In the last five weeks, I (in more or less chronological order):
- Sat on my front porch and drank tea and watched the rain fall until all hours of the night
- Began training for the Rushmore marathon
- Wrecked a mountain bike in North Dakota/sprained my ankle/gave up training for the Rushmore marathon
- Had my wisdom teeth removed
- Went to Denver on a bus with 40 teenagers to see a Rockies game and hang out at Elich's
- Innertubed down the Niobrara River
- Moved out of my apartment
- Lived nomad-style out of a suitcase (4 hotels, 3 houses, a cabin, a retirement center and a church)
- Bought a mountain bike
- Waded in Rapid Creek
- Watched the fountains at the Belagio at midnight
- Swam in the ocean
- Met Mickey Mouse
- Hiked, hiked, and hiked some more
- Read a few good books
- Spent some much needed time just sitting in coffee shops and brushing up on my long-neglected love of writing
- Spent too much money at Borders
- Fulfilled my life-long dream of being a Barista
- Substitute taught at the high school
- Met at least 100 new, wonderful people
It's been loads of fun, but I am becoming anxious to get going with all this new stuff in my life right now. I'm pretty sure I haven't experienced this much change at one time since...ever. It's a little nuts. I have that sort of terrified/excited/adrenaline-rush feeling you get just before you try something crazy, like flying Kamakazi (sp?) style down a single track on a bike. (Which, in the past, didn't work out so well for me...which is where my analogy sort of breaks down...but, um, anyway...) It's going to be great. I often think, "Whoohoo! I have no idea what I'm doing!!!" But whatever happens, it's going to be good, right? I mean, it's not necessary all going to be fun, but it's all going to be good, in the long run. (Which is my philosophy about travel...which is an entirely different journal entry...) I prayer regularly (and selfishly) that God would fill my life with adventure. He hasn't let me down yet.
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