One is the loneliest number

So, for all of you bloggers out there...(note the wild assumption I am making that one day someone other than me will have read this), how many posts did you make that very first day? After I came up with my name, I worked on my layout, and learned some cool html code, and am thinking of things I want to add to my "100 things about me" post that seems to be the norm for new bloggers...even after all that I just couldn't stand my one lone post sitting out there in cyberspace so all alone. So, I went back to the old homestead that was my old blog and grabbed the two that I feel define me right now. The first one is a demonstration of the goofiness that is Mr. Potchery...I have been married for 19 years, and got married when I was 19 years old. Some day I will blog about that in more detail, but to sum it up, I look forward to empty nesting with him.

Side note: Ha, I did it, I called my husband by a fake name. I read several blogs that use fake names, like this one, and some I can't recall that just use titles, i.e. ....Husband, Daughter, etc. I tried out a few, and it seems that I like calling him Mr. Potchery because it sounds like crotchery and that is funny.

Anyway, the other post is a rant about my mom. If you have an awesome mom, I envy you and you probably won't get me at all. If you have a crappy mom and still somehow give her credit because after all, "she's your mom", you will probably get me even less. I am very close to the point where I don't care if I ever talk to my mom again. Just so you know, I do not come by that easily. In the post I give a few examples of the awfulness that being her daughter is...I failed to mention when we had to call the police to go check on her because we were sure she was dead because she wouldn't answer the phone, or when she rear-ended someone in the Kroger parking lot (weirdly the same store where the cheese conversation took place) DRUNK at 4 in the afternoon and when the police offered her a phone call she chose not to use it and we were frantic all night until I decided to call the jail and they told me she was there, oh and when I asked her why she didn't call us it was because the other ladies in jail actually talked to her so she didn't want to leave....I could go on. and on. and on.

I spend most of my time extremely happy with my life...I love my husband, my children, my sister and her family, I believe they all love me, and we are trying very hard to make family traditions and memories for our tiny, but strong group of 7. I spend the rest of my time sad that our group isn't much, much larger...with grandparents for the kids, and more aunts, uncles and cousins. It is a weird dichotomy that I hope I come to terms with soon.