Blog Envy

I am really wanting to redesign this little ole website of mine. The problem is, I have blog envy. I see beautiful blogs of big named bloggers and I want what they have.

However, the thing they have, that I don't, is the ability to make money off of their blogs. They actually pay professional people to create their site and their templates, their widgets and gadgets, tabs, buttons, and post-dividers galore. They have graphic designers and... well... people who actually know what they're doing. Which is totally understandable. If this hobby of mine actually made money I'd probably be quick to justify some professional (or at least knock-off) blog design work.

I have a beautiful design in my head of what my blog should look like, but I have zero ability to make that happen. I have neither the money to hire someone to do it for me, nor the knowledge to do it myself.

There are tons of free options. They all look great. They're just not what I have in my head. But I shall not covet my neighbor's blog. I shall not covet my neighbor's blog. I shall not covet my neighbor's blog.

Hmmmm, I highly doubt either of my neighbor's have a blog. Maybe I should move to Oklahoma and live next door to The Pioneer Woman. Then that statement could ring true. I love how all of her separate blog pages weave into one blog home page, yet they stay archived on their proper page categories. I'm pretty sure that's something free web-design pages don't have. Yet, it's what I want.

I want it like I want to fit into my old jeans.

Like I want time to stand still so my kids don't get any bigger.

Like I want my condo to sell.

Like I want money to fall out of the sky.

But, in the mean time I think I'm going to work on at least changing the template to something a little more bright and cheery. Deep, dark colors don't suit my mood like bright bold colors do. I like this design well enough, but it kind of depresses me. I like change. Even if I can't have what I exactly what I want exactly when I want it.

Yes, I too, sometimes desire to throw a tantrum like a two year-old. I usually compose myself and do my best to act my age. Or at least my shoe size. However, the other night I did throw a blanket over my head while I was sitting up on the couch, in a symbolic protest of all of the paper work that appeared to be flung all over every square inch of my down stairs. If I can't see it, it's not there, right?

Well, I am ashamed to admit, when I woke up 3 hours later (at 2:00 in the morning), still sitting up with the blanket over my head--it was still there. And I was cold. My head was warm, but my leg was cold. Yes, only one leg. The other was under the blanket. I resolve not to throw irrational two-year-old style fits. Come to find out, they don't actually accomplish anything. Go figure?