This is the point in the story where our heroine begins to wax poetic, reminiscing about the last 525,948 minutes gone by, the adventures that were brought with it and the lessons learned. This is the point where she sits on her stoop in the 40 degree air, sipping her mocha and listening to the crisp leaves as they float lazily to the earth below her and cover the clay that lies where soil should be. This is the point where she struggles with the temptation to spill the contents of her heart onto a page as though it were an oversized purse and she can’t seem to find her lipstick at the bottom.

It’s at this point we’re reminded that our heroine is full of surprises, and they’re not always good. It’s now, with this breath, that we realize we have our own inventory to take. Our own notes of appreciation to send to those who have helped us grow as the numbers in the task tray of our OS incremented by one silently over the course of the calendar year.

It’s now we should be still and silent and most of all – thankful.

Me? I’m thankful for strong legs and a stronger will. I’m thankful for new friends and their intermittent visits and marathon calls or IM sessions. I’m thankful for older friends and the inspiration they provide me with their zest for life and the fearlessness with which they conquer the unknown. I’m thankful for my family and the bond we’ll always have, though thousands of miles may keep us apart (and prevent us from killing each other). I’m thankful for the sun rising every morning because it reminds me that there are some things that can be depended on. I’m thankful for my frou-frou coffee drinks and the empty calories they contain that guilt me into exercise. I’m thankful for you, readers, for coming back time and again to read my erratic ramblings.

I wish you all happiness and love in the coming days and years. I wish you health, and peace, and laughter so abundant it makes your body ache.

My best to you as the clock ticks on and marks a new beginning.

I’m slowly catching up on rest (16 hours last night), some of the favorite meals I don’t normally have time for, and laughter with friends that reminds me why I have abs.

I’ll be spending the New Year on the side of a mountain with a few people I hold near and dear, in a land removed from cellular connectivity, cable, the internet and as a result – you all. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t, but that’s not what it means.

As for the status of the hiatus, I haven’t spent as much time thinking as I have in years past, and I feel great about the shift. This is the evolution.

Significant, unexpected changes in the last several weeks have served as inspiration for bigger changes that need to be made, examining The New Priorities (more on this next year) and forcing myself to continue to chase that thing that can scare us most: happiness.

For now, I’ll step away from the keyboard again and enjoy spontaneity.

Last night saw Yo, Kimbo and I at NHP, engaging in perhaps our closest trivia competition to date. Following our defeat we came back to my place, played a little Mancala, read about birthdays (then discussed accuracies/inaccuracies), watched Nip Tuck (disturbing) and ate what was left of the cookie bar thingies I made earlier in the week. On their departure around 1am, I was granted eight hours of sleep filled with dreams of sandy shores, clear warm water and rays of sun that energize but never burn.

Waking from the divine slumber was followed by a few errands, some therapeutic (read: OCD) cleaning and whipping up a batch of Irish crème according to a secret family recipe. Mmmmmm.

Not so secret if you consider that most of the ingredients are shown here – now if you could only determine quantities and identify what’s missing.

It’s a perfect compliment to reading in an immaculately sunny spot on the porch. I’ve earned it.

Kissy boo, babies.

I’m not sure why I feel this obligation to grab the laptop and spend a few minutes justifying why exactly I haven’t been in front of the keyboard investing delicious amounts of my oh-so-precious time penning posts to entertain you.

Habit? Are you even worthy? Bah. Who am I to question it? Trust your instincts, roll with them. You’ll benefit from that soul food by being given these crumbs…

Saturday night: 8 hours of crap/tossing/turning
Sunday night: 12 hours of sleep

Christmas of orphaned singletons: Chinese food, drinks at Limerick Junction followed by Fun with Dick and Jane. While at Limerick I almost killed a man with my bare hands when I had to endure him wishing countless fellow patrons a “Happy Christmas”. Instead, I lost two arm wrestling competitions and enjoied a parade of festive but not tasteful holiday wear. Purdy.

Current reading: Cloud Atlas

E tu?

Wednesday night: 16 hours of sleep
Thursday night: 9 hours of sleep
Friday night: 14 hours of sleep

I’ve read It Ain’t Easy Being Green (birthday gift) and about half of The Alchemist, made some wicked 7 layer cookies, and prepped the kitchen with the supplies to make Irish Crème (by family recipe). I’ve done laundry, wrapped gifts, gone for a run or two, had a manicure and pedicure, and spent time with Codie.

This morning the sky is a blue so pretty and flawless it almost hurts to look at it, the trees are all naked and there are ice crystals on everything…causing the light to dance. In a few hours I’ll roll out to Sweetwater for a fix of my familiar trails, of clean air, of decomposing leaves and the musk of melted frost. But for now…just the next hour or two…it’s back to bed with The Alchemist, half listening to Clear and Present danger and the swishing of the water in the dish washer while I sip coffee and continue to recharge my batteries.

Slow, silent days can be so liberating.

Kissy boo, babies, and Merry Christmas Eve!

Update – 11:48. The Alchemist is finished and if I could, I’d lend it to you. Grab it when you’re feeling disconnected and wandering, or grab it when you’re feeling tranquil and grounded …what’s important is that you grab it at all. Quiet your mind and your cynicism, listen to what it tells you. Now: bathing followed by that air I spoke of earlier and consideration of my dreams…

After months of living the dream in Madrid, of becoming one with the culture and the city, of creating completely new routines in a new language with new people and immersing himself in it, Codie has come home.

A remarkable number of things can happen in 150+ consecutive unsupervised days – multiple celebrations of major life events, health scares conquered, loved ones battling tragedy, hurricanes and their upheaval, emotional voyages embarked upon, physical challenges met, and epic tales spun.

Not a day has passed since Codie left when I wasn’t infinitely proud of him for knowing what he wanted, for dropping the American dream flat on it’s ass like a skank the morning after with no apologies, and running through the wide open space of the doorway to his future and to the unknown world beyond.

When I set out to claim a hug from him this morning at Java Vino I knew not to expect to find the same man I said good-bye to in June. As I learn who he is again, I fully expect him to be a new man. A mixed bag of emotional goods with a heavy load of “my world is upside down…was that English?” on top. Our most significant bond could very well be our mutual emotional intensity. Empathizing about the alternate future he’ll have abandoned in its youth, on arriving home I foresee a launch into a wake of our own interpretation with the bottle of McAllen 12 he bought last Christmas and we never opened.

You say you wish you could pick up and go, you say a lot of things you want but won’t chase. Why don’t you? You can make it happen. I promise. Do it, and do it now, because the truth is that tomorrow might not be here when you’re finally ready for it.

Me? I expect one evening soon I’ll find myself reveling in lost time having being found, sitting like a child on my hands/ Indian style, leaning forward with wide eyes watching his every gesture as he spins a kaleidoscope of colorful stories (as only he can) and well on my way to exiting my hug deficit.

Kissy boo, babies, I wish you equally brilliant reunions.