if my blogger account were a twitter account

Lately it seems all I'm capable of stringing together are brief snippets more suitable to Twitter's 140 character limits rather than the robust and complex posts to which my faithful readers have become accustomed.  I had big plans for a specific Christmas post, but it was fairly time-consuming, and I ran out of Christmas season before I could devote the appropriate amount of time to its completion.  Maybe next year.

And my determination to complete that posting project coupled with a rather hectic holiday season derailed any good intention of taking one of those snippets and developing it into adequate blog fodder.  So since it's a new year and excuses are for losers, I'm going to roll with what I've got.  Today I present a post in tweet-sized chunks: thoughts to close the old year and kick off the new in 140 characters or less.

• I have no idea how I managed to do twelve posts between December 9th and 24th in 2009.  I could barely spell my name  in December 2010.
• Because I'm a shallow selfish girl, all I want to talk about are all the Christmas presents I got, but no one would enjoy that but me.
• I have a twitter account but no inclination to ever tweet.  I blame my stubborn insistence on using my phone only as a phone.
• If I tweeted, I'd retweet FHDM's plug for today's Resolution blog.  Worth the read.
• Speaking of  FHDM, I got my Blue Like Jazz associate producer t-shirt in the mail last week.  First gift from my soulmate.  Score.
• For the first time since 2005, I didn't place in the top two in my girls fantasy football league.  I came in fourth.  Lame.
• My moma's preacher says no one cares about the fantasy teams of others.  People listen so they can talk about their own teams. He's right.
• When I came home tonight, my freezer door was standing wide open.  No idea why.  I'm not blaming Jess.  Throwing away food is depressing.
• I just found an unopened bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.  I'm considering eating only the recommended serving size.  Think I can do it?
• I feel the need to brag about accomplishing mundane tasks that any normal person would be embarrassed to admit they'd left undone.
• My Christmas tree is still up, but I've only been home a day and spent most of it sleeping and at work.  I once took my tree down at Easter.
• I did not make anyone (including myself) cry at work today.  Some days it's the best outcome for which I can hope.
• Michelle got a fancy new camera for Christmas from my brother-in-law.  She's a good sharer.  I like her.
• If Jess reads this post, she will hate it.  She's anti-twitter.  Hey, she just walked by.  Hi, Jess.
• I have a story about my landlord that lots of readers already know.  I can't tell it without being insensitive with these character limits.
• At one point today I had approximately sixteen tabs open in my browser.  I have internet ADD.  Bad.
• I almost wrote about how cold my feet are-then I realized that I was in the tweet trap: talking about what doesn't matter as though it does.

That's when I knew it was time to quit.  And if you were waiting to hear about the pretzel outcome--I did indeed eat only one serving (eight measly--but delicious--pretzels).  It's good to be back.

the big wiener

I mentioned in my nametag post that Shane had the highest streak for the month at that time on ESPN's Streak for the Cash.  He had a streak of 25 that ended on the 18th or 19th or so, and he's been waiting for the month to end to see if anyone else could beat that number.  As of Thursday evening there was a guy with an active streak of 23 wins.  He had to win 3 games on Friday to beat Shane, but with the number of match-ups available for picking each day, that wasn't beyond the realm of possibility.  The other guy made a pick on the front nine of a golf match that was played Friday morning.  I was at home working on the pain in my neck with a heating pad before heading in to work an hour late, so I periodically checked the progress of the match.  After the first few holes, it really looked like it was going to go our way, but then it got much closer, and I'm fairly certain the tension wasn't good for my neck.  Right about the time I was going to have to go in to work with the whole thing unresolved, they finished the ninth hole, and my brother unofficially won $100,000.  With the 23 win streaker stopped at 23, there was no one else with an active streak high enough to get to 26 by midnight, so we were safe.  And I use the term "we" very loosely.  So Shane's got a phone interview with someone from ESPN sometimes next week, and I really hope they're going to give him a big cardboard check because I love big cardboard checks.

The idea of him winning the money has been a possibility in our lives since he hit about 20 or 21 wins around the 11th or so, but it's still very surreal.  There was still so much month left for something else to happen, and (I think he'll forgive me for saying this) Shane's just not a lucky guy.  He's deserving and one of the few genuinely good people that I know, and I couldn't be more pleased that he's had this stroke of luck.  But it's surprising, nonetheless.  I'll keep you posted here on how much he actually gets and what he blows it on . . . though knowing Shane, he'll probably spend it wisely.  But I hope not too wisely.

