"Is this going to end up in your blog?"

(I just love this drawing, and felt like the entry needed a graphic)

Sometimes, I think I should change the name of the blog.

It has proven a little bit hard to remember:
Thoughtful friend: "I can't find your blog online. What is it called? There's lots that I can do? I do lots of things? I can do a lot?" Wait. Let me write that down. It's so many letters!"

It exposes me for the sham that I am:
Everyone: "Your blog is called, I can do lots of things? Like what? What can you do?"
Me: "I don't know. I just thought it sounded catchy. I can't actually do all that much."
(Ciara springs loyally to my defense: "She can make coffee. She can tie her shoes. She can breathe in. And she can breathe out.")

In group settings, my witty friends have a field day:
"Kendall, can you grab me a soda?"
"Of course, she can. She can do lots of things."
"Kendall, can you drop me off at my house?"
"Of course, she can. She can do lots of things."
"Kendall, can you..." Aaah. You get the gist.

It goads me unwillingly into healthfulness. While weight-lifting with Ollie (technically, at this point, Ollie was lifting weights and I was more, like, "supervising"):
"Come on, Kendall! Come on, Miss 'I can do lots of things.'"

But the thing is, I've already picked this name. For better of worse, I picked it. And I'm kind of attached to it. It has grown on me. It is very open ended, which is super convenient for me, and probably really frustrating for my friends. Because my blog is about anything, and also about nothing, they NEVER KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO BLOG ABOUT.

Which leads me to one of my very favorite things about this blog. It leads me to my favorite question from my dear friends who agree to read it:

"Is this going to end up in your blog?"

In December, Katie got yelled at by a crazy, crazy woman at the train station. "Is this going to end up in your blog?" she asked, after it was clear that the woman wasn't going to kill us, that I would live to blog another day. "I don't know," I said. And now, a month later, here it is. (We were parked, at a very great distance, from the woman who jumped out of her car, pointed at Katie, and screamed, "I wouldn't hit my car if I was you!!! Scary. Portland.)

Last week, Ollie watched as I bent shakily into the ninth and possibly final squat of my life forever. "Is this going to end up in your blog?" she asked. "I don't know," I said. Of course, now it is in the blog. So I should just start saying, "Eventually."

We're all kind of confused, because the major events of my life unfold in 3D--like everyone, I enjoy satisfying time spent with friends (usually while eating), have problems at work, see my loved ones through difficulties and triumphs, make important decisions about my future (also usually while eating), etc.,--but then, at the end of the day when it comes time to blog, I end up writing about the impossibly slow drain in my shower.

(The drain is impossibly slow. To make matters worse, if anyone in one of the other apartments takes a shower at the same time, my water pressure slows to the saddest little trickle. I end up with buckets of water hanging out by my feet and slow thimblefuls of water coming out of the shower head, and I sing to myself, "You can't always get what you want. But if you stand for a very, very, very, very, very long time, you get what you need. Eventually. But you will have prune feet.")

My mother says short posts are key, and she is very wise. So, my point, at last: This blog has an inaccurate name, and weird content, and I would apologize for it, except that I enjoy writing it so, so much.

Shampoo residue forever,
Kendall