I'm not much of a journaler, per se. I remember starting a few diaries when I was younger, but I never managed to make it more than a handful of pages in. It's not for lack of having things to say. Obviously I don't seem to run out of words. It was more of a combination of losing interest, having too much to say, and concern for making a very permanent mistake in pen.
My very first diary was made of puffy pink plastic with balloons and confetti all over. I wrote in it with different colored pens, the kind that had all the ink in one pen...remember those? The thing had a lock and key, which helped me keep my secrets from my sisters who were too young to read anyway. Deep dark secrets such as how mad I was at being sick on my birthday.
There were other things, too. I don't remember them all. But I know I was so embarrassed at the possibility of someone reading my thoughts I ripped out the pages and hid them somewhere. Great idea, because now I know where the diary is but I have no clue where those missing pages are.
Someone somewhere is going to find out about my super duper crush on Lorenzo Feliciano in fourth grade. I'll be ruined!!
But anyway, there was a point here and I have wandered off. Again.
What I was trying to say is that for some reason I've stuck to this blogging thing like it's a triple chocolate sheet cake. (It's probably because of this nifty 'backspace' button I use oh-so-frequently.) Been at it since May-ish of 2009. And I'm realizing there's more to this sucker than just puttin' words out there to be mildly entertaining. I can look back at stuff!!
I can go back to this day, January 19th of last year and see what the heck I was doing! Because I chronicled my sister falling through the ice in a lake I can remember the whole day so clearly. And then I can laugh and laugh all over again.
Gimme a break. She fell in to her knees.
I started Corey & Stacie when we (read: I) were planning our wedding and knee deep in about a million "things to do" checklists. All of those old posts are invaluable to me now; I was clinically brain-dead and can't remember half of what went on for about six months leading up to the thing. Looking back, I noticed after picking my bridesmaids this is how I introduced them to you. If that doesn't scream "this girl needs a brownie with her vodka" I don't know what does.
Eventually I did get my brownie and vodka (read: nap) and life moved on.
How do I know? Because I read it! That's almost literally what I said! Thank goodness for this blog and it's memory capabilities. Left up to myself I would not be able to tell my children and grandchildren:
"Did you know mommy almost sent Granny Lucas a picture of condoms?"
You're right. I can't possibly know if this whole blogging fad is even going to be around when I have my babies.
(And I would never tell them that, anyway.)
But while I can blog I'm going to. For both of our enjoyment.