I have to remind myself sometimes that my "career" dreams have come true. Maybe not in the most ideal way, and definitely shy of a few Benjamins. But, I get to be creative all the time, non stop. I am in my element when I work with my hands, and I feel very strange when not. One thing I do miss from being out of the more conventional work place is the coworkers. My favorite coworkers are the kind you live with, like at summer camp. I also love the coworkers at more entertainment type of jobs. That could be interpreted a little oddly. I mean, specifically, the coworkers at the second to last job I had, which was at a day program for adults with developmental disabilities. There was a lot of "keeping the mood up" activity, and cheeriness there. There was tons of creativity, less in the "working with the hands" arena, and more within the "how can I prevent this meltdown from happening" department. There was quite a bit of skipping and impromptu singing, and hugging. Lots of hugging. And, let's be honest, stress, but it was the sort of stress that is a result of trying to do good, so it was a bit more tolerable.
When my house is quiet---when little boy is off at school, and little girl is next door with her awesome neighbor nanny, and the bearded man is off teaching, I only have one coworker. Good ole Albert. You can see him right there in the sunshine. Albert has been with me for 8 years. He was a rescue dog. When Joseph and I adopted him from the shelter, his little bio said he wasn't to go to a home with children. Check! At the time, we had none, and Albert was such a sweet pup, I knew if we ever had any babies that he would treat them like gentle little lambs. Wrong. He treats them like ferocious, beastly lambs. He doesn't go after them, or anything, but if they run past him with childlike glee, he'll give them an earful. And, if they try to pet him, he'll snarl and snap. Oh, Albert. He's too small to do any damage, and his teeth are "elderly home teeth", so he's alright. Sometimes they can pet him, in the mornings, maybe, if he's had a restful night of sweet dreams (which probably included a home without children). He loves us deep down though. We're his pack. Also, he's my lone co-worker constant. He loves the sunshine. I mark my day by keeping his ottoman-top-doggie-bed into the sunshine as time passes. Every once in awhile he'll be lying in the shade, so he sits up and looks at my with an accusatory expression and I have to inch it back in the sun.