How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie-pop?

It's almost three in the morning. My sleep hours are frightfully messed up. I woke up Saturday morning, after having one full workday in the last one-and-a-half weeks, and thought it was a weekday. Instead of the alarm, it was Mom calling on the phone with a short list of "potential" trip-mates, for my up-coming business trip to Coos Bay. My first thought was Aunt Chris, and I (still in sleep stupor) called Chris' number to invite her, forgeting that she is at Inga's. Then I went to the car to drive to the store, and my awesome neighbor, and friend, Sonja abducted Griffen to play with her Labrador in her back yard. She has been such a great friend to me over the last year, that I couldn't help but to ask her to accompany me on the trip. Should be fun. Originally the plan was for Lex and Mom to come, but... Dad's kidney (left) had decided (as if an organ has a decision making process) to be onry. So, this wonderful procedure is to be done on the same day I'm scheduled to witness and dissect Bay Clinic. I'm still hoping Aunt Chris can entertain Lexie as Mom frets and Dad succombs to more scopes. I'm pretty sure I have one of the strongest, most intelligent, patient, positive families in the lower 48. So, I woke up at 2:00am, having napped a better part of Saturday away, and went out back for cool air (like a unmaintained engine, I run -sleep- hot), and discovered that we have an owl! Who-who-who-who...Who. Griff and I listened to the owl for about twenty minutes. I decided to come in, couldn't sleep, again, so here goes another rubber tree, I mean blog entry.

Good night, or good morning, I suppose.


I haven't asked mister owl how many licks to the center of a tootsie-pop. It just seems so enigmatic.