Well, here I am. Blogging, Jenny Trask. This feels so stark, so new, and kind of scary. Like, what if no one cares about my blog, or what I have to say? I did ask myself that question. Well, half-heartedly anyway. I guess the mere fact that I'm sitting here writing to you means I answered in the realm of, "It's okay. I don't care." I mean, I suppose I do care if no one reads it, but here I sit nevertheless.
Why blog? Why now? Because I have high-speed internet now!!!!!!!! That's why! I've been hidden away, out of the grasp of high speed for 3, count them, 1-2-3 years, and just like that, an answered prayer, breakthrough, and high skippity speed internet. WOOHOO! It's so exciting. You really have no idea.
Writing is comparable to breathing to me. I am a writer by design, but by that I have no intentions to draft formal essays, impeccably edited, and sophisticatedly presented. Yawn. Boring! I think instead I'll write to breathe. To share. To laugh. To take some of what my poor husband has to hear, and let you have it instead. (Who are you, anyway?)
I am a terrible journal-keeper. For me, journaling (in the legacy sense) is a way for me to document my life for my kids. It's G-rated, kindergarten speed, and piled high with sugar, which is okay...because it's meant for them. This is meant for me. For the sake of being random. I suppose if this sticks around I'd like to save it and give it to my kids so that they can see their Mama, just being me. (That's a good idea.) But, when they're bigger, of course.
Quick run down on me. I have a husband. He's a genius and so handsome. His name is Josh, or "babe" as I like to refer to him. I have 3 kids, all girls, plus one in heaven. Their names are, Claire Lauren, Avery Grace, Noelle Elizabeth, and baby Hope (respectively). They're a dream. They're magical, mysterious, priceless, and on loan to me from Heaven! Thanks God! Speaking of God, I am a Christian. I love God. I love my life. I love my family. I love my dog (Honey Bear -- a boy dog, with a girl name...I know.) And I love my friends. I'm hidden away in the foothills of our great big world, and I love that too.
There. Phew. Formalities done.
I previously mentioned that I love to write. Please don't hold me accountable though. I will purposely maintain a standard of grammatical inadequacy for the sake of freedom. This is a blog, for heaven's sake. Not an essay. (See, I'm still giving myself permission to let loose.) I won't go back and check for spelling and cohesiveness until I'm done rambling, which by the way, I'm excellent at. Ask anyone close to me. My sister, my friend Nicole, my Mom, my husband (bless his heart). Anyone. They'll tell you. I can talk it up like nobody's business. Most days I say way too much, and all too often without really thinking about what I'm about to say, before I say it. Which reminds me of the John Mayer song, "Say What You Need to Say." I like that song. I like John Mayer. I'd also like to be more tactful with my words, more thoughtful so as not to offend. I'm working on it. Jesus, help me. :-)
Well, I guess that's it for this entry. I need some Sun Chips, and fast. Did you ever notice how loud those bags are? Good grief. I'm all for recycling, but wow, loud! And my daughter is napping. I'll have to go far away to pop open a bag. So far today I've had half a cup of hot chocolate (the instant, bad-for-you kind), a cookie, and the crust off my daughter's peanut butter and honey sandwich that she's having for lunch today. Oh, that's another thing. I love nutrition. Can you tell? Haha! No, I really do. And now I'm rethinking the Sun Chips. See, this blog is good for all sorts of things, including accountability. Quinoa. Yes, I'll have that instead. I promise.
Before I go, I will say, or rather advise you (anyone there?) to buckle up for my blog. It could be wild, or terribly boring, but either way, safety first. :-) And please stop by now and then, if you want. Unless you're a weirdo. In that case, thank you kindly for reading, but please sir or madam, move on.
Okay, well. That's all. Maybe I'll be more deep next time. Maybe I'll sing you a song. Random. See.