Magnum Opus

I don't remember when I didn't write.

I have scrapbooks that I made in second grade where I documented in detail each and every item that went into that book. I have journals from nearly my entire life packed now in boxes under my bed.

They saw daylight just a few weeks ago and I was thoroughly embarrassed to read them now.  I think I'll give them to my daughter to show her how not spend her teenage years.

Gosh.

Anyway.

I have journals documenting my pregnancies. I have journals documenting my walk with God.

I hoisted my current journal, which has been relegated to a giant binder, onto the kitchen counter recently and asked my friend if I could take it to the beach with me. She shook her head "no" and I panicked, asking her what would happen if the house burned down while we were gone?

She wondered aloud if I might have a small issue with that journal, but I have no idea what she could mean by that. 

I do know that I am addicted to the written word. 

I can't remember a time when I wasn't.

I wonder if it's genetic. My girl kid has the same issue. She has numerous journals. Notebook after notebook is filled with stories, illustrated drawings, doodles and notes.  She has written stories since she could form letters. Her bedroom is a sanctuary of papers, most of which are written on. This drives me nuts, and I will sweep through and fill a trash bag frequently when I think she's not looking. There is no shortage of pages written on. She writes  something every single day. 

It has to be genetic.

When blogging came into being, I was hesitant. To think of people reading what I wrote was absolutely appalling. I had given up on the scrapbooking hobby when my main (fine, my only) goals became to feed and bathe the three kids I had that were four years old and younger, but I still wanted to document our lives for my old age in some way. Blogging looked like a great, and easy, way to do that.

Occasionally I would outwardly process something I was thinking about, but the main objective was to have fun and have a place to put things.

As the Lord started doing more and more of a work in me, I found myself really needing a place to process it all. Since my blog was there, that's where it all went. I still largely ignored the fact that people could read what I wrote. I just wrote. 

If on the (very extremely) off chance someone did comment on something I wrote, it always jarred me. I never responded well, but in my weird awkward way would attempt some sort of response and usually ended up just fleeing the scene quickly.

It was all really just for me. 

The first time someone asked me if I had considered writing a book, I literally laughed out loud.

No.

Why in the world would I write a book?

I'm a horrible speller. I don't think much about grammar or structure or anything that would make writing proper or easier to read when I pour out my heart onto a keyboard. I overuse the word "so" and use way too many adjectives and abhor long paragraphs and abuse the comma to the point of absurdity and center things strangely and pretty much make most every mistake the The Harbrace Handbook preaches against. 

(I still love that book, whether or not I abide by its rules.)

My husband asked me that question one day though: 

Why don't you write a book?

"Why would I?" I meant it. "Is there a book that hasn't been written?"

Yes. 

He only said that one word, but he meant it. 

Huh.

I still thought the idea was so completely ridiculous. 

The idea haunted me though. Not the idea of me writing a book, but the idea I had conjured up that every book has already been written. What if a musician thought every song had already been written? Or if an artist thought every painting had been painted?  Or every sculpture formed? What if my favorite authors had decided that no other books needed to be written before they wrote my current most favorite book ever?

It was an interesting thing to ponder. 

A friend and I talked about it. 

"I have nothing to say," I said to her. I didn't mean it in a a self-deprecating way, but in an honest way.

"Yes, you do," she responded. 

You have your story to tell.

Oh. That. Well. Ugh.

I'm not sure I want to write my story. And I'm not sure anyone would benefit from reading it. 

So writing stayed what it had always been for me; A processing outlet largely ignored by all but my mom and maybe two of my close friends who would faithfully read the dribble I had written and say kind things about it. I mean that's true friendship right there. I cannot image getting to the bottom of one of my posts.

The sort of posts like 10 Rules of Blogging only prove to me that I know nothing about blogging. I break nearly every rule.  

And that's okay.

It was all just for me and I was very happy about that.

Then...

That notion got a tiny bit upset.

One of my friend's father died. 

