i know a girl, she puts the color inside of my world.

On a quick trip back to the homeland, I met with my very pregnant friend Lindsey to take some maternity pictures of her (she only asked me because I'm the one with the fanciest camera).

I've never done a photo shoot before, but it turned out great. It helps that Lindsey is very photogenic and thrilled about bringing this little girl into the world, so it comes across easily in every (all 275) picture I snapped.

Meet Lulu.

Lauren (picked by yours truly) Elaine is due January 19th and I cannot wait to meet her.

The only payment I required? Feeling Lulu kick. Which was, hands down, one of the coolest things I've ever felt. It's pretty amazing thinking that a tiny little human is twirling and twisting inside of your best friend's stomach. And that in just a few months she'll be with us and grow into her own little person.

The entire time I was with Lindsey, I kept repeating "I cannot believe you're really pregnant." She shared the same sentiment. It is just exciting and amazing to think that one of my best friends will be bringing a child into this world in a few short months, making me an [honoary] auntie.

I am thrilled about little Lulu. My bank account however? Not so thrilled.

But who can resist cute baby girl shoes?

hometown identity crisis

"Where are you from?"

This is probably the most asked question where I live now. Most people who live here are transplants. It's rare to come across someone who was actually born and raised here. If they're not from another state, they're from another country. So, the question is a typical one.

While this question is a simple one, I have trouble answering.

I feel as though I grew up in two places. I moved right in the middle of my formative years. Currently, my life has been split evenly between two different states. So, when asked this question, I always hesitate.

Technically, I suppose my hometown would be considered the town I spent the first few years of my life. That small, Midwestern town where I had many great memories with childhood friends. I did many things there that I could never have done in a larger town and I'm so thankful for that. I'm thankful to have had that opportunity, especially in a time when kids spend more time indoors than out and are sheltered from many chances for adventure because of the fear of predators. I lucked out, partly because I was in a small, sleepy town.

But right in the middle of all of that, I was uprooted and moved south. I had to begin all over again in a new, larger town. One that I eventually learned to love as my own. A town that over the years, became home to me.

So, I struggle to answer this question, "where are you from?"

I normally take the easy way out and answer with the town I just moved from. It's more recognizable and involves fewer follow-up questions. Besides, I am no longer a stereotypical Midwesterner. I don't like beer, cheese, the Packers, or cold weather. And I've long since dropped my Midwestern accent.

Besides, most people here in the big city think that the hometown I choose to answer with is all country. They imagine dirt roads, farms and cows where everyone talks with a thick southern accent and wears a cowboy hats. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am from a cultural hub - film festivals, ballets, and operas flock there. There's no end to the fine dining and the beaches (ranking top in the world) go on for miles.

I often find myself defending my town.

So, when someone finds out I'm a Yankee in disguise, I do not offer the same kind of passion nor the same defense of my Midwestern roots. Most people down here have never been to a farm, so I let them believe the stereotypes.

It's still hard to know which answer to give. Stay true to the town I spent the first few years of my life or the town I spent the last few? Go with technicality or passion?

Then I remind myself that home is where the heart is.

And I know exactly where my heart lies.

That makes my answer to "where are you from?" somewhat easier.

home sweet sweet home

With the sun rising behind me, I had made the three hour drive home. It's only been two weeks, but the pull was just too strong not to return after a hellish week.

As I crossed the county line, I nearly cried with joy and relief at being almost home.

As I walked into my [old] place of employment and saw my best friend, quickly embracing her, I did cry with joy and relief.

I was home.

And as I sat in my [old] boss' office, pouring my heart out about how horrible everything was - work and school and the big city - I cried with heartache and sadness and anger.

After an hour of advice, encouragement, brainstorming, gossip, laughter, and some more tears, I emerged from his office refreshed and inspired. He was exactly what I needed for my weary soul.

My best friend was exactly what I needed for my tattered heart. Two weeks without seeing a friend had worn me down and has probably been one of the worst parts of living where I know virtually no one. It was pure happiness just talking and laughing with her.

My next stop was my parents. I hadn't told a soul I was coming, so I was a giant, life-size surprise who showed up at their front door. Though, when I had called, a block away, and asked my mother if she wanted to hang out with me and was told no and was then met with nervous laughter when I told her, no, really, I was right outside, I'm not sure that was the best sign.

