Grind those gears

Ok, so I'm wondering how much data usage this will gobble up - blogging from my iPhone. Hmmm. Keep it short.
It's just that I'm sitting here, still in my Jammie's, sipping coffee and reading a fluffy book and I feel a deep sweet contentment seeping into my very bones. I'm in my new home, my cast iron frying pans are out of storage and happily greasy again, amazingly all four of my couches fit in my seriously shrunken living space, and I look out the window at the sun rising in the huge blue dream of sky and I could just weep for the sheer pleasure of it all.

But I'm not sure how my success plan fits in. This area is almost like a whole new planet, it's so different from the past decade. Cowboys and cold snow blowing. And a tiny church where everyone helps out and I wonder, where do I fit in here? I'll play music at the church, but it won't be country gospel. I'll have a horse or two, but I'm not likely to run the barrels at the arena with the rest of the gals. In a town with a population of 1000, surely there's another artist out there? Maybe I need to put up a poster or something.

However... for some reason this doesn't really bother me. I run out in the field through the frozen stubble and smell the straw bales and feel like a kid again. I see my own kids leAping from bale to bale, learning to play on a farm and I feel like all is right with the world. And I browse the farm auction catalogue and pick out chicks to order and take bottles to the depot and wonder where the rhubarb is planted and somehow thoughts of striving and marketing and advertising and recognition... thoughts of success - seem long ago and far away.