I wrote a post about it. I had been back in town for only twelve hours when I woke up from a fitful night of sleep, sat down with coffee and annoyed my entire family by stuffing earphones into my ears and clicking away until it was done. I barely edited it because I couldn't bear to read it more than once. It was too painful. I posted it and was much relieved of the burden of carrying it any longer.

She texted me and asked me what I was doing and I told her I had just gotten finished with a blog post about her dad. She asked for it, and I sent it to her. 

She quickly responded with the information that her mother loved it and was posting it on her dad's Caring Bridge site.

I nearly had an anxiety attack. 

I stuffed the earphones back into my ears, much to my family's chagrin, and started editing, all the while sweating profusely. 

I just wrote it for you. It was all just for you. I knew you'd be overwhelmed that day and I just wanted to be your memory... I told her this emphatically.

 But that's not exactly how it worked out.

I cannot tell you how many people texted and emailed and called and commented on that post. 

I was overwhelmed.

A friend sat across from me. Her eyes were bright and she leaned forward, clasping her hands between her knees. 

Amy. It was your magnum opus. You'll never be able to top it...

I shrugged.

"I didn't mean to write it. It wasn't me. It was him. It's because of who he was. That's all."

She shook her head. 

"No. Own it. It was good. Really good. It was your best ever."

"I can't top it, so why even try?"

 I wasn't sad. It was just a fact. It was an accident. I just pounded out something and it looked like God decided to use it. 

Which was fine with me.

My friend texted me from Dallas. 

"I am so tired of hearing about your blog post... Everywhere I go, people comment on it."

Um. What? Oh, sorry about that...

I went to check the blog. I clicked "stats" and good gravy. Over one thousand hits on that one post.

I felt sick.

Now I know that's not a lot. I guess it was just a lot for me. And a lot for something you think you and three other people might read.

And it gets more hits every day.

Oh well. It's done now. And besides, Brian, you deserve it. I'm glad it's about you...

There was another memorial service for Brian in Birmingham. Her uncle that I had spent the most time with in Dallas came up and put his hand on my shoulder. He said, "About your blog post..." She was standing next to me, and I grabbed her hand and held it tightly, trembling all over. He told a sweet story about his family and the post. He hugged me and walked away and my friend, after disentangling herself from me said, "I told you so..."

I still didn't know what to say or how to respond. 

The irony of it all is that I wanted the obscurity and the quietness of my little world back. I am quiet happy when largely ignored by the rest of the world. 

I don't know what the Lord had for me in the way of writing. I'd be perfectly happy sitting right where I am, listening to my music and punching my thoughts into this wonderfully clicky set of black keys. I nail them down here and walk away a bit lighter, freed of the burden of thought. 

{And it's quite embarrassing to read older posts. I wonder how far removed from this one I'll have to be until I'm embarrassed of it.}

I supposed if the Lord calls me to write a book, I would, but the thought of all that the "book world" would entail makes me want to burrow deeply into a hole and hide.

A book review? I'm not sure I could live through someone critiquing my book. It's my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears for goodness sake. How do you critique that?

I guess we will all know if something like that happens, it really was the work of the Lord.

And besides, I can barely think of this, this writing thing, as anything other than hugely comforting. Give me a deadline? Make me write? I'm not sure that would work. I'm trying to imagine thinking of writing as a discipline, and that makes me want to twirl away from the computer and sink deeply in my chair and read a book someone else already wrote.

 I'd be quite happy to let my Magnum Opus stay where it is, uncontested.  

Ah, sweet blog...

...quite honestly, I haven't missed you.

At all.

I hate to say that, really. We've done a lot of thinking together. You've been far more patient than any human could ever possibly have been. You've allowed me to type, delete, re-write, think aloud, process aloud, pour out my heart and soul, and provided a safe place for me to do so. 

And I so appreciate it. 

But here lately, I've found a new friend.

Pen and paper.

