On being a homebody.

Before starting this, I pulled out the trusty ol' webster.com and looked up "homebody." The definition is this: one whose life centers on home. That's a really good definition, in my opinion. I actually expected to see something more along the lines of "introvert who has no life." I guess I just think that is what everybody else thinks.

Although the two aren't really connected, what started me on this topic was when I realized that this blog is picture-less (I'm not counting the pictures of random things and wish list items, etc.). The obvious explanation for this is that I'm not a picture taker. I wish I was, but I'm not.

But that led me to my next point - I don't do much. And I'm lucky to have a husband who loves being home just as much as I do. Maybe I'm normal in that I spend 40 hours a week at work, and can't find time to do much more than just hang out on the weekends. But I have always, even in my teenage years, "not done much," and I enjoy it. "Not doing much" isn't really an accurate way to describe it, though. There is still a lot I don't know about myself, and things I'm still figuring out. One thing I do know is that I have always loved home. There is absolutely nothing I love more than to be at home with my family, or spending an hour (or several) chatting with a good friend. Those times are especially precious now, when it seems like no one knows how to press the slow down button (or does that even exist). Spending time with the people I care about is something I never get tired of, and something that I will never not have time for. Not sure how many of you listen to Sara Groves, but her song "Every Minute" might be a perfect description of what I'm trying to convey. You can listen to it, too. :)




I am long on staying, I am slow to leave
especially when it comes to you, my friend
You have taught me to slow down, and to prop up my feet
It's the fine art of being who I am
And I can't figure out why you want me around
I'm not the smartest person I have ever met
But somehow that doesn't matter
No, it never really mattered to you at all

And at the risk of wearing out my welcome
At the risk of self-discovery
I'll take every moment, and every minute that you'll give me

And I can think of a time when families all lived together,
four generations in one house
And the table was full of good food, and friends and neighbors
That's not how we like it now
Cause if you sit at home, you're a loser
Couldn't you find anything better to do
Well no, I couldn't think of one thing I would rather waste my time on
than sitting here with you

And at the risk of wearing out my welcome
At the risk of self-discovery
I'll take every moment, and every minute that you'll give me

And I wish all the people I love the most could gather in one place
and know each other, and love each other well
And I wish we could all go camping and lay beneath the stars, 
and have nothing to do and stories to tell
And we'd sit around the campfire
and we'd make each other laugh, remembering when
And you're the first one I'm inviting, always know that you're invited, my friend

And at the risk of wearing out my welcome
At the risk of self-discovery
I'll take every moment, and every minute that you'll give me