I get these ideas into my head and then they become obsessions and then it’s really all I can think about.

For the past month it has been this: antique white kitchen cabinets.

It all started last month when my husband was skiing with friends in Kelowna and every single one of us had strep and there were fevers and too many trips to the pharmacy to refill spilled amoxicillin and there was vomit and I decided that the only way to deal with all of this was retail therapy in the form of searching for the perfect new kitchen table and chairs but after much searching online at kitchen tables, I decided that the coloring of my kitchen was all wrong and what I really need to do in order to get the perfect table and chairs is to restain all the cabinets in a distressed white color.

So, really, it’s all my husband’s fault.

And this is why he should never go away ever.

Because, you know, this isn’t the first time this has happened, and I *might* still be paying off my camera and my 24-70mm f2.8 lens with my measly monthly FM checks. It’s probably a fact that I *could* increase my FM ad network checks by putting my work hat on when I write over here. Only, here’s the problem. When I work at my actual (paying)(amazing) job, I am knee-deep in words like SEO and internal links and keywords and tags. These are things that I, admittedly, am still learning to use properly.

I have to remember to change titles on posts to ones that are less lyrical and funny, and more straightforward and search-friendly.

I have to think, “what will readers be searching to get here?”

I have to make sure photos have titles that are not a whole heap of numbers mashed together. You know, the title that your camera gave the image…

I have to remember to link, link, link.

But over here, those concepts are completely lost on me.

Because when I am working, I am working.

But when I am over here, it’s not work, it’s a passion project. 

My titles are filled with puns and play-on-words and my attempts at humor. If I link internally, it’s usually by complete and total accident. I don’t tag my posts, I don’t think about google searches, I don’t rename images.

All I think about is the WRITING.

I want to write about my kids. I want to write about that funny story. I want to write about paying for my coffee with a subway token. I want to write about something embarrassing, something frustrating, something moving, something lovely, something amazing, something incredible.

I want to tell you about what I love and what I don’t. I want to tell you about where I want to travel and where I don’t. I want to tell you about my family, about my beliefs, about how the death of my grandmother made me feel.

I want to tell you about my tea addiction, my coffee addiction, my elliptical addiction, my Wire addiction. I want to tell you about how I miss my sister and how excited I am that my sister-in-law is having her fourth baby girl. I want to tell you that when my mom calls me to talk about American Idol, it makes me selfishly happy that she is unemployed for the first time since I was a baby.

I want to tell you how every time that ridiculous Colton on Survivor opens up his piehole I want to throw my expensive dishes against the wall. I want to tell you about how ridiculous it is that I own FOUR sets of expensive dishes and nine times out of ten, I don’t even use a plate, because when I exercise, I can’t stop eating and I basically just eat straight out of the fridge or off of my countertops because I’m really just that gross.

I want to tell you about how completely and totally blissfully happy I am right now.

I want the catharsis I feel when my fingers move across the keyboard.

Because that’s what writing is for me.

Catharsis.

Magic.

It’s better than an ad network paycheck.

But now I have to figure out how to pay for these cabinets

THAT I ABSOLUTELY MUST HAVE.