In the early stages of my blog, you can see the amateurish nature of my posts. I simply wrote about what I loved, what I was going through, how I felt. My blog was my journal.
It seems lately, my blog has turned into something else. Though I'm not quite sure what it is, it doesn't feel like me anymore.
At the moment, I'm pooped. My love left the house early this afternoon and headed towards New Orleans with his brother in tow for his bachelor party. J and his groomsmen went to a Saints game for his bachelor party and now its his little brother's turn. Hornets basketball, being the game of choice this time around. While he's been gone I've taken advantage of "me" time. Cleaning house, washing my car, re-stocking my jewelry display at my sis's shop in town, editing bridal photos... finishing Twilight. *sigh* If I had not given the first book of the series to a friend to read, I may be sitting here starting the series over.
And likely my marriage would be heading towards a premarture divorce...
It was when I started the last book that I noticed the difference. My craving, my addiction to one thing - blogging - was replaced by another - reading. I read over 100 pages the first night I started the series. And then I found myself pulling the book out in the mornings to read with breakfast, and at really long stoplights on the way home from work. I KNOW!! It was embarrassing.
And then today, before J left, he said he missed my blogging. It was then that I went back to the time when my blogging meant something personal to us.
In the beginning, when me and J ran into each other after all those years and fell in love, I documented a lot of my feelings and the little things that made me crazy about him. The sweet things he did for me, how he made me laugh, being Twitterpated...
Eventually, I gave him my blog url. Sitting across from him in my apartment, sneaking peeks watching him read the posts I wrote about him made my heart open up more. I was amazed. It seemed that while I felt I could not love him any more, or possibly any better than I was loving him at the moment, the look in his eyes and the appreciation of the posts I wrote about us, about him, proved that this blog was just another tool to showing him how much I love him.
Hearing him subtly whine this morning about missing my posts reminded me of what I used to love about my blog. Getting everything out of my head on "paper", sharing my feelings, showing him what he means to me in another form. Sure, telling someone you care, or that you enjoyed your night out with them is one thing. But seeing that on screen, in a journal-like context... its just different. And I think he feels the same way about that.
So I'm back to basics. I'm writing about what I feel, what I love. This is my journal. I'll write when the mood strikes and I won't feel guilty if I miss a few days. I'll continue to read my favorite blogs but won't feel guilty if I miss a week of them. I want to appreciate this blog like I used to.
And I want to tell my husband I miss him. Terribly. I'm sitting on our couch, eh hmm, our NEW couch, wishing you were laying all over it with me. Its too large for little ole me and I need your monkey limbs to help fill it.
The Mini Monster misses you too. She has run in here with her jingle jangle collar looking for you a handful of times already. I tell her you'll be back, Don't worry. I can tell she doesn't believe me. She won't potty for me, apparantly it's y'all's thing, so I hope she hasn't left any surprises around the house.
I expect you home in just a few hours. And like usual when you're with the boys, you'll have one too many and will come home even more affectionate than you are usually. I'm counting on that.
