Today as I was running, I was thinking about how perfect it is that I am becoming addicted to blogging. As I've stated before, it all started when a friend from school wondered if I had a website or blog that she could look into. It has now turned into more then that. It's not only an avenue of escape for me, it's also way to keep track of what I am doing with this life. When I have aged and become wise (harhah) I want to document things in a more legit and serious manner. This blog is a sort of journal for me to be able to later on reference back to! I don't have to worry about remembering dates and all that if I simply blog about my day. Perhaps one day it will mean something to someone besides me, but until then, it's a daily/weekly therapy session.
And so today was difficult. I love Christmas, but I have a very hard time staying in one place for days on end, and being around people all the time. Most of my life is spent alone, with touches of interaction, and so fully blown 24/7 family doesn't always fit the bill of mind. This may sound selfish, and it certainly is. I have been blessed with the ability to concentrate my life persuits these past few years head on and running, without having to give of myself too much. And I take personal time for granted. Shame, shame.
It helps to write about the good things of the day for me. Let the bad remain as it is, and focus on what blessings there are in the day.
So little Zach came home this morning! Love that kid. I had him sit in the chair of honor this evening.
I also spent a good deal of time dying card stock (gift from Grandma) with coffee. I was going to use it as the paper for Xylene transfers, but I found out this evening that the material was too dense! The ink could simply not penetrate the material. Well, that is my diagnosis until I find out the truth of the matter. Disappointing after so looking forward to it. Try again,... eh. I don't suppose working in 2 degrees helps the process either. :)
I always took that reference of soldiers and referred it to the wars of my mind. Of course David was running from his son who was after Dad with intentions to kill. And I complain?