Journal entry of an aging housewife

Dear Diary,
Who am I kidding? I never kept a diary. I kept a journal (Is there a difference?). A faithful one at that, from the age of thirteen until I was married. I quit there. My quest for love ended, so I guess I felt there wasn't anything else worth reporting.
My journal is embarrassing to read, now. Just page after page of one toad after another. (Don't get all offended my former-toad stalkers, I wasn't anyone worth having until Secret Agent Man came along, either. I'm sure you all became the perfect mate for your spouses,too. Well, not all of you. I can think of a couple of you that are most likely still toads. You know who you are.)
Then, the kids came and I discovered scrapbooking as a way to keep the family history and keep my sanity. But, all the paper and scissors and mess that comes with scrapbooking took over my kitchen table and I opted to feed my family instead of document them.
Then along came the Internets. Oh Lawd, thank you and thank Father Al. I love my blog, Facebook and Twitter (Hugs and kisses all ya'alls!).
Today, is my birthday. I have a life that celebrities wish for. A faithful and adoring husband, cute kids, including twins, (They all want twins. JLo, I had them first.) great friends and a little writing career that helps me keep my perspective on life; especially the things in life that seem never-ending like: dirty dishes, laundry, dog hair, pimples and wrinkles on the same face, devotion to good causes, loyalty to friends and above all... love of God and Family.
Happy Birthday to Me.