Two weeks ago, I finished the Department of State three-week specialist orientation and was sworn in as a human resources officer (HRO). My parents made the trek to DC to attend my Swearing In ceremony. I took the same oath of office as Thomas Jefferson when he was sworn in as the first Secretary of State in 1790.

During orientation, I sat among an amazingly diverse group of 91 classmates all from different backgrounds -- many former Peace Corp volunteers, former CEOs, a naval pilot, a couple of UF graduates, a former JAG lawyer, a former African ambassador's daughter, engineers, retired military service members, and even someone who directed an anti-human trafficking program. I was not only inspired by my classmates, but I was also inspired by the many people who spoke to us during the three-week period. We had two fearless leaders who kept things moving and also interesting with their own Foreign Service stories, and among our speakers, we had a couple of ambassadors, some local embassy personnel, other specialists, generalists, a deputy assistant secretary, and civil service staff who spoke to us as well. Each person, regardless of their rank or experience, had one big thing in common: they love their careers. They were personable and eager to share their own experiences and give us tips for survival as we move forward.

Here's the flag I was given on flag day:

The ambassador who presented me with my flag said, "Поздравляю." I was a little confused by what she said. She could tell I was puzzled, so she smiled and whispered, "It means 'Congratulations!' in Russian." I have a lot (of Russian) to learn.

I'm headed to Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, which is in Central Asia. Kyrgyzstan was part of the Soviet Union until 1991 when it became an independent nation. Russian is the primary language in Kyrgyzstan, so I'll be in Russian language training until I head to post in March 2013. My HRO colleagues (and forever friends) are all leaving in September 2012 for different places in the world: Cameroon, Tajikistan, China (Beijing) and Afghanistan. I'll be the last one in my group to head out.

I'm excited and feel that Bishkek is a great fit for me. I've done a lot of research and talked to many folks who have been posted to Bishkek. It's nicknamed the Switzerland of Central Asia, as it's mountainous. There is snow on the ground at least three months of the year. Of course the Floridian would get the coldest place! The hiking is supposed to be great, and apparently I'll be spending a lot of time riding horses. I'll even get to fulfill life goal #23 -- Sleep in a Yurt (the x shape on the flag actually represents the yurt). I was told by someone that everything in Kyrgyzstan is organic because no one can afford fertilizer. I'll be able to travel along the Silk Road, to Moscow, to Turkey, and to visit my HRO colleague and friend in neighboring Tajikistan.

Sadly, I'll be trading in Martin, my Mini Cooper, for a small SUV with four-wheel drive, as the roads aren't suitable for a Mini. While I'll be sad to see Martin go, Hannah will have more room in the backseat on our road trips. I am in the market for heated seats. 

Over the next year, not only will I be learning Russian, but I'm going to enjoy all that Washington, DC has to offer -- food and sights and culture included.

I'm sitting on a beach under a fancy tent that my lovely traveling companion insisted we bring. I've avoided sitting on beaches for years because sitting directly in the sun for too long (without shelter) stresses me out. Turns out, all I ever needed was a beach tent. There was no need to avoid this beautiful, relaxing natural space. I'm forever changed. I'm sure there's a life lesson somewhere in this revelation.

Coming to the beach in January is a bit risky, as one is never sure what the weather will be like. As a Floridian, I've got my swimsuit on but am wearing long pants and long sleeves over it. The northerners are swimming. "No worries," they say. "It feels lovely." Perspective, I guess.

I'm not too far from home, but I'm far enough away to recognize the beauty of beach vacations and how renewing it can feel to just let go and let the current take you where you're meant to go. Hearing the waves crashing instantly puts my wandering mind at ease. The hungry seagull is hopeful that I will leave my half-eaten sandwich on the picnic table for him. If you're lucky like I was- you might see a dolphin swim by. You also might catch a rogue frisbee from a young couple before it hits the water. Whatever goes at the beach. Whether you're on the Gulf, the Atlantic or perhaps at the Indian ocean- it's the same; whatever goes. There's no big need to make too many plans; just let go and go with the flow. The wind is blowing. The waves are crashing. The sun is shining, and the people are smiling.

This isn't a bad way to spend the first few days of a New Year. Not bad at all.

When Alex found the ornament she made in her third grade classroom, she suddenly remembered the heartbreak she felt that Christmas. She was riding the the bus, and at a red light, she looked out the window and saw Santa driving a station wagon. She yelled out to the other kids, “Look! It’s Santa Claus!” The kids were so excited that they rushed over to her side of the bus to get a glimpse of him. But then, Brooke Sawyer from the fifth grade yelled, “Just relax, everybody! It isn't real. Santa isn’t real.” Devastated and confused, Alex went home sobbing and asked her mom if what Brooke had said was true. Her mom told her that while Santa didn't deliver gifts to their house, the spirit of Christmas was very real. Alex remembered the way her mom pulled her up in her lap at that moment and sang Christmas carols to her as she rubbed her back. She suddenly missed the way her mom could take away all her tears.

