 |
| how much I love you |
I'm a mother, but I want to be a doctor.
I'm a chef, but I want to be a food critic.
I'm an artist, but I want to be a writer.
I'm a student, but I want to be a pianist.
I'm a pianist, but I want to be a student.
I'm a chef, but I want to be a food critic.
I'm an artist, but I want to be a writer.
I'm a student, but I want to be a pianist.
I'm a pianist, but I want to be a student.
I'm a this, but I want to be a that.
—
I can do that, if I want. You can be that, if you’d like. You don’t need permission, not from me, not even from you, but here it is anyway.
—
When I started blogging over a decade ago (Internet Old Maid Alert), I was a mom, a gardener, a skating instructor by day, writer by night, living and working in the West, weaving through gyms, children's museums, cyclists, exhibitions, swimming pools, collecting inspiration by the bucketful.
Eventually, my blog became an online photo gallery. Shoot, I had become an online photographer. I’d dig, dig, dig, discovering something new with every opened Safari tab.
I’d share it all.
Along the way, I launched into my nursing career. I curated a few online photo bucket accounts. I designed a few skating clinics. I did a 2 year stint for SLCC. I kept collecting.
Every morning, it was this: Let out the dog. Open the windows. Oatmeal. Safari tabs.
This, for ten years.
It was incredible.
