I know it's been a while since I've posted, but I didn't really want to write about my sick grandpa, my shit job and my shit boss, or how the Wii chastised me for gaining 0.9lbs. Huh, guess I just did. Oops.
I also didn't want to talk about how I'm going to miss writing to my pen pal, or that I have a date. Mostly because the people reading this already know these things.
Which doesn't leave much to write about, now does it? Because we all know that this is not the place for learned discourse.
I supposed I could talk about how I'm newly (mostly) addicted to The Pioneer Woman. She cooks a lot and most of it looks delicious. jr and I are planning on making her cinnamon rolls soon. Or eventually. Though, I gotta say, I kind of hate her. Not because she seems like an awful person or anything. No, I hate her because she had the fairy tale. Met a cowboy, fell in love, lives on a ranch in OK. Now, I don't hate her because I want to live that life. I have no idea what kind of life I want. I hate her because it gives me hope. Maybe hope isn't the best word, but I can't really think of a better way to put it. It makes me think "Well, hey! She got swept away and is deliriously happy with her cowboy husband, cattle ranch, kids, Lodge, homeschooling, etc. Maybe I will get swept up by the perfect man and live in the perfect place."
Yes, I realize that her life has its pitfalls. I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't like to have to bottle-feed a calf milk replacement. Or have to worry about stepping in manure just walking across the yard. I think she's so content in her life that those things just don't matter.
What's my point? My point is that my hatred is really just ridiculous envy. And I'm angry with myself for thinking that I need to be swept away to feel fulfilled. That I'm in need of rescuing. When I'm really just too lazy to get off my ass and change things.
Oh, and I know there are those of you who would like to make Carrie the Cowgirl jokes. Don't.
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