We used to be the best of friends. Then technology introduced a newfangled friend; you. But this old friend and I got reacquainted. And I sometimes wonder if the new that we abandon the old for is really all that better for us. I certainly fell back in love with the simplicity of a pad of paper and a pen. We spent many early mornings and many late nights and fleeting yet significant moments in between communing together. And they have served me so well.

It was with trepidation that I thought of you, dear blog. I wasn't sure how I felt about you. 

I thought that maybe we could be more casual acquaintances, with my passing through occasionally to post pictures of all the great things we do in our fun little world and update you with the plethora of cute things my amazingly perfect kids say.

Because sometimes this seems like a one sided, quite lopsided actually, relationship. Yes, you are patient but you are also noncommittal, perhaps even blase. Blood, sweat and tears have poured out here and sometimes all that passion feels unrequited.

So maybe the release is itself the means and also the end. 

Or not.

I glanced longingly at my yellow legal pad and my at the moment favorite pen when I felt a post welling up in my heart and mind. To say that it's a topic, and a post, that I'd so love to avoid is an enormous understatement. But it will have to come out. And it will do so here, not ensconced in the privacy and intimacy of my legal pad.

And that's okay, if that's how God so chooses to use me at this moment. He's quite unconcerned about my comfort, and this is even okay with me. I supposed there's a time for my wrinkled, well scribbled in legal pad and there's a time for this sweet blog.

I hope I remember how to blog. It's been a little while. It's most likely like riding a bike. You never forget how to...

Lighten up

I am going back through this blog and editing and organizing it to make it easier for me to find things. As I was doing this the other day, I was struck by how much this blog used to chronicle our life. I started it mainly for that purpose. Once I realized I probably was never going to have time to scrap book again, I wanted to have a place to document their childhoods. Then, some how, for some reason, this blog morphed into a place for me to unload my brain. How sad!

My challenge to myself is to start documenting again. The kids love to look at old pictures. They love to read snippets of every day life from when they were little. So I'm going to do better at doing that. 

There is certainly enough material around here for that. And my brain is too full to remember all the good stuff that happens.

I get my blog back

I guess my blog hasn't actually gone anywhere, but I feel like it has. 

I signed the boys up for soccer class and to free up our week, I scheduled the classes for Saturday mornings.

I didn't really think that through.

Like everybody else in the world, Saturday morning is the only morning I don't have to get up and GO. And when you have to leave the house at 8:20 to get to soccer on a Saturday morning, you realize how much you miss your stay-in-your-pj's-and-blog-and-drink-coffee mornings.

Especially those Saturdays after you stay up until 3 or 4 am with your girlfriends or at Secret Church. 

Those were not fun.

Besides my at home pj time, I missed blogging. My brain misses it. And I miss the lazy mornings of not having to be up and going so early. So we're sitting out the next soccer session. Not just so I can sit in my pj's on Saturday mornings, but maybe that's like 40% of the reason. That probably makes me a bad mom, but I'm totally okay with that.

And with that, I'm looking forward to my date with my blog. In the morning. Pj's on, coffee in hand. 

I can't wait.

I have no comment

I disabled the comments on my blog. Yes, I did. Since it seems to keep coming up, I thought I'd address it. Subjects of national importance, you know. :)

I guess the main reason is that this blog continues to be mainly for me. And sometimes I censor what I type, because I'm afraid of what someone might say. Not that disabling the comments is going to keep someone from saying something, but somewhere in my mind it does. I need to get out of my head what I need to without worrying about what someone might say.


I am humbly reminded, though, that people do read this darn thing, and that's fine. Good even, I guess. If God wants to use all the ramblings for His glory, that makes me thankful. I also don't want to write anything in anticipation of what someone might say. That's the opposite of the last point, I guess. I don't want to need validation. 


I guess the bottom line is that if you want to comment on this mess of stream of consciousness musings and ponderings, you know where to find me. I just needed to remove the desire to want to hear what people think of what God is telling me to do, good or bad. :)

 

Okay, Blogger...