As Alex hung other ornaments on her tree, she realized that since her mom had died many years before, Christmas had become less and less magical and that she had lost the spirit of Christmas. She had avoided family gatherings at Christmas because she couldn't face the pain she knew she would feel without her mom's presence. She had always gone through the motions of Christmas -- decorating her tree each year, attending Christmas parties and sending Christmas cards, but she realized that her new traditions did not give her the same sense of Christmas spirit she had always felt when her mom was around. 

She thought about the things growing up that had always put her in the Christmas spirit. Her family always spent a lot of time together during the Christmas season. As they decorated the tree with all their favorite ornaments, her mom would tell her and her brother stories about each ornament. Alex remembered the lighting of the advent candles at the Christmas Eve service at the church and how the sanctuary glowed from everyone's candles while they sang Silent Night. She remembered how her mom’s hand felt on her shoulder as she stood next to her. She always hugged Alex when Silent Night ended and they blew out their candles. And on Christmas morning, even when Alex knew that it wasn't Santa who delivered the gifts to their house, her stocking was always full of her favorite treats.

Alex realized then that her mom would want more than anything for her to feel her Christmas spirit again. She closed her eyes and imagined her mom's love and warmth embracing her, and at that moment, Alex felt some of the spirit her mom had given her each Christmas. It was the first hint of Christmas spirit she had felt in years. Alex put some Christmas music on and finished decorating the tree. And when she was done, she sat in front of the tree, took a deep breath and called her brother to see if he wanted to spend Christmas with her that year. Just hearing his voice warmed her heart and gave her a little more of the Christmas spirit she had missed for so many years.

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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Alyssa challenged me with "Just relax, everybody. It isn't real." I challenged Head Ant with "The middle of the night by the castle clock."

I gave the prompt - the toll of a bell at sunrise - to one of my favorite Tweeps to chat with on Twitter, Janani. Her response is awesome, as per the usual. Yea, she rocks. You should go check it out right now (well, maybe after you read my response, I guess!).

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He just wanted a smoothie. Just one damn smoothie. Only one. He hadn’t eaten much in days. Just crackers and toast. That was all he had in his house to eat. All he could stomach at least. Three mornings ago, he had gotten really sick. When he called work to let them know he couldn’t make it, his boss gave him an attitude and threatened to fire him. His girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend now, had come by his house the night before to pick up the last of her things. And just when he thought it couldn't get worse, he got a phone call that morning about his mom – his rock, the one person in his life who had always brought him comfort– going in to the hospital for heart problems. His sister told him he couldn't come to the hospital until he felt better.

So, three days later, when he finally started feeling a little better and had more of an appetite, he realized he needed some food. He was craving a smoothie. He never drank smoothies, but he decided he should venture out to get the one thing he craved. So he walked outside in to the Florida humidity and walked to his car where he found three parking tickets, one for each day he had been sick and hadn’t moved his car. Then, as he was driving to the smoothie shop, less than a mile away from his home, he was pulled over by an unmarked police car for not coming to a complete stop at the stop sign at the end of the street. The California Roll, something he had done for years and had never, ever been caught. He had been so grumpy with the cop that he also got a ticket for the passenger-side brake light that had been out for months.

And now! Now he had finally walked in to the smoothie shop and he was faced with this crazy menu of 100 different smoothies. The Fig Newton: Apple with fig; The Norm: bananas with strawberries; The Tutti Fruity Mango: mango with the fruit of the day; and of course, there were 97 other choices on the menu.

She was supposed to be on break, but she noticed him standing at the counter. He was pale and had scraggly, reddish hair. He was disheveled and in a daze. He looked as though he didn't feel well. Perhaps he was overwhelmed, she thought, remembering how when she first started working in the shop that the menu had overwhelmed her. She walked over to him. “Our menu can be a little intimidating,” she told him. “Can I help you decide on something?”

“Well, I actually think that I want The Norm," he responded.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Well, not really. I just like bananas and strawberries, and I can't make up my mind. The Norm just sounds like the easiest option I guess."

"Do you want my opinion?" she asked.

"Well, why not just make me The Norm?"

"I'm happy to make it if that is what you want, but it seems as though you're not entirely convinced that The Norm will make you happy." 

"I'm not sure what will make me happy," he responded.

"So, do you want my opinion?" she pushed.

"Well, why not? Sure, I guess," he responded, reluctantly. He just wanted a smoothie. Why wouldn't she just make him The Norm? Why did she care?

“What kind of things do you like in a smoothie? Bananas and strawberries, obviously. But, what else?” she asked.

