I talk to myself...a lot

So yeah, I talk to myself all the time. It's usually internal conversations, but it's not just thoughts. I'm literally having a conversation with myself. I didn't realize how bad it was until I had the following conversation today:

(walking past a co-worker's desk, where she had an orchid)
Wow, what a pretty orchid.
I should get an orchid like that.
Yeah right, you don't have the money for that.
But then I could tell people, look, I bought a $50 orchid.
You'd just kill it in a week.
You're right.
Then you'd buy a fake silk one at Target.
And people would come over and admire your beautiful orchid.
And I'd have to lie and tell them it was real.
I would say look at my beautiful $50 orchid.
But what if they tried to touch it?
I would say, "Don't touch that orchid. You'll kill it."
And then they would think I had a delicate, expensive orchid.
Who are you kidding, you can't afford that orchid.

Geez, I'm a weirdo.

27 and going strong

So, last week was my birthday. Birthdays are kind of weird for me now. For my first twenty-two birthdays, I spent every single one with my family. There was a party every year, albeit a small one. There were Barbie cakes, surprise parties, sleepovers, and everything inbetween.

And now, it's just different. A few birthdays were spent in crowded airports. Last year was spent stranded at a hotel when three days worth of flights were canceled. This year was definitely better than that.

But birthdays are hard now. And weird. Like, for example, this year, I got shots on my birthday. No, not the drunken, alcohol-filled shots. The big needle in the arm shots. It was for a good reason...in preparation for my upcoming trip to Africa...but they were still big nasty shots...on my birthday. So my birthday presents to myself were vaccinations against hepatitis, polio, yellow fever, typhoid, meningitis, and a big fat tetanus shot to round things out.

I think birthdays are weird now because nobody here really knows it's my birthday...or really cares that much. Please know that's not a "woe is me" statement...it's just a fact. My friendship here are still new, people just don't know me that well. So my birthday is not the earth-shattering holiday that it was at home.

But having said all that, my Bible study group did sing happy birthday to me...some friends took me out for dinner the day after, and another friend treated me to lunch that weekend. And I had lots of emails and well-wishes.

So, how was my birthday? It was painful, happy, sad, and lots of stuff inbetween.

Christmas memories

Just thought I'd post a few pictures of my Christmas in Virginia! (When I say a few, I really do mean a few. It seems like I kept forgetting to take my camera out while I was home!)

Dinner with some friends from college:

My nephew and me...he's ADORABLE!

Home is...where?

I still don't know what to call home. When I left Denver for Virginia, I said I was going home. When I tearfully left Virginia for Colorado, I said I was going home. I don't even know what home is anymore exactly.

It's always hard for me to leave Virginia and head back to whereever I happen to be living at the moment. Virginia is comfortable to me. I know what to expect. I know that I'll eat tons of vegetables cooked in heavy pots with ham or bacon. I know that I'll yell at our dog as he tries to place his muddy paws on my jeans. I know that my mom and I will sit on the couch, my feet in her lap, watching a movie, each of us covered in hand-made afghans. I know that women with white hair and wrinkled cheeks will grasp my hand as I help them down the stairs at church. I know that my arguments with my brother will somehow always end in laughter. I know.

But I also know that small town in rural Virginia is not the place for me right now. There's no room for me to stretch, to grow. The things I need from life right now, I can't get there. I know that.

So, Monday evening I watched the sun set on a bright red horizon somewhere over Missouri. And I flew home.