I began this blog two years ago. In two years time, a lot has changed – and not just for me, for everyone – that’s just how life works.

Two years ago I was living in a small town (again) and my commute to work was over an hour each way. Now, I’m living in a bigger town (the second largest and second oldest in Georgia, thank you very much) and my commute to work is exactly 8 minutes each way. A bit longer if I get stuck by a train.

Two years ago I wasn’t very happy with the “life choices” I was making. I couldn’t be happier with the ones I’m making now.

Two years ago I worried a lot about what other people thought. I worried a lot in general. I wasn’t sure where my life was headed or what “my plan” was. Now I know that you make “plans” and God laughs – things usually fall into place the way they are supposed to.

Two years ago I wanted an outlet. I started this blog nervously, wondering if I should send the link out to my family and friends or just keep it to myself. Now, I usually begin my conversations with, “If you read this on my blog, just tell me and I won’t repeat it.” (Not only do I invite my family and friends to read it, I expect them to – how arrogant, right?) And, I have readers all over this country…and in others, too. That’s a very cool feeling, y’all. It means the absolute world to me.

If you wander over to my neck of the internet every now and again, or every day, or only have this one time – I hope that my little blog has entertained you – at least for a minute or two. I hope to have made you laugh, or reminded you of a fond memory (or bad outfit) you had forgotten about. Thank you for your readership, your comments and for allowing me to share my words and thoughts with you.

My cup runneth over.

This week, in honor of my blogversary (and the fact that I’m super-duper short on time), I will be reposting some of my favorite entries.

About children:

• Blank is ready for ____’s umbilical cord stump to fall off so she can have a real bath!!!
• Blank was bathing ____ and she pooped in the tub…and then threw a piece out on the floor…super GROSS!!!!
• Blank thinks there is nothing like being woken up by the sound of ____ blowing out a stinky. She makes stink then gets fussy at me because I woke her up changing her. Lol.
• Blank can’t believe her youngest put a booger on his bible school teacher today!
• Blank man I’m sure gonna hate to change ____’s diaper, she’s eaten a ton of kielbasa sausage.

On sporting events:

• Blank When I was born, I felt special. When I graduated, I felt blessed. When I lost my virginity I felt lucky. When the Gamecocks won the CWS I saw that bird do a backflip in my dreams…Go Gamecocks!
• Blank just like a wet dream I never want the World Cup to be over.

I went to a strip club once (ok, that’s a lie – I’ve been twice) with a group of guys I’ve known my whole life. I was trying to be that girl who was “cool” with it – you know, unfazed by nudity and by being the only chick in the group. I did a pretty good job with it until I realized that that one other strip club I had visited was in South Carolina. The land of the g-string. Georgia is the land of the free, if you know what I mean. Upon this quite startling realization, I stumbled into one of my guy friends and stammered that we needed to leave.

So much for the “cool” girl.

Don’t get me wrong, it was impressive. Some of them could even pick up a dollar with their…you know-what. Congratulations on that, but no thank you.

Mel Gibson. What an a**hole. (Sorry, mama, but he is.) If you guys haven’t listened to his phone calls with his ex-girlfriend (and mother of his child), you can do so here. Just don’t do it at work because he doesn’t hold back.

Levi Johnston. Way to stick it to the Palins yet again. Secretly seeing their daughter and asking her to marry you…well played, Levi.

Whilst visiting Atlanta this weekend, I may or may not have lost my temper with a guy who clearly had no idea how scary I can be when mad (and wearing a one shoulder top – evidently I see them as bulletproof vests). Anyway, the poor guy was visibly shaken by the time I got through giving him a piece of my mind.

What am I, Mel Gibson? Yikes. I have felt terrible about this incident since the morning after the Red Bull and vodka wore off. It’s like I picked a fight with a kitten.

In my defense, however, the kitten started it.

On the way home from work yesterday, I was stopped at a light and couldn’t help but notice the abundance of “stuff” just lying around a yard nearby. I looked a little more closely, and there were two women bringing loads of items into the front yard. Yard sale? On a Thursday evening?

Nope. Breakup. That joker must have really done something terrible because there was a sign, written in magic marker, that read: FREE! Take anything you want! He DOES NOT live here anymore!

