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My mom told me yesterday that she’s tired of looking at the same story on here for two weeks and I need to update the ol’ bloggyblog. Like she is in most ways… she’s right. I’ve just been busy. And I blame her for that.  
 Ok  blame  is definitely the wrong word. I should thank her for my business. She always encouraged in me an insatiable quest for knowledge, a thirst for activity, a desire for new skills and hobbies, for dreaming big and saying yes and serving others and doing things the homemade/handmade/fresh-squeezed-lemonade way. My mother is the jack-of-all-trades. She’s a painting/sewing/rowing/gardening/wood-working/cross-word-puzzle-dominating/reading/gardening/dancing/stained-glass-making/volunteering/bike-riding/problem-fixing/knitting/advice-giving/joke-telling/wisdom-spewing genius and I’m so busy because I grew up under the subtle tutelage of my brilliant and whimsical mother who has always said  it’s better to be busy than to be sitting at home, wondering about what you could be doing!  Because of this mantra, I have lived a spectacularly exhausting life thus far. 
 When I was younger, my Girl Scout Troop went to our regional Camporee campout and we competed in a surprise activity: to design and make a boat out of thick cardboard and then race it across the lake. Mom hinted that perhaps pontoons would be the best bet and helped us draw up plans for the boat. We made three identical, triangular pontoons and capped them with duck tape. Then we made a tiny cockpit and base for the pontoons and spent the rest of the afternoon skipping rocks on the lake.  
 Our cardboard hull sliced through the water as if she had always been a boat. Our pontoons were daggers and the air inside them kept us buoyant and bouncing along the waves to victory. We beat everyone. Our tiny, sun-burned, one-piece-clad bodies became warriors. And we didn’t just win, we used the soggy cardboard shreds of our enemies as a trophy. We destroyed them. Every other boat sank and we were able to pull ours back ashore at the end. I knew then that knowledge was victory, and my mom knew boats. She knew physics. She knew paddling and teamwork and that having a good plan is usually best. She knew Xacto knives and cardboard. She knew everything. She could do anything. I wanted to be like that.  
 This is why I haven’t been able to be still for 27 years and why, even though I was resolute to write on this blog again every day for 2014, it’s now January 5th and here we are with the first 2014 post. Better to be busy than sitting at home, wondering what you could be blogging about…  
 To 2014! 

My mom told me yesterday that she’s tired of looking at the same story on here for two weeks and I need to update the ol’ bloggyblog. Like she is in most ways… she’s right. I’ve just been busy. And I blame her for that. 

Ok blame is definitely the wrong word. I should thank her for my business. She always encouraged in me an insatiable quest for knowledge, a thirst for activity, a desire for new skills and hobbies, for dreaming big and saying yes and serving others and doing things the homemade/handmade/fresh-squeezed-lemonade way. My mother is the jack-of-all-trades. She’s a painting/sewing/rowing/gardening/wood-working/cross-word-puzzle-dominating/reading/gardening/dancing/stained-glass-making/volunteering/bike-riding/problem-fixing/knitting/advice-giving/joke-telling/wisdom-spewing genius and I’m so busy because I grew up under the subtle tutelage of my brilliant and whimsical mother who has always said it’s better to be busy than to be sitting at home, wondering about what you could be doing! Because of this mantra, I have lived a spectacularly exhausting life thus far.

When I was younger, my Girl Scout Troop went to our regional Camporee campout and we competed in a surprise activity: to design and make a boat out of thick cardboard and then race it across the lake. Mom hinted that perhaps pontoons would be the best bet and helped us draw up plans for the boat. We made three identical, triangular pontoons and capped them with duck tape. Then we made a tiny cockpit and base for the pontoons and spent the rest of the afternoon skipping rocks on the lake. 

Our cardboard hull sliced through the water as if she had always been a boat. Our pontoons were daggers and the air inside them kept us buoyant and bouncing along the waves to victory. We beat everyone. Our tiny, sun-burned, one-piece-clad bodies became warriors. And we didn’t just win, we used the soggy cardboard shreds of our enemies as a trophy. We destroyed them. Every other boat sank and we were able to pull ours back ashore at the end. I knew then that knowledge was victory, and my mom knew boats. She knew physics. She knew paddling and teamwork and that having a good plan is usually best. She knew Xacto knives and cardboard. She knew everything. She could do anything. I wanted to be like that. 

This is why I haven’t been able to be still for 27 years and why, even though I was resolute to write on this blog again every day for 2014, it’s now January 5th and here we are with the first 2014 post. Better to be busy than sitting at home, wondering what you could be blogging about… 

To 2014! 

morgan cogswell