Ten.One Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirty-Seven
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Because there is much to do today.
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I can’t keep the times right in my head.
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I wipe down the countertops and think of all the work a woman does, just so that she can do a different kind of work, in hopes that she will, one day, be able to do the work she really wants to be doing.
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I throw a blazer and a scarf over my yoga tank and leggings for the call.
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We walk through the white gate at the end of the road. The dirt path is bordered by vineyards and mustard. We stop. She asks me if I see the stained glass window. I think I am looking for a literal window. No. It is the way this one tree branch is arching over, and underneath it, you see the land rise up, and there are sheep between the rows of vines, and the mustard, and the vineyard workers pruning back the vines. I like the way she sees.
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They do not ask for Gott’s. I am grateful.
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Forgot about the starter!
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Chicken thighs coated in smoked paprika and cumin and salt and pepper, olive oil, and lemon juice. Grape tomatoes, halved, with smashed garlic. All of it on a pan and in the oven.
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I don’t have to write this article. I get to write this article.
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I make sure my hands are clean before I open the book. I read his inscription to James. I sip on a glass of Pinot Noir because he told me that he always ends his day with a good bottle of wine - always.