The Confession

I haven't had a drop of alcohol in a while now. At least a few weeks. I think there is a direct relationship between wine and the circumference of my belly. A correlation, if you will. I stopped drinking so that I would stop getting the munchies and throwing all good judgement to eat sensibly out the window.

And tonight, I have had a few glasses of wine and it's lovely. Watching Jason Bourne give a better haircut than my hairdresser and getting jealous. Isn't that chase scene in Bourne Identity the best car chase ever? Stop. If I hear about Steve McQueen (swoon) one more time, I'm going to stop this car!

Anyway, this post has nothing at all to do with cars, or haircuts, or wine. It has everything to do with the love affair that I've been having. I have this need to confess. I've been keeping it a secret - as best I could for a blabber-mouth, that is. I am In Love. Capital "I" in capital "L" love.

I love playing violin. I am In Love with playing the violin.

You have to ask yourselves how often you do something that gives you absolute joy. How often do you engage in something that you connect with completely? For me, I find that I look at life pretty positively. I find joy in the everyday and mundane quite frequently. I believe whole-heartedly that I have the capacity for feeling happiness to the fullest extent. And I feel it with the violin.

This might sound completely ridiculous, I have, after all been drinking a most delicious Pinot Noir, and loosened my typer-fingers. I would shout from the roof-top, but it's cold out and I'm not wearing shoes. But I must say that after spending the last 43-years un-musically, this is bliss. The hour that I'm at my lesson, working towards perfecting my skills is one of the best parts of my week. You see, I think I've figured out the Arran Boat Song tonight and it thrills me. I'm happy.

I wish this joy for you.