Getting Real

I've started telling people about this blog but now I worry that I can't be real on it. It's one of those things where once you start telling the world about it, you can't discuss anyone in your life. I have thoughts and issues about people and things but if I start spouting off about there here, I'm afraid they will come back and bite me so royally on my ass that I'll be screaming for days. So, what's a girl to do? Do I make this a fake site and just have it here just so I can say I have a blog, or do I get real and forget about what anyone thinks? Since I'm not stupid, I'll do a bit of both. Self censorship is a bit of what it means to be an adult. I'm always telling my husband that he needs to learn to censor himself. He'll slip out with a curse word in front of our daughter and I want to throttle him, but he doesn't even realize it. Is it better to be natural or like Thumper's dad and say, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all?" Hell if I know. I'm so confused at times that I wouldn't know my butt from a hole in the ground. I can't believe I just said that. That's one of those things my mother would say. She was always full of these little sayings. I'm going to compile them one day. One of my favorites was "He wouldn't know cat shit from apple butter." Apple butter is really cooked down and sweetened apples that you spread across toast. It does look like cat shit. She used to always say, "It's as cold as a witch's titty in a brass bra." How do you measure the temperature of a witch's titty in a brass bra? Where do you get brass bras? Perhaps it's a wican fashion statement. I don't know.
I miss my mother but I think of her and she's like fuel to my fire. She's the reason why I try to press on and do something with my life. I just don't want to end up like her. She's in her sixties and she's broke. She's miserable and she's unhappy with her life. I love her and I want to make her life comfortable, but I don't want to end up old and alone like her.
I'm debating going to the gym during lunch. I mean, if I go I'll feel great for the afternoon, but I won't take a nap. If I don't take a nap during lunch, I will be pooped tonight when Gordon comes home. I'll want to get in bed as soon as he comes home and I'll end up "neglecting" him. So, my sex life depends on if I want to do yoga or not. Oh, I'm sorry, "practice" yoga. I suck at it, but it will be great for my body. The yoga, not the sex. Well, actually they're both good for me. I'll just sweat during one of them and not the other. It's no ones business which one will make me sweat.
JC