Ok, those of you who keep up with this blog know that my life is going crazy.  Last night, I was thinking about that and generally feeling sorry for myself when I realized that I have so much to be ridiculously thankful for.  I starting making a list of all the great stuff in my life, and it made me feel better.  I challenge you to do the same.

I'm thankful:

For my family.  Even though we're all crazy, I have a group of people who are totally behind me, no matter how many times I change my mind about what I want to do.  Also, I have a safe place to figure out my next step.  Many people don't have that.

For my friends.  I have some of the most amazing friends in the world.  They've collectively been the first people to let me know that I'm probably not actually going out of my mind.  Also, it's great to have the nerd contingent in my life.

For my education.  OK, I have degrees in English.  I spent six years studying that particular discipline, and I don't know what I want to do with it anymore, but I think that's OK.  I'm grateful for my opportunity to be educated, and I love learning.

For books.  There's almost nothing in my life that German chocolate and a Jane Austen novel can't fix.  (I should really pick one of those up...)

For my job.  Even though it's way less than part-time, I make enough to keep gas in my car and pay boarding for my llama.

For Faith.  This one probably should have gone on top.  I don't know how I would process the universe if I thought it was random.  I am constantly reassured by God and by the fact that everything happens for a reason. 

For my church.  I feel at home in a church for literally the first time in my life.  That's an amazing feeling.

For my animals.  Dogs love you no matter what.  Cats keep you humble.  Llamas...well, llamas are just cool.

For music.  Isn't music amazing?  I mean, seriously.  I don't even know what to say about it, other than it can give me chills or make me smile or make me cry...

For TV on DVD.  This is dumb, but honest.  I love TV on DVD...also Hulu.

I could keep going, but, instead, I'm going to challenge you to make your own list and post it.  Tag me if you do! 

It has taken me over 12 years to realize that the second step from the top of our stairs squeaks. 

I'm not sure why it was such a delayed observation.  Until recently, I was always under the impression that the  top section of the stairs was noisy, but it's not the top of the stairs in the generic sense.  It's just that one particular step. 

So, now, logically, I try to avoid that step.  I go out of my way to step over it on my way up the stairs.  I step to the far side of it on my way down the stairs.  (I would just avoid it entirely going down as well, but I'm afraid of slipping and falling and cracking my head open on the floor below.) 

I'm not really sure why I want so badly to avoid making the step squeak.  I think it may be a manifestation of my desire to me a super-awesome-secret-spy-type-person.  I don't want people hearing me because, secretly, I want to be able to sneak up on them.  I don't actually want to sneak up on them; I just want to be able to.  It's about keeping my options open. 

Frankly, avoiding the squeaky step may be the beginning of a slippery slope.  First it's squeaky step avoidance maneuvers, but soon it will be crawling military style under barbed wire fences while avoiding the telltale beams of search lights.  And really, that's not too far away from wearing a stunning but slinky evening gown, prepared to charm top secret details out of an enemy government's official, all the while mindful of the dagger strapped to my upper thigh...

Central Intelligence Agency, here I come.

Shall I begin by saying that I should really be in bed right now?  Right.  As you wish. 

I should really be in bed right now.

But I'm not. 

Here's why:

Before officially turning in, I caught a glimpse of my desk.  It was kind of a wreck.  That usually wouldn't bother me, but I'm spending tomorrow with a college friend who has never seen my house.  I don't think he'd judge me for it, but the thought of my desk--the very sanctuary from which I write...and facebook--being a mess bothered me just enough to provoke me to clean.

When I cleaned up, I found this:

"I am intimately acquainted with four in the morning.  We have never gotten on well, but, even in our disdain for one another, we cannot deny familiarity.  I am much better friends with eight, nine, and ten.  Four always insists that I get out of bed.  Eight usually lets me hit the snooze alarm once or twice."

It's a very small part of a large creative nonfiction project that I worked on in graduate school.  It made an impression on a few people, notably one of the strongest poets in my program.  He came into work at the writing center--his shift coming just after my own--and told me that that piece struck him: that it was beautiful, something he would never think of.   He couldn't say enough about it. 

I'm not as impressed by it as he was, but thinking about that conversation made me smile.  It's amazing to think of the power behind those comments.  As long as I have that paragraph, I think I will probably remember his words. 

It's amazing how far a little encouragement can stretch, isn't it?