An entry I found in my journal from this summer in Brasil:
"This one coming from yours truly in my grand hammock.
After almost 3 weeks I'm still not tired of sleeping in it.
Tired of the setting of this room maybe.
Ugly purple walls and princess boarder, despised by me and Kandi both.
My 2 suitcases stitting in the same spot since I moved in.
Do you ever feel like you live out of a suitcase?
I'm pretty sure I really do.
I love this hammock though.
Slowly forming to my butt.
No other furniture preference from me, thanks.
Nothing beats lying here with my new comfy throw blanket from the market, my pilow, my pen and journal, and the voice of Jaso Mraz singing in my ears while my iPod fights to stay alive.
I COULD use a bottle of Red Diamond and a bag of sunflower seeds next to my favorite sailboat on Lake Eufaula.
Just a few more weeks until I'm home.
Do I sound anxious? I do miss home.
No place like it, right?"
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