It is September 4th. I have been Stateside for an entire week now, and have eaten at Chickfila approximately 4 times. I have taken at least 21 hot showers, and drank 9 glasses of ice cold skim milk. I have slept in sweatpants and sweatshirt each night, sometimes complementing the outfit with a pair of wooly socks. I have also contracted pink eye three times. Twice in my right eye, once in my left. I have complained 48 times about the cold, be it outside or fabricated cold inside some icebox of a restaurant, and complained 3 times about how expensive things are in the civilized world.

The greatest thing I have done since my return home, however, took place yesterday evening, at Taco Mac in Atlanta, seated next to my dear friend, Amber Smith. Last night was our first reunion since I left, and Amber, a knower of my soul indeed, had very exact plans for our time together.

As I awoke yesterday morning, something in my soul stirred. A familar feeling washed over me that took me but a moment to place. Yesterday, my dear friends, was start of the greatest holiday season of all time. Yesterday was, indeed, the first college football game of the year. "Happy Gameday!" exlaimed a text message from Amber, sent , no doubt, as soon as she had woken up. Obviously, there would be no questions as to what we would be doing together that evening, and we found ourselves seated in front of a big screen TV, eyes glued to the jerseys of USC and NC State, hearts hoping for a thrown visor on Spurrier's end. The season has begun and my heart will once more be at ease knowing that collge football has returned, but will also start to panic as I stress over what Mike Bobo, Willie Martinez, and Mark Richt will be directing our boys to do.

Tragedy strikes, as I will only be making a brief appearance in America during this blessed season. My Dawgs will have to play their hearts out without me when they battle Auburn, Georgia Tech, Tennessee Tech, Vandy, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Tim Tebow. I cringe now realizing how many games I will have to watch through poor internet connections, and I wonder just how possible it will be to tailgate from our Casa. We do have an excellent grill, folding chairs, bug spray, cheap beer, and random drunk neighbors- which, as far as I am concerned, is an excellent recipe for tailgating.

The silver lining to this cloud is that next Saturday, I will take a deep breath and breathe in Athens air. Not just any Athens air (though Athens air is lovely no matter how it is taken in, be it the petchulli of dirty athens hippies or the cologne of a slightly intoxicated frat boy), but Athens Saturday in the Fall air. It is perhaps the most rejuvenating thing for a person's lungs, the sweet smell of hamburgers grilling, leaves falling, and victory. I can taste the crisp air just thinking about it. Dear Lord, Thank you for making Athens, Georgia so that we all could have a little taste of Heaven.