Recently I heard on the news that a 34 year old Wisconsin woman had enrolled in high school using her daughter’s name. Her daughter, who is 15, lives out of state.  She said she wanted to relive her high school years.  She went as far as trying out for the cheerleading squad and I think she made it.  She was caught because she was truant so the school went looking for her and found her in jail.  She was in jail for a forgery charge.  Her scam was up.  Some of the kids at the school said they thought she looked a lot older, but she acted like a high school kid.  She will be spending the next three years in a mental hospital.  It’s a rather sad ending, but it got me to thinking.  If you could do it over again would you go back to high school?  Although I enjoyed my high school years,  I would not want to do them over again.  There is too much drama.  Plus are you wearing the right clothes, shoes, etc…  Do you hang out with the “right” crowd?  I was on the student council all three years of high school (my high school was 10th – 12th grade) and was active in other organizations plus was editor of the newspaper.  Pretty good accomplishments, but I wouldn’t want to go back.  I like where I am in my life.  No do overs for me.  What about you?

Most weekends you will find me tuned into Versus watching the PBR — Professional Bullriding.  I love it.  My dad introduced me to the “Toughest Sport on Dirt”.  I was home visiting my parents and my dad was watching bullriding so I started watching with him.  I got hooked.  Bill doesn’t quite get my adoration. He thinks it because I like to look at the cowboys in their Wrangler jeans and that is a perk, but I really watch it because it’s exciting to see if the rider can stay on the bull for eight seconds.  In this sport, the rider and the bull are the athletes.  The bulls garner just as much respect as the riders.  The riders, although competing against one another, are really competing against the bull.  These riders are friends and they root for one another.  Another thing I like about the PBR is there is no shame in showing appreciation for the man upstairs.  Many riders after each bull ride whether they rode or got bucked off will kneel and point towards the sky.  This is their own way to say thank you for keeping me safe.  It sounds funny to a lot of people especially in this part of the country that people would actually watch bullriding.  It is one of the fastest growing sports, believe it or not.  One thing that is funny about when I watch the PBR is the twang that I really do have comes back in full force. I guess I keep it pretty well under control, but when I watch the PBR, am in Oklahoma or my mom is around it all comes back.  So if you are flipping through the channels and see bull riding listed, check it out.  You might like it.  Oh and thanks, Dad, for introducing me to the PBR. It’s great!

I have been thinking about my blogs and why I blog.  I started blogging to keep our family up to date on things going on in our lives.  We have lived on the east coast for almost 15 years while all of our family is out west.  We sometimes feel disconnected so starting a blog was a great solution.  Then I had this great idea that I needed my own blog which I just started a couple of weeks ago.  I guess I just wanted a place to write because I really like writing.  But now I think I have turned into a blogging monster.  I want people to read my blog.  I want people to comment on my blog.  I know I have readers, but only a few comments.  I have to admit this at times bothers me.  I wonder who is really reading this blog.  I think blogging has brought out this side of me that is somewhat insecure.  I wonder sometimes if people are reading my blog and if so what they do think.  Which leads to me comments.  If you blog, do expect to receive comments on a post?  If you don’t, are you disappointed?  I know I have family members who read both blogs, but never comment.  It makes me wonder what they think?  I want comments. I think that most bloggers do.  So this may be a pathetic plea, but whatever you think I want to know.

I started this blog to write about things I think about it and to rant about things that bug me.  I thought it would be fun to tell you some things about me that you might not know.  So here is a list of a few things…

1. Life Member of the National Rifle Association
2. Have one kidney
3. Love baseball
4. Fan of the PBR (any guesses?)
5. Love Jeopardy
6. Love Dr. Pepper
7. Sixteen Candles is my favorite movie.
8. Reluctant Debutant with Sandra Dee and Rex Harrison is my favorite old movie.
9. News junkie
10. Get teary eyed when the National Anthem is played.

Anything you are surprised to learn? Anything we have in common?

