A million little pieces

Coffee in a large white mug makes me happy. Sometimes, I think the beauty of the rising or setting sun is a gift just for me. I get embarrassed, deeply embarrassed, for other people. A broken relationship of any kind hurts me deeply. I’m guilty of overanalyzing everything. I sometimes call my dad “Pa.” I think my dad is one of the greatest men of character I’ve ever known, which makes me wish I’d gotten the chance to know his dad who died two years before I was born. I love it that my dog tries to comfort me when I cry. “American Idol” auditions make me crazily nervous for the people involved—sometimes I cover my eyes while watching. For all his flaw, I still think my brother is one of the coolest, best guys I know—but I might be biased. I taught myself to drink my coffee black, but didn’t like coffee until I was about 28 years old. It makes me smile to think that a friend of mine thought I was much younger than I actually am. Candlelight brings me peace. I tend to overpack when traveling, not my clothes so much as my shoes. I own 4 pairs of Chuck Taylors and six pairs of boots. I think guarding your heart is important, but have done so so well that I’ve kept people at an arm’s length and ended up devastated anyway. My new red coat makes me feel pretty. I always dread Upward cheer practice, then love the hour that we’re there. It doesn’t matter what distance I’m running, for me, the second mile is the hardest. I don’t feel 31. I love deadlines and hate missing them. Chocolate is a gift from God. I’m often overwhelmed by the sheer greatness of God’s love for me and the way He keeps His promises. I call both Missouri and Nashville home. I can be a music snob. When I don’t get enough sleep, it results in rambling blog posts like this one. 🙂

(To read other “pieces” blog posts, go here and here.)