Yes, yes, it's been awhile.
Another season is upon us, and my favourite one at that. Pumpkin spice, cider, scotch, dragon's blood red wines and all things autumnal make me happy. Falling leaves, warm sweaters layered under swooping wool coats that sashay with every step made in fabulous boots, boots and more boots... All in historic, tree-lined Gastown.
It's been a year since I moved down here and I absolutely cannot imagine living elsewhere. Not only because it's central and easy to get around town. Not only because the brightest new culinary and bartending stars are all within a 4 block radius. But because there's a sense of real community here. Neighbours talk in the elevator, comisserating about last night's party in suite 1906. Business owners wave you down as you pass by tho show you that special something that made them think of you. The staff of aforementioned restaurants and bars blow kisses out their windows as they prep for their nights work, making you mouth promises to return later that night. The tourists are gone. The locals trundle through the streets, dodging wind and rain, umbrellas lifted as you pass. (I hate umbrellas and never carry one. Yes, I live on the Wet Coast and always have. I just don't like having my hands full. Makes me batty. Hats are good enough.)
Fall always tends to make me want to change something in my life. More-than-a-hair-cut kind of change. It usually revolves around work, and this year is no exception. After five years with one brand in particular, I wonder if it's time to move on to something else, and if that something else should look like what I've done in the past. Back to school? Retrain for something new? Relocate? So many options.
The reality is that I'll likely make no change whatsoever and muddle though another year. Change is getting riskier these days. Not really harder. Just less certain for success. And god knows I hate being out of my comfort zone.
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I just got back from the doctor. My regular yearly check-up. This year was the first time I was actually aware of the different things he's checking now. He asks more questions than he used to. There are less tap-tap-"good" mutterings and more note taking. Blood work is now required at every check-up, and this visit he mentioned mammograms. Not that I'm technically old enough to worry about this, but larger-breasted women have to be more award of this stuff, evidently. My breasts are moving from asset to liability as I edge toward 40.
More on this later...
C