I have long despised Blogger's composition format. It's rude, doesn't obey and makes usually mild mannered me want to throw heavy objects at near by walls. I was tinkering with the settings the other day and found a "new and improved" way to compose. I'm trying it out, as a last ditch effort to stay here and not go to Tumblr. 

So far, I'm not impressed. Again. 

I added this picture to see what they improved here, and they actually made huge improvements with adding images. Huh. 

I also think that I'm looking for reasons not to haul this blog over to Tumblr. :)

Oh, and this picture is ironic, because I've been wanting to go blonde again. This isn't the best pictures, because it wasn't actually two very distinct colors as it appears, but you get the idea. Huh. Blonde...

I forgot what I was talking about. Maybe that's why I want to go blonde again. I act like a blonde, so maybe I should look like one. ;) 

If you fancy yourself as creative...

I guess I do consider myself a creative force-in some small, strange way, really. I daydream sometimes about how unlimited time and resources would reveal what my true creative passion would be. I also know that if I had unlimited time and resources, I wouldn't be here. I'd be far away, geographically, doing things other than creating. So that's an example of a true exercise in futility.

Anyway. I saw this video, and I'm linking the blog in which I saw it. I spent the first couple of minutes just getting lost in this nice lady's voice. She could have been reading the phone book and I would have been transfixed. After I shook myself out of that stupor, I was affected by what she said pretty profoundly. I hate that this all has such a humanistic element to it, but it resonated with me nonetheless.

And one of my blog posts got away today, simply because I couldn't sit down and get it out. I honestly considered sticking on some headphones and ignoring my kids for an hour while I worked on it, but my conscience got the better of me. But now it's gone, and I'm left with the remnants of it rolling around in my head, and that very nearly drives me crazy. This video will explain that much better than I can.

So enjoy.

http://stuffchristianslike.net/2010/04/the-best-creativity-video-i-have-ever-seen/

satan ate my blog

So I had the chance to go to my first Secret Church last November. It was on Spiritual Warfare. I had listened to some Secret Church online, so I basically knew what I was getting into. I don't think I was quite prepared, though.

Off we went, and it wasn't very long before my brain came to a screeching halt. Pastor David said something that didn't sit right with me, so I had to look it up. Now normally, when I pause Pastor David on my computer, I research what I need to, and then hit play and resume where I left off. Uh, yeah, not at Secret Church. Once I got back with the program, he was about 4 pages from where I left off. I looked at my friend who was with me, and we almost lost it. Several people asked me later if I liked it, and I answered like this: "Um, well....."

I did like it, but it was almost too much information for me to take in at one time. I rather think I would like to listen at my own pace. Pause, research, ponder and then resume. Heck, I get lost in a one hour sermon with my questions and needs to dive into "that" further. Can you imagine me in a 6ish hour sermon? Brutal.

Normal people don't have these troubles, I'd like to add.

Another Secret Church is coming up, and No, I haven't decided if I'm going yet. ;) I'm praying over that one. But YOU should definitely go. Here's the link:

http://www.brookhills.org/secretchurch/

So anyway, the last Secret Church was on Spiritual Warfare. Here's the link if you want to give it a whirl. Go ahead. You can pause it when you need to:

http://www.brookhills.org/media/schurch/angels-demons-and-spiritual-warfare/

It was good for me, because this is an area where I actually, definitely don't spend a lot of time thinking. Maybe that was why I was so overwhelmed. I still want to go back and do more research on what I heard. See if I can get answers to some of my questions. But it did teach me to think differently about things that are happening in my life. To recognize that way more happens than I realize it does in the spiritual realms. To pray differently.

Back to yesterday. I have been really struggling with my blog lately. Honestly I just haven't felt like sludging through what's in my brain enough to make sense of it to get it all out. But Saturday morning, God very pointedly told me to get my Leviticus post out. He reminded me that I just need to obey Him, even when it comes to a silly little blog. And He let me see this time why it is so important to obey. I was blessed by my obedience. Tremendously.

