Dear Diary,

Tired of hearing"You don't understand ANYTHING", I thought really hard about how to rectify this problem. I mean I have degrees  (yes, multiple!) for Pete's Sake, I must have known something at some point in my life. How to find out what happened in my early teens other than my sporadic recalling of something that I would have rather forgotten?

I ventured to my friend Faith's house to dig through my boxes in her basement. Yes, one corner of her basement is my storage bay (so to speak). I was in a rush, so I grabbed the first 4 journals that I could find. That's right, my blogging didn't start out of the blue. I was always a journal-er. It was just done the old fashion way with a notebook and a pen or pencil. Thankfully, I saved these nuggets of my past and can now use them to my advantage. (or disadvantage, like when your daughter grabs one and starts reading something inappropriate that I did in college, oops)

I had a lot to say when I was 11. My friend, Melissa, gave me this diary for my birthday. It once had a key, but thankfully I lost it and left it unlocked.

My first entry was very profound and spoke about getting this particular diary and having MacDonald's for dinner.

The next day was a little more juicy.
"Today I made some boats out of wood. Then we went down to Dennie's cause that was the only dock with water by it. I did something horrible. I was looking for Karen (my sister) cause we were playing hide and go seek and I found some Easter stuff. There was a couple of stuffed animals. I feel horrible now I know what I am getting. I wish the Easter Bunny was real then I wouldn't find the stuff. Boo Hoo Boo Hoo."

Some other interesting things I wrote about included getting yelled at by my 5th grade teacher, having to sleep on a lawn chair when my grandparents came to visit, Stephen G telling the whole school that Bobby R and I "did it" (seriously, I was 11. Did I know what that even meant?), roller skating and some weird boy wiggling his butt in front of me and Melissa, and the fact that "we sold our house to Indians". Actually they were from India.

When B read through it, she said, "Wow! You went to the movie theater to see Return From Witch Mountain? The ORIGINAL ONE?" Fresh kid. I didn't give her dessert that night.

So, as I pour through my past to see if I did at one time know stuff, I will share interesting finds with you. But, rest assure, you will not read about the details of the "inappropriate stuff from college". Sorry, we are a PG rated site here.