Layover in Vegas

I am so ready to be home. I want to see my cat. I want to touch the sprouts of my newly planted vineyard. I want to eat healthy food out of my own refrigerator. I want to run.

And here I sit in McCarran airport surrounded by slot machines and people who look nothing like me. They are in heels, dresses, leggings with perfect makeup, perfect hair and fashion that has not quite made it to my house in the hills or the home I’ve been rebuilding in the bayou.

Somehow in either of those two places I fit in just fine in my tennies and jeans. But in traveling between the two I can clearly see that my style, like my homes, is in need of an update. My hair, my makeup and my clothes seem to align with an older, more comfortable crowd, and even that group could give me a few fashion tips. Here in Vegas competing with the glitz and ringing machines I am virtually invisible.

Something happens when you retire and are no longer required to get dressed and do your make-up go to work everyday. I still keep a schedule that uses my days pretty efficiently, waking up, having coffee and eventually getting to the work of my own desire, but I no longer feel the need to be well dressed to accomplish that. Heck, I’m happy to just be clean, which can be a major accomplishment when you are rebuilding a house that spent three weeks under water, or digging elbow deep in clay soil planting your baby vines.

But I’m happy. Really happy. Happy in a way that I was sure existed, but used to only dream of achieving. Years and years of deadlines and stress leading to this life are all a distant memory to me now. Spending my days with my husband working on our projects, or out on trails running with my friends is really my idea of a perfect life. So I’m not stylish and could use a good make over, I think there’s still time for that. For now my tennies and jeans will do just fine.

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