Blogiversary Number Six

It’s been six years, y’all. Six years ago, I celebrated my 25th birthday, while working two jobs, finishing up grad school, and becoming accustomed to experiencing the world both single and not 270 pounds. I had no idea what the future held and decided to begin chronicling it via blog. It was thrilling and absolutely terrifying.

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It was just like taking… caffeine pills? Is that really what was happening in this episode?
I owe my master’s degree to Five Hour Energy.

Here I am today, on my 31st birthday, working as a full time teen librarian (my dream job), married to my favorite person in the whole world, living in an entirely different city, writing my sixth birthday blog, from a home I own. Instead of hoping the next year might hold a guy who’s not a total douche or the fantasy that is just the one job, my wonderful husband and I are talking babies. There were times, at 25 or 26, when I would wake up and wonder if it would ever happen, if my life would ever start. Sure, in hindsight, I know that that time in my life was valuable, but I wanted more… and now I have it.

A lot can change in just a short time and at 31, it seems that life is moving wonderfully faster and faster. This blog has taken many forms, from the chronicles of a recovering divorcee, a grad student, an online dater, a librarian, a newlywed. Here’s to the many other forms it may take over the next six years, as I will continue to be the chronicler, the researcher, the ranter, the overanalyzer: The Belle of the Library.

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Crap I’d Like to Share: An Almost Post

Ward: “What’s a blog?”
Me: “Well, you just write… about anything you want. People write about traveling, cooking, dating…”
Ward: “So, it’s writing essays for fun?”

Gramma: “In all my life, I have never seen so many fat young people.”

The day I taught her to text, I left her house and got the following a few hours later:
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The time I tried to sell a friend on 50 Shades of Grey:

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Summer of ’11, Gail and I took the worst vacation of all time. The air conditioner in the car broke as we rolled into New Mexico days before the 4th of July, Gail got strep throat, and my mother was… well, my mother. However, we did leave a basket for the aliens (translate: littered in the desert).

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