Ten.Four Hundred & Seventy-Eight
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The quiet is always so good.
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Must make a list. The list is long. I will shorten it to what’s really doable today. I have a countdown and am working backwards. What actions today will have me more prepared for tomorrow?
3. Cereal or granola or oatmeal. He stomps back up the stairs.
4. A canopy of trees, clear sunlight, squirrels at the feet.
5. Spiced bar nuts and a tiny glass of Vouvray because this might be the last time we get to do this.
6. Leftover chicken noodle soup and paper work for lunch.
7. I should really start packing.
8. We got it. And so now there’s a place to shift into. It felt more right than the other one, even though I wanted the view of the rolling hills. But a cul-de-sac and a park and a little bit more grass tipped me over. Plus the house just had good vibes. I felt them when I walked in.
9. Relief.
10. 16 days.
Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Four
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I will remember that he has soccer this morning.
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I have no desire to make a meal plan for the upcoming week but every desire to eat at some point. So I guess I will make a list. Or at least a rough outline.
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I have no words. I mean, I have no time to work out what wants to be said in a way that makes sense right now and so I type a single sentence. How does one begin?
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It’s dark and cool and the kind of weather that makes you want to sleep all day. Soup again for dinner. And a sandwich. Maybe a salad too. Or chips. That sounds like a good dinner for a Friday.
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I am silent. I am thinking all the things but not wanting to speak out loud. I tell him that I’m going to get rid of Facebook. It doesn’t serve me. I don’t know if it really serves any one. I’ve tried multiple ways of trying to make in work so that I’m in alignment with my own values and goals but I find myself continuing to resist it. I don’t want to be consumed.
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Petit Chablis and Pinot Nero. Prawns, sausage flatbread, cheese plate, charcuterie board.
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Not cool, but cold.
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If I start the soup now then I can lay around and drink tea with the kids after school without feeling rushed to get dinner done. Strip corn from the cobs; chop the onions and the bell pepper, the celery and the carrots.
9. The rain is falling and it’s exactly the kind of weather you want for soup and a slow evening.
10. Yeah, I think I’m done.
Ten.Four Hundred & Twenty-Two
1. I just need to get them to school.
2. Of course this is the morning they want pasta and grilled cheese to pack for lunch. And someone else wants a shirt ironed. I just need them to get to school.
3. Wet tissue on the console and a mug of hot ginger and lemon tea.
4. I bring the laptop to bed and run through emails while I drink another glass of water and another mug of tea.
5. I can hear the wind whipping outside. Everything is dry though. There is no rain. I’d really like to breathe.
6. I close my eyes.
7. Twilight Zone in the background while I try to sleep away this cold.
8. Tomorrow at 10:45 am.
9. I sit out on the back stoop in the sun to warm up. I watch the trees and the tall grass wave back and forth. I can only hear the rustling of the leaves. I think of how I will miss this space.
10. He always sees more in me than I can see within myself.
Ten.Four Hundred & Twenty-One
1. I'm washing my face and she wants to know if she can make scones.
2. This feels less like allergies and more like a cold. I know what to do; today means no caffeine, no dairy, a long nap, lots of ginger tea.
3. Heat.
4. We cut down the sunflower. It’s nkt as heavy as I thought it would be. Im sad to see it go but we will try again next year.
5. I write out my ideal outcomes: someone who will love this house as much as I do and has sufficient funds to purchase it so that we can be on our way. Or help from the company to accelerate the sale. And then the most right fit in California. A job for me at a winery where I get to stretch myself into a different kind of work but that still lets me play up my strengths. A vibrant west coast network.
6. 6-6:15.
7. I can’t stop sneezing.
8. I’d rather be at home.
9. There’s grass just inside the door so at least they went outside. But they didn’t take a flier.
10. Night time medicine, more tea, more water.
Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Nine
1. I wake up from the dream. We had an open house and I was walking with the realtor asking him for feedback. He asks me, "Do you want to sell the house, or do you want to move to California?" I feel like it's a trick question, but maybe it's not. Also, why does a dream about an open house feel more like a nightmare?
2. The tick of the sprinkler down the street. I can't see it but I know which house it is coming from.
3. December 12. Campbell, CA. That's the one.
4. I let him play while I do laundry. This morning, laundry feels like the only thing I am capable of doing. Head ache. Can't think. Read and wash and dry and fold.
5. I squeal at her news. Because it's a blessing to be able to share in the success of others. Because I'm always rooting for her and always wanting to see her win. And because it's amazing to watch someone grow into themselves and watch things they proclaimed for themselves years ago begin to come true.
