Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventy-Two
Thursday.
Thick skies. Cool. But it will be hot again.
67 days. So many decisions to be made.
Every day, I park in front of these vines and take a picture of the grapes.
Chicken Ceasar salad and white chocolate macadamia nut cookie.
Something in the air. Messages flying all around about who misses whom.
It’s not symmetrical. That’s the problem.
Cool breezes and frog song.
Too tired to make decisions. Too many decisions to make to be tired.
Thre’s enough time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventy-One
That was better than nothing, but I could use another five hours in bed.
I can feel it running through my body. All is in vibration.
French press of decaf. Streaks of sunlight across the table.
Twenty minutes is better than no minutes.
She read a poem. That seems appropriate for her. I grab a chunk of carrot cake before I leave.
What is this reaction? What is it trying to tell me?
Duck fat fries and a salad. A few sips of Chardonnay. Cool breeze in the shade.
When you look at something so many times, you can’t see it anymore.
It’s only Wednesday.
“Be yourself.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventy
How is the alarm going off already?
Zero hours. Caffeine is a non-negotiable at this point.
I walk onto the crush pad and see the stacks of bins full of grapes. I keep myself from grabbing a few to pop into my mouth. I think about what it would be like to work a day or two of harvest. There is not enough time anymore.
Power is out on one half of Main Street so we have tacos instead - one shrimp and one carnitas.
There is still so much to be done for this project.
I think I am falling asleep in this meeting. I thought I got one of the sugary drinks but it’s just flavored water. I shouldn’t eat anymore snacks.
Purple shorts and the kind of energy you would expect from a person who wears purpleshorts.
Even just 20 minutes.
Four days.
It’s only Tuesday.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Nine
Monday meditation in bed.
Purple grapes. A few crispy leaves. Clear blue sky.
If we can just laugh a little more.
It’s only 10:30 in the morning, and I can already feel the heat.
Everything is coming together so beautifully. It’s a beautiful space. A beautiful place.
He says he’s going to actually try this year because everyone is on him to try more. Like who? Everyone.
Maybe in another life, I could do website stuff.
I better start reading.
Keep buying into the fairytales.
“Being an artist means to be continually asking, ‘How can it be better?’ whatever it is. It may be your art, and it may be your life.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Eight
The inbetween.
Finding my balance. Feeling my strength.
Maybe I should pursue that idea after all?
I drive him up the hill to the gym. Inside the gym are a bunch of adult men running up and down the courts and a handful of boys standing on the sidelines waiting to get on. I take myself and my hiking shoes back home for a walk on the trails.
I always say the same thing: Just give me more notice.
Late. And trying not to be upset about being late.
No. Not Patrick.
Today’s A is much better than yesterday’s D-.
What decisions do I need to make today for what I want tomorrow?
Find the gift.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Seven
Is that rain I’m hearing? Yes, it is. I don’t think that was on the forecast.
A flash of light. A hum.
Where are all of my emergency flashlights?
“You’ll never outperform the version of yourself you have in your mind.”
A long but easy drive.
Growth over everything.
Over and over and over again.
A cool sea breeze and lots of sun.
Still can’t get over that D- report card for that fantasy draft.
A lot of gold wine glasses and tumblers.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Six
Friday.
There will always be more.
On the wall are boxes with pamphlets that say “Your baby at 12 weeks” and for 2 minutes I think it might be nice to have another baby.
She tries to warn me about the bags. I tell her I know about these paper bags. These handles have been consistently unreliable for at least ten years.
Oysters. Tomato soup. Macaroni and cheese.
One day, I’ll pay someone to really clean these baseboards and the molding on the doors. I wonder how many people look at the corners of the molding on the doors and try to clean them with Q-tips and cloth-covered fingernail files like I do.
Another variation of the same thing.
We did not build any anticipation.
Football season goal: to not eat a single thing from a snack shack.
What is that smell?!
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Five
Craving hammock time.
I just need to get these done.
Salty snacks for anxiety?
At least when he’s here, you know you’re going to laugh.
She affirms what I’m feeling. I want to lay out on the floor.
More cars than usual parked on the side of the road. Dropped clusters sprawled across upturned earth. I make note of the variation of canopies.
The weekly by-the-glass special is a rosé of Grenache. I get two glasses and take them to the back patio. Quiet and breezy and golden-sun. I should come here more often. This is going to be the new spot, I think.
She does the last handful of serves before the win.
“So it is like a Pink Ladies jacket…”
My one hotdog of the year: No bun. A swirl of ketchup and yellow mustard. One homemade rice krispie treat. A spoonful of cut watermelon. And so it begins.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Four
Second day. Jeans day. Cool morning.
At least two
Time away always comes at a cost. But nothing is truly an emergency.
I’m just confused.
The three of us just standing there, arms crossed, heads cocked to the side. We’re clearly all thinking the same thing.
A jokester.
“What do you do for self-care?”
Her very first high school volleyball game. Hot and sweaty gym. He shows me pictures of his new grandbaby. I think I like this sport much more than I thought I would.
A 5-D approach?
Need a better plan.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Three
Bright sun. Cool air. First day of school. And so it begins.
Clarity and refinement.
“…we are also always changing within. Our moods, our energy level, the stories we tell ourselves, our prior experiences, how hungry or tired we are: All these variants create a new way of being in each moment.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
I know this feeling.
One old school, one new school.
“That was the last time my sister drank.”
Great women doing great things.
I learned some new things today.
I forgot to flip the pork chops because we were too busy talking. “We haven’t talked in five days,” I say.
