Why am I blogging?

Femme Fatale Farmgirl

One thing I could never, ever, ever do growing up was keep a diary. I have no idea why it was so hard for me to do, but it was. If you were to look in the back of my old closet, there’d probably be six or seven old journals with an entry like this:

“Dear Diary, My New Year’s resolution is to write in you once a week to record my thoughts and feelings. I think this’ll really help me get a handle on things! I’m so excited! And I’ll definitely keep the resolution THIS year!”

And then the rest of the journal is blank. Maybe occasionally there’ll be another entry,  that reads “Wow! I meant to write in you, but I just got super busy! Here’s a long drawn out story that I won’t finish because I’ll get distracted by something else!” Or there’ll be the start of…

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