I decided to take away the archives. There are plenty of reasons for that, but I'll just share a couple here.

I have a long history of being emotionally paralyzed with history. I think it's time to let go of what was and focus on what is. It's important to know where you came from, sure ... but it is equally important to know where you are going and to put your strength into getting there.

And that's just what I plan to do. All my yesterday's melded together to make me who I am right now. And that's just fine. I appreciate my past.

I'm just not willing to let it be the determining factor for all my actions and my reactions to my present. Each day I realize more and more that the people in this world are each fascinatingly different from one another. We are all amazingly unique individuals, and if you grow up learning that everyone is essentially the same ... if you react to the world in cookie-cutter starkness ... you are doing both yourself and everyone around you a disservice.

So, out with the old ... and continuing on with the new. I feel very good about that.

The Emmy's were incredibly fun and fru-fru. The thing about going out with Elvis is that no matter where we are or what we are doing, we have an unbelievably fun time. Sometimes I feel like we share this inner secret, a joy nobody else quite understands ... so that even when our surroundings would suggest boredom (5 hours of awards and not enough drinks, a sore tush from sitting in one position for so long, and really -- if you're seated that long, they should serve two desserts), we're completely enraptured with one another and the rest just fades away. We can laugh at just about anything, and sometimes we do -- so much, in fact, that I wish we could stop laughing long enough to catcha breath or give my tummy a rest. So yes, the Emmy's were fun and we capped the evening not with a party full of people but by grabbing some pizza to go and changing from formal attire to comfy cottons and relaxing on the couch.

But still, the best part of the weekend wasn't walking into a lavish hotel and taking part of a razzle-dazzle awards night. It was Friday night, out at a restaurant, where he called me persnickety in front of the waiter and I acted persnickety for the rest of the evening. It was when ice from our gigantic pitcher of sangria went sailing across the table. It was when he faked eating my cheeseburger and I didn't care (imagine that, I was going to happily share food). It was the guy that yelled out "Shake it, don't break it" and tried to force us into buying roses. Telling his mom how I missed her and worried when she was out of town -- which I did! Seeing the expression on his face when I showed up at his apartment in cute jeans and a leopard print shirt. There is never a best time, or a favourite thing ... there are just endless moments that run into one another, each perfect in its own way. Perfectly normal to any nameless observer. Perfect because of who I am with, not where I am or what I am doing.

Honestly, I see a Palm Beach retirement community in our future. We're pathetically happy to play cards and drink coffee all night.

And I've never been so happy to be so normal.

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