So I figure since I have a book coming out, this doodle writing now moves from hobby to ‘work’. So far it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Pajamas and bedhead, cocktails and copious amounts of chocolate, all ‘necessary’ for the creative process. Having a completely hysterical meltdown when you lose your entire manuscript within the bowels of your computer is appropriate and expected behaviour. And the promise of a miniscule and far-off income affords me the right to demand fair labour conditions. Let’s just say I wasn’t the only one with a toilet brush in my hand this week.

But the downside is that it’s a solitary endeavour. My last career was all about teamwork and not a day goes by when I don’t miss all the amazing professionals I worked with. Everyday I learned some thing valuable from every one of them (4 South and Crisis teams, I’m looking at you). But this week I’m thinking about three gals who made my days in the trenches worthwhile. Gals who have big brains and big hearts to match. Gals who save lives every day, world experts in their fields of study. They are respected, admired and win awards for their work. And they have kick ass clothes.

What was it that made me long for their company? Well, every year in Dijon there is a foire or fair that showcases the best of food and drink in Burgundy.

All this honey made me think of Alexa, perhaps the smartest woman alive but also the sweetest. Plus you should see the biceps on her, smokin’!

These spices reminded me of Sabina, the sole reason I survived my last year at the hospital, a genius who happens to be as hot as a curry in July.

And of course I saw these and thought of Stephanie, the guru of Eating Disorders and fashionista whose desire for shoes is eclipsed only by her desire for a certain redheaded man we all know and love.

These women are truly phenomenal; brilliant career women, pillars of strength and dutiful, loving mothers. They supported me endlessly and, despite having the power to do so, did not have me institutionalized for ditching it all for a dream. They never once said (well, not to my face) that I was cuckoo to run off to France. And while I love what I’m doing now I can’t help but wish they were beside me. Then again maybe not. First, I wouldn’t have a thing to wear and second, if they were lounging here with me then who’d be running the world?

 


 

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