Apparently their empty nest isn't so empty after all.

I raided their fridge. Spoke of all my misadventures and promised I'd tell them when I was coming next.

The rest of the afternoon, I spent with my friend Lindsey, waiting for her baby to kick. Sadly, the baby takes after it's mother and refused to kick for it's auntie.

And then, it was time to go back. I dragged my feet all afternoon because I not only dreaded the long drive ahead of me, but because I didn't want to go back at all.

My city makes me feel peaceful and happy. It just feels right being there.

If I hadn't left my cat behind, I might not have gone back.

But I did. I came back. It was by far harder to leave the second time around then it was the first.

However, I came back refreshed and rejuvenated by my friends and family and home, ready to face with coming week supported and inspired.

The short jaunt still didn't deter my homesickness. I'm not sure anything will until I really am back home where I belong.

there's no place like home

When I was a little girl, my very favorite movie was The Wizard of Oz. I have undoubtedly seen it thousands of times. I idolized Dorothy and those ruby slippers of hers (I was even gifted with a pair of my own for a birthday). I dreamt of flying somewhere over the rainbow and going to the Emerald City.

The message in The Wizard of Oz is a simple yet profound one: there's no place like home.

Just like I found myself doing when I was a little girl, chanting that line over and clicking my heels together, I find myself wishing magic like that actually existed and I could click myself back home.

Or that I still had those ruby slippers of mine...

Just last week, my best friend has accused me of being happy and it felt really good to be out on my own, with things coming together, and no hint of homesickness to be felt. I thought if I could just survive that first week, everything else would be smooth sailing.

I was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Two weeks in and I'm miserable. I'm overwhelmed. I'm feeling defeated. I'm feeling completely and utterly homesick. There's that dull ache in my chest that yearns to go back home and see those shining, familiar faces; to be embraced by those I love and cherish.

There is an overwhelming pull to get my life back.

My old life filled with familiar, friendly faces. Filled with routines and stability; comfort and peace. That is what I yearn most for in this sea of changes.

The new job seems to be sucking the life right from me. This city and it's massive amounts of people and traffic seem to be driving me to the brink. And I've decided graduate school is surely code for hell, they just charge more for the price of admission.

In trying to survive all of that in one horrible week has left me simply with the urge to return home and be taken in by loved ones. Sympathized with and given promises of hope. I need their strength to carry me through the next week and the next.

Even if that means a 3.5 hour drive each way. The pull is too strong; the urge too hard to ignore; and the ache in my chest only growing with each hour that I am not within the familiar bonds of my home.

So, I will be clicking my ruby slippers together in the morning, because, after all:

there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home...

the beginning of something

Today, as I was texting my best friend a play-by-play of my adventures downtown, she told me I sounded happy.

The funny thing is, she was kind of right. I did feel happy. Somehow, by some sort of miracle, things have come together in the 5 days that I've lived here. My apartment looks good (even if it's occupied by a ghost). I found a job in 4 days. I've made plans for next weekend with a sweet friend of a friend who offered to show me around and introduce me to her friends.

And today, when I drove downtown to fill out some paperwork for my new job, I decided to venture out and drive around to see what I would stumble across. And stumble I did.

I drove past the water again. The water is such an anchor for me. Just to see it, I feel like I'll never get lost. It also reminds me of home.

Of course, the beaches here don't even compare to the beaches back home.

Anyways. I continued along and somehow entered into the cute little downtown area. This also reminds me of home. With its cute little colorful shops and palm trees and plentiful eateries.

I might have fallen in love.

It surprised me how happy I did feel driving through the colorful little downtown. I hadn't expected what I had wandered into and how much it reminded me of our cute little downtown back home. Except with bigger buildings and more traffic and people surrounding it.

I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could be happy here. With these cute little shops and restaurants. The vibe just felt right to me - comfortable and normal. Like I was right back to where I belonged.

This might not ever really be my home, but it might not be so bad in the interim.

After all, you know what they say: home is where the heart is.

I know where my heart resides and it's not in those cute little colorful shops or funky restaurants. No matter how bright or unique or lovely they all were, they'll never quite compare to home.

*photo = cute downtown area i speak of

don't drive and take pictures, it's dangerous, you know

the end

"Are you excited?"

