Mina awakens me with a unique maneuver. She places her warm nine-pound body just so that I cannot move my neck or head without a look straight into her eyes. Her behind is in the air. The tail commences wagging. Mina wants to know what our plans for the day are. She is brown. Mina has floppy little ears and curly tail. Her name was Brandy when she came to the Orange County animal shelter. She was stiff as a board and had been living in a car for some time with her family, who could not afford to keep her anymore. I hated this dog.

Brandy lived in the director's office once she came around a little and snarled at everyone who passed by, or even tried to bite their ankles. I agreed to take her home for a weekend because I am crazy.

But the morning after that first night in my apartment, Brandy appeared from under my bed, wagged her tail for approximately 2 seconds, and disappeared again. And I began, immediately, to love her. I changed her name and bought her sweaters.

Once she ate her weight in taco meat. Once she bounded up onto a friend's kitchen counter to consume seven chocolate cupcakes (with wrappers). She chases cats that are bigger than her.

Mina has a definite plan. It is refreshed every morning when we both wake up. Mina is charged and ready for the day. Her day consists of finding anything edible within her reach, as quickly and efficiently as she can. Her day consists of absolute adoration for the people she has let into her heart. Her day consists of, sometimes, letting someone new in.

She still likes to bark at newcomers, or neighbors who dare to walk anywhere near our house. I have another dog, too. A regular-sized dog who does normal dog things like chew bones and jump up in excitement when she meets new friends. Mina plays with her, but it always a very serious endeavor. They run around the house at top speed, trying to get various toys from eachother. Mina bites my normal dog's ankles. She always wins.

On the agenda tonight we have a plan to go out and rally the individuals we know in this little part of the world. My friends and I, we've got terms. We reach out and touch base with all the usuals, attempting to gain the affirmative from each (thus bringing them into the circle), binding them with guilt, and gaining momentum. The emails and/or phone calls begin "who's ready?" and end with "I'm in!" as though we were volunteering for a fun, but intense activity, such as mucking horse stalls or holiday carol singing.

We plan with the fury of dragon-slayers, but when it gets right down to it, what we want is an evening without firmly-laid plans. Why? There are too many options. Who knows where we might end up...who we might meet out...what sort of moods we will be in.

In this ever-distracting world, I have met many interesting people, some of whom have become my close friends. At 26-years old, I can say I've made a place for myself in the world, here in North Carolina.

But I don't have school, or some other circular cycle to guide me to my next steps. Since college, I've quit every job that ceased being interesting. Without a plan, I'd fumble through somewhat empty days (one period of note consisted of obsessively making clear blue and green soap in the shapes of turtles and frogs) until something would come along.

There is a lot of waiting and deliberating. I've heard many of my friends wonder out loud what the next step should be. Graduate school? Getting married? But in the interim - which is, technically, all the time - there have been some very good stories. Regarding the nights with no agenda, the unexpected romances, the morning walks with the dog, or the chance meetings that happen every day I must confess that a lot is going on, already.

I've always enjoyed the every-day instances, anyway. It is there, unexpectedly, I think, that the most fascinating happenings occur.