Well kids, thanks to fierce badgering, here is my second post. I'm working at the rip-roaring pace of one-post-per-year. I must say, I've held off posting b/c I still wasn't sure about this whole "blog" thing ... for a number of reasons:

First, it all just seems a bit narcissistic. I mean, who wants to read anything I have to say? Who am I to feel it necessary to put my random thoughts and opinions out there? And who in the world would want to read it? Don't get me wrong, I love blogs! There are several that I read daily ... they have great and timely information. And I have a ton of friends w/ blogs ... and I love having that window into their head, and instant updates on their lives. But what in the heck do I have to say? I suppose I could share my insightful opinion about the most recent episode of Project Runway or convey a lengthy recount of something my dog, Bridget, did that only I would find adorable … but who would want to read that? And should anyone really waste their time reading such nonsense? And if they are willing to waste such time, should I be providing the nonsense for them to use? Could I be saving people from themselves by not supplying the nonsense in the first place? Well, lucky for y’all I’m against paternalism and advocate personal responsibility, so if I produce the nonsense - you’ll have to decide if it is better than learning canasta.

Second, there is the diary aspect. I have NEVER been able to keep a diary. My cousin Carli (myverybestfriendinthewholeworld) has kept a diary since she could write (and her handwriting looks roughly the same :). Every time we spent time together I would be inspired to try again. I would always get a new diary (b/c new stationary always brings the promise of actual composition), write in the first page or two, and then lose patience. As I matured, it was about “journaling.” It is still about journaling. Basically, if you have ever met me (or can surmise from this entry thus far) … I am a bit verbose. I don’t mean to be … I don’t want to be … but, alas, I am. And after 29 years of life it is not bloody likely that I am going to change. When I tell a story, I want you to feel like you are there - and if you don’t know what I was wearing, what everyone was eating, and what music was playing in the background, how can you truly appreciate the whole experience? If you don’t know the genealogy and blood type of each person involved, you won’t “get” it. Now, imagine trying to write that all out. My hand cramps before I even get the story properly set, much less written and analyzed. I am a confessed, crappy story-teller. (My friend Heather, on the other hand, is the most amazing story-teller ever! She could spin a trip to the DMV until you wet yourself laughing.) And when I try to write down my thoughts – even worse! Again, if you know me, you know my exhausting, crazy, analytical mind. So when I try to get out all of my ideas and thoughts on paper … my hand cramps before I’ve even peeled the second layer of the onion. Maybe not an onion. Maybe an orange … I’m not that deep … and they smell better. OH, or a clementine b/c they are like an orange but with a cuter name. And easier to rhyme. But I digress … and thus you see the problem w/ me blogging.

Oh, and there is the little issue of barely having time to listen to my voicemail, much less participate in something so self-indulgent as a personal, internet newsletter. Heck, it is the last week of January and I still haven’t taken my Christmas tree down. And speaking of … I’d better scram. Work to do, prayers to say, and maybe if I get a second wind … take down that Christmas tree.