Real Time. . .

So now that I'm blogging in real time, I have a lot to say. 

Except that I don't. 

I keep thinking that I should switch things up a little bit.  You know, be funny like The Pioneer Woman or poignant like Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda or spiritual like Tresa or irreverent like the Redneck Mommy or deep like Brad or real like Samantha- all of my favorite daily blogs, by the way. 

But somehow I always come back to the day to day blah blah blah that sometimes brings me joy and sometimes makes me weep that this is my life.  I remind myself that while, on the one hand, my blog may bore some people to tears, it's ultimately a journal of my life.  And it's for me.  I write in a way that I can read between the lines when I come back for a review.  I know myself better because I blog.  Because I write.  And so, more than likely, this 1,543rd post will continue to reflect the same old, same old.  Except it will be different because time continues to change the people around me and I continue to change and learn and move ahead and lag behind. 

One month from tomorrow I will be 45.  I have a feeling that as I write this fall and winter in real time, that could be a common theme.  I told my kids today that I have one month to live.  They know me well enough to recognize my sarcasm and they laughed and encouraged me but I can admit that 45 sounds old.  Like the beginning of the end somehow.  So maybe I'll write about that or maybe I'll just let denial reign as I blah blah blah through the next few months or years.  Only time will tell. . .