ahhh... weekend.

It's Saturday. 60 degrees outside, sunny, and the petals from the dogwood tree are fluttering through the backyard. Jerry is out in the garage working on his motorcycle, the dog is playing outside, and I have nestled into the perfect spot on the couch for writing while the tunes of Miles Davis waft through the house. 

This is my heaven.

I've become so domesticated I hardly recognize myself anymore. Gone are the nights of drunken stupors, and the mornings of Advil and Gatorade breakfasts. Instead of ridding myself of the latest hangover and inappropriate misdeed of the night before, my morning aspirations consist of popping into the grocery store to survey the new organic selections and working on getting my bulbs planted out back. Even the occasional load of laundry does not phase me. I rather enjoy it.

I always imagined what it would be like to have a life like this, but could never quite wrap my head around giving up the bright lights of the city. There was a time when I reveled in social status. I bumped elbows with celebrities, billionaires and Hollywood stars and thought nothing of it. I have privileged cell numbers for names you wouldn't believe stored in my phone. Every weekend was about hitting the hottest spots in town, showing off your latest and greatest outfit, purse, or shoes, and being seen. It was fun, and a life that I wanted to live. But now I'm done. That life is over, and while I look back on it fondly, I do not miss it. 

I never had a good feel for who I was. In the privacy of my overpriced downtown loft, I knew who I was... but I tried to ignore her so I could be who I thought I should be. It's amazing I still have any friends left. I had to be obnoxious. It's even more amazing that my liver did not boycott my body altogether, consuming that much alcohol on a daily basis can not be good. But I digress... 

It's nice to sit here in my sunny living room and have so many interests, projects, and loves, that I don't know where to start. I can't wait to go grocery shopping and plan all the things I'm going to cook this week. I have a box of flower bulbs I am ecstatic about planting out front and in the new planter box Jerry built for me outside the kitchen window. I have a brand new house, which for me, is like a blank canvas. On top of that, just about all I can think about these days is having a baby. Not that we're "trying" per se, but it seems to flood my mind whether I mean to think about it or not. So there's lots of things going on, and absolutely none of them involve anything that I used to make a priority in my life. (Except writing of course... even the tone of that has changed substantially.)

So now, I'm going to make a list (oh yes, there's lists) and jump in headfirst to my most favorite part of the week.