I Prefer Baby Bear's Porridge

I've been meaning to get around to starting this blog for a few months now. I've even started the process a couple of times, but I always got held up on one little detail:  the name. As I am the former holder of an email address that included the words Betty and Boop, you can understand my hesitation. It had to be perfect. After all, maybe I'll become famous some day and be stuck with some silly moniker. Furthermore, the rest of the site also had to be perfect and look hip. I can't have people knowing I'm relatively new to the blogosphere. So today I started thinking about setting it up again, and when I found myself making a long list of potential names I had to laugh. After all, I'm not attempting to write the great American novel. Perhaps I might be taking myself a tad too seriously?

The thing is, I have been this way my whole life. I can't help it, coming from a long line of perfectionists. Countless hours have been spent in search of the precise dress, exact couch or perfect turn of phrase. The holy grail can be found if you're committed enough. I'm just sure of it. In reminiscing about these quests, I was particularly struck by the absurdity of the fact that many of these searches have been brought to me by the color green. Not just any green, though, it has to be the right green. The perfect green. It's kind of an appley-avocado-lime shade, and for some reason I am inordinately drawn to it. A version of it appears currently in my life in the form of a tablecloth, a purse, three shirts, two sweaters and my water bottle. What can I tell you? I gotta be me. 

While I have a healthy respect (and possibly an unnatural love) for exacting standards and detailed preferences, the truth is I know that perfection doesn't exist. Even with lots of editing and liposuction. That's actually what makes life amusing. It's more interesting when things don't go according to plan, particularly if you are the observer. So, I offer you my musings and my potentially regrettable blog title. Enjoy...