Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twelve
I’ll sleep in today. I’ll let my body rest today.
Humid.
But there’s always more laundry.
Email reconciliation and personal admin with a cup of decaf in the soft morning light.
Leftover tomato soup and the last hour of The Birds. Finding it funny how many times they say “Santa Rosa” and how many times I’ve seen this movie I had no idea it was a real place.
I watch the leaves dancing along the pavement. They are slightly damp and glittering.
Resting my eyes.
Almost over this phase.
She asks them if they will come to the camera and say hello. I laugh.
She says we’re getting a taste of what being an empty nester will feel like. I don’t hate it. But it is weird.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Eleven
Refreshed.
He always asks me if I want water. I always say no. Just too much to hold in my hands while traversing the trail.
I can’t find the trail. I can’t see the water towers. I must have missed a turn somewhere. I decide just to go back the way I came.
Turkey tail feather.
Finally, a cool fall morning for flag football. It’s almost time to start lighting the fireplace.
Rosé and Ceasar salad, and polenta bites, and half a chocolate chip macadamia cookie while the skies open up for a light shower.
The Birds. She is wearing a fur over a shift dress and paddling in the water; the fashion in these old movies.
Tomato soup and grilled cheese kind of night.
Breathing room.
“Turkey feathers have played a significant role in Native American culture for centuries. They are considered to be powerful symbols of good luck, protection, and strength.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Ten
It finally feels like a fall.
Finally. Friday.
Last test done. Six more hours done. I decide to count how much I complete instead of counting how many more hours are left. The amount of time it takes doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m doing it.
Cold potato and leek soup, shrimp risotto, poached nectarines with cream and ginger crumble—I should learn how to make ginger crumble.
I sit and stare through the trees on the street below. It feels peaceful right here, right now.
It’s only a 45-minute drive. What a relief.
I do love the silhouette of mountains in the distance.
The first Friday night football game that feels like football season. There is just enough chill in the air, but it’s not too cold and not too damp. The smell of burgers and hotdogs and tri-tip.
Can’t watch this field goal attempt.
9-7 win. And done well before midnight this week. Early to bed.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Nine
Starting out way ahead.
The chill in the air. Crunchy leaves underfoot.
An open ear means you become a holder of many secrets.
Wait. I learned how to have these kinds of conversations.
I can just take a walk.
Peppercorn trees and vines emptied of their fruit, and the blue sky streaked with clouds and purple plums on a tree and the house that only had white cars.
Tension.
Just one more test. Just one more.
Give what you can when you can.
Who knows if they’re actually listening.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Eight
Finally, a cool, foggy morning.
Delight in the foam on my decaf.
Work-from-home Wednesday is my favorite reset of the week.
They say all is good. In this instance, to not pay attention to the news.
I think if I do just these three things, it will make all the difference.
Semantics.
It's not exactly the news I wanted to hear, but it's also not unexpected. At this point, only time will tell.
Burrata and cherry tomatoes over a pistachio pesto. Ribeye, mushroom medley, and creamed spinach with a Cabernet jus. Panna Cotta with candied marcona almonds, ginger crumble, and Dolce-poached pears. Clean plate club.
92.04%. Sigh of relief.
Don’t give your power away.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Six
But if I didn’t do it, I would regret it.
Spiraling. Centering. Calming. Observing. Forgiving.
Not forgetting.
I pack a few decaf pods for the office.
Trouble focusing. Conflicting needs and wants. Other, more pressing and more interesting matters.
Of course, none of the six tear this time. But two out of ten is still bad when where are 1,000.
Reassurances that they will be okay.
At last night’s dinner, we talked about food and the things we love to cook and how the thing I miss most in this current stage of life is cooking really good meals. I am so out of practice that nothing tastes as good as it used to.
But I’m so close to an A that I should go for it. If I can find the energy.
Acceptance of fact, of feeling.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Five
Must get up.
I almost forget about the English muffins. Luckily, it is a Monday. Luckily, the line is short.
It's already so hot.
Of course.
A lot of homework in very few days.
I know what a comment like that means, but I have to ignore it for now.
Not enough time.
“You create a good future by creating a good present.” - Eckhart Tolle
Just not enough room for the key lime pie.
Something different.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Four
Could really use another six hours.
Perfect foam on the decaf brings such delight.
Squeezing in a little bit of time to talk about life. Much needed. Sometimes you forget how nice it is to have someone who knows the you from before.
Only one more week. Just one more week.
“How are you doing everything you’re doing?”
Transformative vs. Transactional.
I just need a nap.
A screen full of women spending one hour talking about basketball, problem-solving basketball, laughing about basketball.
That mask.
Ready for it not to be 100 degrees.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Three
Not nearly enough sleep.
If there is a lunch, I bet it will be sandwiches. I find crackers, hummus, apples, and cheese sticks and stick them in my bag just in case.
He tells me I’m going to love Sue Phillips. I say to him that the only reason I’m coming is because of Sue Phillips.
“A competitor should be disciplined, purposeful, strategic, communicative, collaborative.”
“You are what you choose to ignore.”
“Great players want to be told the truth.”
Sandwiches.
Three hours of sleep + lunch + hot gym = falling asleep while sitting up in the bleachers.
