Save your soul. Or your dog's.

My friend Anne sent this to me. These churches are supposedly across the street from one another, but I'm pretty sure it's been photoshopped (sorry, the designer in me). Still cracks me up though. I thought I'd spread the morning cheer. :)

Home is where you lay your head.

I’ll be moving again. I’m always moving. I’ve been trying to figure out how many times exactly that’s been in the last couple years. Three. If you don’t count Costa Rica and the three different places I lived there. Or New York before that. Or my nana’s after. It all seems to collide together into a whole lot of me never being still. I’m like that. It seems the minute I was finally able to leave my hometown, I never managed to stop going from place to place. And invariably I’m always thinking about the next time. I won’t be moving back home. Well, not until I retire at least. And that’s the thing. I have my home, the home where all my family resides. And then I have my “home”, the one where I lay my head at any given moment. I’ve learned to just adapt. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever stop moving. If my “home” will ever feel like my home. If I can learn to be still. Maybe. Then I’ll just take lots of trips.