More Posts Coming Soon!

In the span of a week and a half, I overcame a lifetime of keeping my story quiet and spoke on 90.1 WMBI Moody Radio (I'll post the link soon!), flew to Texas for a cousin’s wedding and engaged in some serious southern barbeque food, packed up my entire house, survived a blizzard that dumped 22 inches of snow, spent hours digging my car out of a 6 foot snow drift, and then moved... in those 22 darn inches. Phew! 

This girl is exhausted.

Therefore, my poor little blog has been neglected. 

Once I’m settled in my new place and Comcast has bestowed upon me the gift of internet, regular posting will be resumed.

In the meantime…

Oakley wants to be packed too

My life in boxes

My poor, poor car

The amazing Bobcat man who came to my rescue and dug me out

Ahhh - freedom!

My brother and I at our cousin's Texas wedding

That's some good Texas eatin'

Somewhere Between a Labrador and Barnacle

When it comes to her need for affection, Elizabeth Gilbert, in her bestseller Eat Pray Love, describes herself as a cross between a Labrador and a barnacle. 

I love that. 

I love that so much I choked when I read it. 

Because it’s true of me too. So, if you’d be so kind as to share it, Ms. Gilbert, I shall claim that description for myself. 

I have this insatiable need to be touched. It doesn’t matter if you offer to hug me, snuggle with me, sit next to me, pat my head or simply breathe on me – I’ll take it. And forever love you for it.  

And yes, for those of you who are wondering, I’m a 28 year old woman who still wants to crawl into her mother’s lap. Mom doesn’t often let me do it, but when she does… oh the glorious snuggling there is to be had!

(PS – I’m horrified that I just admitted that). 

Featured here is a blissfully ignorant whale who is being attacked by barnacles. Can you see them? Those little dots clinging to his underbelly? Yup, that's me.

This is Me

So, I'm new to this blogging thing. Like, really new. And when my friend Bethany introduced me to the blog-o-sphere so that I could begin publicly recording what I hope to eventually publish in a book, I became slightly overwhelmed. Okay, so REALLY overwhelmed. I mean, there are people who actually, seriously write on these things. Every. Day.

I eventually rose above my overwhelm-edness and got to creating. But then I took a serious turn for the worse when I had to fill out the "This is Me" portion on my side column. Even though I paired it down to "I'm a writer, professional communicator and obsessive organizer who once was harassed by modern-day pirates in the South Pacific," my original version went something like this:

I'm a writer, professional communicator and obsessive organizer who once was harassed by modern-day pirates in the South Pacific. And can't stand still while brushing her teeth. And owns an original piece of art painted by a leper. And firmly believes singer/songwriter Sara Groves was sent to this earth just for her. And has accidentally swum with alligators and sharks. Many times. And believes her tears tell her about the condition of her soul. And loves people but sometimes imperfectly. And collects old books and leather trunks. And has seen God perform a miracle right in front of her. And loves to explore mountains and forests. And new countries. And life under the sea. And people's hearts. And knows that life has made her strong but God has made her tender. And longs to be known and loved in that knowing. Oh, and who will accept peanut butter and chocolate in any form.

Seriously?  How does anyone expect me explain who I am in 10 words? Impossible, I say!