WHEN I GET HOME

I’m having a moment. A pouty moment where I wish I were somewhere else. Most of my company is in Cannes right now and I’m stuck here in my office.

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I’ve been to Cannes more times than I can count and am grateful for all of the travel I had the chance to do in my early career. I am also aware that for the most part my colleagues are stuck in hotel room or apartment offices, working their asses off for ten or more hours each day, and excepting the gorgeous setting in the evenings and great dining, most are wishing they were back home with their families, pets, etc. Despite the undeniably gorgeous locale, working a film festival is not the same as attending a film festival.  It’s not glamorous.  It’s hard work.

But I haven’t been in a very long time and I see postings here and there of old friends enjoying rose at beach restos and random events and I find myself missing it just a little bit. So I’m here, drafting contracts, pouting.

The beauty of it is that I know that when I get home tonight, there will be a kiss waiting for me from my husband and a big smile from Cole and I’ll be happy I’m right where I belong, where I really want to be.

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