6. I try to nap and reset myself but it doesn't work. I am mostly walking around with my hands in my pockets. This is anxiety at its finest. Also, I'm waiting on emails and not much else can happen until other people do the things on their ends.
7. Before I meet her to pick up the kids, I decide to do two things: something that feels like self-care and something that is productive and necessary for my move. I choose a book, Children of Blood & Bone, and labels for the moving boxes.
8. I think of Nia as I go and cut thyme and rosemary and sage and oregano. I think of how I can decide to feel safe right now in my home, with these plants and with my books and with my people.
9. I don't think he realized what he said.
10. I decide on a bowl of ice cream before I fall asleep. I decide that tomorrow will be different and maybe better. I decide that tomorrow I can try again. I decide that today's win was recognizing that my thoughts were not truth, and that everything is going to still be amazing, because this is still a dream coming true. This is the just the bitter part before the sweet.
Ten.Three Hundred & Eighty-Three
1. Press snooze.
2. Look up and find Mars. The birds are already loud; pre-dawn song. I think back to the way the ranch came alive each morning. Birds and toads and insects all welcoming the day in unison.
3. It's hard to not think about hinging everything on this one potentiality.
4. I ask for tips on how to maintain some sense of sanity for a move like this. I'm talking myself away from the ledge on the regular. The amazing thing is seeing how far I've come in rewriting self-talk. I'm much wiser than I was 10 years ago.
5. Always laundry.
6. I have a 1.5-hour drive ahead of me. I keep the windows down until I get to the highway and then keep the music up really loud. I might be basic—drinking Tangerine La Croix and listening to Paramore. I roll my eyes at myself.
7. The bakery is still shiny and new and French. The cases are filled with delicate and sticky things. I see something with gold leaf. He brings out a blueberry tart that is dotted with chamomile flowers. I see trays lined with proofing linen. I hope they make it.
8. Three old ladies come over the table in the window where I'm standing on chairs and moving plates. "Are you here taking pictures for a magazine?" "Yes, Chicago Reader, a local paper." "They deserve to be in a magazine. Even the water is beautiful!" They're amusing. I buy two baguettes before I leave.
9. I love leaving a job and feeling inspired. I have a large list for tomorrow. Projects that I'm ready to wrap up in order to make space for what is to come.
10. Cool breeze. The sound of the neighbor's sprinklers. We linger until it's almost too dark to read the face of my watch.
Ten.Three Hundred & Fifty-Nine
1. The way the windows are wet with humidity. How tiny beads of water trickle down the glass so slowly. It looks like it will be a hot day.
2. I take the bread out to let it come to room temperature before baking. I think of the way the dough felt in my hands yesterday evening before I rolled it flat. So light and elastic.
3. Today's practice feels hard. I let myself let it be hard and remember that it's just hard today.
4. Today I actually sit down and draw out the maps. I tell him it's hippie moon-centered goal-setting.
5. We snuggle up to watch more Twilight Zone. This is the only way I can take a nap these days.
6. It's a perfect kind of day for the pool: just hot enough in the sun to feel the burn but to not sweat; just enough people to make it feel lively but not overwhelming. The middle one is closer to being able to swim. At least the little one is letting go of the ledge today.
7. The smell of tea tree oil.
8. The tomatoes are overtaking everything. I push away limbs to uncover the rosemary and the thyme. I am a little overwhelmed by the abundance. But I am receiving it.
9. Chianti Classico with Chicken Parmesan.
10. The only thing about a pool day is that it wipes you out.
Ten.Three Hundred & Forty-Seven
1. I decide that I don't want to do yoga this morning. I mean, I probably should, but I know that I don't have to. I just need to rest.
2. Fat robin perched atop the soccer goal.
3. All the white petals on these baby hydrangeas. I was worried that they wouldn't survive because they seemed to have shriveled so quickly after planting last summer. But both of them are so green and the one closest to the door is blooming.
4. He meets me in the alcove and we talk. He sees what I mean about the birds—how close they come to you, how comfortable they feel to dance and chase right in front of my face. It's interesting how my lists also help him to see everything differently too.
5. That feeling of talking face-to-face for the first time. How you get to then hold just a little bit more of a person's essence. We talk about the subjectivity of what one cup of coffee is.
6. I decide that this will indeed be the summer that they learn how to do more. I think about my role as a mother and my hope for my children. I've always said that I want them to be Independent Free Thinkers. Well, we need to work on the independent part. I have the oldest two bring down their clothes and show them how to run the washing machine. I think we all feel a little more empowered.