$100,000 is not the game changer that the hundreds of millions that the Popster is going to win in the lottery some day, but if you, imaginary reader, suddenly found yourself the recipient of such a windfall, what would you do?

a bit of a ramble, because I've missed you

I saw #1 blog fan Mac last night and was reminded that I hadn't given the people what they wanted since Tuesday.  Sorry, imaginary readers.  I lost track of time and neglected you for far too long.  (Although I would argue that I gave you such great material on both Monday and Tuesday, that I deserve for you to cut me a break.  But let's not argue, friends.  I'll just do better next time.)

I've got a few posts/ideas in the hopper, but none of them are quite ready for public consumption yet, so I'm just going to meander through the rest of this post with no clear direction.  I'm sure you won't notice the difference.

I was in kind of a foul mood last week.  If you saw me or had interaction with me from Monday through Thursday, I'm sorry for being a grouchy jerk.  I don't know what was wrong or why I was crabby, but I just had the case of the blahs.  Lucky for us all, my moma and the Popster came for a visit, and spending the day getting stuff hung on my walls and some decorative stuff in place lifted my spirits.  Plus seeing my moma just does that for me.  She's good people.  And because we got so much stuff done, there's going to be at least one more home improvement post in your future, I bet.  But not today.

Google Analytics has been my special friend lately.  I love knowing how many people are visiting me here and how they're finding me and whatnot.  It was through the miracle of Google Analytics that I discovered my brush with HGTV internet-stardom--when my visits spiked last Saturday, I discovered that nearly all of those visitors were coming through the same referring site.  I also discovered this week that some decorating/home improvement Spanish language blog had created a post using most of my process pictures and linked to my blog.  I was severely disappointed in myself that I could comprehend almost none of the text, but thanks to the incredibly literal translating efforts of Microsoft office products, I think I got the gist of it.  It definitely seemed from the translated version that the writer may have been trying to pass the project of as her own, but she did link to my blog, so I don't think it was in a nefarious way.  I will say the poorly translated version that I read definitely didn't convey the charm and wit that I used to originally recount the project, but I'm willing to bet that if I could have understood the Spanish without the help of a translator, it would have been lovely.

In other Google Analytic news, it seems as though the increased traffic from the HGTV plug is dying down.  I was back down to less than a hundred visitors yesterday for the first time in a week.  Before this thing happened, I averaged between 20 and 30 a day.  I know the quality of the product really shouldn't be affected by the stats, but I did feel a certain amount of pressure to perform well for all the increased traffic.  The truth that I learned from my stats is that almost none of the new visitors explored beyond the dresser post on which they landed.  My bounce rate increased by about 50% this week (though the fact that my visits were up over 500% sort of made up for that a bit).  I guess it comes down to preferring  a smaller number of readers who I feel like are at least moderately invested in this blogging adventure or a huge number of people who just happen by.  The point of all that convoluted wandering is that I've reminded myself today that stats don't drive what I do here, so it's cool if none of those people ever return--though if they do, I'll be here to greet them with my usual standard of excellence . . . or something. 

And here's one more thing I learned from Google Analytics--and then I promise I'm moving on.  I realized this week that it can tell me what service providers my visitors are using, and I discovered that in the days following my open letter to Penske, I had several visitors originating from their network.  I guess those open letters were more powerful than I realized.  I'll have to use them wisely from now on--though I still have no statistical proof that the Michael Jackson mime found my blog after my open letter to him.

Last Sunday I set a lofty goal and shared it with Shane about catching up on my Daily Bible reading.  I didn't come close on the goal, but I did make some progress this week.  Faithful project 4:4 fans (or just faithful fans of the Bible) will be receiving a new prodigal 4:4 post soon.  But I'll still be five weeks behind.  Sigh.  Speaking of other things I'm behind on . . . I requested all seven books that FHDM recommends to improve one's writing.  Because not reading books I already owned or already had checked out from the library wasn't enough.  I had to bring more books into my immediate vicinity that I wouldn't make time to read.  But I warn you, imaginary readers, if I ever get those seven books read, you won't be able to stay away. 

I want to start food blogging, but I never think about it until after I've already made and eaten something that would make an interesting post.  I'm going to think more about this--my kitchen does have great natural light, so if I were ever home to do any cooking during the day, I think it would make some great photos.  Maybe someday.  Today at the library, I was going to make those dirt cup things with the gummy worms and I would have shown you a picture of that, but no one showed up for the program.

Things are about to get so intense at work that I may not be able to resist blogging about my job.  I'll truly know then that I've run out of decent ideas--or that work has so consumed me that I don't have time for other thoughts.  If it happens, please don't give up on me.

