Homliness. The Good Kind. The feelingy kind.

Holy. Slackage.

I know it is cliche, and lame, but I have no idea what happened to the last five weeks.

I only feel a little sorry that blogging hasn't been high enough on my priority list to get done.  I have been too busy basking in the glorious feeling that is the home of my childhood.

I have two homes now. In Minnesota when I talk about "home" I mean Utah. In Utah when I talk about "home", I mean Minnesota. 

I'm pretty lucky. In this case, two is better than one. 

Home is a funny thing isn't it? I have seen all sorts of cutesy and over the top word arts on pinterest talking about what home is. Most of them make me throw up in my mouth a little.

Yes, the heart is there. C and M are definitely required. But, what swirly word art stenciled on to wood can't explain... is that familiar feeling that settles in all over and in you. It is an inside-out ordeal. That place in the very center of you relaxes.  You see things without having to look at them. Things can seem familiar and new simultaneously. I read those last few sentences, and they don't quite explain, but I don't think they could.

Its a matter of feelingyness, not words put in yellow vinyl on a block of wood.

* I do not judge you if you love those blocks of wood. They just aren't my style!