It’s 3:30 in the morning, and I’ve been acting like a twenty-one-year-old all day–eating, drinking, and partying as if I’d never heard of a calorie before in my life. Bonnie and I just got home from Nashville’s Five Points area. Bonnie’s husband, Todd, and their two sons and their respective significant others were with us until one, but then they couldn’t hang (they have jobs). So since it’s Bonnie’s birthday weekend, she and I stayed out for one more drink, one more plate of brisket nachos. (Yum.) Now back at the house, a few minutes ago I slipped on some sweatpants and am in such an insulin-laden stated that I could pass out any minute.

This whole blogging-at-night thing is really getting ridiculous, even for me.

This afternoon Bonnie and I walked around an area of town with hipster stores, yoga studios, and taco bars. It was super cute, but I honestly don’t remember where it was. Still, we took a lot of pictures. Here’s one of my favorites, me with the “Rolling Stones” lips and tongue. I’m sad to say it’s the most action I’ve had in a seriously long time. (I live with my parents.)

Here’s another picture that I love that turned out exactly how I wanted it. It’s me beneath a “receiving” sign, my arms outstretched toward the heavens. My idea was that I was signaling God or the universe that I was open to accepting good things. Like, bring it on the best.

Later in the day while I was looking at my photos, I found another “receiving” picture Bonnie had apparently taken and not told me about. Take a look, y’all. It’s not exactly what I had in mind and–I think–sends a completely different message.

This evening our crew went to a stand-up comedy/karaoke club. It sounds fun, I know, but it was a rough night for the comedians. (They weren’t funny.) Still, our group had a good time–we ate, drank, and caught up with each other. (That’s Bonnie, Mallory, and me below. Mallory is Bonnie’s daughter-in-law.) Then we drove around to a couple other places until we settled into the Five Points area and hit two or three different bars/clubs/pizza joints. Y’all, I ate a lot of carbs. But what can I say? Decisions were made.

Now it’s 4:00 in the morning, and I guess we’re doing all this again tomorrow. How I’ll survive, I don’t know, but maybe I can knock out another blog tomorrow afternoon so I can just pass out when it’s all over. We’ll see. Anyway, all day I’ve been thinking about the receiving thing. Bonnie and I turned it into an inside joke. Like, when we saw some eye candy walking down the street in our direction this afternoon, one of us would say, “Receiving.” But internally I’ve been using the phrase as a reminder to accept whatever it is that comes my way–tacos, pizza, and beer, for sure–but also this headache that’s lasted all evening and my body that’s been out of whack for a while now.

I’ll explain.

This last year it’s often felt like I’ve only been receiving “bad” things from God or the universe. That picture of me bent over under the receiving sign is really how I’ve felt, like I’m getting screwed here. So when I posed for the picture with my arms outstretched, I was thinking, I’m ready for something different. But as I’ve gone about the day, I think it’s less a matter of new things coming into my life, and more a matter of me recognizing all the good things that have already come into my life, even recognizing the benefits that are coming out of the challenges I’m facing. For example, my health issues are giving me an opportunity to rest, and I’m MUCH more patient and compassionate with myself than I used to be because I’m finally recognizing the stress I’ve been under for so long. What’s more, I have compassion for others who struggle and search and can’t immediately find answers. I get it now. So what I’m learning is that you can’t pick and choose what you receive from life, and you can’t always accurately label something as bad. After all, if good things–things you really like–come out of challenging things, then why would you push the challenging things away? Why wouldn’t you receive all it–the good and the so-called bad–with open arms?