7. But there really is something pleasing about freshly vacuumed carpet.
8. But why can't I find any affordable dining chairs?
9. This is summer: plastic colored cups strewn about the yard, a stray helmet, a sidewalk full of bicycles, girls running barefoot, boys kicking soccer balls, the weight of the air so thick and humid.
10. So much goodness today. Plant seeds and then harvest. Actually, sometimes you don't really plant them. Sometimes you just scatter or toss them up into the air and then one day poppies rise up to greet you in your wholeness.
Ten.Three Hundred & Forty-Two
1. I skipped yesterday but drag myself down today. I can feel the tightness in my shoulders and in my left quad.
2. How long before they all wake? I want just 30 more minutes to myself before the day begins.
3. Still quiet. The smell of bacon. The whir of the dishwasher. Coffee grinder. Robin chatter.
4. Cleaning Day is really like therapy. It might be one of the few times a week where I am alone and no one wants to bother me which means that I can think all of the thoughts and scrub my way to an answer that feels right.
5. All of a sudden I am yelling.
6. This game of Eye Spy in the car is getting out of hand.
7. There’s time for this. There is always time for this.
8. I forget about the promised treat so we stop at the Mariano’s—gelato for them and a bottle of Barbera d’Asti for me.
9. MYOP Night: Make Your Own Pizza Night. Always a hit but always so much work. Salad with garden spinach. I candy the walnuts and them plus some dried cranberries to the greens. I think about how far I’ve come as a mother and a wife and a cook as a result. I remember that the things that are now the most ordinary and natural are that way because consistent practice.
10. So many robins.
Ten.Three Hundred & Forty-One
1. The color of the sunlight this morning: pale honey dripping from the sky.
2. It actually might be too cold for the pool. Maybe a park today instead. I have no desire to shiver. But the kids really don't care do they? But who wants to wear pants to the pool?
3. I decided to keep this one thing for me.
4. I make a list of 5 things I want to get done today. This feels like not enough and yet too much.
5. First thunder and then the rain. I'm grateful for a slow day inside.
6. The rosebud garland is blowing in the wind. That gentle rustling plus the sound of the rain plus the bird song takes me back to the ranch.
7. I don't realize how thirsty I am until I begin to drink.
8. There are other asks that I am supposed to make that I haven't made yet and I know that this is fear of rejection. I think of how my husband is always telling me that I don't talk about myself enough. That I share my thoughts but I don't talk about my business enough and this is why growth has been slow. That I can't be afraid to ask for the things that I want.
9. I overcooked the salmon and forgot the wine in the beurre rouge. At least I got the risotto and the squash right.
10. Sleep isn't coming so easily this week.
Ten.Three Hundred & Thirty-Nine
1. Just a little bit of mist rising up above the water in the wetlands.
2. This high lunge makes me want to quit but I keep stretching anyway. I really gotta find that yoga mat.
3. Coffee. Banana. More water. Bagels and fruit for them.
4. I play him one-on-one in soccer. We are almost the same height and wear almost the same size shoes. There aren’t many of these kinds of days left.
5. I sit and watch the empty blue sky while they climb.
6. I am startled by a loud fluttering and look up to see the sweetest little hummingbird in front of my face. Good medicine indeed.
7. Chamomile and conversation with her to talk about the things. I have a long list of ideas and confessions I wish to tell her but I’ll save them for later.
8. I think back to this morning’s realization that this feeling of bigness might just be ovulation. That explains the dreams.
9. The way the sky is melting into blues and yellows and oranges.
10. How am I making meaning?
Ten.Three Hundred & Twenty-Four
1. Sundays are my favorite days. And this morning, with its slight chill, and the slowly waking sun feels like Spring.
2. Baked potatoes. I need to start the coffee. First, I drink water.
3. But yes, I think I am going to start them soon. First I need oils.
4. Chicken is dry-brining in the fridge. I lay down with them for a few minutes, my eyes closing. I promised her I'd take her to go get some clothes so I can't really fall asleep. But this right here, sandwiched between the two of them, for only a few moments feels good.
5. She really did need the clothes. I wish I had more time to shop for myself. Just a tiny bit. But all five of us are here and it I just want to get back home.
6. I text him a question and he calls me back and we talk for an hour. He tells me what to buy from Sally's.
7. I've been wanting this Spark Session for a while. I've admired what Lauren does and have gained wisdom from the things she shares on her Instagram. The 75 minutes is fast but just long enough for her to get me to the meat of one of my needs. I need community.
8. The action steps are challenging. By challenging I don't mean impossible, but they definitely will push me out of my comfort zone. What strikes me most is how much asking I will need to do. And I can feel how uncomfortable it's making me. The idea of all of this asking. Asking for leads on jobs, asking for time alone, asking for people to give me or lead me to other resources that will help me grow.
