Pieces of You
Last month my husband and I went to the beach for eight days. It seemed so ridiculously luxurious, the two of us escaping for that long with absolutely nothing on the agenda except to arrive back in Atlanta tanned, relaxed, and holding the key to the perfect margarita recipe.
Besides basking for over a week in great conversation (seriously, we might’ve solved the debt crisis—at least in our own household), fabulous food (raw oysters and chocolate croissants, I could eat you every day), long beach walks (stumbling upon Stephen King’s dwelling on Casey Key was a nice surprise, the spooky guy in the Sea Oats scaring the you-know-what-out-of-us … not so much), and catching up on stacks of books and magazines both of us had been meaning to read, we didn’t do a thing. There was one final kicker—neither of us worked!
In the three years I’ve owned danapop, LLC, that’s never happened. Like most folks who run a small company, you answer phone calls at unexpected times and work when it’s required. But, coming home after that holiday from my everyday life, I’m not exaggerating when I say I feel like an entirely new person.