“I'm not that picky I guess. I’ve been sick, so no dairy. Maybe some fruit juice. Since you offered to help, what do you recommend?” he asked, becoming a bit short with her.

“Well, everyone who works here has their own unique smoothie on the menu. Shall I make you mine?”

“Well, okay,” he agreed. He had finally given in because he supposed it was one less thing for him to worry about that day.

He watched her as she went to work. He noticed that she treated the process as though she was an artist and was creating a masterpiece. She peeled a banana and cut it up in perfect bits and put it in the blender. She then moved onto strawberries and layered them on top of the bananas. Next she cut up part of a peach and added it. She then pulled out a container of fruit juice and poured it over the fruit. Then she added a teaspoon of a powder. “This is a blend of Vitamin C and ginseng for energy since you’ve been sick,” she told him. And finally, she put the ice in. He realized that it was actually kind of like art. Each type of fruit was layered carefully in the blender, almost as though it would never be disturbed.

And then he realized that he had stopped feeling sorry for himself. For just a moment. Just watching her took his mind off of everything else in his life. And then she turned on the blender. Each layer became one.

When it was blended to her satisfaction, she handed him the smoothie. He took a sip.

"How is it?" she asked.

“Well, this is okay, I guess. I reckon you should tell me the name in case I return and you're not here and that's what I want," he said, realizing that he had enjoyed it but he wasn't quite ready to completely admit it to her.

“It’s called The Optimist,” she said. She then pointed out the quote printed on his cup. It said: “Optimism is the first cousin of love, and it's exactly like love in three ways; it's pushy, it has no real sense of humor and it turns up where you least expect it.”

He paid for the smoothie, careful not to make too much eye contact with her, and then he left the store, realizing as he got in his car that he was actually hoping he would feel better after drinking it.

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The prompt:

Optimism is the first cousin of love, and it’s exactly like love in three ways: it’s pushy, it has no real sense of humor, and it turns up where you least expect it.

I gave the prompt - can't go back home again - to Octoberesque. Her response is brilliant, and you should check it out immediately.

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India is one of those places where you fall in love over and over and over again. It has a way of doing that to you. It's so magical sometimes. And you find yourself falling in love when you least expect it -- perhaps while seeing the Taj Mahal at sunrise, sunset or by moonlight or while throwing colors during Holi or while admiring the beautiful lights of the Diwali festival or while participating in a Hindu puja or while rafting in the Himalayas. You suddenly find yourself feeling the magic and falling in love over and over again. 

When I found out I’d be working in Bombay for a week, I got in touch with an American friend who lived and worked there. She was really excited for my visit and promised we would have a good time. I told her I’d be up for anything. When I arrived at her house on a Saturday night, she quickly led me to her room and dressed me up in a turquoise sari that was three times too big for me (but that happened to conveniently match my glasses) and then told me we were going to an Indian wedding. I was expecting fun, but I'll admit that I was not expecting Indian wedding type of fun.

After the traditional wedding ceremony, we made our way inside the beautiful five-star hotel for the reception and were seated at a table with a handsome young Indian man. He was wearing a black bandhgala and was rather dashing. He introduced himself as Sachin and immediately offered to get us drinks. Before long, I was sipping on a vodka and soda. And then not too long after that, I was sipping on my second vodka and soda. He was very polite.

After dinner had been served, the music started. The bride and groom were the first to make their way to the dance floor, and then when the other guests were invited to join them, Sachin asked me to dance. I was skeptical of dancing with a stranger, but he insisted that I dance with him and said he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I finally agreed, as it was a slow song and I did okay with those, and admittedly Sachin was sort of dreamy in a Bollywood movie star kind of way and was very hard to resist.

The song that was playing was ‘As I Lay Me Down’ by Sophie B. Hawkins. I loved that song, and it turned out that Sachin was a great dancer. When I stepped on his foot, I was really embarrassed, but he quickly smiled and told me not to worry. I eased up a bit and actually let myself enjoy being led around the dance floor. But after the song ended, I tried to make a quick escape back to the comfort of my seat. He immediately jumped in front of me and led me to the center of the dance floor. Then there were at least 15 Indian men on the dance floor surrounding me and the other women. An Indian song started playing, and Sachin smiled and winked at me. The men were all surrounding and facing us, and they started clapping along with the music. Then they waved their arms up and down and from side to side. As the tempo increased, they moved faster and faster. In typical Bollywood fashion, their cheesy grins and facial expressions perfectly matched their dance moves. Sachin sang along with the music. He knew every word to the song and dramatically acted it out as he danced.

