Signed in and ready to write. A whole page? Damn! And, every day? Ok, so I'm in a sort of in-between place as in, not at home, but connected and in the end, living my life. More proof that home is where one is at the moment. I "think" I love my studio, my bed, my garden, my car, my porch, my way of doing it. In fact though, I have my partner, (partner is much better term for my relationship than husband) and my car with me and a box of paints and some paper to put it on.

It's just that this isn't my house, my city, my place. As Chris reminded me yesterday, I have lived in my own house in Boulder for one month out of the past eight months. This must be a test. How attached am I really to those things I just mentioned? That old saying, you take your self with you wherever you are is so true. Can I be myself wherever I am? Duh, who else would I be?

Can I do what I enjoy, eat what I want, meet people I like and stay energized here. The test is just that. How much or rather how little does it take to have a meaningful and vibrant life. I find the foods I like here, I just found a writing course at the art museum, I can find a little nook to paint, there is a magnificent beach and glorious water calling and golf courses abound.

So, now, I'll write every day. I'll paint something each day and I'll get to the beach each day. The other stuff will fill in the spaces. Speaking of spaces, there's at least a paragraph yet to go. Keep writing, keep writing. Write down the bones.

What I'm feeling? Can I be empathetic without getting lost in others problems? Can I be supportive without feeling like I want to run away? Can I just do my best, not take it personally, not assume and damn, what's that other agreement? Oh, yes. Be impeccable with my word. Speak the truth. Yes, I can.

So, here goes, another week in my one and only life.