Summer Storms. mmmmmm.

There is the most magnificent thunderstorm happening outside right now. I LOVE thunderstorms. Nothing can really live up to a good storm in the mountains, but this one right now in the middle of this city comes pretty close.

I was supposed to work an outside event tonight, which ended up being canceled, but it gave me the opportunity to witness the energy of the storm gather, to smell the first cool drops hit the dark pavement. I've been frustrated lately with my current music selection, and it seems God responded with heart-shaking thunder and startling cracking lightening. The rain is coming down in sheets and my porch door is open and I can feel the dampness seeping into my bones and it feels right.

What to do with my unexpected two hours off of work?
Blog?...check.
Laundry?....maybe.
Cloud gazing and curling up early with three good books?...definitely.

Remember, God, that we are the plants in your fields
so connected to the
earth

that you know what would happen
if you did not rain
upon us.

St. Teresa of Avila
(who, fyi, was a badass. obviously.)

Will Travel For Hugs.

Let's all pack up and move this year
Slip the liars and disappear
Leave memories for auctioneers
And those just standing still
M.N.

There's something both comforting and tragic about having so many close friends living so very far away. On one hand, if I close my eyes and imagine these friends, it's as if the earth is pulsating with warm, gentle vibes just for me, with epicenters in San Francisco and Copenhagen; Brazil and Colorado; Amsterdam and London and Washington DC and even (on particular Wednesday evenings) WaKeeney, KS. I am a lucky and loved girl.

But when my eyes are wide open and I have a hard day, imagining these love-vibes is not a sufficient replacement for a deep strong hug. And even the magic of skype can't recreate a hearty laugh with an beautiful friend over a few cold beers under a warm starry sky (How's that for a lesson in prepositions?).

I crave physical connections. If I like you at all, on any level, chances are you have endured being hugged, patted, poked, squeezed, punched and generally touched by me. And when a separation happens and you leave or I leave and I'm unable to love/abuse you physically, I feel a little bit disconnected with not only you, but myself. Note to self: become better at phone conversations. And find new people in my geographic region to prod and jab.

It's so exciting to watch how everyone's path is being laid out before them, stone by stone. Or rather, to see which stepping stones we're all choosing. Jobs, marriages, families; it's all so adult of us. Yet most of the time I still feel like a pre-adolescent version of myself, watching from the outside, itching for my adult adventures to begin but secretly being happy that I have some more time to just be a kid.