I get this question every time I tell some goodbye or tell them I'm moving. The answer is always a resounding no.

Because, the thing is, I'm not excited. I don't want to move. I know it's in my best interest (eventually, at least) to move and go to graduate school. I need to strike out on my own once and for all. Even if it's only for a brief (17 months - who's counting, though?) period in time.

I can only hope this makes me better. Braver and more independent.

It just doesn't seem like a good thing when I'm forced to say goodbye to everyone I know and love. To say farewell to the town I've come to love and know; the town I've come to call home.

However, I'm often reminded that sometimes the hardest things are the best things. That if it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worthwhile. I just hope that this is the case for me.

It also gives me some sort of comfort that I know that not all of these goodbyes are forever. Those I love the most will not just fade out of my life. The strongest will remain by my side (even if it takes them 3.5 hours to get there) and that gives me hope for the future. Faith in the future.

I haven't even shed a tear yet.

Promising, I think. Because, logically and realistically, I do know that I will come back. This will be my home again.

the longest goodbye: part three

It seems fitting that the last friend on my list of goodbyes for the week should be this one: Lindsey. My life here seems to begin and end with her.

It wasn't until I met Lindsey my sophomore year of high school, that I really felt this town start to become a home to me. She quickly became my best friend. Her family became my family. And life was never the same again.

To understand the kind of person Lindsey is, I will tell you that the first time she ever spoke to me (in English class; halfway through the school year), she turned around in her desk and asked me if I would like to go to the ghetto for the Martin Luther King Jr. Parade.

I thought she was crazy.

And while it's very apparent that Lindsey is, in fact, crazy. I love her just the same. She makes me braver. She makes me more fun. She makes me do dozens of crazy things and I love her for it.

We skipped every other day of high school our junior and senior years. We learned more out there in the real world than cooped up in same stuff classroom. Our adventures ranged from trips to the state park to trips to the beach. And more often than not, involved a lot of shopping and eating out.

It was wonderful.

Lindsey's family became my family. I love her mother, her grandparents, her siblings, and every other person that is in her life. Lindsey's like a magnet - she attracts people to her easily with her smile and wit. There are so many people that fill her life and I feel privileged that I am one of them.

Tonight, I was able to say goodbye to a small handful of them. Each of which garnered promises that I would return for Christmas Eve. Which I always spend with them - one of the reasons it's one of my favorite holidays.

For my little going away dinner, Linds even made her mother's famous lasagna. Which I only ever eat on Christmas Eve at their house, before church. She also made me cupcakes (she is, after all, the queen of cupcakes) with bright yellow frosting since she knows it's become my favorite color.

Lindsey is also currently expecting a baby. Due sometime in the middle of January. I am thrilled to pieces. I am so excited to become an auntie to this sweet little baby.

Especially if she turns out to be a girl.

The baby also provides me the perfect excuse to come back home. And often.

the longest goodbye: part two

There are only a couple days left before the move and it still has yet to really hit me. Tonight really solidified that for me since I didn't even cry when I had to say goodbye to my best friend. It doesn't really even feel like goodbye to me. It's like I'll go into work Saturday and there she'll be.

Only. I wont be going into work Saturday. I'll be moving. I wont see my best friend. I'll be seeing a strangers instead.

I know that it's not forever, but sometimes it really feels that way. Late October is the only day I have on the books to come back home (for the So You Think You Can Dance Tour - woot woot; be jealous) which will be a whirlwind, less than 24 hour deal. At least I will be with my best friend (whose fault it was that I became addicted enough to SYTYCD to go to the tour). But right now, October seems so far away.

Tonight, we went to dinner:





We went back to their cute little house where we watched He's Just Not That Into You and proceeded to have a pretty awesome photo shoot with the three of us (+ Dan, Stacey's boyfriend and Phoenix, their dog).

And then I lingered, like I always do, over goodbye. It took me over two hours to finally get goodbye out and walk out the door. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty damn hard to walk away from them.

She's my best friend and to know that I have to go it alone, without her, is going to be ridiculously hard. There's no one to fall back on. There's no one to cry to. There's no one to come to when I'm in crisis or have the greatest story to share. There's no one to laugh with or force to go to sappy movies or fulfill my cravings of pie or queso or alfredo.

