Page Thirty: I Need To Buy A Welcome Mat

I thought that adjusting back to the Texan's lifestyle would be challenging. I guess there is nothing at all challenging about the routine I developed immediately upon returning home: wake up, remove PJ's, put on swim suit, grab iPod, cell phone, water bottle, towel, and lay in pool chair...continue laying in pool chair until you can't produce anymore sweat and you absolutely must jump in the pool...jump in pool. Repeat daily.

The only obstacle I've noticed is driving. I can't seem to get my car to go over 60 mph without feeling like I'm doing laps at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm getting there though...slowly.

I packed my life up once more and loaded it all into my car. My entire life fits into my maroon X-Terra, not at all comfortably or in a way that's really highway safe, but it fits. Getting back to school meant getting a good hug I'd been waiting a long time for. It meant two new roommates to share coffee with in the morning and closets with at night. It meant multiple "how are you's" and "did you have a good summer's?". I have already acquired new skills, like painting a kitchen orange in your underwear while drinking white wine, making sure to jump off the counter gracefully to skip the lame songs that come on the shuffle. I'm clearly a bonafide multi-tasker.

It's exciting to see my old friends in their new houses with their big smiles painted on their faces as they show me around. It seems we are all happy to be growing up. When are we supposed to stop being happy about getting older?

My thank you notes are written, addressed and stamped. They're starring in me in my face as we speak begging to be sent out. One for my boss at ABC, one for my boss at Haute PR, one full of thanks and promised prayers for Mary, and one for my dad's boss thanking him for the plane ride back home. Honestly, I'm not looking forward to sending them away. When they're gone, it means that it really is all over.

My bed is made, my clothes are hung and there are two boxes of Kashi in my pantry. So, this must be home.