When it sinks in

I was 28 years, 186 days and 7 hours old when I turned to Mr Erksine, friend and guardian of the food fantasy and said, "I'm going to move here." That was August 2 2009. And now, here I am.

My life was scratchings of time; overstretched, four jobs, sleeping in 3 hour lots, living an existence put together with rubber bands, makeshift kitchens, dashing from every place to the next swathed in black silk and painting a smile with red lipstick.
I had gotten divorced not long before, I couldn't see much of a way forward in my job, I hated the bags under my eyes and that I had taken nearly 3 months to finish a book. I knew it was time to go. So I did.

Woodcutters Cottage and a beautiful little dog called Zipper needed a guardian for two months and with Aron, drove cross country to get here with all my belongings in the back of a truck. I'm now nesting, conscious this is someone elses home but its a cocoon nonetheless and the only noise is the sound of natural consequences outside and my rattling, music and bumping inside.

Projects a plenty have been thrown my way - vegetable patches, falcon eateries, gala dinners, historical societies, cushions, tea-towels, clouds and sleep. I want them all done now! But that's the hangover of Melbourne I fear. And I'm not learning its not healthy to be in the business of pleasing others so I'm doing what I can, when I can. I have my business and this does require a bit of my time. But I do it when I feel like it and sometimes thats 11.00pm at night, without pants or with a beer.

So... this mundane entry will hopefully begin a superlative new life that I chose all on my own. I'm not being brave, I'm not taking risks, I'm not setting precedents or making statements and I'm certainly not out to prove anything. I'm just trying to be me and maybe, along the way get to make myself and others smile. It's been a long time coming.