Garth is Killin' Me Softly

Hi.

I haven't brain dumped here in a while. I have a lot flying around up inside my head these days, mainly, the lyrics to one of my favorite Garth Brooks** tunes (sing it with me now):

Ireland, I am coming home
I can see your rolling fields of green
And fences made of stone.
I am reaching out, won't you take my hand?
I'm coming home, Ireland.

The Rest of the Lyrics:

I am on a project overseas again. I'm feeling a little anxioius. It feels a little bit like standing once again at the top of the same ski slope where you previouisly broke your leg and had to be dragged down the hill in a papoose by a slobbery St. Bernard.

Mostly all healed up and doing fine, but still pretty...anxious. On the other hand, it's Ireland and I've never been and I'm excited to go there and have some adventure. Not to mention rack up some frequent flyer miles.

I am blogging and I shouldn't be. I should be doing one of three things. Cleaning my house and organizing for my soon to be suitcase life, getting a jump on work for next week, or being outside in my hammock because it's flippin goreous outside.

But nonetheless, I am loving this Sunday. As I reflect on the week, I got to sit with the lovely Liz for bit this afternoon, and last night I got have dinner and toast this life with four amazing, beautiful, courageous, Godly, hysterical, authentic, gifted women. Yesterday, I got to have lunch with a long time friend and co-worker back in town for a bit. The night before I flopped on a couch at George and Jaels and just shared some good delicious life. The night before that, Maddie, Annie and Banjo came for dinner, a walk and some Monsters, Inc. We caught lightning bugs and made plans to pull weeds in my yard.

How did I get so blessed with such good friends? Such vast and deep community? I certainly did my best not to cultivate it, and in spite of me, I have it now, in this time.

For that I am thankful. Over the top, gushy, intensely thankful. Just in time to leave again. I take a deep breath, and exit the ski-lift.

Now the fog is deep and heavy
As we forge the dark and fear
We can hear their horses breathing
As in silence we draw near
There are no words to be spoken
Just a look to say good-bye
I draw a breath and night is broken
As I scream our battle cry

** I just happen to believe Garth Brooks is the greatest American songwriter of our time.