7 days. 2 sunsets viewed along winding southern roads. 20 hours behind the wheel. 17 hours of Pearl Jam. That was my Christmas, and I loved just about every minute of it. It was a bit different, mostly in good ways. I did not decorate the house. I decided to forgo my annual reminiscing over my collection of ornaments and the memories I've attached to them. I consolidated my shopping list. I did not agonize over finding the right gift for a significant other. I did last minute shopping with my sister and giggled with my nephews. I ran Lake Hollingsworth on Christmas Eve. I helped my grandmother cook dinner. I read books to my cousins' children. I took a much needed road trip to visit family in South Carolina and thoroughly enjoyed my southern roots there. I read a self-help book. And then there was the Pearl Jam. It was delightful. Now I'm gearing up for what will be a very different New Year's celebration and cannot wait to see how that will unfold. I truly believe that

If you can't read the stars, you'd better have a map, a compass and a conscience so you don't get lost at sea around some lonely island no one wants to be. From the beginning of creation, I think our Maker had a plan for us to leave these shores and sail beyond the sand. A friend of mine played this song for me this morning, and it spoke to my soul in a way that I didn't know I needed. I've been feeling that "stuck in a moment" feeling lately that has me vacillating between the life extremes of safety and adventure and desperately afraid that my form of compromise will be one of monotony. (I fear little in life more than monotony.) This is not a new struggle. In fact, it's been part of me for as long as I can remember. Something deep within me is compelled to explore and experience and cram my mind with as many memories as possible. I've suppressed it well for most of my life, but when the soul calls and aches, you can ignore it for only so long. I

Is it just me, or does life seem to seep out in pieces? Even when we seem to be blindsided by news or events, they still often crept up on us in a slow, steady pattern. (The surprise, I think, is usually the result of our own blissful ignorance.) It's a bit surprising to me what can happen when you have way too much spare time and take up a running habit. Perhaps none of you are as surprised as I was this week when it finally dawned on me that I am finally near the end of a fourteen-year weight loss journey. Twenty-five pounds to go. 25 pounds. Fifty-three pounds ago, this moment seemed so far away. I used to resent seeing articles in magazines talking about the last 25 or 10 pounds. I could never seem to get there, no matter how many carbs I cut or hours I spent on the elliptical. This time, without even realizing how my body has been changing and eating a steady diet of convenience food (Boca Burgers are the most amazing product ever created!), the pounds have seemed to almost ru