Today we are live from Sydney where I flew today on my first business trip. I felt very grown up wearing my dry-cleaned suit pulling my little orange suitcase and soaring off to meet with Writers from Australia’s most prominent financial publication – our Wall Street Journal if you will.
The New South Wales atmosphere is still balmy and feels more like a dwindling summer then approaching autumn. I sat on a paved ledge dangling my creased-slacks-legs over the Sydney Harbour and smiled at the crazy way I’ve composed this wild life of mine to run.
Then I tipped my red Ray Bans toward the sun and let its kisses pop out a few new freckles.
A couple months ago I was riding in the car with a very concerned father who was telling me, “You’re no spring chicken. Get your shit together.”
I’ll never have my shit together. In fact not having my shit together is a signature quality, it suits.
All I know is at the moment I’m sitting 32 stories up watching the sun dip down just beyond the Harbour Bridge, reading book chapters, sipping merlot and eating olives.
If there’s one thing ingrained in me, even during my most major nervous breakdowns, I know I’ll land on my feet. I appreciate when the universe reminds me.
… thank you universe. x o x