So here I am – three weeks into unemployment, three thousand miles away from my previous life. Beaches have been sat upon, pages of novels devoured, wine sniffed and swirled, hikes explored, dogs walked and stroked, avocados sliced….and I have spent more time than I’d like to admit on this little Mac here trying to find work. While I’d love to look back on this time and say that I was footloose and fancy-free, I always knew I was too Type-A for that. Life is not on hold just because everything else seems to be. But this is the closest to ‘on hold’ as I’ll ever be. And it’s pretty fantastic.
I have to say…..I’m loving it out here. I love getting up in the morning, seeing the fog burned off by the pending sun. Visiting the grocery store and seeing aisles of locally grown wine. Driving ten minutes and hearing the waves roar. Having Katya run in circles from excitement because she knows she’s going for a car ride. Making conversation with every passerby. Parallel parking the shite out of that space. Watching Monday Night Football at 5pm and seeing the whole game. Waking up to a dog that is as uncertain about what the day holds as I am, but knows there are bellyrubs in it for her. Having time to read all the articles that I once tried to make time for (ask me anything about the Tea Party. Anything). Yes, there have been times when I’ve had a little too much time on my hands that left me to ponder why we keep giving the Kardashians new shows, why David Hasselhoff was ever a judge on America’s Got Talent when the man is inept, and why Will Smith’s kids just simply won’t go away. But it’s all good. If I could do this sublet for longer, I would be eternally grateful. It has been one of the most important gifts I’ve given myself. Plus, it’s pretty amazing that a girl who worked in film and television for the last decade has no cable. While I will give a shout-out to Hulu, I do have to say that the silence is breathtaking and hugely important to me. Right now, I would be watching Jon Stewart, and while I love the little guy, the fact that I’m listening to a dog’s breathing and my own tapping keys is much more significant than another well-earned snark to Bachmann, that I will instead read about tomorrow.