Words. I've got a few.

Or so I thought. It seems that the universe is opposed to me writing anything. I was about 400 words into my original version of this post when my demon-possessed laptop just shut down while I was in mid-sentence. I really should do something with this laptop. Perhaps throwing it out the window would teach it a thing or two.

Anywho, in a nutshell I was rambling on and on about my commitment to write more and how I made it before I knew that Liz Lemon would be back in January or that “Are you there, Chelsea?” would be so funny. Then I declared something about how as a blogger [a term I use loosely], there’s a fine line between relevance and annoyance. Example: no one really cares that I finally got around to replacing a light bulb that burnt out over 2 years ago or I correctly answered last night’s Final Jeopardy question. When our forefathers established the 1^st Amendment back in the day, they had no way of knowing how much we would exercise this freedom via social media in the 21^st century. I do wish that when we shared what is on our mind with Facebook nation that the FB ninjas would appear and ask “Really?” followed by “You’re sure?” before our thoughts appeared in newsfeeds. Carbon footprints are big. And permanent. I hope that this blog goes a little deeper than my sweet closet organization skills and musical picks of the moment, but at the same time there are parts of life that aren’t for the general public. I don’t really want the folks who stumbled upon my blog by searching “Why did Harvey from TMZ stop taking vitamins?” or “sexy senior citizens” to know the daily goings on of this little life of mine. Riveting as they are, I will never be able keep up with Kim, Kourtney, and Khloe.

However, for the three of you out there who keep coming back, I realize that I’ve got to put something out here occasionally in the event that your cable is out, you’re all caught up at work during office hours or are suffering from a serious bout of insomnia. So here’s the latest, more or less. There will be no rhyme or reason to the content. It’s highly likely there will be no entertainment value in it either. Well, maybe a little.

I just remembered a news story that my friend Anna shared with me earlier this week. Have you guys heard about Go Go Juice? It’s all the rage among some toddlers who wear tiaras. Specifically, Honey Boo Boo Child. Y’all. Of course these are proud Georgians. Of. Course.

Speaking of Anna and sharing, I shared with her earlier this week what the name of my book is going to be…in the event that I ever actually write a book. This is something I will work on if the United States is taken over by a communist country and television as entertainment becomes a thing of the past. But if that’s the case, then my book will never stand a chance of being published because censorship is probably pretty heavily enforced when it comes to grammatically incorrect writing about insignificant matters. At least my unwritten book has a name though. As do my unborn children.

In other news, I’ve recently reconnected with running. I found my running journal in the great clean out and noticed that the last entry was in February 2009. That’s a problem if I am serious about doing a half-marathon this year. As a gal who is on the cusp of her mid-30’s [good heavens] it’s not like I can just lace up my sneaks and hit the pavement on race day. Let me just say, this reunion has been delightful. Seriously. I am a much nicer person when I run regularly. I forget that in the breaks when I devote my free time napping, watching TV, and/or eating ice cream by the pints. I also forget how voracious my appetite is when I’m actually burning calories on a regular basis. It’s like I become a 6’2” 17 year old boy at meal time. Except I remember my table manners.

Quite frankly, my re-dedication to fitness could not have come at a better time. Last Sunday I developed a new game plan for life: Be as hot as Madonna when I’m her age. I figure I have 20 years so if I devote 7 hours per day, 6 days a week to this cause over the course of the next two decades, I’m set.

Speaking of women in their 50s, I had the good fortune of celebrating my sweet mama’s birthday with her yesterday which happened to be on her actual birthday. This is kind of a rarity given the2 hour drive between her house and my house, but I had a morning meeting in Gainesville so it worked out quite nicely. Baby brother #1 even joined in on the fun which made it extra fun. Unfortunately the youngest brother couldn’t make it given his commitment to 8^th grade and all. Despite his pleas and the fact that we are now able to leave children behind in the state of Georgia, I refused to contribute to the truant officer’s workload. While the celebration was good and fun and it made me think about how much I love and appreciate the greatness that is my mama, it was also a time that made me miss my dad. Why, you ask? I think because this is the birthday in which mama passed him age. Is it weird that I think about this kind of stuff? Maybe. I don’t write this to be a downer. I share it because I continue to learn things about losing loved ones. Just as all events and people in our life shape us for years to come, we are shaped differently due to the absence of significant people in our life. This isn’t new or profound. I was just reminded of it. Reminders are good.

Speaking of reminders, typically I’m in the car for 20 minutes a day divided into two 10 minute intervals. Yesterday I was in the car for 4 hours. It was a-ok though because I remembered just how much I love Dave Grohl, Eddie Vedder, Johnny Cash and Prince.

Speaking of musicians I love, check it. Consider this your reward for making it through the painful 1,074 word journey to get to this point. Without a doubt Striking Matches is a duo that is entertainment at its best. And I don’t say this because I share a set of grandparents with one of them. I say it because it’s true.