The Little Hot Glue Gun That Could.

Gosh, sorry again for the extended absence. I’m really not trying to make it a habit, I swear. Time just seems to escape me, and as hard as I try to bottle it up like fireflies in the summer, I just never catch it. I have the best of intentions, but I find myself buried under a million projects.

As CMS in our house {Chief Martha Stewart}, I’ve been busying myself with unpacking, cleaning, organizing, shopping, decorating, cooking, crafting, crying, whining, and more cleaning. {No insider trading, though. Ba-dum-ching!} As the CCO {Chief Creative Officer} of Tom Sroka Inc., I’ve also found myself pulling apart and redesigning his website, ensuring he gets in 8,000 calories a day {no typo, I promise}, and offering feedback for the next portion of the adventure. I also have this pesky thing called a full-time job. Yesterday, between work and the website, I was on the computer for over 16 hours. My apologies to my eye doctor.

What I’m trying to say is whether or not I’ve been legitimately busy or just trying to avoid writing this post, the thought of staring at this blank, white screen had me feeling nauseous. In 15 mere days as a Southerner, 5 of which were spent in Chicago, what could I possibly offer up about our new life? I mean, besides the obvious house and crafty-type projects I’ve chosen to busy myself with. {Navy chevron curtains, people. They’re going to change my life.} First off, I can admit that I was wrong. Totally, inherently, mark this day down because it’s never happening again kind of wrong. I really didn’t think I’d like the South. I thought, in all honestly, I was too…I don’t know…urban, yuppy, Gen Y to enjoy life down here. But I do.

I can’t really pinpoint exactly what I love so much. The heat is oppressive, the accents are thick, and the taxes are high. But despite that, I can see myself living here for a long time. {Sorry, Mom.} Life just seems slower, less hectic, and more savored here. I know that’s quite a blanket statement coming from such a green transplant, but everything, from the cashier at the grocery store to the cars behind you on the freeway just seem to not be rushed. For someone as fast-paced and urgent with no cause like me, it’s rather welcome. I feel like I’m on vacation. I’ve had sweet tea, grits with hot sauce every morning, local sweet, fresh peaches, and waffle fries from Chick-Fil-A. I’ve taken a long walk just because almost every day. I’ve sat out on my porch with my morning coffee, and read a book while laying in the hammock. It’s been unbelievable, yet so natural in one giant, messed up bundle. Some days, when I’m going on hour five of work and I’ve had no one to talk to except my dogs, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. And other days, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life.

I’m still scared that the bottom is going to fall out, or that in ten years I’ll look back and wish I hadn’t moved. I guess that’s natural when you’ve uprooted yourself from everything and everyone you’ve ever known. But more and more every day, I feel like we were meant to be here. I don’t know where exactly I fall into this picture, or what the great Queen City has in store for me, but something is a-brewing. And until then, you’ll find me on the porch, armed with a can of spray paint, Tom’s power tools, and the determination to make this place pretty until I figure out something better to do.

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One thought on “The Little Hot Glue Gun That Could.

  1. gail helm-sroka says:

    Nice. This is how I feel everytime We go to Kentucky.

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