Hopelessly Flawed and Pretty Much Ok With It

I like reading blogs. Its like finding new friends all the time. Or reading a book, and if you don't like where it is going, just laying it down and never picking it back up again. But, on the other hand, if you like the characters, its like a book that you ADORE and you never have to read that last word! I mean, doncha hate it when you finish a fantastic book and you actually MISS the people in the book? Like you want to be their friend and be on their Christmas card list, and all of the sudden they are gone from your life forever because they were only characters in a book and the book is over. You finished reading it. And it stinks. Only book lovers would understand. They get me.

Anyway, where was I going with this? Oh yes. I was saying I like reading blogs. But, its quite easy to create a false-world on a blog. You can post about your perfect children, your winning contest entry, your perfectly baked bread, the bestest most sunny day ever, your excellent garden, sweetest and most handsome husband......you get the idea.

My life? Not a hallmark card. Not predictable and ordered and alphabetically arranged. It has AWESOME moments and I am totally blessed beyond measure, no question. And I love my life! But I am flawed. Step through those doors (watch for dead shrew my cats carry in) and welcome to the real world! My children sometimes drive me crazy and I yell at them, especially before I have my coffee. And I drink too much coffee, and own tons of shoes I don't wear, and have an entire attic of "keepsakes" because everything I have ever owned or the children wore, touched, made, looked at, or chewed up is a keepsake, and I cannot stand to touch dirt, and I scream at spiders. Even the tiny ones. I don't make perfect bread. I don't make any bread, but if I did it would not be perfect. Ok, I do make banana bread but that is because I am very good at letting fruit rot. And then you have to do something with it.
I kill plants. I could murder a silk flower by looking at it. I have droopy pansies because we have not had enough sun, and I walk around and talk to them and give them pep talks.
Did I mention how much I miss the sun? Oh not yet? Because my husband says I say it about every five minutes. And speaking of him, he is totally cute and a super charmer and a way cool pilot but he drives me crazy sometimes. Oh I drive him nuts too. He calls me his Princess, but not in a good way. Not in a "You are my princess and I worship you and I am your Prince" kind of way but in a "Oh dear, my Princess needs a rescue..again? I told you not to run the car out of gas" kind of way. Well ok. Sometimes he says Princess in a way that says he would marry me all over again. And that makes me melt. If its after my coffee, that is.

I am a terrible night owl too. So if tomorrow I want to take it all back, please let me. Especially before my coffee kicks in.