I am going Amish. Which means, translating, that I hope I can marshal my wits and get the house cleaned. And KEEP it that way.

However, my antibiotics are making me feel sluggish, which means, translating, indolent.

Wow, I just looked up indolent, just to see. Webster thinks indolent means having or showing a disposition to avoid exertion; slothful. That is not a very polite way to describe me. Webster should be more considerate.

Hey, that reminds me, my nephew is having a life again after snapping his collar bone in two. He said it was worth the wait. When he was a juvenile, he loved sloths. He was completely enamored with sloths and imitated them whenever possible, meaning, of course, 24/7. We all went about nuts. He made weird gruesome faces and repulsive noises and turned his hands into active claws. I hope my sister has this on video -- we will play it at his wedding.

So, of course, I just had to look up sloth, just to see. Webster felt compelled to show a picture of a sloth who is hanging upside down on a branch, it's called a two-toed sloth. I'm surprised my nephew didn't chop off a few of his toes, so he could be more authentic. Well, definition of sloth: 1. indolence; laziness: one of the seven deadly sins. 2. any slow-moving, arboreal tropical American edentate of the family Bradypodidae, having hooklike claws and usu. hanging upside down. (Anyone know how these two definitions both ended up being called sloth? Are sloths slothful? Or did sloth [this word is beginning to look and sound very strange to me] follow sloths?)

Man, I'd better start praying that a sloth doesn't fall on my head when I walk at night. The two-toed sloth is really called, Chloepus hoffmanni, length 2 ft. He looks real hairy, too. I had to turn the dictionary upside down to see the face. I'm not one of these who can watch television sideways from the couch or turn an upside down sloth right side up in my mind. The face is small and kind of looks like a little lamb. Hmmm. Now I'm gonna wanna Google sloth and learn more. Or, I could Google my nephew, he probably has a whole 27 chapters on sloths.

He also had a thing for armadillos. Don't fret, I just looked up armadillos in the dictionary. Armadillos are not like tomatoes, with an "oes" (like toes of course). Isn't that odd, tomato and armadillo? Good luck to everyone learning the English language. It's my native tongue and I still don't get it. Just remember, armadillos is NOT armadilloes like tomatoes. Really, I have no idea how anyone far or near can live without my blog.

I'm still trying to recover from reading that sloth is one of the seven deadly sins. I hope the fact that I'm on strong antibiotics takes me out of the running for that one. And say "indolence" out loud. Go ahead, do it. Isn't that a word you can picture a severe one-room school teacher from the 19th century uttering, "indolence" hissing out of her thin tight lips? With her thin hair pulled in a tight bun, I will not tolerate INDOLENCCCCE in my class room!

Okay, even I am scaring myself tonight. This is a stranger blog post than usual. But I have biscuits on the brain. My friend who gave me the Very Fattening Biscuits recipe wants to know when I'm going to try them. I said, When I get to the store to buy sour cream and when Mike and I finish off the 22 flat biscuits I made 5 days ago. 22 biscuits divided among(st?) two people go a looooong way. Even for flat biscuits. And yours truly gets to eat the most of them, right? In fact, I have two sitting in the toaster oven even as I type. The butter is soft, ready to spread, the jam will be gobbed on shortly.

The reason for this whole blog is that while I was doing my daily vacuum I was thinking, I have nothing to blog about today because I was too slothful to do any living today, I just blobbed the day away. Then I remembered how I am reading an Amish novel, one I started and never finished because, you know, I am full of indolence. But now I am into it again and the Amish ways appeal to me. How do they live like that?? Handed down generation by generation, that's how. I want to read Beverly Lewis' recent new novel about how one Amish wife and mother got fed up with all the work and walked away. Beverly Lewis was not Amish, but her relatives were and she grew up with it all around her. She really fires off these novels one after the next. I enjoy them. They always make me want to go Amish. So maybe I shouldn't read the story about the lady who became disenchanted. Amish women are my last thin thread of hope I have to ever become unslothful. A disclaimer here -- I want to be an Amish woman of moderation and not one who is worked down to two toes.

KEM, who exerts P.S. At dinner tonight I found a worm in my kale.