Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Eighteen
Okay.
Very dark. A group of 13-year-olds with no real direction from the teacher. It will work itself out, I suppose.
When I see the bleachers set up, that’s when I know this pet parade is a big deal.
One of the best decisions I’ve made since living here.
We could offer feedback, but then again, we will never have to do this again.
So tired.
Another one of those empty-nester kind of nights. A split of tomatoes and burrata, steak frites, and a bottle of Burgundy.
These kids never cease to amaze me. Watching them grow in their skills and ability, as well as their confidence on stage over these years is quite a gift.
Big moon.
I already know I need one more day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Seventeen
Better late than never.
Daydreaming about morning fires.
He gets it. Maybe more than the others, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.
I decide on “Last August” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She says she’s curious about this one. “It feels achievable,” I say.
She said she was hoping I would get more cookbooks. Did I make anything out of the ones I just had?
Sun.
A little bit of peace.
Tired. So tired.
What is nature, and what is nurture? Is it too late to nurture out some of the nature?
Tomorrow is going to be a long day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixteen
“Last round, best round.” I hear her voice in my sleep.
Maybe it’s cool enough for me not to sweat.
The sun through the fog is blindly bright but it casts a holy glow over everything.
I knew I should have just stayed home.
Leftover Italian wedding soup for lunch. Quiet except for the sound of my fingernails on the keyboard.
Driveway littered with browning oak leaves.
Friday night football on a Thursday. Everything feels just a little weird.
Supermoon hanging in the sky.
The wind is picking up. The power is already off in the towns just up the hill. We shouldn’t be affected, but we’re so close, you never know.
Still up.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifteen
In the dream, she has a giant parmesan wheel, and she cuts me a wedge.
Still very dark.
An explosion of orange out of nowhere. And I feel drops of rain. These two things don’t seem like they should go together.
This chair. This cup with hot decaf. This gray and moody sky. This quiet.
Where did all the time go?
So much moving around of words. How else can we say the same thing over and over and over again?
“The audacity of self-belief.”
I tell them they need to go to bed now. “It’s only 8:30!” they say. Oh, so it is.
These knees.
Big, big moon.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fourteen
I hear him moving around, but it’s so dark. And I know it’s not quite time for me to get up yet. It feels too early.
3:44 a.m. If I don’t think about how I won’t fall asleep, I will fall asleep.
Making time for two meditations.
The perfect foggy October morning. Spooky season. I start to make a list of all the scary movies I want to watch.
The irony of the follow.
Pineapple does make my tongue hurt.
And with that, I think it’s time to pack up and head home.
A more comfortable evening in the gym.
It’s best to deal with the decision-makers first.
Two pot pies are not enough.