If these Kung Fu Panda characters were real people in our lives, who would they be?
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Two
Day twoooooo.
I drink the whole glass of water while taking in the sounds of the woods. Watch the acorn woodpeckers fly from branch to branch. Look for the source of the voices.
I feel my anger rising and take a few deep breaths. Control what you can control.
Remember what really matters.
If we just get more of us who care, that can make all the difference.
It’s one thing to watch it through your phone in tiny clips, but it’s another to watch it in real-time. To see their faces when it clicks.
Is he seriously trying to dunk?
Put force into the floor. Put force into everything.
So much good.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-One
Too hot.
Today’s the day.
I break the caffeine fast and it tastes so good on a cool Saturday morning.
So many things in containers. I forgot about how stressful this camera setup can be. But being on the field feels good.
These 5 words: “I love watching you play.”
So many compliments about the school and the gym. So many excited that this is happening. “How did you get her here?”
All of it is so worth it.
He says that the coach told her to stop shooting. I try to hold back my real feelings about that comment. I’m just glad she’s here.
This is precisely what I wanted to hear.
Yes, more of this, please.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty
Pot of tea.
They look like they’re still wearing pajamas.
A ginger with a beard. He reminds me of a character from a TV show, but I can’t remember which one.
Why does everything look like pajamas?
This escalator hasn’t worked in two years.
So glad someone is saying the same thing I’m saying.
Sometimes these things happen.
Trying to trust.
Hammock. Golden sunset. The sound of an airplane flying overhead.
Tomorrow and then Sunday, and then it’s the first day of school.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Nine
Only a few more slow mornings like these.
I think. Perhaps. That wasn’t the right response. I think. But thinking too much sometimes gets you into trouble.
The two of us wax poetically about the Olive Oil Company. He says that before he could take their picture, they made him eat lunch with them.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks this.
I tell him that it’s hard to be the one constant dissenting voice. It’s both a blessing and a course to spot the problem
One can laugh about it, but it also, at some point, it becomes less funny.
Originality over imitation.
Always at the last minute.
More cheddar than caramel.
“Crunch.”
Ten. Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Eight
The color of the morning light this time of year and the way it casts a warm glow on everything.
Water. Hot tea. A page from Skylar’s book and a cup of bone broth.
I can’t find my rhythm.
The more I travel away from myself, the more anxious I am to return.
Freshman orientation. You always learn something new. Am I about to be a veteran high school parent now? Am I the one who now knows things?
90’s baggy jeans.
The answer is always the same.
I tell him that I’m just in a place where I realize that the time I have left with the kids is running out. Five years will go by quickly. I can sit in an office all day when they’re gone.
Second dinner. It’s definitely football season.
“If we are to learn anything, it would be to free ourselves from any beliefs or baggage or dogma that gets in the way of us acting according to our true nature.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Six
It’s only Tuesday.
2nd day of tryouts. Still no work computer. I promised myself that yesterday was going to be the last day of coffee.
She’s got COVID. An extra few minutes to sip that coffee I’m not supposed to be drinking.
Sometimes, I just can’t tell.
Changes that challenge.
“We are seeking not to define ourselves, but to expand ourselves, to tune in to our limitlessness nature and connections to all that is.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
No, that’s not a travel.
I ask if it’s weird that I’m so excited for her to start high school. It will be hard and challenging but also exciting.
Johnny Weir.
The time will pass anyway.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Five
One more week.
Bad length.
Third outfit change. Can’t get comfortable.
He says it. I hadn’t realized it. But it makes sense. “I’m getting older, I say.” She uses the word “perimenopause.”
Aaaaaaand there it is.
I somehow forgot that I had no computer. Sometime in the afternoon, they say. Oh, I need to go back home.
You have to put on pants for the eye doctor.
“Her mom said we look like twins with our hair pulled back.” “He said, ‘You look like your mom,’ when we were at Sunshine.” “I don’t see it.” “I don’t either.”
Everyone is so grown.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Four
Last day of camp.
Last-minute stop for donuts before the long ride over.
I set down my bags and lay a blanket on the grass, bees buzzing on clover, a gentle breeze blowing through the vines creeping along the building walls, pretending I am somewhere else. Pretending I am someone else.
“Art is about the maker. It’s aim: to be an expression of who we are.” - The Creative Act: A Way of Being
Or, I could just not have them.
Today is a much better day. The nerves have worn off, I think.
Someone says it smells like pasta. “I think that’s sweat.”
Sunday Scaries.
My head feels so much lighter.
One week.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Three
Camp day.
I get spooked for just a minute when I see “Oakville Grade” pop up on the screen.
I’m glad I took the scenic route.
“This place is not for me.”
I find a little wooden bench in the courtyard and journal before balling up my sweater and laying on my back. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face.
I wish I could do it over again.
Nothing that needs to get done is getting done. I could go home. I could run errands. But sometimes, the right choice is the choice that makes it hard for you to do anything else but sit.
There is a distinct smell to Panda Express.
That’s not true. You just work harder and try again. You can always try again. You never know what may happen.
Let’s do it again tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Three
TGIF.
Just can’t stop drinking this coffee.
Oh, it’s done. There’s no turning back from it now. In the fire.
Broken computer is a gift in disguise.
Well, I guess it’s a good thing we practiced this conversation this morning.
Tacos and sunshine.
It’s these little tastes that keep you hungry for more. A little is never enough.
Three weeks?
Putting a key, money, and trust in his hand. They’re both wearing the same Bulls jersey.
Ten minutes early, which means they are on time.