9. He asks me what my exit plan is for this hairstyle. I suppose I can just shave it all off and start over.
10. Someone's car alarm is going off in the distance. I know it's early but it feels late. My armpits are itching and burning; an allergic reaction to the deodorant I think. I need to find something else natural. I haven't been this uncomfortable in a long time. I clean my armpits with soap and water and change my shirt. Just enough relief to ease into sleep.
Ten.Three Hundred & Twenty-Two
1. She’s sitting there eating toast in her robe and glasses and at this moment she seems way older than 8. “I woke up at 5:40. I already made my lunch.”
2. I light palo santo and take a deep breath. This is my new favorite ritual. In the old house I was always lighting incense.
3. The prayer flags from India she sent me are glowing in the soft white light of morning.
4. I write my meal plan and grocery list in the car while I wait for the health foods store to open. I probably could have just ordered tahini from Amazon.
5. This is my last child-free Friday.
6. Pinot Bianco from Slovenia. Beet salad and calamari. A semolina cake with coconut cream and coconut sorbet.
7. I kind of hate this part where he introduces me to all of his co-workers. I mean, it’s great but I sometimes don’t like it. I’d sometimes rather be anonymous. What did Amanda say in the book? I like being seen but I don’t like being looked at.
8. The book store name is rather pedestrian but I’m amazed by the selection. I find two books, a dollar each, and then a set of flash cards for the kids for $5. The younger two will dig them.
9. I write her a letter in the pick-up line while the rain falls.
10. Bath tea. The nettles turned the water the softest shade of green.
Ten.Three Hundred & Eighteen
1. Sky so dark it still looks like night.
2. Tree tops bending in the wind. Flashes of lightning but no thunder.
3. Too much time before they leave. And yet sometimes it’s not enough.
4. Tea and conversation with her where dreams spill out into reality and I have zero doubt and maybe only a few small questions that really seem kind of insignificant.
5. And this is the kind of partnership and collaboration that feels so natural and full of ease that you have to pinch yourself because you’re just too freakin’ excited and giddy with gratitude.
6. Raen Pinot Noir and a turkey burger with fries.
7. Blue-grey sky moving in. So ready fo the next round of storms. I’ve always loved the way Thunder makes you feel small.
8. Ancestors. Roots. Return to the Earth. Trust my own process. Fractals and integration. Tonight is the new moon?
9. Having to have a back up to the back up plan for dinner because you didn't think about travel time for your Brandless box and didn't buy enough protein on your shopping trip. So dinner is almost an hour late but it's good and so it's all ok.
10. But it still doesn't feel right and I have to trust that this is my gut talking not fear. How do I take that feeling from Fever Dreams—that feeling of "oh my goodness, it IS possible to be surrounded by beauty and by beautiful soul-full women and work and earn money"—to non-retreat kinds of work? Like, what does that look like in reality?
Ten.Three Hundred & Six
1. The early light.
2. Granola with flax milk, blackberries and blueberries, and walnuts.
3. Heron medicine: Calm, Grace, Solitude, Patience, Longevity, Versatility, Tranquility, Good Luck, Partnership, Intelligence, Domesticity, Being Present, Determination, Independence, Resourcefulness.
4. The relief and joy from seeing so much green on my baby hydrangeas. I think of the other things I want to grow: Rosemary and basil and iris and tulips and daffodils, and forsythia, and ranunculus, vegetables and fruits.
5. I stop myself from thinking about whether or not we'll be here in 5 years to even enjoy the flowers and the fruit because all that really matters is now. And right now is all that matters.
6. Making plans.
7. Grateful for the slowness of this day. The afternoon is doing a slow melt instead of a fast run and this feels good to me.
8. Are you actively practicing generosity and vulnerability in order to make the connections between you and others clear, open, available, durable? - Emergent Strategy
9. Remembering that it doesn't have to be either/or, that two things can exist at the same time and be in service to each other.
10. Sleep.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Seven
1. The colors of this morning's sky: peach and lavender and lemon and sky blue. I'm reminded of rainbow sherbet.
2. The blooms from yesterday's floral workshop are so fragrant. I think it might just be the eucalyptus.
3. Waffles toasted in the oven and bacon and coffee. I sit next to the big kid at the island.
4. She’s pouting again because there isn’t any prosciutto.
5. Meal plan + grocery list + grocery shopping + last minute supplies + sunshine + getting to talk to the woman at Michael’s about the retreat.