I have discovered what I believe to be the perfect hypothetical question.  It reveals so much about those that answer.  So let me ask you here, imaginary reader, and maybe someday I'll analyze your responses and tell you what they say about you as a person.  Ready?  Here goes:

If you were ordering a pizza for yourself and didn't have to share with anyone, what three toppings would you choose?  You must choose exactly three toppings.  You may explain why if, like me, you can't answer a direct question without justifications and explanations and personal history.

don miller needs to meet me so we can get married

So I've mentioned Donald Miller here before.  He wrote one of the ten most important books of my life.  And I've read some of his other books and am anticipating reading another very soon.  Last year at church we watched a short video series of his, and I liked him just as much as a walking, talking person as I did in print.  A few weeks back when I wasn't meeting all of his blogging needs, Mac, the same cousin, theologian, scholar, and number one blog fan who first introduced me to BLJ several years ago, sent me a link to Don Miller's blog.  Mac is always looking out for me like that. 

(Let me interrupt myself briefly to say that while I  am mostly addicted to blog reading and that Google Reader fills a hole in my soul, I sometimes am driven crazy by stumbling across a well-established blog.  In just the same way that I don't start reading book series at the fourth installment or pick up tv shows mid-season, I don't like starting a blog in the middle.  I know that in reality blogs aren't one continuous story.  Most are episodic, and any blogger worth his or her salt is going to link back to anything that's vital to understanding current posts, so it's not truly necessary to start at the beginning.  But it's vital to me because that's the kind of hairpin I am.  But since going through months or years of archives in order to read up-to-date posts is rarely practical, I muddle through as best I can.)

So I've been enjoying getting a little dose of Don Miller most every day for the past few weeks, but today I've decided that it's time for us to take it to the next level.  What is the next level, you ask, imaginary reader.  Well, if I believed in starting small, it might be logical for me to become a fan on facebook or follow him on twitter or sign up for his newsletter or interact with him through comments on  his blog so he can start to get to know me as I feel I know him.  Those comments might eventually lead him to my own blog here where he could start at the beginning and find out about the Christmas music that I love, what tv shows I watch, my various projects, and how I'm a failure in most respects.  But I'm a go-big-or-go-home sort of girl, so I've decided we're going to skip starting small and move straight to getting married.  And since we're going to be married someday, I've decided I'm not going to call him Donald or Don or waste time typing out his whole name anymore.  Henceforth, he shall be known as FHDM (future husband Donald Miller).  And because I'm a responsible blogger and worth my salt, any future posts that make reference to FHDM will be linked back to this one so that people know who I mean and why he's called that.  Because you're worth it, imaginary reader.

Tuesday FHDM's book To Own a Dragon was re-released with some new chapters and other updates under a brand new title.  Father Fiction is geared less specifically toward guys who grow up fatherless and underwent some rewording to have more universal appeal, but the advice is the same.  Plus one of the new chapters deals with FHDM's reunion with his own absent father.  I read ToaD several years ago though I was not a fatherless guy, and I got a lot out of that process.  The new chapters sound like great additions, so I'll probably be on the library lookout for the new format.  In the meantime, FHDM is including excerpts from the new chapters on his blog this week.  Tuesday's post "Why You're Attracted to the Opposite Sex" has a really interesting theory/premise that our subconscious is attracted to people who share the negative characteristics of our parents because we are looking for ways to fix those negative traits or representatively the relationships with our parents.  I'm intrigued by the notion, and I think there's some truth to it.  But FHDM doesn't stop there.  You should just go read the post and not listen to me about it.  There's some good stuff there.

I didn't get around to reading Wednesday's post "What Women Really Need from Men" until today, and for the future of my relationship with FHDM, that's probably a good thing.  After I read it today, I was a little disappointed.  It was fairly brief and mostly basic, and I didn't strongly identify with it.  It seemed a bit too simplified.  I understand that it's difficult to come up with universal traits that would be true for most women and I don't think the things he came up with are necessarily false, but they also didn't seem that insightful.  The responses in the comment section were quite mixed, so it wasn't just me that was underwhelmed (can you ever just be whelmed?) by the post . . . but since I was reading this today, I could immediately go to the Thursday post "What Men Really Need from Women" and truly feel engaged and impressed by FHDM's insights.  Read both posts, and even if the first leaves you cold or makes you mad, I think the second will make it better.  FHDM is an honest guy always, but the plain-speaking in this post really struck me--and is, I suppose, the reason I decided to marry him today. 

