I’ve done a lot of things in 365 days.

I’ve done even more things in 1,095 days. Wait – scratch that… 1,096 days. #whatisthisleapyearstuff

These things include writing you pathetic poems and becoming extra greedy with a bowl of dip and blue corn tortilla chips and telling you all about it. They include saying the word “like” more times than I can count and probably writing it even more. They include clocking hours behind a computer and in front of a sink… but rarely doing dishes. They include burning cupcakes and catching my oven on fire and cracking eggs directly over the spinning mixer only to be all loosey goosey and drop the shells right into the dough… even though Mother Lovett made me swear I’d always crack them in a bowl first.

These things don’t include further educating myself on adulthood or learning to like any raw vegetable… ever. They don’t include successfully making pie crust at all or even really caring, which totally sucks but is the truth. They don’t include getting over my Lisa Frank trapper keeper obsession or even attempting in the foreseeable future. They don’t include effectively disconnecting for even one day, but that’s alright with me because my invisible internet friends are sort of my best friends.

You gave me courage to make freaking CROISSANTS. I mean… hello best friends! You taught me how to eat brussels sprouts. This is love. You’ve told me it is okay (well, sorta) to watch Dawson’s Creek at the age of OMGalmost30 and to not make my bed and to consider cheese, crackers and wine a balanced dinner and to still be afraid of the dark and need to sleep with 41 blankets so the monsters don’t catch me and constantly reminisce and whine about my tween years so much that it hurts. Like hurts us all.

Words can’t even express how much I seriously adore and appreciate YOU for chatting with me and reading this complete and utter nonsense for three whole years. Words can’t express how much every comment and every eyeball on this site means to me. And even though words can’t express it, I just wrote nearly 400 of them.

What I’m really trying to say is:

I.love.your.guts. Like oh so much. Like so much I can barely stand it. THANK YOU.