Musings


I’m having a slightly profound Sunday. So many strange things are happening to me, but these strange things are so small, that I’m sitting here in the fading sunlight wondering how to process them. And they are not even happening specifically at this moment, but sort of in lyfe in genrul, to quote Depeche Mode.

I’ve made peace with the universe that I will not see baby Lucy for a few more weeks. I’ve made peace with myself, figuring that self-love is way more fun than self-hatred. (Not that this isn’t a battle I’ll fight every day, but it seems worth fighting.) I’m close to making a decision about the next year of my life professionally. I sang at an event today, and although I was singing at about 70%, I decided afterwards that that was okay, that I’ll sing better next time. (And, to be honest, no one noticed I was singing at 70%.) And I’ve decided to fully wrap my arms around living in this gorgeous place. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, so it seems high time to lean into it and enjoy it as much as possible. I want to look back at my time here and know that I went on every hike, tried every wine, smelled every flower, and played a hell of a lot of pool. I want to look back at this time and think, “Oh yeah- that’s when I figured out what I want to do for a fair amount of my life, and that’s when I started running, and that’s when I got all my confidence back, and that’s when I remembered that there is exactly nothing I can’t do, which I forgot when I was about thirteen”.

My bestest friend Stacey is coming for a visit next weekend, and I’m taking some time off of work to be with her. I’m going back to New York to see Sean and Jordi’s new place, and Ian and Tessa’s new, well, YOU know, over Memorial Day. I’m stupid with happiness about all of these events, and more staggering still, what’s happening at work is almost as exciting. Which makes me think I might be lucky enough to keep doing it for the rest of this year.

So I’m sitting in the fading sunlight, half-reading a book about day hikes in Napa Valley, and I’m taking inventory of the good things in my life.

If you don’t have family like I have family, then I wish you could spend a day in my shoes. I wish everyone in the entire world could know what it’s like to have so many interesting, wonderful people love you.