1a. Mom wants it known (be it hereby known!) that the two glurps of blue paint on the stupid, stupid popcorn ceiling near the door to the library were mine and not hers. So now you know -- and will know to look for them, if you are ever in my library. Or even just inside the front door -- you can see them from there. (Except that we will try to fix them later.)
2. Oh, is this blue. Boy howdy, is it ever blue. You will not ever be able to mistake it for not-blue. Because it's blue. Since blue is what we want, this is a good, good thing. (It is a good blue.)
2a. Mom points out that I have liked this blue for a long, long time: it was the color they painted my toybox and rocking chair when I was barely walking. My goodness. So it is. I didn't notice, but now that she points it out, it really is. She thinks the other shade might have been slightly greener, but I think probably not. Well. Imprinting.
3. Mom is doing the edges and I am doing the rolling.
3a. Except that Mom is doing the rolling right now and I am posting to livejournal and writing a bit of the book because I am maybe the teensiest bit dizzy and she is maybe the teensiest bit a mom.
Well. Maybe more than the teensiest on that last part.