This Life I Live

Yesterday morning I sat down to jot down a quick recap of a great weekend - two and a half days of completely uninterrupted time with my husband after endless weeks of long, long work hours; cheering on our college football team together (we lost - so sad); catching up with some friends while celebrating the first birthday of a sweet baby girl; a date-night dinner followed by wandering through two favorite stores (Restoration Hardware and Crate and Barrel) - all done voluntarily by my man. I felt more refreshed after so much time with him than I have in a couple months.

But after a few lines, it didn't really seem worth writing about those things. They aren't particularly exciting to read about. It wasn't a weekend out of the ordinary. There was no great revelation. Just average life. And a line I heard once at a writer's conference was ringing loudly and clearly in in my head as I pecked out the words:

There's always something to write about. If not, you need to live life with a little more aggression.

As I questioned whether my weekend was something to write about, I questioned, too, whether my life in general is aggressive enough.So I didn't post (obviously). Instead I spent the day mulling over the idea - what it means to live an aggressive life and whether I was doing it. And after a day of pondering I've come to this conclusion: I loved my weekend, and I am loving my life - in all it's simplicity.

And if reflecting on it exactly how it is doesn't bring the masses to this little spot in the internet landscape, so be it. I wouldn't change a thing about this life I live. Not for a blog. Not for anything.