The ideas are exploding in my head and some have splattered on to my desktop already...ideas just waiting for a blog to be assigned to them when time is again my own.
So this morning, I begin titling the new blog, but something tells me to Google the topic.
Yep. You guessed it.
There's about two hundred other blogs dedicated to the same thing. sigh.
Why can't I have a few little bovines running around my counter tops? Or have the ability to share "poop in the tub" tales with such class that the world queues up just to read them? Or some spooky transparent beings living in my closet (not the regular skeletons N.Y.'s Gov. David Paterson keeps introducing)?
Because I'm boring.
Good ol' I-have-done-nothing-with-my-life-for-so-long-I-bore-myself boring.
I'm not looking for pity here. I can stand in front of a mirror and acknowledge my flaws without slipping into pajamas for the rest of the week.
Where I could use your advice is:
Does anybody know what I want to be when I grow up?
I'm figuring, if God is good and I don't live to be a shriveled bag of 103 year-old bones propped up in a wheel chair, I am approximately at my life's half-way point now. It's a good time to decide what I want to do with the rest of it.
Of course, the next 17 years are pretty much spoken for like the last 19 3/4 have been. But after that-- what DO I want to be?
*Ballet is out. So don't even suggest that. A 40-something year-old, desperately out of shape woman pirouetting around in a tutu turns my stomach.
*I can't be a movie star at this point, since having a logical political view is something that is important to me.
*ANYTHING that requires Algebra, Calculus, Trigonometry or any other strange word that basically equals puzzles-my-brain-can't-wrap-around, is out.
*Child care is NOT an option. Have you even read any of my blog? I am not going to win Mother of the Year award in this century, and those children in question aren't likely to sue me.
*Writing would require an ability to write.
*Singing... uh yeah, not an option.
*Can't stand sitting at a desk, poking needles in people... are you sensing my desperation here?
Here are my abilities:
I can laugh at myself, and am not afraid of looking too foolish.
I'm usually smiling (because I whinge on my blog).
Now go get 'em! Find me my dream career!
Or, you could just ignore this post and go enter the contest so that I can mail out some English toffee to you.