I swear I don’t make this stuff up. I called a co-worker of mine to ask if I should go back and get proof (via my blackberry camera) and she suggested I take myself on home. See title. I kept driving.

Exes. Love ’em or hate ’em? That is the question.

Confession: I’m a lover of the exes.

I happen to be friends (or friendly, that’s a better description) with almost all of my ex-boyfriends and that one “other ex” I have. I mean, we don’t hang out and watch movies together or anything, but we’re polite and we keep in touch. It might not be right for everyone, but it’s kind of just who I am. Once I love you – I love you. (Does that make me loyal or clingy? Let’s go with loyal. Like a Labrador Retriever.)

There’s only one ex that I’d avoid like the plague if I saw him somewhere. Why? Because he hates me. He hates me like Bill O’Reilly hates Keith Olbermann, and a lot like that duo, there will never be a kiss-and-makeup moment with us. (But, hey, 1 out of 50 ain’t bad. Ok, I don’t really have 50 ex-boyfriends, but it feels like that sometimes.)

The most common question I get regarding my divorce is, “Why didn’t your marriage work out?” But, the second most asked question is, “Do you still talk to him?”

The first answer is complicated and intrusive, and I’ll never answer it on this blog – or to anyone whom I don’t know extremely well. He did not do everything wrong and I did not do everything right…I’ll leave it at that. The answer to the second question is yes. I am not entirely sure I will still have conversations with him when I’m 32, or 35, or 45 – but for now, we still occasionally catch up on each other’s lives.

So there you have it. I, friends, am a lover of the exes. You can praise it or despise it, but life’s too short to go around wasting time and energy hating people, and so…I don’t.

Last night, I watched that train wreck of an interview ABC did with Jake and Vienna from The Bachelor. Lawd have mercy, y’all – it was ugly.

First things first. The host of the show kept calling it a “shocking breakup” – although I’m pretty sure that even my niece, who hasn’t been born yet – wasn’t shocked by it. The world saw this one coming. What we didn’t see coming was whom we would find ourselves siding with.

So, for those of you who have a life and didn’t watch, the interview went a little like this: Vienna claims he’s emotionally and physically detached from her. Jake accuses her of cheating, and says she constantly interrupted and undermined him. Vienna says he’s a liar. Jake yells at her to stop interrupting him. Vienna does the ugly cry. Jake glares at Vienna like he wishes she would vanish from this Earth. Vienna exits in tears.

Now, as much as I would normally enjoy this, I found myself wanting it to just hurry up and be over. (And, let’s face it – I didn’t have the self-restraint to change the channel, so them ending it or a power outage were my only options.) I was also shocked to discover that I, who dislikes Vienna immensely, actually took her side. (I still think she’ll be Hugh Hefner’s next new girlfriend, but I digress.) The breakup interview that I had been looking forward to beginning turned out to be something that I couldn’t wait to end. Sigh.

Reality television. It’s all fun and games until you end up in the middle of a couples therapy session…and then it’s just uncomfortable.

When I think of the July 4th holiday, I think of…

Flags lining the street lights in small towns, hot dogs and burgers on the grill, trips to the lake or beach, kids playing outside, Lee Greenwood and Bruce Springsteen music, fireworks, sparklers, barbecue, sunshine, lemonade, bathing suits and flip flops, the many men/women who have protected and continue to protect the freedom we have to do most anything we want to do.

*Cue God Bless the USA.

In talking with a friend at lunch today, I began thinking about the word “normal.” We throw that word around a lot. In fact, in many of my conversations this week, it has come up in both the form of a question and in a statement.

Statement: Well that’s just not normal at all.
Question: That’s how I feel, but is that normal?

Those were said by two different people, and each time I responded back with, “Define normal.” Sometimes it’s easy to agree on something that isn’t normal. If your boss asks you to babysit their kid at your desk every day…that’s not exactly normal. But, what if your boss wears the color green every day? That’s different, but it’s not necessarily abnormal. Or is it?

I love a definition, so this word, which keeps recurring in my conversations this week, was typed into my google search box. My search returned this: Normal – In behavior, normal refers to a lack of significant deviation from the average.

So, being “normal” is lacking deviation from the average? Well, yuck. Who wants to be that?