I just finished reading this book, Julie and Julia, about this woman who was reaching 30, was in a dead-end job, married, didn’t have any kids, and was miserable. In an effort to find a purpose to her life she decided to cook the entire cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, in one year. 524 recipes in one year. I enjoy reading books and watching movies about people that have a mission, but they always seem to end up with someone dead, or losing their arm, or something dramatic like that. This book was nice and simple, she talked about nervous breakdowns and having to kill lobsters.
I’ve often thought about needing a project, and the desire of documenting the project. I’ve got an attic to finish, I have a photography business I am attempting to start up, I’ve got two kids to raise, and I’ve got a house to maintain.
Instead of drama, I spend my evenings playing with the “people”, making faces in play-dough, and trying to keep Mason from looking like this:
I think, for the most part, I do alright. I keep the screaming down to a minimum, I feed them and keep them mainly clean. Most of the time, they look like this:
This is what my life has become and I’m really starting to enjoy it.