Ye olde Suffolk Puff

I spent today organising my portfolio and sewing Suffolk puffs. I can't remember the American name for Suffolk puffs but it's a circular shape which is gathered around the edges and stuffed. I'm using it quite successfully for noses.

I'm in the process of developing seven felt toys with a company in New York. It has been an agonizingly slow process and the Chinese factory don't seem to have the knack of capturing the personalities of the toys. They are animals from books I have been working on under my brand.

I have now realised that if I don't show them what I want, there are going to be some very unattractive felt animals for sale this Christmas. I have made the heads of the penguin and the cat so perhaps I'll photograph them tomorrow and post them up. I've also had a crack at the shark and while the proportions are horribly wrong, I really do quite like the mouth. More to do tomorrow but at least things are moving along.

I had a revelation this morning and one which should have come a lot sooner. Why would C want to get back with me, indeed why would he even want to talk to me?

I've been miserable, depressed, whiny, crying, desperate, sad, lonely, pressuring, apologetic, confused, DESPERATE, panicked, sick. The list is seemingly endless. What I really haven't been (and I'm sure this isn't surprising) is fun, happy, lighthearted, someone you'd want to be with, pretty, sexy, nice or basically anything you'd want from the person you've chosen to be with.

Yep, good thinking really. I've said I want him back and then I go out of my way to be my most grim, although to be fair I did lose my job on Thursday. SO I've been thinking things over.

At the moment I can't chase C to Key West (which is probably just as well for both of us). The house is in a shambles and I'm not invited anyway.

So in a strange moment of madness I thought, "Why not sublet my apartment for six months and drive to Guatemala?" It's not the most unusual of ideas. I've been to Antigua and loved it. It's possible to rent a house for $500 a month. I could drive down in my trusty old battle-scarred Beetle (my most hated car which ironically would be perfect) and my grumpy old dog could come along for company. I have friends in Mexico to stay with on the way and I could take six months off from reality, work on my children's books in the hope that one day something will finally, finally get published and try and start again.

Of course it all smacks of a self help discovery trip (which of course it would be and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that!). I would write all my griping adventures and being different to all the other 30++ women writing self discovery travel journals, mine would be completely original and I'd get a great book deal.

Sounds like a brilliant plan. In addition to that I can go to a Spanish immersion school therefore killing at least two of my ambitions (become a travel writer and become proficient in either Spanish or French) with one stone and all before I'm 40.

So now I'll go to sleep so I have something nice to think about and don't spend the night agonizing over C.