First of all;

Chalk one up there for the little guys! For a long time I was adamantly against blogging. However, it made more sense to have a blog while I was in Rome so I didn't have to send out dull emails ("I did ___",& "I saw ____") which, really, no one would read anyways except my parents, and I wouldn't really expect them to anyways because I find the whole concept of email updates to be egotistical. But now, I find the fact that my blog ended the day my travels ceased to be odd. My life did not stop... in fact the last few months have been very exciting. A lot has changed. So much so that it makes me feel like a lunatic when I try and deal with it (solution: run from problems!), so I'm just going to write it all out till there is nothing left in my brain to prevent me from sleeping at night.

I leave Chicago today, after being home for only 4 days, to head up north to Door County Wisconsin, my own Walden Pond of sorts. For the third summer in a row now I will be living on my own (except for the occasional visits from my parents and friends) in our cabin in the woods. I like the solitude, probably too much.
I will again be working for the fabulous Lori Johnson, who is 42 going on 24, in her boutique Sovereign Collection. The store is increasingly high-end every time I go back to it, but it fits with the Door County scene as the people there seem to get richer by the year. Every summer I go back there and 10 more pristine pieces of land have been bulldozed and cleared 10 new gigantic mansions with a 5 car garages have been erected, all of which completely obstruct a passer-by's view of the lake.

I also have an Editorial Internship with the Peninsula Pulse, the county's arts and literary journal. My pieces will focus primarily on the "new music scene" in Door County, and I will get to run around to concerts and interview band members and write reviews, bios, etc. I will also be doing some news writing, editing, and the like. I don't really know what to expect, but I am very excited.

Now, I won't actually be living alone; there is a new man in my life and we are absolutely inseparable. His name is Barley Corn but he responds to just Barley. He is a dog. I adopted him from P.A.W.S. (Pets Are Worth Saving)two days ago. He is a pointer/retriever/vizsla mix. Supposedly he is 9 years old but he looks about 4. He had more energy and spunk than any of the younger dogs that were at the shelter. My friend Leigh and I went to P.A.W.S. five days ago and spent at least 4 hours there meeting every dog. The volunteers must have thought we were crazed dog enthusiasts as we wandered up and down the hallways ogling each and every dog. In a perfect world, we both would have walked out of there with at least 5 of them. Shelters are so sad. All of the dogs are so sweet and beautiful, but unfortunately, for the most part, only the puppies get adopted. No one wants an older dog. But 9 year old Barley is just perfect for me. His last owner was a marathon runner in Louisiana who's house was destroyed by Katrina and as such he had to give the dog up. He's been in and out of this shelter for two years now. The last woman who adopted him for five months gave him back because he has so much energy and she really didn't have the time to walk him. I however was looking for a dog I could run with. Also, the energy level thing doesn't bother me at all considering the fact that he is already housebroken, he knows all the basic commands, and he is great on a leash. This morning I took him on a 6 mile run. He practically dragged me along the entire way. All of my miles were at least 30 seconds faster than my usual pace and the dog didn't even seem tired at the end (although he's been laying down ever since we got home). He will be my marathon training tool, although I don't think I will run him more than an hour a day; he is nine after all. So Barley is coming up north with me. I can't wait to run him in the woods.

At the moment I am killing time. I am waiting for my older brother to fly into Chicago so I can pick him up. He'll be in Door County with me this weekend. His flight was supposed to land at 1:30 but he missed his flight. Surprise. His cell phone died and his charger broke, simultaneously, so he called me from his laptop? I hate technology.