dear blog,
until a few months ago, i didn't know what you were. i'd never read a blog. i know! where have i been, right? well, i've been busy, not that it's any of your business. busy with lucky ducks and crayons and little people. but not with housework. oh, noooooo. not housework. but i digress.
i can't remember how or why, but i stumbled upon the pioneer woman. and i read her entire blog - from the first entry through. what a nerd. no, me; not ree. i spent every naptime for i don't know how long reading that sucker. and then i clicked on a commenter's link. then followed it to another. and another.
now, i do journal. of course i do! not as often or as in-depth as i should. my whole life, i've intended to keep a journal. and i have. usually in january. maybe a couple days in february. then again in january. but when i was pregnant with timmy? oh heck yeah. i recorded every detail of my life. then when he was born, i recorded every detail of his life. if the need to know how long he nursed the early morning of june 3, 2005 ever arises, i'm all over it.
for the past - oh, say . . . 8 months or so, i've slacked off. holding a pen or pencil really, really hurts my hand. it's the weirdest thing! maybe not all that weird, as holding my steering wheel, knitting needles, mop handle or shopping bags also cause my hands pain. but again, i digress.
i got a wild hair after seeing various 12-of-12 blogs last month and whipped one up. ok, i opened a template, but that's just efficiency. an admirable trait, really. why reinvent the wheel? i still haven't finished april's 12-of-12 layout (oh, Lord! is it really almost the 12th again? so soon?!), but this blog has allowed me to vent about my every day . . . vent-worthy . . . stuff.
let's face it; my friends don't want to hear about poopies and peepees every day. oh, who am i kidding? i don't converse with anyone over the age of 3 more than twice a month. today, for example, i chatted (oh yes i did!) with the turnpike toll-taker. i couldn't help myself - she was reading a book with paper pages (as opposed to a board book). she was very kind. she may have taken pity on my frizzy pony tail, boogie-smeared shoulder and happy meal toy-strewn jeep.
but my point, dear blog, is this: thank you. you're there for me, man. really there for me.
until a few months ago, i didn't know what you were. i'd never read a blog. i know! where have i been, right? well, i've been busy, not that it's any of your business. busy with lucky ducks and crayons and little people. but not with housework. oh, noooooo. not housework. but i digress.
i can't remember how or why, but i stumbled upon the pioneer woman. and i read her entire blog - from the first entry through. what a nerd. no, me; not ree. i spent every naptime for i don't know how long reading that sucker. and then i clicked on a commenter's link. then followed it to another. and another.
now, i do journal. of course i do! not as often or as in-depth as i should. my whole life, i've intended to keep a journal. and i have. usually in january. maybe a couple days in february. then again in january. but when i was pregnant with timmy? oh heck yeah. i recorded every detail of my life. then when he was born, i recorded every detail of his life. if the need to know how long he nursed the early morning of june 3, 2005 ever arises, i'm all over it.
for the past - oh, say . . . 8 months or so, i've slacked off. holding a pen or pencil really, really hurts my hand. it's the weirdest thing! maybe not all that weird, as holding my steering wheel, knitting needles, mop handle or shopping bags also cause my hands pain. but again, i digress.
i got a wild hair after seeing various 12-of-12 blogs last month and whipped one up. ok, i opened a template, but that's just efficiency. an admirable trait, really. why reinvent the wheel? i still haven't finished april's 12-of-12 layout (oh, Lord! is it really almost the 12th again? so soon?!), but this blog has allowed me to vent about my every day . . . vent-worthy . . . stuff.
let's face it; my friends don't want to hear about poopies and peepees every day. oh, who am i kidding? i don't converse with anyone over the age of 3 more than twice a month. today, for example, i chatted (oh yes i did!) with the turnpike toll-taker. i couldn't help myself - she was reading a book with paper pages (as opposed to a board book). she was very kind. she may have taken pity on my frizzy pony tail, boogie-smeared shoulder and happy meal toy-strewn jeep.
but my point, dear blog, is this: thank you. you're there for me, man. really there for me.
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