While I know 3.5 hours isn't that far, it certainly feels like it right now.

I left with promises of visits and declarations of love and luck.

And a heavy heart.

Goodbye's don't seem to be getting any easier. They seem to be getting harder, actually.

Especially when you tell your best friend goodbye. Even if it's only until October.

It still hurts like hell.

the longest goodbye: part one

Tonight kicked off my week of goodbyes. Every night this week I have something planned with friends in order to say goodbye to them before I'm off. Without a doubt, this is going to be one of the hardest weeks of my life.

Kate and Shawn were the first on my list of goodbyes. We went to one of our favorite places in town to get the best pizza in town. This local little hole in the wall is also going to be among the things I miss when I move away.

They, in true Kate and Shawn fashion, were late. So, I took some pictures to occupy my time before they turned up for dinner.




It was Kate who turned me onto this wonderful little sport's bar. She took me there for lunch one summer and we've been going back ever since. We always, always get the same thing - a large pepperoni pizza. Which we always - without fail - polish off. Now that she's married, we allow Shawn, her husband, to come along with us. But we make him order his own pizza.

I had got my first job when I was 16. Working as a hostess in a restaurant. Every summer, this girl would came to work there - Kate. It wasn't, however, until the summer after I graduated high school and Kate came back once again to work over the summer, that we really became friends.

That summer was one of the best of my life. We worked (a lot) day and night, almost always together, and hung out during the day and partied the nights away. We drank (a lot) and ate out (a lot) and we had the best time ever (double ever [inside joke]). It was a wonderful, wonderful summer that was filled with friends and late nights and beer pong and jello shots. And Kate.

By the end of summer, we were pretty much inseparable. Best friends, most definitely. She went away to school at the end of the summer, but we remained just as close as she finished college and I began.

Soon after Kate returned home after graduating college, Shawn popped into her life. Shawn and I were pretty much instantaneous friends. So, I was thrilled when Kate decided to keep him. And eventually marry him. I was there, at their side, to witness their relationship start, grow, and finally - last May - watch them wed.



Of course we've had our ups and downs. What friends don't? Life draws people apart. But, luckily, in our case, life's always managed to throw us back together time and time again.

I love Kate and Shawn. They have been wonderful friends to me these past few years; separately and together. I am so lucky to have had them in my life. For all those serious and crazy (sometimes drunken) moments that have been scattered throughout the years of our friendship.

And I will miss them something fierce.

a fond farewell

With only one week left to go until I am among the unemployed, coworkers, friends, and guests gathered together at one of my favorite local spots to bid me farewell.

We ate. We drank (a lot). We laughed. We reminisced. We talked - about the future, the present, the past, and everything in between. And we laughed and drank some more.

Honestly, there is nothing better than all of the above. Pure perfection.

And all of that was shared with great people who I've come to know, love, admire, respect in the past 3.5 years of my life.

There was this girl. Who is not only my coworker, she is first and foremost my best friend. And while we met in high school (through our mutual best friend) it wasn't until she started working with me that we became the best of friends.

We are often confused for each other. People come up to me often and mistake me for her. I stare blankly at them while they talk about something we've never discussed before. They are amazed at my long hours on the job (16 in total if we work different shifts the same day). Though, most of the time this works in my favor as she is wonderful, sweet, and amazing. And it doesn't hurt the ego to be compared to someone who you think is absolutely gorgeous.

If we're not confused for the same person, we usually come away with sisters or twins. We think we look nothing alike. And we act even more differently. We are polar opposites and yet, somehow, we've overcome all of those differences, and become best friends.

I will miss her like nothing else.

All in all, I'd say it was a successful night. Full of food and drink and laughter and friends. And yet another reminder of how damn much I am going to miss all of these wonderful people who have graced my life in the past few years. They have become permanent, daily fixtures in my landscape and it's going to be hard to part with them.

Even harder not to have them be a part of my every day life. I've grown so accustomed to seeing their faces and hearing their laughs and expecting them at my side, that to not have that anymore will certainly be a hardship.

And so, I learned how much brighter my life has been with all of them in it.

I learned how much I have to come to expect and appreciate their lives being a part of mine.

I learned how much I am going to miss each and every one of them.

And I learned that after 3 electric lemonades, your tongue will turn blue.