Deep roots grow tall trees....

At 5'4" I'm not especially tall nor am I deeply rooted.

Perhaps it was in retaliation to my upbringing - 18 years in the same town, house and room - that launched me into my string of serial-moves. In the years that have followed my initial advance I've lost count of number of addresses, apartments and roommates that I've had. In fact, I stopped counting a few years ago when all of the aforementioned stats reached the double digits.

I am neither proud nor ashamed of this. "This" is simply a part of being Britt. I will move until I find the place that makes me want to stay. And then I will stay and be happy. Or not.

When Steven asked me to move to Ottawa I saw anther opportunity for me to potentially find that place. "Yes, of course! Ottawa! I was always meant to live in Ottawa! In Ottawa I will find what I have been looking for!"

What I hadn't anticipated (I never do) was that I wouldn't find what I was looking for there. While Ottawa itself is a great city, what with its ability to weather recessions well and all that, it's a great city away from the friends, family and the other people that I know and love. And so now I second guess brushing off the possibility of living happily in Manitoba, for life in it's Easterly neighbor.

So here I am with one foot planted in Manitoba and one foot planted in Ottawa, and two arms reaching out and frantically grabbing for South America, India, Russia... or anywhere else that might have what I'm looking for. Or, it might not.

Tomorrow I fly back to Manitoba for an annual camping trip with friends. I will be gone only a few days and I will remember why I want to live there, and I will also be reminded of why I don't. And then the two ideologies will fight internally within me second guessing one another until they're both blue in the face and so exhausted that they will just agree to disagree and I'll move to Alaska to see if what I want is there.

What do I want? Like everyone, I want what I don't have. As the case may be, I want roots. I want roots that run so deep they wrap around rocks, houses, water pipes and other trees. Roots that declare themselves, and the entire tree, happy to be "HERE" forever. But, I don't have roots. I have branches and, for now those aren't so bad.

If you wait to do everything until you're sure it's right, you'll probably never do much of anything.

It seems there are blogs about everything these days. Blogs about cooking, cleaning, dogs, cats, babies, weddings, flowers, frogs, traveling, being "green"... cooking clean, cooking while you clean, cleaning your cat, cooking for your dog, cooking your dog, cats and dogs, babies and cats, babies dogs and cats, weddings for your dog/cat/baby, wedding flowers, cooking for weddings, destination weddings, green weddings, traveling green, green babies, green frogs, cooking green, blogging green....

you get the idea.

For a long, long time now I've been waiting for the right reason to start blogging again and several opportunities presented themselves over the past few months.

1. I got engaged! I could jump on board the bridezilla blogging bus and tell the world about what sort of place settings we've registered for, or that we were soliciting proposals from local banks to conduct a financial assessment of our friends, family and coworkers to determine who would provide a better ROI (return on invitation).

2. I moved. I move a lot actually. I could blog about moving, packing and the best way to trick your friends into helping you -- FYI, it's inviting them over for pizza and neglecting to mention that you won't be ordering that pizza until they've carried your couch five blocks down the street and up three flights of stairs.

3. I like cooking so I could become the five-billionth blog about that.

4. I adopted the worlds happiest basset hound and I'm sure you would all love regular detailed posts about Sally's eating, pooping and sleeping schedule.

5. I'm unemployed... or as I prefer "transitioning." You could hear all about my search for the perfect job. My tenth, eleventh, and twenty-third interviews, how I rambled, talked excessively with my hands and about the time I stole the interviewers cellphone.

I know these topics would all make for interesting blogs, but none of them have come to fruition. I'm not a bridezilla, I hate moving, half of the things that I cook I end up burning, blogging about my dog seems a little desperate and blogging about unemployment IS desperate. So I've decided to stop waiting for the right thing to write about and to just blog about all of it. All of these crazy little things that make my crazy little life, what it crazy little is.

Oh I can hear the critics now "oh no! Not another life blog... that's sooooo done. I hope she doesn't tweet about it."

Well you critics can go hate on some other blog, we don't need none of that round here!

(Okay so I made the thing about critics up just so that I could use the phrases "hate on" and "round here." And incase you were wondering, the answer is no, I won't be tweeting about it... that's sooooo done.)