He reminded me that I had a couple of other posts to get out too. I will obey, but I'm not gonna lie. It's kind of hard to put yourself out there like this. It's not easy. I also know that my God LOVES "not easy." And I'm glad.

And so I was working on this blog yesterday, and suddenly, it went all wonky. It was unreadable. I fiddled it with it as much as I could, but it stubbornly refused to correct itself. I waited until this morning, to see if it would correct itself overnight (!) and it didn't. The first thing that flew out of my mouth this morning was, "satan ate my blog."

Now I don't know if he really did. I don't know if he really cares about my blog at all. (Someone wrote a piece last week called, "God doesn't care about your blog." That has rang in my head all week.) But I think that I'm getting to a point in my life where not much is going to go unnoticed by satan. And I'm cool with that. I know that I'm under the hedge of protection of my Savior who has already written of satan's destruction. I know that whatever comes to me, God has allowed. So I'm good with that.

But, it made me reflect on that Secret Church and what I learned there. And maybe this wasn't exactly the take away, but I need to see everything in my life through spiritual glasses. Yeah, maybe my silly little nothing of a blog just had a glitch that made it unreadable. Or maybe, just maybe, because the inexplicable way that God keeps using this thing, maybe because of my obedience to God with it or just because, satan decided to try to mess it up. At least I need to be open to that possibility.

And I need to go get out my Secret Church notes. And review all 783 pages of them. Seems like it might be a good time to do so.

The Blog Era is Over?

A sweet friend of mine offically closed her blog a couple of weeks ago. She just said, "It's over." She left it up for some good information she had on there, but basically said it was time to let it go. That made me really, really sad.

I am NOT here to guilt anyone about anything, not that I could. I'm just here to pout.

I really loved blogs. I loved seeing what people were doing, what their kids were doing, what they were thinking, where they were going, what they were seeing. I'm a bit of a voyeur that way. I love to peeping Tom into peoples' lives. I love that most of all.

I loved the thinking part most of all. I like being challenged with what I think/believe, and blogs really let me do that. There's something safe in being able to type out all that you feel, not being interrupted while you're getting it all out, and it makes for very fertile ground in which to lay out your ideas. I loved it when those posts would pop out.

Again, I'm not complaining. Just lamenting something I miss. You know, like jelly shoes, Merlin, and riding my Big Wheel down my stairs of my old house.

I hate when things fade away. Maybe that's why I am so fastidious about this blog. It grounds me, in a way. It gives me a place to nail down a few things. I'm stubborn. I just can't let it go.

So I miss you, dear blogger, and your pictures, your antidotes, your slideshows, your recipes, your thoughts on this or that. And maybe that's why I wanted to write this. Just so that you'll know you're missed.

Bane of my existence

 

These books mock me. They sit, on my bedside table, and they actually taunt me. I want to read until my eyeballs fall out. I need to be challenged. I want to learn. And I do make the most of my time, really. As I sit here blogging, I feel a twinge of guilt. I also took a look back at my blog the other day, and I rarely post anymore. I miss it, but I just have other things I want to do. There probably is a way to fit it all in, but I haven't figured that out yet.

So I thought I'd blog about my books, since I don't seem to be able to *read* them.

There she goes again...

It was innocent enough. I whipped out my camera to lengthen the life of this certain piece of cheesecake. My friend, who I love dearly, exclaimed, "There she goes again, documenting every aspect of her life..."

I was a bit stunned. I shook off the shock long enough to polish off this monstrosity in a nano second, but the statement came back to me on the way home.

And because I think too much, many times after that too.

Why do I feel the need to document everything? Or, simpler still, why do I need to blog? As I logged into my most favorite message board, there was the question again. In black and white. "Why do you blog?" Goodness people, enough already.

So I've been thinking about these questions. And other things you really don't want to hear about right now. I guess bullet points would be most helpful here.

