My niece, Rebecca, writes a blog. I love reading her tales of life as a woman striving to balance life and motherhood and self. She's a great writer - she's funny and insightful and when I read her posts, I feel like she's writing just to me. I love that girl. Rebecca suggested I start a blog - even got creative with naming it. She so graciously encourages me, seeming to dismiss the very real possibility that my posts might be bad - or worse yet, just plain boring. Yet Rebecca insists that writing and running are the two things that keep her sane. (While I fear that to take up running would only serve to prove that I really am insane, I'm not sure which is scarier - running or writing. Writing is so …. out there! Just a huge scary monster.)
She truly does inspire me, though. How she finds time to blog - let alone find the energy to have a thought about which to write - leaves me wondering why it is that I can barely find time to do my laundry. But, find time she does and does it all quite well. Until recently, that is. It seems this remodeling project may have eaten up her final ounce of energy. Oh, sadness. What on earth will I do without my regular dose of Rebecca Off Her Rocker?