Now that I have finished my 100 things about me list, I have discovered that I may not have anything else to write about. I am drawing a blank big time. It was fairly easy coming up with 100 useless and random things about myself but now I am searching my foggy brain for something interesting to write about.
Nope. Nothing. Nada.
I gotta tell ya, this blogging thing isn't getting any easier. How do people find something interesting to post about EVERY DAY?
Is my life that boring? Am I not creative enough? Am I too tired for my brain to put coherent sentences together?
I think it might be all of the above. Especially the one about being too tired.
Speaking of being tired, have any of you (and by any of you, I mean my 1 reader - God bless her heart) watched the new tv comedy Cougar Town? Did you like that segway? I know. I just pulled it out of thin air. I guess I'm getting the hang of blogging after all.
Anyway, Cougar Town is about a divorced forty-something woman named Jules (played hilariously by Courtney Cox), who is trying to "re-capture" her 20's, which she feels she missed out on because she was raising her son during those crucial "partying" years. The trouble is, she's too pooped to party.
I can totally relate.
Except the part about being divorced.
And the part about having a baby in my 20's.
Oh, and the part about missing out on partying. I didn't so much as "miss out" as much as choosing "not to participate."
I am, however, in my 40's and I am also too pooped to party. So, I totally get her!
The difference between Jules and I is that I was happy spending my 20's with my boyfriend-turned-fiance-turned-husband doing absolutely no club hopping and what-not. My wild and crazy days weren't so wild and crazy. When it came to living on the edge, staying up past midnight on December 31st to watch Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve is about as wild and crazy as we ever got. Pathetic, I know.
Some things never change.
Don't get me wrong. We can shake things up a bit. Now on New Year's Eve, we throw confetti at midnight, made out of newspaper that we spent the whole day cutting into little pieces, that I will still be vacuuming up come 4th of July.
Do we know how to party or what?
My husband and I have never been big social-drinking-party-going kind of people. Except for the occasional wedding cocktail, I don't drink. I never had any interest. So even though I could have partied it up in my 20's, especially since we didn't have children at the time, I chose not to. It wasn't a conscious choice really. I guess I'm just more of a homebody. That's how I roll.
There are plenty of other things I did in my 20's that I can look back on and smile about. Memories that I can actually remember because I was sober. Like Ray and I taking a 45 minute walk to the 7-11 every Saturday night after dark to buy a candy bar, chatting and holding hands the whole way there and back. Like renting the movie Trains, Planes and Automobiles and laughing so hard when John Candy is driving the wrong way on the express way. To this day, that movie has remained our all time favorite comedy movie for both of us. Like drinking bottles of pop all night and returning the glass bottles for a refund. Like taking weekend trips to Galena just because. Like adopting our four kitties (2 from the Humane Society and 2 strays) proving that love knows no bounds. Like ordering hot dogs and a big basket of hot french fries from Wally's. Like buying a water ski boat and spending lazy, summer afternoons at the lake. Like never missing an episode of Friends or The Wonder Years.
I think it's because I am not too hard to please (although Ray might disagree on occasion, just maybe) that little things like candy bars from a convenience store and watching a favorite tv show make me happy. I don't need fancy clothes or expensive jewelry or a vacation to Australia (ok, that last one I might need) to feel content.
When it comes down to it, whether I am 21, 31 or 41, my needs haven't changed much. I am a simple girl, who doesn't need or want for much. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, two precious children gifted to me and the love and devotion of the most wonderful man. What more could I want or need?
Just give me a bottle of pop, a big basket of Wally fries and a rerun of Friends (preferrably the one where Ross wears leather pants on a date for the first time but then he starts sweating so bad from the pants that he has to secretely call Joey from his date's bathroom for help and Joey tells him to use baby powder so Ross does but it becomes a sweaty, powdery mess and Ross cries to Joey "it's not working man!") and I'm good to go.
Seriously. It doesn't take much to make me happy.
