And I have so many things to tell you.
My words are just tripping over themselves on the way from my mind to the keyboard. So many things to share.
Like, all about how smoothly the half-continental move went.
Or how our sweet little apartment is too precious for words.
Or that we live in the very best neighborhood ever.
Or that our street just devestates me with its quiet tree-lined elegence.
Or that if I turn the right corner, I can see the Hanock Building.
And that the Chicago skyline just takes my breath away everytime I get a glimpse.
And that our neighborhood could be quite dangerous to our waistlines.
There's at least a half dozen fro-yo places within a half-mile walk.
And a cupcake bakery with swings at the bar, across the street from the turkish and austrian bakeries.
But the lakeshore is within a mile. With a long bikepath I can't wait to get my roll on.
That even in August, on a 90+ degree day, Lake Michigan is cold. Breathtakingly, toe-numbingly cold.
But as I dug my toes in the sand, I knew I was home.
And all about adventures on an island in northern Lake Michigan.
Which just might be the very last place on earth without cell phone reception.
By adventures, I really mean the lack of them.
There wasn't much to do on the island. At all.
Other than sit and talk with family. And laugh at adorable stories about Joe and his bro.
And deal with the impossible puzzle.
Or how we just spent our weekend. Toes in the sand. Eyes to the skies.
But I'll wait a bit longer. The words will sort themselves out.
I'm back. And it feels good.