I’m all “gansta” in my jammies.

12 Nov

Alright, folks.  I’m not going to lie.  I am homesick.  It’s taken three months for it to hit which is down-right sinister.  I think it’s because it wanted build up a significant amount of horribleness with which to strike before making a move.  Homesick after a two weeks?  Eh.  Take some acetaminophen.  Homesick after three months?  No that’s going to require a specialist.  Perhaps even a prosthetic.  I’d go to the doctor except I am pretty sure that my chest won’t actually implode from the deep longing to run all the way back to Georgia.  And I sure as hell can’t run 1,000 miles.

(*Proclaimers?  You told a dirty lie…no one can walk a 1,000 miles.   At least not within a reasonable amount of time.  Don’t even get me started on finding suitable places to shower along the way…[eye roll].)

So I have spent the better part of the morning on trying to figure out how I am going to get over myself.  So far I’ve had not a single bit of luck.  (Except for the ad on my browser for Susan Boyle’s newest CD.  Adorable as she may be, her new-found fashion sense is doing nothing for my dark mood.  Sorry, Susan.)  How do people do it?  How does an individual move away from family and friends for some place completely foreign…albeit, said foreign place has a Super Target?

Maybe it’s as simple as hormones.  I AM a female after all.  And you know how females can be.  [collective exhale]  Tell me about it.  We are cra-zy.  Or perhaps it is the complete lack of friends?  I have met many a wonderful person out here, all of which have been spectacularly perfect specimens of friendliness.  One such person even has new-born twins…fo shizzle.  Who could pass up fresh babies?  Especially ones that match?  It’s like the giant pin-wheel sucker at the candy store.  You CAN’T walk away from THAT.  Duh.  And the parents are equally awesome to boot.  Besides, all of my husband’s closest friends are here along with his family.

However, I had twenty-ish years of relationships that are now going on without me back in Georgia.  [grabbing chest]  “I’m coming, ‘lizabeth!”  It’s a heart-breaker.

My personal relationships are like those droopy-eyed-puppies you see on animal rescue-infomercials.  They just need a good home and with a dollar a month, you can make that happen.  (Please, don’t send me a dollar a month…I’d waste it on cupcakes and coffee instead of puppies.)  I’m sure that I can build plenty of new, strong relationship here…but that’s hard.  Aw…life IS hard.  [wink]

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I miss home.  And you know what they say…home is where the heart is.  [“They” know everything.]

That’s right…my heart is my twin and I dressed up in our finest Christmas PJ’s pretending that we’re “gansta.”  Home is such an awesome place.


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