So a little over a month ago, I found myself back in Atlanta. I was finally done with the suitcase I'd been living out of for almost two months. It was bittersweet; while I was glad to have more clothing options and to have my electric toothbrush back, it meant my travels were over. I'd kind of grown used to that little blue roll-y thing.
Some things are the same: I still babysit the cutest two-year old twin girls (those are their blocks I borrowed during a particularly rousing game of stack-and-knock-over). I have my bed again (that I love), my pillows, and my blankets. I love to snug in my blankets with my perfect pillows. And I went to Body Pump again yesterday for the first time in months. Today my hamstrings are asking me why I hate them.I also still haven't decided how I feel about church yet. I know that post-seminary everything is wonky, but this is more like, the theology I was raised with - that never really felt right - definitely doesn't feel right and I'm trying to find a community that fits. I'm reading a book called Christ of the Celts (recommended by my bff Jill) and basically every sentence makes me say, yes, that makes sense! It's hard figuring out your theology, or accepting that the one you were raised with isn't the only one - the only valid one, or the one that is spoken from your seat in the theatre (that spelling just seems more posh, don't you think?). It's even harder finding a place to express it.
There are also many many many new things. My job, for instance, which is teaching me exactly what I do and do not want in a job or in my vocation. My roommate, who is incredibly wonderful and who I am glad to see when I get back at night. My apartment, though in the same complex as before, is in a different section and I pretend it's all new. I've put new pictures in old frames (see right), and have updated my style (I seriously had the same bathmat since undergrad). And, speaking of the bath, for the first time since the few months between when my sister went to college and I went to college, I have my own bathroom. I actually like sharing a bathroom, but redecorating with just my stuff (and having it always be clean and neat) has been nice.
And now for your local LilaBean update: she is almost 8 months old, crawling and pulling up. She made it up the stairs the other day (under full supervision) on her own. She talks and talks, and even though it sounds like narwhal babble to me, I'm sure it's very technically astute. She loves the ocean and the sand, and is not afraid to crawl right into the surf. Her legs and arms are baby-pudge perfect (she doesn't have wrists or ankles, just rolls and rolls). Basically, she's amazing.