks.

I feel cooler just knowing the history. And a little hesitant to post it here, because if I bust the answer out a party (and if you don't think I talk grammar at parties, you give me too much credit), people might know how I found it out.

But still, credit where credit is due. Go, Michel.

This is the most self-serving post ever. (And yes, you could argue that the entire idea of E-Scout is self-serving, and you'd be right.)

There was a grammar question on Pamie's blog. And though I was woefully late in reading it, I had to answer.

Punctuation rules. Pamie. An excuse to reference a stylebook I wrote. Could there be a more exciting Net moment for me?

We (heart) Sonic. We don't eat a lot of fast food -- particularly with Emma -- but when we do, it's almost always Sonic. For some reason, a grilled cheese seems healthier than a burger (or did until I saw the "top 10 things you shouldn't feed your kid" list). And Sonic is an Oklahoma success story. Adam had never even eaten there before coming to OU, and now the chain is all over Phoenix.

Plus, all three of us can usually eat for under $10. Even for fast food, you can't beat that. And now that we've got a Sonic in our local mall -- which is one of the main places we're tempted to eat fast food -- we're set.

Toys from fast-food places usually make me laugh. I'd really rather the meals just cost us 30 cents less (and not come with a soft drink that I feel impelled to consume to get our money's worth). Emma has TWO plastic "building" blocks from Fazoli's. Boy, she can build a heck of a tower with those. Taco Bell once gave her some sort of fingerprinting kit. Perfect for a 2-year-old. But even Sonic's toys seem cooler -- a giant spider that she sends crawling up walls, a race car and the coolest restaurant toy we've ever seen, the Smart Cube. It's a puzzle that can be folded a million different ways, into an "octagon" (as Em says; Steve, what's the word for something with 14 sides?) and a cube and back again. Even cooler than that, though, is what's written all over it: random facts like what glass is made of, animals' top speeds, U.S. state abbreviations, parts of a circle, online acroynms (though some of the ones I use daily are, not surprisingly, absent), a list of inventions, Earth facts and more. You get the point. The thing rocks. If Em didn't play with it in the car so much, I'd steal it as a desk toy.

All this Sonic love is just to make sure everyone knows that what I'm about to say is like complaining about my own Uncle Ricky. He's family. I love him. It's my right. (Still, LAB, I'm sorry. If I'm the niece, then you must be the daughter or wife or something.)

Sonic toys come with this funny "Accent on Activity" insert to show parents how educational the toy is. The aformentioned spider? We were supposed to try to trace it, I think. Yeah, they're usually a stretch. This month's, though, is downright silly.

The toys are Wobble Heads; not the best toy, to be sure. What made me laugh out loud in the midst of the mall, though, was the instructional activities included with it.

And I quote:

"Ages 3 to 5
In the preschool years, kids have the ability to think, to imagine, to create and to "play in their heads," which dominates their learning. This toy was designed to give your preschooler the means to use his or her imagination to play different games and create stories behind them."

OK, I'm still following you. Imagination is good.

"Activity: Mom and Dad! Take your kids and their Sonic Wobble Heads outside!

Set the Wobble Heads on a swing or a board and see if you or your kids can get them all to wobble at the same time!
See if your kids can act like the Wobble Heads.
See who can wobble the best!
See if your kids can walk and wobble at the same time."

This makes Emma use her imagination how? I'm supposed to have her try to wobble? Or compete in some sort of wobbling contest? I think she lost that ability when she became able to hold her head up ...

"Ages 5 to 8
As your children enter and develop in the school-group environment, their ability to create and foster relationships outside the home will encourage their personal growth."

All good so far. Personal growth is, um, something we look for in our fast-food choices.

"Activity: Hey, Mom and Dad, you and your kids will have a blast collecting and displaying Sonic Wobble Headsâ„¢! When you collect all four, try to find an interesting way to display them!

Set the Wobble Heads on cardboard steps or use foam for extra bounce.
Have your kids set them in front of a window so the wind can blow them around.
There's no telling where the Wobble Heads will turn up next!"


What's the point in trying to pretend these are educational toys? Was that a science lesson about the properties of cardboard vs. that of foam?

Sonic, I love you. But you don't have to be everything to my family. Our tasty, bargain fast-food fave is enough.

Inside my sweet Emma, there's a monster.

And yesterday, it grew claws.

No kidding.

A couple of months ago, during dinner, she suddenly declared that she was a monster. So I said something along the lines of, "No, monster! Don't eat Emma's peas!" And it stuck. At nearly every meal, the monster returns. And if we don't herald it with the appropriate greeting, Emma will remind us. "Tell the monster not to eat any kiwi!" So we do, and of course the monster does, and Emma/monster growls mightily.

It's handy, I have to admit. If she's eating slowly or neglecting something, all we have to do is say, "This bite of pasta is for Emma. I don't want the monster to have any of it!" and she's wolfing it down.

Last night, for whatever reason, the monster showed up at teeth-brushing time. It was actually a nice change of pace, since Em starts to sense the impending doom of bedtime around then, and insists on doing another 12 dance steps around the linoleum, hop from one foot to another on her stepstool and dawdle over which toothbrush and paste to use. But the monster was so glad to have his mighty fangs cleaned that she stood still for me.

Until the claws came out, and she pretended to scratch me over and over, with hands and feet. She'd get distressed if I acted like it hurt ("No, Mommy, I was just pretending"), but found great joy in slashing me to bits.

I blame the scary ogre from Steven Kellogg's Jack in the Beanstalk for the claws (and myself for not bothering to flip through the book for checking it out). But the monster came straight out of her head (or maybe it took the place of the baby who was in her belly for months). I can't wait to see what she thinks of next.

This post is also up at DotMoms.

Julie started it, with a DotMoms post about 25 things that frighten her. A bunch of us responded. Then she continued it with things that thrill her. I've been making my companion list in my head all morning, so here, at the risk of sounding like a personal ad or a Playboy spread, it is.

Things that make me happy
1. Emma's laugh
2. The sun on my shoulders
3. Family time
4. Unread books
5. Lists
6. Surprises
7. Making someone's day
8. Long baths
9. A call from a friend
10. NPR
11. Cool sheets
12. Home-cooked meals
13. Joss Whedon
14. Smell of ink
15. Changing seasons
16. Learning something new
17. Vanilla Coke
18. Writing
19. Fingers in my hair
20. Jackson Browne
21. Walks
22. Stolen moments
23. Baking brownies
24. Clean floors
25. Recommending a book
26. Thunderstorms
27. A favorite pen
28. Hard cider
29. EW
30. Dancing with Emma
31. Net access
32. The ocean
33. Finding the perfect gift
34. Time to myself
35. Singing along
36. Unmarred snow
37. Holding hands
38. Aaron Sorkin
39. Cover bands
40. Enchiladas
41. Worn jeans
42. Massages
43. Secrets
44. Toothpaste
45. Old friends
46. Smooth skin
47. Finding the right word
48. Hindsight
49. Harper Lee
50. Boondocks
51. The future