Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Six
Turkey Day.
Slice the apples, sprinkle the cinnamon, Potatoes zipping back and forth on the mandolin. Finishing two sides dishes and realizing that you need a lot more cream.
Haven’t cooked like this in so long. Still haven’t seen the children yet.
Charcuterie board and feet up. Counting Fantasy points.
He calls me back from the car., tells me I would know if I called more. “I think that’s called ‘a read’ or ‘throwing shade,’” I say. “Oh, it’s definitely shade.”
Family call holiday check-in. Seeing all of the faces on the screen makes me wish we would do one big Thanksgiving again.
Still sitting on the sofa, still thinking about all of the things I love about life right now.
One step done. Now the harder part begins.
Seconds?
College women’s basketball game. #19 versus #21 in the country. No one is there to inbound the ball. “Who’s supposed to inbound the ball?!” I yell at the screen. “See, even the pros do it,” we laugh.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Five
Up, up, great day for up.
I get back into he driver seat and head south on 29 to see her. Three hot air balloons dotting the sky. Everything is glittering and bright.
How I missed her energy.
Jury summons.
He’d rather drive than take a shower.
I love my basketball families.
Two loaves of bread and sweet potatoes and green bean casserole are done.
I kick him out of the driver’s seat. Not this drive, not at night.
They go and get the decorations, turn on Christmas music, and start placing things around the house. Can’t believe it’s already time.
Here on this sofa with them. The deep dark of night sitting against my back behind the big glass window. A little bit of wine in the glass. All of it just feels right and good and the perfect way to begin the holiday.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Four
I like this sweatshirt.
Flower arrangement still going strong.
I think I’m ready for the tree.
I tell him to turn left because we don’t have enough time. Oh, wait. Ok. We’re going to cross the bridge. Thank goodness there are no cars coming.
Sometimes, it’s just a mess.
I put the posters up on the wall and wonder if it’s the right idea or not. But I see them looking up curiously. I explain what they are, that I want to get them in the habit of having goals to work toward. I think they like the idea of them. We will see.
She looks like she can barely control her excitement.
Perhaps I was being presumptuous.
Goal setting.
That was a surprising reaction.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Three
Monday. Cold morning. Leggings and long sleeves.
Still no keys. I can’t believe I lost my keys.
Squeaky clean gym.
Not pushing hard enough.
Did he really think he was about to convince me to let him drive his friend home real quick? Oh. No.
She keeps saying things that are the things that were just said, which makes me laugh because of course she is. This is how the universe works: sending you sign after sign as a test to see if you will ignore or abide.
Waiting. Always waiting.
She asks me if my job is why my Instagram is so aesthetic. I giggle a little. I sometimes forget that’s public.
Did I listen? I did.
I wish they thought as highly of themselves as I think of them.
Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Sixty-Two
Those darn Britney Spears videos.
This one might be my fault.
“I think everyone had the same idea as us,” he says to me as he grabs a pound of butter. It’s the week of Thanksgiving, how does he need only one pound of butter?
I stumble down the back stairs and make my way down to work. The sun is bright and golden and everything is wet but the air is crisp.
This is one of the better 3-year-old parties I’ve been to: tacos, wine, and wide open spaces.
Op-ed draft.
She agrees with me that he is indeed a scary driver.
Everyone always wants to play on the mini hoop. Thud, thud, thud. Three boys.
I laugh at him. That’s silly. Go to bed.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but oh, boy. I think this might be the year. I look at my Year 1 Goals: Conditioning; Reduce points against; 8 league wins; Increased parent participation; Spanish translation for parent meeting. It’s happening.