I'm getting itchy feet again. I can't seem to be happy in one place for more than a couple months' time. I'm bored at work so that doesn't help my propensity for movement either. Laura said it right the other day,"you need to find a guy who wants to move every three months like you do!" It's always easier to move when you have someone else to move with. Although, I can only assume since I've never had anyone to move with. And assuming has gotten me into trouble lately, so let's just leave that alone for now.

A friend at work is going for her masters license in scuba diving and I can't wait for her to move to the Cayman's that way I can go and visit. She's going to have a fabulous life. She dates a man who captain's boats in the Carribean to give you an idea of what type of life she's going to have. Damned if I'm not jealous! But she found what she loves to do and that's a great thing because she also found someone she can share it with. Ah, I'm getting sentimental.

Okay, I'm over it.

Sometimes I think I should just get in my car and go. To where...I don't know. But just go. Take the pooch on a nice adventure. I'm sure Riley would be a good companion for the ride. I've got my iPod, my iPod converter and a cell phone. That's all you really need these days anyway. A solo cross-country drive sounds like it would be fun. I would stop in Montana, Wyoming, Arizona, California, Colorado and Maine, to name a few and in no particular order. Then onto different countries.

Well, a girl can dream, right?

Rome, Italy

I'm leaving tomorrow to go to Rome for about 10 days. I'm very excited to get back there. The last time I was in Italy I spent most of my time in Florence, but managed to get to Rome for a weekend and absolutely loved it. So I've been hoping I could get back there for a longer period of time. If you've never been to Rome you must go at some point in your life. It's a magical, spiritual, historical city. One moment you're standing by the coliseum, the next you feel as if you're waking down fifth avenue in New York. It's old and modern at the same time. The food is terrific, the atmosphere is laid back yet trendy, and the Italians themselves are always looking to help you out. Well, I'll hopefully have some pictures posted and more to tell about the city when I get back.

Ciao

It's time to get my ski on!! Yes, that's right, I'm finally - after a long two years - going back out West. It's ridiculous that it's taken me this long. As they say, life gets in the way sometimes. And isn't that the truth. Life gets in the way of what you really want to do.

Now, for all the progressing we've done since the stone ages, how on earth are humans still stupid enough to fall into ruts with their lives? And I'm no different. I've gotten myself stuck in a rut and I'm finally realizing that I have a way out. I'm finally figuring out that once I figure out what I want to do with my life, I should just take the chance and do it. My problem is figuring out what "it" is. Confusing? I know. Ah well, I think I'm just going to have to try some things out and whittle it down until I hit on the right one.

Anyway, that's not why I started this post. I just felt I hadn't written in a while and was excited to share my upcoming vacation with people. I'm very curious to see how I react to being back in Breck. I'm curious to know if it's going to draw at me, pull me into that pretty little town in the mountains to the point where I don't want to leave again. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. As for now, I'm just enjoying the anticipation.

Single's Stories: Don't try this at home - Brooke Riley

Standing on a New York City Street with your thumb stuck up in the air isn’t normal behavior by City standards. Especially when you’re not trying to catch a cab, but a man.
You’re probably wondering where a woman would come up with such an outrageous idea. It all started out very innocently, even sweetly, while I was sitting in a co-worker’s office listening to her talk about her wedding plans. It was the first time I got that distinctly female feeling of wanting a family, of wanting to plan a wedding. Of course, having a boyfriend would definitely help the process along, which is where we get to the "snapping of my fingers" on a New York City Street.
That’s how it started out. My co-worker suggested I "get one." A boyfriend, if you’re confused. So I said that I would just go outside and "snap my fingers for one." Obviously, sarcasm wasn’t sticking to her that day because she just looked and me and said, "why don’t you?" I tried very hard to find the joke, I stared at her and waited for the smile to come, but it never did. I walked away thinking to myself that she was definitely crazy.
Back at my desk I still couldn’t figure out how she could have been serious. Who the hell goes out on the street to snap their fingers for a man? It’s unrealistic, and very possibly dangerous. There are men out there that I wouldn’t want answering my snap. So why couldn’t I get the idea out of my head? Could I really be that desperate? Or was it just the masochistic side of me? Or, could it possibly be the idea of a challenge? Of doing the unexpected, even the feared?
I had made up my mind. I was going to do it. Where and when I hadn’t figured out yet, but I decided, and there was no going back.
It was time to do some research. What type of guy did I want to snap up, and where could I find that type of guy? Wall Street or Midtown was where the Suits were, SoHo for the artsy types, Upper East Side if I want a nice Jewish boy. This is going to be a hard decision. I want a Jewish boy who works in midtown but likes to hang out in SoHo. Hmm.

