Note to the reader: This blog is probably going to be a hodge-podge of unorganized ponderings. I haven't written in a while, and most of my thoughts are disconnected and scattered. Read at your own risk. It's 2 a.m, and I sit here waiting on a friend's sixteen-year-old daughter to return home from prom. The weekend has been rather uneventful, and I've found myself reflecting on days gone by. It doesn't seem like that long ago I was obsessing over my own hair and make up, preparing for ...

I've never really considered myself a "fun" person. You know the life of the party type folks are instantly attracted to. I've always watched longingly from the sidelines wishing I could be boisterous and energetic, a social butterfly with brightly colored wings. You see, it’s people like this who seem so confident and secure. I want what they have, but I’m slowly learning I’ve got exactly what I need to be the ME God created. In the last few months my “fun factor” has come into questio...