Why, Hello There.

**tap, tap, tap**

Is this thing on?

Hello, my beloved readers. I'm assuming you have all been clicking refresh on your browsers since November just praying for a new post to pop up. Well click no longer, dear ones. I refuse to put off the outpouring of verbal creativity that has welled up within my soul, lo, these many weeks.

Or maybe Cheryl has updated her freaking blog three times in the past three days and I don't like to be outdone.

The only problem is...I'm not sure where I want this blog to go. I can't deny the mommy blog-ness that goes on here. I have incredible brilliant children so I must from time to time fill you in on all the terribly impressive things they do and say. But I'm not sure I have found my niche yet.

I'm not a photographer so a hip blog full of my well-edited pictures is out. Most of my craft projects turn out looking like I was drunk and blindfolded while doing them. I do cook, but only out of societal pressure to conform to my gender role. So there goes the crafting and cooking genre. I love Jesus, but dear God, I'm afraid you need to be a little less cynical before you write a weekly devotional blog. I enjoy exercise, particularly yoga, but what's say I drop this last 15 before I try to knock Jillian Michaels off her throne.

So where does this leave me? Not sure. I shall continue to ponder this.

In the meantime, I'll just complain about a few things. This I feel equipped to do.

Let's start off with what must be the biggest thing happening on the planet right now because I swear it's all that was on the news this morning...The Trenta. Yes, 31 ounces is a lot. Yes, it will probably cost $5 after tax. Yes, our population is overweight and we drink too many empty calories and blah, blah, blah. There is a demand and Starbucks is supplying and that's what makes this little system we all enjoy so much go round and round. So if it offends your moral and ethical sensibilities to be in the presence of such blatant gluttony, brew your coffee at home and shut up.

So I really like being in my thirties. I feel more confident and less prone to be affected by the drama that begins in jr. high and never goes away. I think there is a "coming in to yourself" (I don't know what that even means, but go with me here) that happens, slowly but surely, and it's nice. You still envy those people in their twenties that always dress cute and get to do amazing things, like sleep, but on the whole, I wouldn't go back to those days. But for crying out loud, what is up with the dark under-eye circles? I mean, come on! Whatever the switch is that flips and makes weight loss so much more fun in your thirties also controls the pigment of the skin below your eyes apparently. Concealer is no longer optional if I would like to appear, oh I don't know...like I haven't been in a fight? I'm not a fan. Notatall.

My neighbors have a goat. As a pet. That they walk. I think this is weird.

Ok, that's enough complaining for now.

So bear with me as I figure out what this blog is. I've narrowed it down to nothing hip, creative, enviable, or impressive.

And for crying out loud, Cheryl, don't post tomorrow. This is exhausting.