Employed

As I've mentioned here before, I'm purging like a maniac at Chateau Gahan. And grateful, more than ever, that I have a booth at an antique mall where I can get money for all that I'm getting rid of (otherwise, I'd be having weekly garage sales which, as we all know, are the work of the devil to plan and execute).

My paperwork is getting a good cleansing as well. My billing files are thinning out as I shred stuff that I know for sure I can access online. My file folder upon file folder of inspirational and informational articles/images from magazines and catalogs . . . well, all I gotta say is thank gosh for Pinterest. If I have a tearsheet that I absolutely must keep, I try to search it out on the internet so that I can turn it into a Pin.

I came across this in one of my folders and had to smile at the sentiment.

I remember when I became a mom, I felt this sentiment so strongly, especially as a single working mom who juggled an extremely demanding job with raising a daughter. Doing a good job at work was and is always my goal, but turning what I do into a career has never been a priority. A career is the pursuit of a lifelong ambition or the general course of progression towards lifelong goals. I think being a good mother became my "career."

If there are any regrets about my work life, it's that I didn't pursue one of my passions. When I was younger, I dreamt of becoming a magazine editor. I'd make my own magazines using spiral notebooks, laying out each page, writing copy, drawing the images. And there was also my love of interior design — I'd take graph paper and cut-out pieces of furniture and spend hours drawing and mapping out house plans. Archaeology was a long-time love — I devoured books and magazines on the subject, and would stage my own digs in the yard complete with a make-up brush to dust found treasures. In each of these cases, I wonder what my life would be like now had I pursued that passion. This regret has come up in many conversations I've had with Harleigh, and always in the positive light of encouraging her to go after what she loves.

Don't get me wrong. I'm in a good place with what I do. There's lots of perks to being with a company for going on 19 years. Plus, I've built quite a creative life outside of work that keeps me endlessly happy. And most importantly of all, I AM a piece of work.

Here are some Instagram posts from the past couple weeks.

I decided that I should add a case to my booth. 

I do have lots of doodads to sell. I found this one, unfinished, for $15. 

I gave it a coat of ivory chalk paint.

It has slots on the inside long ends (it must have held shelves), 

and I covered them with a pretty paper. And then lined it with a teal blue fabric.

The broaches are pinned to ripped squares of linen.

(The first thing to sell from the case . . . the two worry stones on the left. Who'd a thunk it?)

Evenings as of late = time on the sofa. Him sleeping. Me reading.

What I usually see in the morning when I wake up.

Not too shabby.

Sporting his Valentine bandana from the groomer.

(Don't tell him, but tomorrow he gets his summer cut. It makes him a little self-conscious at first.)