I wish I was having this woman's day. While strolling down this lakeside path, having all the time I could possibly need to enjoy the beauty all around me, I decide to take a nap on the cool, lush grass. Wouldn't you? I shade my porcelain skin with my parasol and listen to the leaves rustle, the birds sing. I think deep thoughts like "hey, that cloud looks like an adorable baby bunny" until I drift off to sleep the sleep of a carefree child. Blissfully unaware that there is anything wrong in my world.
I wish I was having this woman's day. Or, perhaps, the day she has already had. For hours, she busied herself with creative pursuits and was satisfyingly rewarded for her efforts. Now, it is evening and she is simply waiting. For her love. For her children. For whomever it is that pleases her most to come into her beautiful room and share with her the stories of their own productive day. With nothing pressing weighing on her mind, she will give them her full attention and thoroughly enjoy their company.
Instead, I am having this woman's day. A very long string of them actually. Fragmented. Disjointed. Pulled in several directions, not sure which way to turn first. Trying to get too many unpleasant things done from a very uncomfortable chair. I really wish I had paid more attention to my hair and wardrobe just in case someone sees me here, shoulder-deep in paperwork and unexpected complications. It wouldn't have made any difference though because, look, someone has made me wear a hat. I hate hats.
Lots going on right now, Friends. Some of it pleasant and welcome, much of it disconcerting and chaotic. Daughter is home for a few months til she heads up north to a new college, a household's-worth of stuff and one naughty cat in tow. New projects in various stages of incomplete, both for our own home and a client's. The middle of a project—the part where everything's undone and messy—always makes me feel unsettled. And yet, I have no time to finish what I've started in my own house because of client work (good) and changes in my "day job" (not so good). The day job is more demanding than usual right now because the contract I've worked under for fifteen years has come to an end. Much longer work hours are required from me each week until all accounts have been audited and closed. How long will that take? 30 days? Sixty? More? And then what? Tracy needs a new job, that's what. I'd love to leave the world of claims and codes and insurance companies behind and move forward into something creative again. That's been the plan all along—work at home til daughter grows up and out then find a home and design related job that allows for part-time decorating work. Great plan, bad timing. Our current economy might make this process more difficult than I imagined but still, I'm looking forward to seeing what's out there for me. Stepping into the unknown is scary for sure, but exhilarating at the same time, right? That's what I keep telling myself anyway—"This is so exciting, isn't it?!"—a big hopeful grin masking my inner terror.
To my readers who are bloggers, if I've been absent from your comments box recently, this is why. I've been visiting you, but my brain is simply too overloaded to form thoughtful, witty remarks. To everyone reading, at the risk of seeming selfish, I'd like to instead ask for your comments. Thoughts. Advice. Direction. Help! Where, in Southern California, on the eastern edge of LA County, can a 40-something woman with loads of professionalism, design acumen and an obsession with furnishings, fabrics and finishing touches earn a regular paycheck helping people turn their houses into homes during a shaky-but-slowly-recovering economy? Any suggestions? All are welcome.