The Keys of OZ

The last time I walked into Grandpa Jensen's house, this is what I found.

I love it what all those keys symbolize. How many doors, homes, and cars that take us on amazing adventures do they open? How many memories and responsibilites come from a pair of keys? Looking at each grouping of keys, can you tell whose belongs to who? What does each keychain say about the person it belongs to?

As I walked into my Grandfather's home, I felt like on that ledge was an expression of the personalities, responsibilities, and dreams of my family. It is fitting that the keys rested behind my Grandma's Wizard of Oz dolls. Like the yellow brick road, the keys take us on amazing adventures. Like the Wizard, they bring us home agian.

So next time you look at your keys, take a moment and think about what they say about you.

Law School

I got in. Now the big question. Where should I go?

Grandma Jensen's Funeral

I have been meaning to post these pictures for awhile. My Grandmother Diane Helen Jensen was an inspiration to all who knew her. I hope from these pictures you can see how much we miss and love her.

Quote of the Day

My co-worker and friend Tasha shared this today and it made me laugh. Enjoy!

"Finding the right guy is like going to a pumpkin patch; they can all look good from far away."

~ Kaitlyn Roth

The Blogging Ball

Let’s be honest. I’ve dropped the ball over the last few months. The blogging ball. I let it slip right through my tired fingers and saw it roll away. I just watched it go. Sure I thought about going after it. At first it was only a few steps away and I knew I could grab it and only burn like 2 calories. But, the farther away the ball rolled, the more effort I knew it would take to get it. The few steps grew, and grew, and grew until finally it felt like I would have to run a super marathon of 100 miles, just to pick it up. Then I’d have to bring it back. 200 miles was just too much. So, I just gave up. Bye-bye blogging ball. It was nice knowing you. Sure, I felt bad that I lost it. I mean, no one likes losing something, especially when you could’ve just bent over a picked it up in the very beginning. You feel like a failure, a quitter, and a looser. Not that blogging is that imperative to my self-worth, but when it came to my role in the blogging sphere, I felt like a failure. Not only had I stopped chronicling the mundane hum drum of my life, but I didn’t even make the effort to write something witty or entertaining. I didn’t measure up to my dear friends and family who can whip out a master work of fiction, or an insightful discourse on some social topic. I didn’t measure up to the cute craft lessons, the amazing travel logs, or the picture montages. I just didn’t measure up.

And then I realized something.

My blog is MINE. Read it if you wish. Scoff at my laziness if you must. But my blog is MINE. And I have nothing to prove.

So what if I can’t write amazing prose or flowing poetry? So what if I miss a picture or two, or a month’s worth of pictures. SO WHAT.

I like who I am. I like what I have done. I am proud to be me.

Since my blog is merely what I decide I want it to be, I can be proud of that too. I can be proud of the fact that these last few months have been so full, so busy, that I haven’t had time to write it all down. I can be proud of the fact that I live.

So (as my sister would say) dear reader, there it is. If you want to read my blog, bless you. Just be aware that it will be as sporadic, spontaneous, and wacky as I am.

Oh, and just to make it clear, I won’t be running any 200 miler’s soon.

~Meg