According to the Oklahoma Women Bloggers, ‘Today is Blah, Blah, Blah Day! We have things we have to do … things we need to do … blah, blah, blah. Well, today, we’re celebrating getting them done!”
Does that mean I need to actually DO the stuff? Or can I just stay here and celebrate?
Things that I have checked OFF my to-do list already:
- Guest post submitted to Generation Fabulous
- Guest post submitted to Oklahoma Women Bloggers
- Guest post written, edited and approved for Natasha.
- Short d.i.y. article written for Friends of Pfister Bloggers Program.
- New post written for Masterpiece. (I am NOT one of those bloggers who has months of content ready to roll.)
- Cleaned and organized sidebar and footer
Things that are still ON my to-do list:
- Laundry – it’s ALWAYS on the to-do list
- Sweep & Mop kitchen and bathrooms
- Dust and vacuum
- Clean and organize my office
- Closets (but I can just close the doors so this will probably stay on the list for a while)
- Write an endorsement for Alycia’s About page. (Such a good idea. I may hit y’all up to do this for me some time.)
- Reply to comments.
- Visit blogs.
- #DoItAllMom Twitter Party
- Write a sponsor proposal for FitBit
- Think about writing a book (this one’s for Charlene)
- Write another (legal) sponsored post
- Get my nails done
I have a lot to do! See y’all later!




















I suppose that, even undiagnosed, I always had some level of social anxiety. I was happier in the back of the closet with a flashlight and a book than I ever was out playing in the neighborhood. I was already reading by the time I got to Kindergarten. No one had TAUGHT me to read. My mother read to me and I picked it up. Books were my best friends and my imagination was my safe place. But writing? I don’t remember learning to love that. I remember being assigned a book report in 6th grade. The teacher failed me because he thought I had copied the synopsis from the book cover. I hadn’t. Later I would be assigned reports and essays and my teachers told me that I had a gift … a talent … that some day I would write. I guess the rebel in me resisted. I was not a keeper of journals. No pink diaries with locks and keys. No spiral notebooks filled with teenage angst. I wish there were.
