• I blog so I won't forget things. When I need to remember things that have happened, or when things have happened, I can just look it up. Even now, I look back and say, "I've already forgotten about that!" Especially those sleep deprived months years.

• I blog because I outwardly process. Ask Allen. Or Jennifer. I need to hear it or see it before I can truly process something. I have no idea why. I'm sure it's a sign of something that's horrible deficient mentally or something like that.
  

• Honestly, I think the artistic, weird part of me likes to create. I love to make things. I just don't have the time to do the crafty things that I want to. I love to knit, sew, scrapbook-things like that. I did scrapbook one afternoon last week, but I can't do that stuff as much as I want to. I guess this is a small form of artistic expression.
  

• I like to document where I've been in my life and see from where God has brought me. See how I've grown, what I've learned. And what I was thinking. Totally selfish. Purely indulgent.
  

• I can complete something. In my life, things are rarely completed. I'm cleaning one room and the other room is falling apart. The kitchen stays clean for one hour tops. At least I can start and finish a post in one sitting. Most of the time. Some times. Okay, that point really doesn't work for this. Never mind.

• I take pictures of everything. I even bought a second camera so I could take it everywhere and take pictures of everything. I think that's the scrapbooker in me. We have to take pictures of random stuff so that we will never run out of things to scrapbook. I really am in danger of that happening. I am currently working on Jude's baby book. I may run out of stuff to scrap soon. I'm really so glad I took 1,000 pictures this summer. Whew. Disaster averted.
  

So there you go. That's why I blog. I guess. Maybe there is no reason. Maybe I'm just weird like that.

Notice the break?

Hello,

Your blog at: http://thoughtsfromanoverthinker.blogspot.com/ has been identified as a potential spam blog.

To correct this, please request a review by filling out the form at [link].

Your blog will be deleted within 20 days if it isn't reviewed, and you'll be unable to publish posts during this time. After we receive your request, we'll review your blog and unlock it within two business days. If this blog doesn't belong to you, you don't have to do anything, and any other blogs you may have won't be affected.

This is the nice email I got from the Blogger people the other night when I tried to sign on to my blog. I had this post welling up in me that I just needed to get out. I was all ready to purge it onto my blog, and I get this email.

My blog will be DELETED???? *choke* As I researched further, I found this:


Blogs engaged in this [spamming] behavior are called spam blogs, and can be recognized by their irrelevant, repetitive, or nonsensical text, along with a large number of links, usually all pointing to a single site.

*double choke*
Did the nice people at Blogger just call me "irrelevant, repetitive and NONSENSICAL"??? Okay, that's a low, low blog to my blogging ego. I mean really. There is NO need to be nasty.

I was cleared, fortunately, but now I'm afraid that if I am nonsensical again, I'll get targeted as a spamming blog again. Seriously, asking me not to be nonsensical is kinda like asking me not to breathe. And irrelevant? I doubt that I utter 10 words a day that are relevant. Let's just call it like it is.

Anyway, disaster averted. I'm not deleted. And I'm free to ramble on, in my irrelevant, repetitive and nonsensical way. I'm sure glad!!!!

It's kinda like this blog

"Pooh began to feel a little more comfortable, because when you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out in to the open and has other people looking at it..."
The House at Pooh Corner

Blog please, my dear

I don't think Allen minds too much that I blog. Our house is usually presentable, and he eats a good dinner every night. The kids are happy, we get school done. It doesn't take that much time, really. It's just a place for me to nail down my thoughts, document feelings and events and put things I want to reflect on.

Well, I was up last night with Zane, and on ABC World News tonight, which has saved my nights the last 2 years, there was a story about a lady who blogs, for a living.

It started when she made fun of her boss online. :( She got fired, and then really started blogging a lot. She got lots of hits, and suddenly became sort of an internet sensation. She allows advertising on her blog, and she makes $40,000 a month.

Yes, you read that right. $40,000 a MONTH. No, I didn't add any extra zero's there.

