Roughly 9 1/2 months have gone by, and more than a handful of loved ones have encouraged me to write again.

Hmm, 9 months . . . the same amount of time it takes for a unique gift of life to form and be introduced to the world.

I've started to nurture many an idea, but life has gotten in the way.  Priorities have shifted.  My thoughts have found other outlets for processing.

But, my thoughts are churning again.  My fingers are itching to tickle the keys.  And my friends and family are questioning.  :o)  I feel the love.  With this encouragement, I will write again - - - soon.

I . . . like hugs.

For most of my life I have thought otherwise, and in recent years I have shared this info with others as a means of defense.  “Oh no. I’m not a fan of hugs. Thanks.”

Translation – I see that you’re approaching for a hug, and I’m really uncomfortable with that.  Don’t touch me.  STEP.  OFF.

Side-hugs are even worse.  Stand beside someone, put your hand on their shoulder/ around their waist/ hovering on their ribcage and release a noncommittal amount of pressure.  I don’t remember the side-hug being as popular when I was a child.  In fact, I cannot remember receiving one side-hug when I was below 5 feet tall.  Side-hugs are intentionally awkward gestures.  Can someone please tell me who invented them?  I’d really like to know.

The business world has nearly freed me from these social anomalies with the introduction of the handshake.  Noncommittal is appropriate here.  We are strangers and it is business.  The firmness of the initial shake says it all.

Alas, I have become sidetracked, and must return to the topic at hand. (Puns fully intended.)

In the past 6 months, I have encountered a handful of aggressive huggers.  *Please note: this is one situation where aggression is welcome.  Surely you’ve encountered one of these rare gems.  Their squeezes explode with passion as if this is the last opportunity for a hug – ever.  In the midst of one of these bone crushers, steering the direction of the embrace in not an option.  All you can do is hold on and accept the affection.  The moment matters.  There’s a lot of trust involved and there’s certainly a raise in awareness of being human.  [Side-hugs? A negligible amount of trust there.]  I’ve had a taste of what real hugs feel like, and (I can’t believe I’m saying this) they’re wonderful!

I finally understand.  And so I broadcast to the world in the words of so many bygone crooners, “Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you.”

In the midst of great life changes, triumphs, heartaches, and surprises, 2007 slipped away, and a new year revealed its mysterious face.

I remember so clearly when we first embraced 2000 as Peter Jennings stayed up for nearly 24 hours in the public eye, highlighting 60 notable countries' celebration of the momentous change.  I remember him being a bit cranky.  That was eight long/short years ago!  A few months later, I moved to North Carolina.  One year later, I donned a goofy gown, and scurried across the stage to receive my high school diploma.  The next year was spent in a red dirt-filled country (in the nation of Texas) the encounters of which I am still trying to comprehend.  I joined up with the native red dirtians to ride across America on a tour bus/New Jersey transit system bus the next year as a rock star.  Ha.

After two years of unclassifiable stretching, I washed off the rosy clay, and taught my brain to once again maneuver lengthy essays and tricky multiple choice tests.  I remember hating my first semester of college.  Apparently, the hatred passed as I found a quirky group of people to study alongside.  Thespians.  Great friends, a good education, and a few more unclassifiable experiences that I am still processing took place in those 4 Oklahoman years.

May of 2007 marked the end of the pre-charted course as I once again sauntered across a stage in a goofy gown, this time receiving my college degree Summa Cum Laude.  June marked the settling into the notion of Texas and all things new.  New job.  New apartment.  New friends.  New church.  New new new new new. 

In the year 2007:
I owned a car for the first time: Miss Kitty.
I owned a cell phone for the first time: pay as you go is better than nothing.
I went on a few accidental dates for the first time: first kiss - - sike! [90s anyone?]
I started my first salary-based job: Thomas Nelson Live Events, Program Coordinator.  Traveling the US at the height of my dreams has caused me to dream again.

And the list goes on and on.

After an interesting sequence of events, I live in a house now.  That's new.  My housemates are quirky, brilliant, caring, and proudly nerdy.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Honestly, once June and the big move took place, the rest of 2007 was a big blur.  Almost.

Sitting here, racking my brain to recall, I must give myself a reprimanding nudge.  Has time already erased the pivotal memories?

In this year, the brevity of life was emphasized.  My grandmother left this world.  A lot of turmoil has been left behind for my family - - the brunt of it all fell on my mom.

In this year, the miracle of life was emphasized.  Jocelyn Grace, my adorable niece, joined this world.  She said her first word the other day.  "Hi."  Hello to you, too, Jocelyn.  There's so much in store for you little lady.  Joy and grace.

So 2008 . . .  "Hi."  You're fresh and new to me.  I wish I could examine the nuances of the world and be just as enamored as little Jocelyn.

2007 urged me to set my life rhythms in place.  Gone are the late nights/early mornings of college days.  Try explaining to your work superior that you're not working up to par because you were enjoying late night caffeine and giggles.  Life sure does change, eh?  And off to bed I go - - -

Here's a thought to chew on until my rhythms once again allow me to journal . . .

What if everything that came out of your mouth was not heard through your words, but instead was heard as the intent behind your words?

What would change about your thoughts - your expressions toward others - and the condition of your heart?

Ciao for now . . .

My apartment smells like sewage?!  This is a new development (today), and this is not good.  NOT good.  My head is a little woozy.  How am I supposed to sleep tonight?

Don't worry.  No need to call.  Parents: please do not call.  The situation, although strange enough to share via the internet, is under control.

I counted.  In the month of November, I will be in town 12 full days.  That's crazy, eh?  I wonder what other amusing/not so amusing "character-marks" and aromas will reveal themselves in that time.

I am still on the home hunt.  I met with the aforementioned potential, and we'll just say it was very clear that it was not the right choice.  I will deliver the fully entertaining report in person or on the phone upon request.

Please pray.  It is in those 12-ish days that I need to find my new place to live, and hopefully my new house/roommates.

In the meantime . . .  Goodnight sun.  Goodnight moon.  Goodnight stinky aromatic bathroom.

I had an adventure in cooking this evening . . . cooking as a single person . . .

and exploring the land of French Toast varieties.

The strawberry-stuffed french toast is in my belly.

The mozzarella-stacked french toast has been tasted, and awaits future consumption.

The traditional french toast will be tomorrow's breakfast.

What else are you going to do when your bread, milk, and eggs all teeter on the brink of expiration?

This weekend, the Revolve Tour takes a breather, and I shall buy and eat fresh fruit and veggies.  Please suppress your jealousy.  :)

I have a lead on a place to move into in December.  We shall pray and see . . .

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