The contagious glow

I sincerely hope that I am not jinxing myself by putting this out there. But...for the first time in a while, I am feeling really happy. Centered!

Not that I ever wasn't happy. I'm happy and optimistic by nature. I think I was feeling more restless, more than anything.

But yeah...things are going well. Fantastic. For the last two months or so something has shifted in my life. It's as though I was off-roading for a while. Stuck in the dirt. And now I've once again come out of the woods, dusted myself off and found the path once again, map in hand, compass in heart.

I'm sitting here at my kitchen table, totally content in my quiet apartment with a glass of wine and half-eaten bowl of pasta. Couldn't be more satisfied. And I'm about to open up an excel document and crunch out some numbers and think deep about marketing this-and-that and I'm okay with it.

I think I enjoy it.

And I just got back from a long jaunt through Brentwood with Roomie #1 and once again, I came home feeling just so happy that I met her. Reminded myself again how lucky I am, that I'd throw myself in front of a bus for her (but the LA buses don't move so fast, so it's not really that big of a sacrifice). And my ears were cold from the night, how it approaches faster now. And my feet dirty after stepping in mud to avoid a homeless dude. And I was a happy cat.

And in the last few months I've reconnected with old people in my life. Not lost, just a bit less familiar. I received such a thoughtful email from my high school boyfriend tonight. We're going to grab a drink in October together in either San Diego or Arizona, wherever I may be. And my mentor (one of them) in Colorado has invited me to her baby shower and I can almost feel her preggo glow through her emails that she writes. Her tail bone has shifted because of the way the baby is sitting; she's on bed rest; she's fat, she says. And she's glowing.

It's contagious.

And tomorrow is date Number Three with a guy I met several weeks ago. Somehow he has managed to keep up with my pace, my traveling and hectic schedule. He is tall and sarcastic and intelligent. He's not from Los Angeles and is not in the entertainment industry (huge bonus). The night we met, we argued about public transportation in LA, why the metro doesn't run through Beverly Hills. He had the nerve to call me a diva. And then, for whatever reason at the end of the night, I scribbled my cell number on a napkin. Borrowed a pen from the bartender and just wrote it down, sloppy and big. And I told him to call and handed the paper to him like I was handing over court orders.

And he never even asked for it.

Regardless, he called and I am actually excited to see him. So I'm just going to enjoy it for what it is, live in the moment.

And my pilates sessions are keeping me going. I admit that I don't see any difference in my body but I feel the difference. My teacher is a woman named Doreen. A raging liberal who appears as though she's of Indian descent. She's got an adorable black lab that lies outside the Brentwood Village studio door, enjoying the misty gray California mornings. Doreen is a pseudo actress who really wants to live in Manhattan but is now dating an actor. After 20 years in LA, she is settled. She is goofy and laughs loud and hard and I feed off her energy.

She is my morning power line.

And so, I am at home here in Brentwood. I'm anxious to be done traveling. I'm in Chicago this weekend and then that weekend after, it's mine. I will go to the farmers market and drown in fresh strawberries and remember my dad, the way he inhaled that organic peach. I will walk to the bar around the corner and reunite with the Maryland Kids. I will cook dinners and bake for my coworkers.

I will glow.