Days of Rest

We arrived at the Newport venue to find a completely unworkable situation. I realized that the challenge of doing what they had me set up to do was not going to be offset in any way by increased sales. And the weather was predicted to be awful—rain, hail, wind and snow all in the forecast. So…we left. Didn’t have to pack up, because we had never unpacked.

Did I blow off a potential $3000 event in a fit of pique? Or did I make a wise decision to back away from an untenable situation that would have left me more exhausted, frustrated and stressed out (by a power of ten) than I could possibly afford? Hard to say… But at the boat basin, where we parked the trailer for the night, we sighted not one, but two bald eagles. Those birds that I have come to recognize as my spirit guides for the second half-century of my life. I felt they signified a blessing of my decision. At least, that’s what I chose to believe.

So the universe smiled upon me this weekend. Instead of a three-day working vacation, I got a three-day resting vacation. We skipped over to Eugene on Friday morning, and I got to spend some time with my sisters, and indulged in some retail therapy. I drank margaritas, slept late, and sat on my butt. It felt so much like a guilty pleasure, and I just rolled in it…