After the song ended, he led me back to my seat and went back out to the dance floor to join the rest of the wedding party in a traditional dance off between the ladies and men. After the last choreographed number, he pulled me back out on the dance floor, and we danced the night away. At one point, I accidentally let my one signature dance move slip out – the one my friends at home in the States had always teased me about. Sachin laughed but then incorporated it into a dance he was doing. I decided to follow his lead and dance along with him. We were eventually synched together perfectly. This felt like a daydream come true. Even before I had ever moved to India, I had longed to be in a Bollywood musical. This was probably as close as I would ever get. For just a moment, I allowed myself to feel like Aishwarya Rai and pretended Sachin was my Shar Rukh Khan. He was handsome and dreamy, and I was totally crushed out as every good Indian actress would be. It was the best dance I had ever shared and was one I knew I would never forget. It was so magical and wonderful that I got deeply lost in the moment, and I fell in love with India all over again.

When I returned home to Delhi, I told my colleague and friend stories of my trip and shared my photos with her. She gasped at the photo of Sachin and said that he starred in a soap opera she watched. I didn’t believe her, so a few weeks later, when a new season of the show was airing, she invited me over to watch. She told me that in the last episode of the former season, the lead characters had gotten married and that the new season would start out with the wedding reception. When the show started, sure enough, he was right there. The stranger I had danced with during my very own Bollywood musical moment. My dreamy dance partner at the wedding reception, Sachin. He was right there. On the television. My very own Shar Rukh Khan.

In typical Indian wedding reception tradition, the male characters rivaled the female characters in a dance off. As the men started to dance, I saw the same cheesy grins and facial expressions I had seen the night he had danced with me. My friend and I watched as they waved their arms in the air and clapped their hands, and then I saw it. My signature dance move. It was on the television. Sachin was doing my dance. I found myself squealing like a young schoolgirl with a crush and jumped up and danced along with him. My friend started laughing but then jumped up and started dancing along with me. As we danced around her living room that night, I closed my eyes and easily remembered that moment where I felt I was in my very own Bollywood musical. I felt the magic and fell in love with India all over again.

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The prompt:

Dance with a stranger

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I'd like to take a moment and say that my thoughts and prayers are with the people of Bombay who may have been injured or who may have lost loved ones during the attack this week. My heart goes out to you and yours during this tragic time.

I gave the prompt - silence in black and white - to Michael. I selfishly love it when he receives my prompts! Go check out his response!

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One evening, as she drove home from work, she got lost. She had taken this route each day for many years, but this time she had somehow managed to get lost. A song she hadn’t heard before was playing on her iPod, and she found herself so lost in its lyrics that she didn’t make the right turn.

And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up,
I look up, on my knees and out of luck, I look up.

She pulled into a parking lot to turn around, but instead of trying to find her way again, she decided instead to park. She needed to listen to this song again. As she listened carefully to its lyrics, she finally accepted to herself that she was weathering her own storm and that it would pass. The biggest dimensions of her life – work, home, and love –had all become unstable. And in this moment of instability, the song’s lyrics had moved her to a sense of stability in her heart -- the first sense of stability she had felt in her heart in many years.

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart, I won't rot.

She thought about everything that had happened, and she realized that she had gotten to a place in life where she sought stability in the very things in life that can become unstable in a blink of an eye. 

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

When she was younger, giving up certain stabilities in her life had usually been her choice, and if it hadn't, she quickly rolled with the punches and accepted change as part of life's journey. She actually pursued change. She desired growth from that change. The only stability she knew was in her heart. As she had gotten older, she realized that she had somehow gotten to a place in life where she suddenly feared life’s constant evolve. She feared instability. She had become fearful of change. How had she suddenly gotten to a point in life where she was holding on so tightly to everything she loved when she had always believed with all her heart that it was best to accept change as life's only constant?

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

She knew there was nothing more she could do other than face the storm. She knew she had to get over the hill and find what life had in store for her on the other side. She knew she needed to cry so that the tears could stop. She knew she needed to find a sense of enlightenment so that the things she experienced would not break her heart but dismiss her fears. She needed to find her way back to that place where she didn't fear instability because instability and change are part of being alive. She knew she needed to find grace.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true But oh no more.
That's why I hold, That's why I hold with all I have.
That's why I hold.

In order to find grace, she knew she needed to feel her way through each moment of each day. She needed to experience life as it appeared each morning. If she couldn’t be in Italy, she could go to the zoo. If she wanted to stop to buy a watermelon from a produce stand on the side of the road, then she would stop. If she wanted to stop and help a homeless person, then she would. If she passed her favorite sushi restaurant and had an instant craving, then she would stop and enjoy some sushi. If she couldn’t have romantic love, she could feel just as much love by taking the time to really notice everything around her – from the odd couple sitting on a blanket in a park and reading a book to each other to a small child eating ice cream and getting it all over his face without a care in the world.

I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and mine so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

She knew that she couldn't depend on a GPS to guide her back home; she knew she had to feel her way home instead. 

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.