A potpourri. Kind of the cheapy, discount kind. But a potpourri.

Lately blogging goes like this for me: "Haha, that was funny. I'm going to blog it."


Then I clean up another mess, make a meal, or two, write (or most likely revise something), read a painfully average book (by assignment, unfortunately), referee a couple of spats, think of four different activities for Grant to do, and then  . . . 


I sit down to blog. An I stare at the screen. And I go, "Wait, what was that funny thing I was going to write?"


So . . .  sorry.


The more I blog, the more ideas I have to blog about. Now that I'm a tad out of practice, the idea well has dried up. I feel like I should make a breast-feeding analogy here.


Hm. No. Let's not get breasts and blogging all tied up, and yes, you're welcome.


My toddler is riding a toy pony and pushing a toy stroller. At the same time. A couple of months ago, BAM, that would have been its own blog post somehow. Now, it's just kind of funny and also a good reminder that we need to go visit somewhere with horses so she understands the fundamentals because right now . . . she doesn't have it down yet.


But it's okay. I'll do a better job of making mental notes when something funny happens. Or interesting. Or otherwise blog worthy. But I'm also not going to stress it. Because why? I've never used this blog to make money. I don't use it as a family bulletin. I don't have any obligations to blog. I'm definitely at I-blog-because-I-want-to now, and that feels good.


And now for some randomness. I have lost six pounds now. And my BMI is officially in normal range. I am apparently no longer overweight. Thank you, raw almonds, green smoothies, and protein shakes.


Downtown Abbey totally lives up to the hype.


I still really love fairy tales.


My husband makes a mean mango and sticky rice dessert.


The board game Pandemic is fun.


I need my upcoming girls' weekend desperately.


I can't remember the last time I read a book just for pleasure. Four more books to read in the contest I'm judging and I can read whatever I want again. That's not to say that within that category there aren't some really fun books. But I have about six to-read-just-because books on my nightstand and I'm itchy to get to them.


I am craving chocolate far more than normal lately.


Grant just told me I could be Strongbad because I'm writing an email. 


The children are shooting each other with giant pipe cleaners. I just said, "Quit hitting. You can only shoot each other." I find myself making a lot of equally absurd parenting comments. And now I'm going to make more of them because the kids want to play. And I kind of want to, too. So . . . progress.