Does it Get Better than This?!

I am doing one of those jobs right now that dont come along every day. Faux finishing is one of my great loves. I'm good at it. I've been doing it for about 15 years now. It is labour intensive, most of the time, and pays well. Coming from a client who, according to the site manager, is never completely happy with anything, I nearly jumped with euphoria when I heard the words today, "It's amazing. Better than I had envisioned. Its perfect! I love it!" High praise indeed. For doing something I absolutely love. I'm all charged up and full of creative inspiration. Its like a window opened inside me and let the sun in. Gods, I wish I could do this every day of my life!

I went to the Doctor's today to renew my 'script, and he was frankly amazed that I am working 6 days a week at the moment, and loving both jobs.... He asked me, having known that I was struggling at my other job, and I told him quite candidly that I cahnged my mind. I change 'the way I looked at things, and the things I looked at changed..." I said that I used to be an expert in my field. I used to teach. I used to run a business, and I had felt like a failure, as a 'lowly till jockey'.... but then I changed my attitude. It isnt about the money, obviously, because I can barely afford to work at the General Store, the pay is so shite. It isnt about the work either. No. Its about the people. Its about contributing and being valued. Its about making people happy. Making them smile. That's my job. The staff, the customers, the feeling I have of being connected to the community now is what makes it great. And that's why I love it.

He said that he was amazed. That 3 months ago my life was such a different picture and he was really impressed with my incredibly rational and determined choice to see things in a way that was healthy to me.

I got some high praise today from two people I respect a lot, and that feels really good. :)

Meanwhile, its one of those gentle evenings with a mild rain. The feel of it makes me think it heralds Spring, but maybe its a tease. But I dont know. Mother Nature knows best...The buds on my Forsythia are sprouting and they seem to think Spring is on her way. I need to stop and notice these things. I need to stop and be aware that my poppies are sending out leaves, and that the soil smells fecund and fertile. I must be conscious of the world turning, shifting and making ready for another season. This year is going to be very different. Why? Because I am. That's why.

I was in a state of somnolent, dragging despondance. But I pushed through it somehow (damn good happy pills I tell you). I've been going full tilt.

An this evening I'm making a soup from the stock I made on Sunday (my only day off these days, which involved the usual domestic bliss of laundry - motherloads of it - and cleaning, shopping, running the dogs, and then flopping in exhaustuion on the couch where I stayed for hours until I had regained enough strength to eat dinner which B made, and crawl to bed). This soup, my darlings, she will be delicious! An Italian recipe I got out of Boulevard Magazine. A bean and veggie soup which I will spice up with Churizo sausage, as I dont have the jalapenos the recipe calls for. Glad I made the stock for the puppies too, with lamb and beef bones, to make their 'haggis'.

Tomorrow I am back at work at the General Store, and although I wish I could do the artsy thing every day, I sense that it will grow, and I'll get more of that work in time. I am holding that 'Intent'. Its coming....All in good time....

Today was a very good day.

And now I'm off to have a nice bath, and a glass of wine. I'll read a best seller pulp novel - one of those semi-esoterical, historical thrillers in the style of the Davinci Code...which has sparked a whole new Genre, it seems. (But let me tell you that Catherine Neville had that genre craked in the eighties, okay? She did it first and better if you ask me. Read her. She's great!) I will stop reading and breathe deeply, now and then, and think, 'what this smells like is... Home...' The soup will bubble slowly and gently, scents filling the house, as it comes, in its own time, as all things come in their own time, to the ready. And then we'll eat. And it will be utterly Yum!