Are you ever so happy, so totally content, that it almost feels like an altered state, suspended outside of time, golden?
I used to have that feeling periodically, mostly on the weekends really, when I was parked firmly inside my own life, in my garden, at play in the dirt. Doing what I wanted, not looking at the clock, on my own time.
Lately, I'm eating that honey of everyday life by the spoonful.
A few weeks ago, Joe must have said something about strangers, or made some statement about something we were doing, like “if a stranger saw us, I wonder what they’d think about that.” To which I responded that I had no way of knowing, since
I don’t know any strangers.
I remembered this yesterday when I was having a cry over the untimely demise of Sticks, a baby goat, only the cutest baby goat ever, a baby goat I’d never met who lives/lived with a person I’ve never met. And yet we’re hardly strangers.
As you know, I like a little morning ramble, and one thing I love about my neighborhood is that we’re just steps away from multiple paths into the woods.
The ramble, no matter which path we choose, takes us deep into the trees. Mostly this is all delight, but sometimes I end up, knees-quaking, on a trail that pushes my limits.
And sometimes, unexpectedly, I get to confront my inner narc.
It's been three months now since the start of my new life, my life of working for myself. So much has changed now that I have The Best Boss Ever, most, but not all, for the better.
Necessarily, I got a little bit lost in it -- in the thrill and challenge of starting a new business, in the deep relaxation of not being crazy-stressed. And especially in not needing to get up at my old Fuck Yeah Early-Early Wake-up Time.
Which I see now was a mistake.
Because, really: morning is my religion.
And I need as much of it as I can get.