I started a blog. Here I am, blogging.
It was my husband's idea. I don't type. I am a hunter pecker. But a fast one, when I have both hands.
My husband has been blogging away all morning (I haven't read it but I caught a glimpse that he mentioned that I am not a morning person; I hope he handled it graciously.) He types. And he is a morning person, so are all our girls. I am not, neither are any of our boys.

Nonetheless, here I am. I wrote a blog, this is my second. I also created a poll. It has a typo. I guess Hubby will have a comment on that. He has a typo, and I foolishly brought it to his attention; I thought he'd be glad to know; I was trying to be helpful. He was not appreciative; the word "nit-picky" was used. Are nits lice eggs or lice babies? The point, however, is that they're very small, not that they're disgusting, so I guess I should only be slightly offended.

But perfection is the goal. It is always the goal, and it is the only goal worth having. So I get to work on getting up earlier, being more cheerful (so it is less obvious that I am not a morning person), not nit-picking others but helping out where I can, typing and proofreading myself, and generally striving for perfection. My poll has a typo. So does my husbands blog. We don't have to be perfect; we do have to keep trying to be perfect. And now the two year old is poopy. She isn't perfect either. No problems, I have all the time in the world. So do you.

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