I watched the Gilmore Girls revival over the weekend.
I sold my car last week. T’was already the second time I said goodbye to a vehicle this year; unlike the first, I couldn’t have been more thrilled to sign over this title.
The reasons for selling were many — impatience, finances, the government — and, ultimately, I went with my gut. My gut said a new story needed to be written, and so the page shall now turn. read more . . .
Last weekend, I returned to one of those pivotal places of the past. The city: Gatlinburg, Tennessee. My last official #RunningTo stop before retreating to a cabin in the woods for 36 solitary hours to figure out whether I’d move to Milwaukee or Gettysburg or Charlotte to round out my 9 months on the road. I’d walked the glitzy strip that reminded me of Las Vegas and Niagara Falls, complete with ridiculous Ripley’s and Guinness museums and approximately 17 separate old tyme photo shops.
And at the end of the strip, a Starbucks: the last place I’d have WiFi until I had a new home. I remember sitting at the end circular table, tweeting my last tweet, and insta-ing my last Instagram: a high-speed drive through the wintry Smokies before fleeing like Chris McCandless into the wild . . . read more . . .
When my roommate left for a trip a couple weeks ago, I determined I’d dive back into Couchsurfing again. I’d hosted 10-15 folks going back to my move to Asheville in February, but only one in the prior four months.
I stopped hosting for various reasons. My roommate and I had lots of friends visit this summer, so there were weekends we legitimately couldn’t take in another body. But for all the other weekends and, yes, weekdays, my excuses were plentiful. read more . . .
I wore a sweater to work the other day.
I climbed half-naked out of bed with a shiver and noted the morning temperature a brisk 49 degrees. So, I grabbed a light sweater from my closet — the first time I’ve worn one since March or April. Since I first moved to Asheville. read more . . .