As if I have anything important to say...

Hello everyone, for the first time from my very own blog. Welcome any comments (please, be gentle), as it will be interesting to know if anyone ever reads these, or if everything I write will be a form of personal journal. Either way, I think I like it...

So, here I am, a perfectly abnormal 31-year old. What defines me? Depends who you ask, but these days, here are the hats I'm wearing:

VP of statistics at a market research/consulting company
Wife
Aunt
"Mommy" to a 6-year old fish named Deuce
Sister
Daughter
Granddaughter
Niece
Daughter-in-law
Sister-in-law
Homeowner

Amazing, how little the hats tell you. I'm also a health disaster--I have diabetes, hypothyroidism, high cholesterol, anxiety disorder and to top it all off am a consummate klutz. That's right, folks--breaking glasses and cutting myself on the pieces wasn't enough for me, I had to graduate to ripping off chunks of skin with plastic. How that's even possible is beyond me. Or, I guess it's not beyond me, since I've cut myself on plastic consistently. Plus I fall all the time. Trip up stairs, miss a step walking down stairs, fall off curbs with frightening regularity, can't walk through a doorway without smacking one or the other of my shoulders on it (and I'll never be mistaken for having broad shoulders...) I once decided it would be a good idea to rest my knee on a glass-topped coffee table while closing a window, only to break the glass into 3 large chunks, one triangular-shaped piece of which fell point down into the top of my foot, requiring a trip to the emergency room, 3 stitches, a tetanus shot, X-rays and the nurse asking me if I had any "problems" at home. Well, YEAH I have problems at home--I can't stop falling, breaking stuff and cutting myself...oh, wait. You mean problems at home. I had to laugh. My husband doesn't even kill the bugs in our house, much less throw glass at me...when he (the afore-mentioned husband) entered the hospital after parking the car, I jokingly told him the nurse wanted to know if he beat me. My husband, dead serious, looked at the nurse and said, "I wouldn't have to. She does it to herself." Truer words never spoken. WHY we haven't bought stock in BandAid and restocked our kitchen cabinets with acrylic dishware is beyond me.

I'll close for the day, leaving you with 4 things that make me smile:
1. The sound of my husband snoring. 7 years of marriage, and his little snores still make me smile.
2. Looking at my fish fluttering around in his bowl.
3. Looking at pictures of my adorable baby niece, Alyssa Rose.
4. Seeing dogs who can't go on their walk without carrying a toy or stick in their mouth.

Thus the first installment of "Perfectly Abnormal" draws to a close.

Be abnormal, everybody.