Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Three

1. The roosters are so loud.

2. What is that clanking sound? It feels like it must be time to get up.

3. It’s only 50 degrees. I did not plan properly. I grab a sweater and my shawl and my camera and head out to the gardens.

4. We find the coffeehouse that opens at 7. The case is filled with homemade pastries and empanadas. I must come back for an empanada.

5. The baby goats. But I could do without the flies.

6. The best goat cheese I’ve ever tasted. I will be back for more.

7. I’m looking at her and she thinks I’m confused but I’m actually just searching for the words. Finally, “Estamos comemos.” He says her face lit up when the Spanish came from my mouth. I ask her to come back tomorrow. “Hasta Luego!” “Hasta Luego!”

8. The power of language as a bridge. Words build connection. The right words lay a foundation for intimacy and belonging and compassion. This is why I try to be so careful with what comes out.

9. Roederer. Phillips Hill. Drew Family Cellars.

10. She asks me if this is the kind of place I want to move to when the rental is done. I tell her that this is the kind of place I’d come to after her and her brothers have made a life of their own. But that yes, I love to be in places where I know names and faces and everything feels familiar and walkable. I like feeling like I belong.

Ten. Seven Hundred & Forty-Two

1. Today is the day.

2. The third tickling session in order to coax him awake.

3. They start asking about the length of time we’ll be in the car. I don’t want to tell them the truth. I give them vague answers like “It will take some time. It won’t feel too long. We’re breaking it up.”

4. The temperature drops 6 degrees as we enter Bodega Bay. No one is hungry like we thought they would be so we get back in the car for another long leg.

5. He pulls over at a turn about. Her iced chai turns over. Only three of us get out to look at the ocean. The fog is beginning to recede. Waves with white caps. The sounds of cars passing by.

6. Gualala. I’ve never heard of this town but Upper Crust Pizza gets 4.7 stars so we stop there for lunch. The owner tells us to just settle the tab when we’re all done. Small town things. The couple at the high top beside us is from Wisconsin. I could live here.

7. They warned us that it might still be foggy in Point Arena. I still want to go to the lighthouse. I’ve never been to one. I say that if I had an official bucket list, I think going inside of a lighthouse would be on the list. Today, I’m checking it off.

8. My thighs are burning.

9. Mountain View Road is not as scary as they made it seem though 22 miles of those twists and turns do a doozy on the stomach before it dumps you out into Booneville.

10. Not even here for an hour and I’m already planning a new retreat.

Ten.Seven Hundred

1. Slow.

2. No one wants to eat the leftover bagels. I don’t blame them. I blame the teenagers who made these bagels.

3. Redesign. The thing is that I know I’m going to drop in numbers again but I still need to do it.

4. Sweat.

5. He asks me why we have to have people over again. “Because this is what we do! We like to host people! So you have to clean your room!” I tickle him until he gives in.

6. He comes up to my eyebrows now. He will be as tall as me by the end of summer. I have no doubt.

7. It’s a bad sign when all of the carts are gone.

8. I’m worried that there are not enough peaches. No cast iron this time.

9. “Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person’s face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It’s okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise.” - "The Shared Patio,” Miranda July

10. I tell them how fortunate they are to have had dinner with two winemakers in two weeks. Last week, Mr. Sean and this week Mr. Santiago. I kind of can’t believe it myself.

Ten.Two Hundred & Ninety-Eight

1. 3 a.m. wake up because I just need to know that everything is ready. 

2. My Lyft driver is early. I dash upstairs in the dark to kiss all the cheeks.

3. The birds are so loud.  

4. He thinks my suitcases are full of clothes and shoes like a typical woman.  

5. I misplace my license at the baggage counter and freak out for just a moment.  

6. I’m glad my friend and I picked the same flight by accident. We share 4 seats between us and chat a little, sleep a little, write a little. 

7. The three of us together navigating San Francisco. Parking and food plus art supplies. 

8. The fanciest hotel. We clearly don’t belong here but we have our wine. 

9. The sun. The sun. The sun. And the green and the water and these big hill and this feels like home.  

10. Steak Frites and 2013 Idell Family Oscar Syrah and a chocolate trifle and a blueberry lemon cake. 

Ten.Two Hundred & Forty-Four

1. Up before the light, listening to the sound of rain hitting terra cotta tiles on the patio. 

2. I go to eat breakfast by myself. Coffee, orange juice, water, a chickpea, potato and kale scramble. Quiet. I can see the vineyards in the distance, bare, wet and dripping.

3. Downtown Santa Rosa to meet Adam for coffee at Flying Goat. I almost don’t recognize him with all of the hair. We sit and talk life and photography and freelancing.  

4. Back at the ranch. So much time planning and talking and dreaming. I can’t wait to bring everyone here to sit by the pool, to warm by the fire, the drink in the sun, to make space to breathe. 

5. We get tacos with Kevin before he heads back to San Francisco to go home. He tells me to stop underpricing myself. To keep playing with one light and a subject. To live with the confidence I speak to in my writing. Grateful for mentors like this.  

6. We drive through Petaluma as we make our way toward Napa. There’s a little bar, Ernie’s Tin Bar, with cute chalkboard signs and a no cell phone policy.   

7. Green hills as far as the eye can see. Trying to keep my vision pointed on gratitude. 

8. A glass of Fumé Blanc upon arrival. There’s a new blanket at the foot of the bed.  

9. The Charter Oak. Schramsberg and a long chat with the sommelier who also happens to be from Chicago as we wait for our friends. Wood and leather and copper and vintage rugs. Embers from the open flame. A drawer at the table loaded with silverware and a napkin. Sparkling water. Musacdet. Bordeaux blend. Mushrooms and salads and kohlrabi and duck and burgers.   

10. Gratitude for this. For time spent in meaningful conversations. For good coffee and good wine and good food. For the privilege of comfort. For space. For beauty.