Four years ago today, I sat on the couch in a yellow fuzzy bathrobe, eating cornpops, and you were born.
In the years since, I've turned to you in times of angst, of jubilation, drunken celebration, naked joy and unemployment. I wrote exams, marked exams, wore a ridiculous graduation hat. I wrote cover letters. I moved, moved again, moved AGAIN...and one more time for good measure, at least. I dated several men whose names all started with the letter J- untrustworthy letter, that J, all loopy at the bottom. Easy to get snagged on, J, much like a fish hook.
Toss them back.
I was single, I was not. I met someone whose name did NOT start with a J. I was bitter, I was blissful. I ate cupcakes, craved butter chicken, gave up Starbucks and bumped my addiction up to six cups of drip coffee a day.
I bought a car, a sofa and a zillion fashion magazines that made me feel shitty about myself.
I've had five different business cards.
I started over, again and again. I failed, I failed better, I failed worse, but at least I tried.
And here we are, blog, four years later and no stupid book deal like that ridiculous woman Julie - all SHE did was cook her way through a collection of recipes! I lived a LIFE!
But here we go again. Year 5. Maybe this year, we'll get it right.
Or maybe not. But what would be the fun in no mistakes?
Hugs and kisses,
2 days ago