Darla

I’m just Darla, a girl of very little means and many little ways. I tend to have an opinion on everything but not necessarily the right one. I will admit to talking, not before thinking but probably before the thoughts have sunk in. I’ve been accused of not filtering my mouth, but than I tend to think my accusers have the same problem. Kind of like the pot calling the kettle black. I will try and apologize when wrong, strut when I’m right and not be ashamed about making an utter ass of myself.

I’m in love with a boy, a dog and a cat. We are a party of four. Mr. Darla’s been attached to my hip since the winter of 2001. At the moment we’re barren, but after 7 years of practice we still enjoy trying all the time. We’d love to have a natural birth but if the meds and treatments won’t work we’re very open to the idea of foster adopting siblings from our local county. Just want to give a kid a place in this world to call their own and feel wanted. Our Rottwieler Sue came with Mr. D. She’s a 90lb, 8 year old bag of fun that is more passive than a turtle and quite the bull in the china closet. Our little Bengal kitten Dude came into our lives this past winter. He’s my scrappin’meyer and love of my life. Mr. D tolerates the cat because he loves me and I adore the feline. Somehow the cat has made it clear that the dogs his pet, not the other way around. What can you do?

I love food and exercise, a bit of a conundrum I know. In the words of a Comedy Central comedian: I could be a skinny bitch but I’m not into dieting, because they’re all about calorie counting. That’s self depravation and math, two things that should never be aligned with food. Oh glorious food. Take away my ability to move or eat mac-n-cheese and give me death. A good sweat or a frozen candy bar can both be very good therapy.

I am a self addicted hooker. My living room is piled with miscellaneous skeins of yarn, half worked projects, crochet hooks galore and a tape measure of two. I don’t do doilies and rarely do full size blankets. The phrase “afghan” can make me shiver along with trying to unravel the mystery of knitting and purling. I love crafty funky toys, baby accessories, bags, funky hats and an odd bowl or two.

I am as eclectic as they come. I love photographing random objects, listening to a wide variety of music and being very unapologetic to my slight road rage rush hour issues. I must admit to being a WoW head, that’s World of Warcraft addict for you non geeks. If you don’t know, google it. I am a book worm and a sketching fiend. I come from a large family of loud talkers and married into their carbon copies. I am the angry middle child and an oldest daughter. I’m blessed with a 12-minute younger, utterly obnoxious best friend and twin sister and with a sprite of a baby sister, 3.5 years my younger and getting cooler with each passing year. I have a brother in prison I will defend to the moon and a father-in-law with 18-month-old twins. I love God and my parents and even the bastard down the street, but some things go without saying.

I am also an Air Force wife. After 5 years of marriage we decided to embark into a new stage of our life called the military. As Mr. D grows and evolves with this new career path I get the joy of falling down the rabbit hole of the dependent. It’s a whole different phase and definition of what a supportive spouse really is. It’s beyond being Stepford or Leave it to Beaver or the Brady Bunch. It’s the commune of the circus that embraces every nook and cranny of our life.

I blog for the therapy. I blog to hear myself think. I blog for the ego. I blog to find friends. I blog cause I can. If you read me, if you want to know me, drop me a line sometime: deardarla[at]rocketmail[dot]com I’m waiting. My life isn’t an American Express commercial it is merely my own, I hope you can enjoy it.