Ten.Eight Hundred & Nine
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In need of celery juice.
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He’s standing in the garage waiting for everyone else, I’m backing out slowly. He waves to me and I slip down the drive and then he waves to me again as I lurch forward. And suddenly he’s not "almost 12,” he’s just my little boy.
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I thought I was clever but as soon as I get to work I realize just how impractical my outfit is. Bad enough I decided to wear a jumpsuit but I added a sweater over it which means every single time I have to go to the bathroom I have to take my arms out of my sweater and out of the jumpsuit. Never again.
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I walk over to the cottage to retrieve the cake and deliver it to the lounge. Then I walk to the event center to scope out the new sofas. They will do just fine.
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I can’t believe I get to come and work in such a beautiful place. I think of how he says that had we never moved here, there’s no chance I would have had this opportunity. This is one of the reasons we came here: so that we could see what might be possible.
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“I am a dreamer but I don’t do fantasy.” There’s so much wisdom in knowing the difference.
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He’s literally growing right in front of our eyes. He will be as tall as my by his birthday, no doubt. What will I do then?
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I always get so many emails after I get home. Funny how that works.
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Range LIfe in Livermore. Under the peppercorn tree. I realize that I’ve never seen a peppercorn tree. Did I even know that peppercorns grew on trees?
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Warm olives. He eats the two oysters. We start with a glass of 2015 Avinyo Cava Reserva Brut Nature and then settle on a bottle of 2017 Domaine du Petit Bondieu Cabernet Franc from Bourguiel as we split the ribeye with olive mashed potatoes and sierra porcini jus. We move on to blistered shishito peppers with goat cheese, cured sumac, and cilantro then the Cowgirl Creamery Mount Tam with griddled bread and purple and white figs and olive oil before moving on to malted milk ice cream drizzled with olive oil and topped with a baked honeycomb. I accidentally blew out his birthday candle.