Do you ever wonder what it would be like for your life to change dramatically in a matter of minutes? What that one thing could be that changes the course of your life? Would you be scared? Calm? Would you be so excited that you’d want to shout the change from the rooftop, or would you be so upset that you’d want to hide in the darkest depths of yourself? What would drive you to do one or the other?

I wouldn’t know. Because I’ve never had something that dramatic happen to me. But I know someone who it has happened to. She’s 24 years old, bright, pretty, athletic, and a real partier. Now she’s pregnant. Now…she’s calm.
"I just knew," she said to me, "it’s in God’s hands now."
"Everything happens for a reason," I said back. She agreed, and I could hear her smiling over the phone, happy that I understood.
"Did you tell your parents?"
"Yeah."
"How’d they react?"
She took a minute to answer, indicating tension between herself and her family. She finally spoke. She told me that her mother was very supportive but that her sister said it would ruin her life, and her brother didn’t know yet.
Nothing about her father. I wondered but didn’t say anything. "You’re the one who knows what’s best for you," I said. In my head, I was already seeing all the ways it was going to change things between us. Or was it? I was excited for her, called her "Mama" several times. I wanted to rub her belly and watch her start to show. Am I a hypocrite?

No, I don’t think so. I had conflicting emotions about her position. Yet I could be happy for her as well as nervous for her. I’m only human, right? I couldn’t even imagine being in her position. Couldn’t imagine being calm, being happy. Couldn’t imagine keeping the baby.

But I’m not her. And she’s not me.

I just wanted to welcome the newest edition of my family to everyone. His name is Riley Williams. He hails from Missouri and came by way of airplane to New York, just for me. He was born June 1 and is now a fit 2.9 pounds. He's giving me sleepless nights but endless entertainment. He slips and slides on the wood floor, constantly falling flat on his belly, will lay there for a split second then jump back up and start running and falling all over again. Today is the first day I've left him alone for this long. I'm praying he won't destroy my apartment by the time I get home. He's a clever little guy, constantly figuring out ways to get through the gate to the rest of the apartment. Becca and I came home the other day, and found him trying to sprint back to the right side of the gate before we could catch him. He's fast, but not that fast. One look at his face though, and it's hard to get mad. I just can't wait until he's fully trained. My life will be somewhat back to normal after that.

I wrote this a while ago. It hasn't been edited but I figured I'd share it. Enjoy.

The minute he walked in the door, she knew. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Her heart started to pound in her chest and she lost track of the conversation she was having with a friend. She stared blindly ahead, trying to figure out what to do with the mess of emotions inside her.
It shouldn’t be like this, she thought. We haven’t been together in over three years, he’s dating someone new, I was living with someone. It shouldn’t be like this.
But it was.
They were each other’s first love. He was her first lover. He taught her what it meant to love someone. What it meant to be loved. They grew up, matured, had experiences without the other, but they still had…something. It wasn’t definable. Sure, all of the clichéd phrases popped into her head, "you never stop loving your first love." But was it true? Can you ever stop loving your first love?
I’m sure people do, but can I? she thought to herself. Do I? That’s the more important question. Or is it just that, now that we’ve spent so much time apart, my memory has been altered; have I forgotten the bad, remembered only the good?
She couldn’t turn around, not yet. She had to brace herself to see him; to look into his eyes. Was the spark going to be there? Were her palms going to sweat? Was she going to stutter when she spoke to him for the first time in years?
She took a deep breath, turned around.
There he was. He looked the same, yet different. His eyes met and held hers. She felt the pull, that longing to be held by him, loved by him. It rocked her. She hoped he felt the same. If he didn’t, she would be devastated.
She couldn’t move towards him, her feet were locked to the floor. It was her last grip on life. On life without him. Once she took that step, if she took that step, her life was no longer her own. More, her heart was no longer her own.
She was afraid. She never lost her heart completely to him the first time. But this time was different, this time was it. Everything.
What emotion should come first? Which one should be recognized? Which one should be blocked? Which one should be shut away until she was able to handle it? Which one did she really feel? Which one was real?
She had butterflies in her stomach and her palms were tingling. She had yet to touch him; but she could feel him.
His hands on her, his lips on her lips. She felt him inside her, around her, surrounding her; till she wasn’t whole without him. She felt what was. She felt what could be.
She felt alive.
Scared.
She felt love. And it knocked the breath out of her.