I'll be home for Christmas

Remember those kids in high school who would stare out the classroom window and wish they were just about anywhere else? I was very much one of those kids. Everything was happening some place else and growing up in small town Wisconsin, I dreamed about the day I could escape. No more knowing everyone's business, no more small town snail-like pace, no more I love hunting/fishing/sports more than my wife! bumper stickers. I couldn't wait.

Since those high school days, I've incrementally moved further and further from home; suddenly I find myself a short drive from Mexico but a long plane trip to Wisconsin. While I'm happy about the choices I've made and where I've wound up, it's funny how the place I longed to escape has become the place I excitedly return.

In a few hours, I'll be packing my bags and headed home for the first time in 7 months and I'm excited about everything: seeing my nieces and nephew, arguing with my dad over my disdain for wearing socks around the house, I might even smile when I spot the first misogynistic bumper sticker on the back of some guy's Ford.

I know the whole "home for the holidays" concept is a bit cliche, but sometimes joy works out that way. Sometimes it's all the cheese ball commercial stuff that people think about during the holidays: the crackling fires, the falling snow, sitting around with family and the people you love. It's going home. It's slowing down. It's wanting to be right where you are.

Ode to the perfect Sunday

Dear Sunday,

I used to hate you, but you already knew that. You used to represent long days of studying and writing papers, and you'd never fail to subtly remind me just how far behind I was in my studies. You were kind of a jerk to me, Sunday. But ever since we've been re-introduced as friends, I have been hopeful about our future.

Last week we sat together on the bakery's patio. You watched me read and eat a cookie; you didn't even judge me when I blatantly eavesdropped on that annoying couple's argument. You agreed with me when I concluded that Tim was being kind of a jerk and should have just went with Kelly to the concert last night.

You sat beside me on my favorite park bench where we listened to lovely, mopey music and people-watched. Thanks for not rushing me, Sunday. There were a lot of interesting characters in Shipe Park last week, weren't there?

As we walked home, you complimented me on my new shoes and agreed that kicking the freshly fallen leaves around was an appropriate thing to do in middle of the street, and was equally annoyed as I when that jerk honked at us to get out of the way.

Thanks, Sunday - our complicated relationship is officially over. Let's go steady.

Unexpected music

Today's joie de vivre: music where you least expect it.