Dear Diary

This is the longest I've ever gone without blogging! I deeply apologize to my handful of faithful readers. I want to start by saying THANK YOU for the sweet outpouring of love and kind words in response to my post about Jimmy. Writing has become such a positive outlet for me again. I write 'again' because I used to be the (oh so dramatic) queen of diaries. My family can attest to this. I provided them with much entertainment from the time I learned how to write a complete sentence until the time I was too old to be hysterically crying and talking to myself, while furiously scribbling down why life was unfair in the pages of my diary. Troubling life of the American pre-teen... woe is me. They now joke about how they would crowd at my bedroom door and try to keep from laughing as I worked out my "problems" through tears and diary entries. I don't blame them. I've always been a bit.... emotional. But regardless, writing in my diary seemed to help. And later on in high school as I began to explore my faith a bit, my journal once again became a meaningful outlet. I would scribble thoughts, prayers, quotes, and so on... it was always nice to look back on those and see how I had grown, how my faith had developed. And now I have this blog. Who knows what you'll find on here... restaurant reviews, sappy stories, humorous happenings... oh, and I LOVE alliteration. Whether I'm writing about my favorite outdoor patio in Austin to enjoy a margarita with friends or pouring my heart out about somebody close to me leaving this world, it just feels good to share. Thank you for letting me.

On another note, I hope everyone had a fantastic Valentine's Day. I was able to celebrate with my 99 Valentines on Monday afternoon at our party for the residents. It was really an event to write home about. The residents were clapping, dancing, and hollering for the band to keep playing. The band was on point, playing Johnny Cash, classic country, waltzs, folk, and more. One of the male residents, who recently had an amputation from his knee down, waved for me to come dance with him in front of the band. I grabbed his hands and he started twirling his wheelchair around as if he was on ice. He was kicking his good leg (and his half-leg) out in front of him with such energy that I thought the front row might be in danger. However, it turned out that I was the only one in harm's way as I got kicked so hard in the shin (with the good leg unfortunately) that I had a bruise the next morning. I was proud of this bruise though. Evidence of a good party.

And of course I was able to enjoy the day with my 100th, and most favorite, valentine. Firas saved me last week when I was eaten alive by the flu. He made multiple trips to the store for me, stocking my apartment with soup, crackers, ginger ale, medicine, etc. He came over after work and sat several feet away from me on the couch and kept me company while I was bored out of my mind from being home alone and/or sleeping all day, and even made sure I got to bed alright before he headed home. He's a trooper. We enjoyed a fun weekend in New Orleans, which I promise to blog about soon... and on Valentine's Day, we just relaxed. We ate salad and turkey meatloaf from Central Market, with sherbert for dessert. It was just what the doctor ordered. Quiet and relaxing, no pressure or crazy gifts. That's the way (uh-huh, uh-huh), I like it (uh-huh, uh-huh).

(The picture in this post is of a Valentine craft that my football player resident made for his wife. He made her this felt valentine and beaded bracelet a week or so before V-Day during an arts and crafts activity. When I brought it to him on Monday and told him that I would be putting it in his room for her, he patted my back and said, "Ha, alright! Thanks! You gonna play it off like it was me who made it?" I responsed, "Yes... because you DID make it!" His response: "Ohhh sure it was. Thanks again.")