At Last...

I've still not decided if I'll even tell anyone I've started this but after perhaps months of "stalking" other blogs (just 2 really), I have come. Perhaps it's rather strange or maybe it's just the nosiness in me, but I find other people's lives to be so interesting. My final breaking point you ask? After spending most of my free time this week reading a blog of a woman in the UK, I decided that although I may not ever be so interesting, it's only fair for me to post my own thoughts and share.

I am a daughter, a wife, a mother, a friend, a hard worker (when I'm not reading blogs) and a MK lady (well sort-of) just to name a few. I always try to give to others what I what expect back from them and often times I end up with hurt feelings when my efforts are not reciprocated. It's been said I am "too sensitive" but I think that's just me. Take it or leave me, and some have.

I live on the east coast of NC with my husband, my daugther and my dog and perhaps my current location, despite having grown up in the mountains of SW Virginia, is where I feel I am "meant" to be.

My favorite place is the beach, not necessarily to lay out (although I have been accused of worshipping the sun from time to time) and definately not to swim. Just so long as my toes are in the sand. I don't look good in a bathing suit, pregnancy and my love for food during such time left my body, particulary my stomach and thighs with the resemblance of having been circled by a train (aka strech marks). None the less, I don one and rest with the assurance that I'm probably not the worst thing out there.

I love to look for seashells and often find myself walking with the inability to leave due to the fact that I just know I'm am going to find the prettiest, the most beautiful, rare seashell of all time. I remember the vacation weeks spent at the beach as a child. For a few years it was the family vacation of choice. I don't remember how old I was, nor do I remember anything about that trip apart from my Daddy and I walking the beach together one night. I don't remember what we were talking about other than finding the ultimate seashell... a conch... at that exact moment, in the pitch dark of night, with only the light from a partial moon and a flashlight... it was there, small, but right in front of our feet. I shreaked with joy and grabbed it up. I still remember the way I felt and perhaps that's why I have an uncontrollable urge to search and search for seashells and continue to walk the beach when I know for sure if I don't get going my lunch hour will be over and I'll be late for work. The desire for seashells and the search has been passed on to my daughter. She's a little thing but has already discovered the joy. Her Daddy doesn't tolerate it as join in as well as I would like but perhaps, maybe someday he'll understand.

I'm tired. I'm 26 and I'm tired.

I am alone on this Saturday night. Well not truly alone as my daughter is sleeping soundly in her crib and my puppy boy is busy pacing for no apparent reason. My husband is out for the evening, not clubbing, as he is a good husband, just merely taking advantage of a "money making situation". Despite my scaredy-catness I went outside on my back porch with the frogs, lizards, toads and other mysterious creatures lerking to contemplate. Among my contemplation I have discovered it, one of the main reasons why I am here:

I have a sister. A sister that I was not fortunate enough to grow up with, although growing up I was quite fortunate, don't get me wrong. I was a couple months away from my 18th birthday when my little brother and I were asked to sit down at the dining room table and my world changed. It was then that I learned of her. That was 8 years ago. We've seen each other twice and our third encounter is to occur within the next week. I love her and her family. She is my sister, of this I am sure. Not having grown up together you might think that we wouldn't have too much in common but its amazing to me how much alike I think we are. She blogs here, and I read it. I feel close to her and have to admit I almost feel a little disappointed when she doesn't post, however, I've realized it's just not fair. She posts, I read and have only commented perhaps once. I come, I read, I learn of her, her life, what's happened day to day and I close the browser without her knowing I was there, without sharing anything of me, of my day. I don't know if she'll read this, I don't know if she'll pay it mind but at least it's here.

I am a procrastonator. I don't do things I know I should. My days are filled with procrastonation. I think I'll leave it at that and talk about it some other day... you see... it's got the best of me.

I have a peeve. If you see someone drop something, even if it seems to be of small importance to you, please stop them, pick it up, run after them, whatever you have to do, I beg of you... return it to its owner. I think this is my new found peeve. I probably can't begin to name for you all the things I've lost, dropped, misplaced but there are a couple that stick out in my mind with incredible hurt. The first is the blanket my husband and I brought my daughter home from the hospital in. When she was just a few weeks old I was taking her to the doctor. I had the blanket with me, over her diaper bag. Being a first time mom, I'm sure I had enough stuff with me, enough to fill a suitcase, juggling it all the while desperately trying not to drop my baby.... You see, I've always been an Overpacker. This coming from the girl that packed 21 pairs of shoes in a suitcase for a two week trip to TX for a family reunion around the age of 15. Anyways... I dropped the blanket, discovered it about 10 minutes later, went back to search and of course, it was gone. Do you think perhaps, even if someone didn't see me drop it, they could have, would have, turned it in to the front desk. No. The only way I find to comfort myself in this loss is that I didn't drop my baby, that I still have her and perhaps the blanket was wisked away to a very cold, less fortunate baby.

My second loss is another close to my heart. MY beloved sunglasses. They were cheap, from Wal-Mart but I live for these things. I have to protect my baby blues, right? Anyways, dropped 'um in Wal-Mart. The rush hour of Wal-Mart. I have a hard time believing NO ONE saw me drop them. I even went back to search, all the while my daughter calling out for them "gasses, gasses". To no avail, they are gone, they are lost. And quite honestly, we just don't have the money to buy new ones, even cheap $10.00 new ones. Here here, that's a story for another day. So please, pretty please, next time you see someone drop something, do your best, give your best effort to see that is returned to its owner. I can't help but think maybe it's karma. I'm sure I've seen the same happen to someone else and not chased after them with all determination, but today is a new day and I'm gonna start over.

I've just gone back over my ramblings and hit the 'justify' button to align all the lines so they are even on both sides. I couldn't help but thinking, when I did, that perhaps this has something to do with the work I do in a law office or perhaps it was my way of trying to 'justify' all these random thoughts. haha. I'm sure I won't have (m)any fans but I do hope I've not bored anyone off that just stumbled across me. Here's to more interesting days...