I have been noticing blogrolls lately.   I have a blogroll on our other blog, but it’s more for convenience than anything. I can just click and I am there.  I know that the blogroll is supposedly so others can discover your blog.  Because after all that is what you want is for others to see your blog unless of course you make it private and that is whole other story.   What are the rules of a blogroll? Are there any? Do you put blogs on the roll that you like even if you don’t know the person.  I am assuming, yes, because that’s what all bloggers want, right?  What if you were on a blogroll, but now you are not.  What happens then? If  it is someone you know, do you ask them about it and say hey, what’s the deal?  I found this definition on a website about blogrolls – A blogroll is a listing of websites that often appear as links on weblogs. This list of links is used to relate the site owner’s interest in or affiliation with other webloggers.   That sounds simple enough.  Does anybody ever feel blogroll evny?  Does anybody ever keep a count?  I have to admit to feeling blogroll envy every once in awhile.  I look at my list and then see someone else’s and I always feel my roll is smaller than their’s.  I guess it’s all relative anyway.  Hmm… what about comments?  I guess I will save that one for another day.

I just can’t get excited about the upcoming inauguration of our 44th president.  Maybe it’s because I am tired of hearing about it. Every news station in our local area is the Inauguration Station or Inauguration Headquarters. It’s all they report. Road closures, Metro schedules, etc… It’s all too much.  I don’t remember any inaugurationwith as many events. I know this is a  historic inauguration. I have been trying to ignore that, but can’t.  Yesterday, I saw the President-Elect speaking to a crowd in Baltimore. As he spoke, the camera panned out over the crowd and I saw people with tears streaming down their faces. Many had huge smiles and looks of immense pride.  It got me to thinking about my former students at Mercer County Community College’s Adult Basic Education program.  My oldest student was in her 60’s and from Liberia. I had many students from Africa who came to the US to make a better life for themselves and their families. I had single mothers working towards a GED so they could provide for their children. I had single fathers who were learning how to be dads. Some of my students were ex-convicts trying to better themselves and show others that they were better than the crimes they committed.  I can only imagine how they must feel to see a man who looks like them become the next president.  How proud they must feel. What a difference it can make in their own lives to challenge them to rise above.  How awesome for them to be able to tell their children and grandchildren that they can be anything they want. No limitations.  I am a not a fan of the incoming president, however, if  we as a country can come together because of this historic inauguration I am all for it.  My best friend in preschool was Corey.  She was black, but there was no significance.  Her mom made the best grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and we had a great time.  I have always tried to see a person for who they are and not for the color of their skin.  As I have gotten older it sometimes is harder especially in certain areas of the country.  I don’t like feeling like this and my thoughts always go back to my students. I was this little white girl in the ‘hood and they accepted me and I accepted them.  It is my hope that we can come together as a country and forget about party and forget about race.  We must work together because after all we are Americans first.

I love popcorn.  I love popcorn that is fresh and buttery. I usually keep a handle on my love for popcorn and have a handful here and there.  It all ended Thursday and thus has ended my love affair with popcorn forever.  I took the boys to Target so Billy could spend his gift card he got from his Uncle Jeff and Tia Blanca.  I was hungry and the popcorn smelled so good so we got some.  As we walked through the aisles leaving a trail of popcorn, I was enjoying the time with the boys.  Then we got home and there was still half a bag of popcorn left.  Usually Billy will eat the rest or Bill will when he gets home, but not today. No, I ate the rest of the bag.  By 5:00 pm, I was feeling it.  My stomach ached.  I did manage to make it to book club.  Friday morning was tough.  My stomach hurt so bad.  Most of you know that I have Crohn’s disease so eating popcorn is not something I should really be doing, but sometimes you just do it because you want some popcorn.  This time the popcorn did me in.  I am still hurting as those pesky little kernels make their way through my cobblestoned, scarred intestinal tract. (Pretty picture, right?)  After spending way too much time in the bathroom which I already spend too much time in anyway and having my heating pad attached almost the whole day, I have decided to go cold turkey. No more popcorn.  I can’t take the agony.  It’s horrible.   So goodbye Mr. Redenbacher.  Thanks for the memories.

I like to think that I have friends, but I don’t know that I really do.  There are people that share common interests with me, but are we really friends? Maybe this is a lack of self esteem although I have always felt that my self esteem is intact.  Maybe I imagine that everyone is getting together and doing things except for me.  Maybe I spend too much time in my own little world and am worrying about nothing.  I don’t know.  How do you count friends? People that you do things with? People that you know and talk to when you see them? People that read your blog and actually comment? What about people that you thought you were friends with, but then find out that they have a blog, but you didn’t even know.  What if the blog is private and you weren’t invited to read it?  What happens then? A whole new wrench is thrown into the friendship business. These are things I wonder about especially now that I am going to be moving and will have to start the whole process of making friends again.  What are your thoughts on friends?