And don't worry, imaginary readers, you'll all be invited to the wedding.  After all, you were here watching it all unfold.

if i had more money than sense

Whenever the Powerball gets up into the hundreds of millions, the Popster always buys a ticket.  He doesn't bother when it's any less than that, apparently tens of millions of dollars aren't worth his time, but hundreds he'll trouble himself for.  And when he buys a ticket, and sometimes when he doesn't, he and my moma decide what they'd do with hundreds of millions of dollars.  The nice part is that I usually end up getting a few million out of the deal.  In fact, the first things my moma usually lists off when she's playing this little game is who all she'd give money away to:  her kids, her sisters, the church, and so on down the line.  I  think most people probably say that they'd give money away whether they actually would or not, but when my moma and the Popster say it, I believe it.  They are generous folks, and I don't imagine the addition of eight zeros to their bank balance would change that.

So when the Powerball gets high, I root for them rather than buying a ticket of my own.  I'm not sure my heart is as generous as my moma's, and hundreds of millions of dollars is a big responsibility.  I hope I'd be generous, but what got me to thinking about the Popster and his Powerball tickets was because I was feeling full of wants today, wanting things that are far from necessities.

So if my olds ever win their hundreds of millions and I end up with a windfall as a result, I'd first try to spread some of that around to causes and efforts that help the hungry and hurting.  And I'd buy the last quarter of the college education I'm not using.  I'd pay off Al, but maybe not get a new car right away.  Al and I are getting along splendidly.  And I'd settle up some credit card debt and make myself a promise never to get mixed up in that again.  I'd stop throwing money away on rent, and make sure there was some money tucked away for a rainy day.  Those are just the smart responsible things one does when one can afford it.

But then, I'd do fun stuff.  The stuff you don't do or buy when you're trying to be a reasonably responsible, frugal adult.
Today, first on my list is a DSLR camera.  I know I just got a new camera, and we're getting along just fine, but the more I see what my little $80 camera can do compared to my sister-in-law's or any of the photographer/bloggers whose photos I drool over, the more I want an expensive big-girl camera of my own.

I'd buy a new couch, one that had never belonged to anyone but me.  I am to the point in my life where hand-me-down furniture is just no fun.  It would also be a color, not tan or beige or any other code word for bland.

I'd buy too many pairs of shoes.  I'd try not to, but it would happen anyway.

And I'd buy at least two more pairs of jeans and at least three more pairs of khakis.  I'm down to only one pair each that I actually like to wear.  And a new shower curtain.  And maybe dishes.  And chocolate-covered pretzels.

So those are the things I'm feeling greedy for right now.  What, imaginary reader, will you do when my moma and the Popster hit the Powerball?

christmas money: endless possibilities?

Every year I get Christmas money from my Papaw, and occasionally from other folks as well.  And I always intend to pick out something and buy it specifically as my present from Papaw.  It almost never works out that way.  A few years ago, I specifically bought myself two pairs of shoes, but I can't think of an instance before or since that I actually spent my Christmas money on something memorable.  I usually end up breaking the $50 bill on gas or Kroger or something equally boring, and once it's broken, it's gone, and I never get around to doing anything self-indulgent with it--which, in the grand scheme of my self-indulgent life, is probably for the best.

This year, in addition to the gifted money I received from Papaw and an aunt and uncle, I've got a $75 amazon gift card burning a hole in my inbox.  I've mentioned this before, though at that time, I was leaning towards spending it on an external hard-drive.  Now that I've got right at $150 to frivolously spend and that I've gone through another holiday season dealing with my irritatingly unreliable camera, I'm leaning much more towards a digital camera that is less than five years old and hasn't spent a day and a night in my dad's recliner.
My plan is to go to a real-live store and look at some and handle them before ordering one online, but tonight I started to look around on amazon and found one that I hope is going to live up to my expectations when I see it in person.  The Nikon Coolpix L20 has gotten mostly good customer reviews on amazon.  It's got twice the megapixels as my old camera (but really pretty much anything does at this point), and it's red.  Plus the viewing screen on the back is huge, which is what I'm most excited about.  And here's the best part:  right now on amazon it's on sale for $79.  Of course, once I get a memory card and battery charger and such, it'll cost me a bit more than that.  Well, actually it's not costing me anything, but I still feel a responsibility to get a good deal.

So that's the plan for my Christmas money this year.  What about you, imaginary reader?  Do you get cold, hard cash for a holiday gift?  Do you earmark for a specific indulgence?  Or do you find that it's spent on the humdrum and mundane?  Or if you don't have holiday cash of your own to spend, let's play pretend.  If you had $150 to spend, mostly guilt-free, on yourself, what would you buy?