6. That feeling of almost being knocked over from gratitude.
7. Thought we were out of ink. Turned out we’re out of paper.
8. But the goal is to be in bed before 11 so that I’m not too tired on the plane.
9. He tells me that he’s excited for me and that we’re going to have fun and it feels good and affirming to be seen and loved.
10. Travel jitters.
Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Six
1. Slept in just long enough for it to feel good but not like my day has run away from me.
2. Coffee. Fruit Loops with flax milk. I think I like flax milk.
3. This corner of the gray linen sofa and the view from the window across from it. I see that the goose is back. He seems to travel alone and has made the wetlands behind the house his home.
4. On the way in I listen to the On Being episode with angel Kyoto williams and remember that I have half-read her book, Radical Dharma.
5. The shop is basically me boxed into 4 walls: white, green plants, heavy paper stock, Factured Goods brass spoons, succulents in tiny pots, and all the flowers.
6. My nerves quickly dissipate.
7. I layer eucalyptus and roses and some other plants that I can't yet name and wrap them in brown craft paper, tie them with a string. The brightness and slight sweetness of the flowery gin cocktail.
8. The drive home is not too long, but just long enough to tire me.
9. I leave in only 2 sleeps.
10. I needed a day like to day with so much alone time, with the sun, with flowers, with women and light chatter, with being present, with so much feeling like myself.
Ten.Two Hundred & Seventy-Four
1. Usually the morning sky has a way of slowly unfolding itself but today, it's quietly erupting in shades of purple and orange and pink.
2. I'm trying not to be upset about it. Because it's really not his fault and yet it is. But it means that I have to do today alone and it feels unfair.
3. Bacon. Leftover bagels. But they're still sleeping.
4. This morning's method of distraction appears to be searching for pendant lighting.
5. We find him a chiropractor who take him this morning. He's better, but not at his best. He promises that he's not doing to ditch me today. I do feel better with this acknowledgement.
6. Her vision is changing. As long as there is no rapid progression, there is no need to be concerned.
7. You can tell by the way he engages with you that this job, this job that most of us would not want to do, brings him pleasure. He radiates joy, tells us we should go see Black Panther.
8. A Wrinkle In Time.
9. Love is always the answer.
10. A late dinner of chicken noodle soup eaten around the counter.
Ten.Two Hundred & Seventy-Four
1. Usually the morning sky has a way of slowly unfolding itself but today, it's quietly erupting in shades of purple and orange and pink.
2. I'm trying not to be upset about it. Because it's really not his fault and yet it is. But it means that I have to do today alone and it feels unfair.
3. Bacon. Leftover bagels. But they're still sleeping.
4. This morning's method of distraction appears to be searching for pendant lighting.
5. We find him a chiropractor who take him this morning. He's better, but not at his best. He promises that he's not doing to ditch me today. I do feel better with this acknowledgement.
6. Her vision is changing. As long as there is no rapid progression, there is no need to be concerned.
7. You can tell by the way he engages with you that this job, this job that most of us would not want to do, brings him pleasure. He radiates joy, tells us we should go see Black Panther.
8. A Wrinkle In Time.
9. Love is always the answer.
10. A late dinner of chicken noodle soup eaten around the counter.
Ten.Two Hundred & Thirty-Four
1. Up before the alarm. Moving around with only the light of my phone, trying to not wake her.
2. I’m winded by the time I get up the hill to the parking lot where the car is. I blame it on the wedges.
3. Naomi Shihab Nye is sitting right beside me at breakfast. I want to be talking to her but find myself captivated by conversation with Lucas and Lisa. And they are radiating a tenderness that I find so very compelling.
4. Palestine.
5. I don’t know this name and I am not particularly excited to hear him talk until he starts reading haiku and it makes me think of the women in liberated lines and I’m tickled.
6. I’ve never paid attention to America Ferrera before but I will after today.
7. David Whyte, with his black pants tucked messily into, his slouchy black boots sends us off with a poem. This one I record.
8. I hug Tibeyo because I think he might need it and because there are many others I would hug but I can’t find them and I need to go.
9. The ride to San Francisco is easy. Traffic on 17, 85 and 101 is light. The sun is shining and I am crying. I’ve cried a little every day since I arrived. Getting here wasn’t easy. Being here wasn’t easy. Leaving is never easy.
10. It’s a good thing I meditated this morning.
10.1 Airport sushi and an Ichiban. Prompt writing. An aisle seat in the back with another black woman named Alecia. He gives us each two bottles of wine and a snack box for free because he can and he wants to and sometimes that’s what brothers and sisters do for each other.
10.2 Home.