It's been truly cold here, not just we're-wimpy-southerners faux cold. Before Christmas, I got used to walking/running almost every day. But I'm not quite dedicated enough to push myself into this weather, particularly on the bridges where there's no wind cover, so I've been on an unwelcome hiatus. I always intend to do yoga or something to get moving and relieve antsiness, but if I'm indoors anyway I always come up with something ostensibly more important. Plus, I bought several new skirts and dresses that I've been dying to wear but can't/won't because of the cold. Come on, this is the beach! No one moved here for this!

In October near Seagrove there's going to be an exhibition for potters who blog, which is awesome because a few of my faves are included and because I've long been thinking about that connection, between writing and pottery. Also in Seagrove news, I just learned (thanks, Granddaddy!) that the Museum group got a citation and big fine for carrying out the Festival without a vendor permit. It never got or needed one in the past. Permits were a big part of the Celebration madness last summer, one of the ways some people tried to stop it from happening. So I've yet another aspect to delve into. Seagrove, you know I love you. Can't you just not do anything new until I'm done with my thesis? And preferably until it gets published? I can't wait to share it with you, by the way! I hope you get a grocery store soon.

I can't seem to stop saying things I shouldn't. It's not that I don't think before I speak; I often do, and decide it's OK, and then realize too late that it's not. I try not to beat myself up about it since I don't have a time machine and what's said is said, and because those things (mostly silly comments with a touch of shock value) are part of my personality and I try to like or at least accept it. There are also recent issues with volume and with the clarity of my comment's connection to the conversation in progress. It's always clear to me, and sometimes when I explain why I thought of it, the comment becomes slightly less inappropriate. I have many friends who share the quick-draw mouth at least on occasion, another reason I shouldn't feel bad about it. But I always admire those who never seem out of line. I want to be like the Proverbs woman (chapter 30 or 31?) who's always dignified and wise. Even when I attain that, my version will include funny. Just not silly, which is what we're working on.

I applied for two near-perfect part-time jobs on Thursday. Getting one would mean a schedule CF, but I'd have peace of mind because I'd have work upon graduation. Sweet deal no matter what happens.

I had my party for school people who were away for my birthday. Lots of folks came, and I had a wonderful time. I can't overstress how wonderful a time I had. But after having hosted a smaller party on December 23rd and a medium one on January 31st, with all of Christmas and shopping and starting school in between, I look forward to a time of rest. Yesterday I watched When Harry Met Sally and then Ratatouille, and read quite a bit. That was a huge relief, just being alone and focusing on something where my part was inconsequential. Throw in some thesis work, and you've got a good working model for my free time in the weeks ahead. Woo-hoo!

Speaking of "woo-hoo," I just started my last semester! Potentially ever! Four months from now, I'll be long done with classes and probably even done grading. My thesis will be either turned in or about to be, and I'll know whether I get to settle in town or go explore. Lots of things will change. I hope not everything. I know God is in charge and has a great plan, but I can't quite get past "Thy will be--". For now, I'm praying that He give me the trust to be able to say the whole sentence, to let go of all that I'm clinging to even if it's for the best reasons and let Him control my whole life.

Ick. Easier typed than done. Seems like we both have our work cut out for us, me the yielding and Him the whacking into submission. I don't see any obvious reason God would want me to move, other than my career, which I'm not sure is a priority for either of us at this time in a traditional sense. But I know that the more I cling to my preferences, the more I insist that I must stay in Wilmington and have all the same friends and blah blah blah, the more reason God will have to take it away, or rather take me away. So I'm trying to, you know, let go of the butterfly so it will come back to me, or something. Yes, the teacup is already broken. But that doesn't mean I want to throw it down. When things are good (and right now they are really good, y'all), it's healthy to realize that they will change someday. But that doesn't mean you should withdraw from relationships just because you know you'll disappoint each other eventually, or develop stony-faced resolve about moving away, or be careless in any way with whatever is making life so good. It's extremely hard to strike a balance between cherishing and letting go, especially when you're not sure which you'll have to do in the near future. I say "near" in a relative sense, though. For today, it's a matter of breathing and working, which will smooth the road between now and then.

My hands, in the cold, take on the aspect of an old lady's, wizened and shrivelly. It's not unpleasant, and I definitely stay alert in the car. At home, hot chocolate and an electric blanket help, and the thought of someone reading this and feeling upheld. That's what writing is, for me, ultimately: the hope of putting something into words that helps someone feel less alone, even as they sit at a computer or with a book. Drawing together a series of worlds. Using words to create what I need, or what someone else needs. It keeps me warm in January when even the air from the vent seems cold.