Can you imagine?

Her husband quit work, duh, to "help" her. He "manages the money." I think that means he's sit around and counts it all day.

Now let me first say that I don't have any desire to be that rich. None at all. But I'm just thinking of all the good I could do with all that money.

And I can imagine Allen's surprise. And other people's surprise.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I blog."

"Oh, okaaaay..."

I don't have any sorts of deluded grandeur that this little tiny spot will ever become that famous. It's not meant for that. I'm not really interested in it becoming that anyway. I don't have that talent in me. Or the desire. I just want to have some record of my life, since I seem to be forgetting things as quickly as they happen.

But I lied in bed, after getting the child back to sleep, and the number $40,000 a month kept bouncing around in my head. I could just hear Allen.

"Honey, did you blog yet today....?" :)

Happy Birthday!!!

To my blog! I'm two days late, actually, but on March 24th, 2007, I started this little thing called my blog. It has changed my life just a little. I post to it constantly, in my mind. Pretty crazy, huh? I can almost not process my thoughts unless they are in Blogger form. This thing is either making me really good at decoding thought processes, or making me really stupid. It's not up for a vote either...

It's become a place to sort through my thoughts, record our life events, and keep up with friends near and far. I wasn't too sure about starting a blog. I really was a journal girl before this. I was looking through my journals the other night, and I was a little sad about how lonely they were. It was nice to see my handwriting, my doodles and my mood reflected in how I wrote physically. Things you can't do here.

The cool thing about this, though, is that it is easier to post to. For me, anyway. And there are companies who can take your blog and make it into a book. Really nice ones, with glossy pages and a hard cover and everything. I think that would be so neat.

So happy birthday, little Overthinker spot. Here's to many more years together! (and a huge thank you to those who read it. i know it's not always easy. someone actually told me that the other day! lol. oh well. i am what i am!!!! ;P for better or worse. or until God gets His work done on me. which may be awhile. oh anyway....)

Excuse me, are you talking to me?

You might just be asking that! Thinking, "This is a lot of information. Does she think that we need to know this much about her and her life???"

Well, no. I don't!!!! Mostly, this is for me. See, I love to scrapbook. I can't really do that right now, so I'm using this blog as sort of a sketch book for when I do get there. That's one part of it. I can't tell you how far behind I am with my scrap booking, and sometimes when I do finally get to do a page, I've forgotten all the important things that surrounded an event. This will help!

I do better processing thoughts when I can see them on paper too. I've always journaled, and I have really felt like I've been cheating on my journal with my blog. All 3 of my kids have journals that chronicled their pregnancies and first years of their lives. I only hope that a spouse or a child cares to read them one day!! But anyway, that was more for me too, just to get all my thoughts down on paper. So that's another reason I'm blogging.

But I'm SO happy that you're here! I've been blown away by the number of people who have told me that they are reading this blog. So THANK YOU!!

And I hope I'm not boring you!

The first one

So I took the plunge. I said I wouldn't, and that seems to be the shortcut to me actually doing something. Saying I won't. Call it peer pressure. Self-imposed peer pressure. Or a need to self express, although you think I'd get my fill from the journaling, scrap booking and other documenting I do on our lives. I think it just looks fun, and I wanted to do it. Blame it on Jenn. It's her fault. Her blog is so amazing, and I find myself clicking it and getting aggravated when she hasn't updated it every day. So she's the inspiration.

So here I am. This may all be more than you ever wanted to know about me. This is how I'm going to go about this whole thing. It's a place for me to anchor down all these thoughts roaming around in my head. It's for me, really, because I'm such an outward processor. I'll just be here, writing away, posting pictures that make me happy, and chatting to myself. And you can eavesdrop. That way you can skip what parts you want to, and read what you want to.

Just make a deal with me. Don't get mad at me or change how you feel about me based on anything I write without talking to me about it first. Deal? Good. Now to figure out how to work this thing...