Well, I'm back. Back from a self-imposed holiday blogging hiatus (not a sugar coma like some of you may have assumed) but from a holiday hangover slowly fading away and with new insights into my life. I am, with out a doubt, a Texan, more specifically, a Southern woman. While I was home I baked cookies and pies and fell easliy back into pronouncing "foil" like "foal" and listening to twangy country music and hanging out in beer halls (thanks for the dance Zach!) and eating BBQ (four times in nine days) and laughing with women friends around a kitchen table while the men belched in front of the TV. My heart is happy because, as I have always known, a good dose of home is sometimes all I need to get back on the horse and continue the journey. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, they are but empty promises one makes to oneself and that just spells disaster, but this year I am resolving, a resolution more for my soul than my thighs or my budget. I am resolving to go home more. No matter what. Flying home every six months is no way for this Southern woman to live. I desperately need that dose of fatteningly good foods and teary mama laughter and friendship hugs in a humid climate in order to face another day in New York, or wherever I may end up six months from now. This resolution I need, no broken promise allowed. (The only down side of this resolution is that I may have to stop buying $4 Dean and Deluca cupcakes to pay for it, but we'll cross that chocolatey bridge when we get to it!) Whatever the year brings, I'm posting this Texas-sized reminder, a promise to embrace my Southern roots and come home to them whenever possible...