Learning Curve

Well, I think it'll be some time before I clue in on how to do this right. Old dogs and new tricks. Go Figure.

I should start by saying the name GypsyBlood is not meant to inspire thoughts of Stephen King and vampires (or vamps). It is the way I have described myself for years. I grew up a military brat and every three years, whether I need to or not, I have to move.

I am finding that if I just move everything out on my driveway, break some of my really favorite items, scratch my wooden furniture, and then slowly move it back in, in no particular order, I'll feel as though I've moved. We'll just see how that works if I don't get to move this summer. The Gypsy Blood is boiling away and I am about to set out to parts unknown like a locomotive from hell. Thing is, I have no idea which way I am heading.

I am married to a military man, and have been for almost 6 years. We've been friends for 8...and entwined souls forever. I wear the poor man out, I am sure it's why it took him so long to find me in this life. He needed a break! :)

Our marriage is a warm, comfortable place to be. We've got "his", "mine" and "ours", where kids are concerned. All are great, smart and the next generation of super heroes. We'd be remiss if we did not think that.

My oldest is about to graduate. He's a smart, athletic, handsome kid with the world at his feet. I hope in 5 years he's still on the right path, but right now, I need to let him go so he can do his own thing. It's a hard reality to face, knowing I am letting go of this kid who's always been in the thick of it with me. No matter where I was, he was there. I was a very lucky single mom. He rarely ever got into trouble. He still doesn't. He's got an internal barrometer for goodness, that he follows, no matter how badly I mislead him. :)

My youngest is a little one. Toddler. He's the "ours." He's a riot. A daily reminder of how fate rewards those who are the most unsuspecting.

So, this is the start. My diary of 19+ years sits on the shelf in my bedroom, lonely and jealous. Once I learned how to use a word processor, it's fate was marked. I can type about as fast as I think, I write really slowly. However, if the house burns down, the Diary gets taken out of the house faster than my computer! I love that book. It marks my life's journies in moments. Some of the moments say it all.

So this is my blog...let's see how long I keep this sucker up!

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