I'm working for someone this afternoon. I have to be there in an hour and it's cold and rainy outside. Majorly regretting it now. That's the breaks. I had a great day, though, with cooking and baking. I have an orange pound cake in the oven right now. I cooked a chicken earlier so my family will have some dinner tonight. I feel very industrious.

I'm grateful I have a job-even if it's part-time and blue collar. The benefits are awesome (free travel, nominal fee for international.) and it's great to get out of the house. After a day or two of my domesticated duties, I go a little stir-crazy and get lonely. I'm so not meant to be a housewife. But I'm not sure what I'm meant to be, either. I love being with people, love travel, love feeling like I'm contributing to our family. Of course, financially, I'm not contributing a lot but when we travel as a family, I'm the one that's making it happen. It's a great feeling. The perfect (I know, there's no such thing) job for me would be a host for a travel show. I would get to see the world and experience different cultures and take my family with me. I guess like anything that, too, would get old. It's good to dream, right?

So, the cake is almost done. Then it's off to work...