This last St. Patrick’s Day, March 17th, I forgot to wish myself a happy blog-birthday! I’ve been blogging for 3 years. I started blogging because of Mike, Steph, Jim, Eric and the Pjaks. Then it kind of grew into it’s own monster, and I like to think that I had a strong role to play in the blog-births of at least Rory, Diane, and the Lyons–maybe Templetons too? It’s become a great outlet for me and something I really enjoy. I think I’ve picked up a few new readers, too, according to Google analytics. In fact, I have quite a few international readers, so if you ever want to comment, I’d love to know who you are!

In those three years I have a few posts that are my favorites, and I think I might occasionally re-post them under Greatest Hits. It will be Departement of Redundancy Department for some of you long-time loyal readers, but maybe something new for others.

This is one. I wrote this poem based on a template I found on this website. It is basically a love letter to 3 people in my life, my mom, dad and brother. It’s full of things precious/funny to our immediate family, but I think you can get enjoyment out of it too. What I would LOVE to see is a few of YOU write one and post it on YOUR BLOG! I won’t “tag” anyone, but it’s not hard to do (the template walks you right through each line) and it would make a great mother’s day present. šŸ˜‰

“Where I’m From” by Jen B-T

I’m from Douglas firs and Super Mario Brothers. I’m from Psalty, Five Mile Creek and Ramona Quimby.

I’m from the fourth house on the left, the cul-de-sac, from rooms kept cool in the summer by fans and closed blinds. I am from a true wood-burning fireplace.

I’m from the roses and hydrangeas, from Veda, Trillium and Mirror.

I’m from year-by-year collages in the hallway and toothbrushes in the kitchen; from Carters and Mulkeys and Helphensteins. I am from quick to laugh and easy to cry, smart and smart-aleck; from photographs as a second religion. From hanging on and letting go.

I’m from “obnoxiously functional.”

I’m from road trips and hiking trips and ā€œweā€™ll take as many breaks as you want but weā€™re not carrying you.ā€ Iā€™m from ā€œTV coinsā€ in the jar for every hour Iā€™ve read.

I’m from Winkie and Jesus, Sunday school and VBS; from faith as a lifestyle, not just a label. From Turner and WiNeMa and PCCofHIU. I’m from education as a value and an honor, not an obligation.

I’m from the incomparable Pacific Northwest and Southern California perfection; from Minestrone soup and home-made caramel corn. Iā€™m from McDonaldā€™s as a treat, not a routine.

Iā€™m from a plastic cup flushed down the toilet and a knee injury in racquetball. Iā€™m from tole-painting and hand-sewn dresses, from chocolate pudding as finger paint.

I’m from scrapbooks, from nostalgia and movies. I’m from expressive and unconditional love, vocal pride and unhesitating forgiveness. I’m from a place that shapes my history and my future.

How could I ask for more?