Last-minute salad with green goddess dressing. If I’d had more time, I would have done a little bit more.
Another late night, but worth it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Two
Still so hot for this early in the morning.
Hot summer morning light.
Maybe a few months ago this would have freaked me out. But not today. Perhaps it’s the meditation.
Green grapes.
It’s hot, yes. But I just needed the fresh air. In the shade, this warm breeze feels good.
I could make a stink about it, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good.
The car reads 123 degrees.
Why is there water in the console? In the cupholder is a can of sparkling water with no top.
Three thrilling sets.
Honest conversations. That is how we move forward.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & One
Consistency.
But how?
Squeeze. Squeezed? Squoze?
Sometimes, it’s okay to take the easy path.
Burning thighs.
Can we think of a more creative way to get what we need done?
Only one. Only one?
I think this is going to work out just fine. Maybe better than fine?
What’s different about today?
“These meetings,” I write. I should have packed my dinner like he suggested.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred
The first day of October. If only it felt like it.
I’m up, but I don’t feel like driving him to 6 a.m. practice, so he will just have to drive himself.
Not enough time to get that one last cup of $5 decaf.
“Fear is excitement without the breath.”
Gratitude for every little thing. Every little thing.
That’s a good idea: use one of the Julies.
Tight quads. Foam roll.
They are cute. It still is weird. Next time, I’ll make dinner.
Whatever is making me bloat needs to stop.
“Not to decide is to decide.” - Harvey Cox
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Nine
I still check under the sofa for snakes before I get on the mat.
It will be hot today. It is already hot.
Really need to buy those decaf pods.
Tight knees = tight quads. More stretching.
Messages that need to be returned but there is not enough alone time in the day.
I need to call her tomorrow morning. It’s been too long.
She sends pictures of them from ten years ago. Their faces and hands are so small. They are the same but different. It used to feel so hard back then, but it might be harder now.
We watch him cut a bit of meat off the pork chop and then burst into laughter at the same time. Note to self: no more bone-in porkchops.
They are funnier than I am, that’s for sure.
A dream that repeats itself is no longer a dream but a demand.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Eight
Slow Sunday.
Enjoying the coolness of the morning before the head returns.
Hammock time. The whirring sound of golf carts going back and forth. A gentle breeze in the shade.
Of course, everyone needs to be picked up right when I am ready to take a nap.
Look for joy.
Leftover steak and a Parker House roll.
The difference is confidence.
Secret stashes of caramel popcorn.
What changes starting today?
Lots of things are possible.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Six
Five days in a row.
Gold, gold morning light. That’s how you know it’s going to be hot.
One coffee and five bags of sour gummy bears to take back to the middle school.
Simple but tedious.
“It’s hard being Black and smart and a woman.”
“It’s good, but it’s not champagne.”
Daydreams of running away. “I need a break from home,” I say, Just a tiny one. Even just a day.
This is having teenagers: no one is ever home.
The thing is that we are not the type not to say anything. And maybe that’s how the rest of them get through it: smile and nod and hold back. Not being afraid of power puts you in hard situations, even when you know you’re right.
Tomorrow: solo walk on the trails, hot tea on the sofa, writing, flag football, groceries, hammock.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Five
Consistency.
I declare today a good day because it’s Thursday and that means tomorrow is Friday.
Those are stress responses.
They’ve harvested the grapes from these vines. For some reason, I thought these were just vanity rows, decoration. I spot a small cluster tucked behind a leaf.
It is funny how that happens. Why do they think I’m the one with the answers? It happens everywhere I go.
I see him at every game, but I have no idea who he is. He leans over and opens a newspaper to show me something. He points at my son’s name. “Isn’t this your son?” “It is.” He asks me if I want the newspaper. I do.
They say they would read an article about me and my relationship with coffee.
Focus on what is.
Nervous? Yes. But afraid? No.
“I am a woman of violent contradiction.” - The Albanian Virgin by Alice Munro
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Four
The perfect fall morning. A little foggy, a little breezy. I need a sweater.
“I know. A large coffee.” “You got it.” I tell her that I should buy some beans for home, but I haven’t. And the Naysayer decaf is good; it almost tastes like real coffee. She says another employee says it’s the best decaf he’s ever had, too. Worth the $4.60.
A cup of coffee in a place that is not home is also about being present where you are. I think about how this used to be a place we visited—a dream supported by a plan, but a dream nonetheless. Now it’s home.
They say it again—another comment about me asking questions. I could be projecting, but it smells familiar. Maybe my kind of curiosity is not the same as theirs.
I tell them I am choosing to trust my gut on this one.
It's German day at the food truck, which means I’m definitely getting a pretzel.
I almost forgot I had done all of this work already.
Focus on what is, not what is not.
Grilled salmon, couscous, the last of her tomatoes and corn and shallots cooked with a little bit of butter.
One quiz down, one more to go.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Four
I could go back to sleep right now lying here in Savasana.
Second guesses.
Shoulders back and down.
I see a flash of something and then feel a twinge of nostalgia for a more familiar self. So much of me changed when I got here, and sometimes, I want the old me back.
I can’t really say “no” to this, but could I? Should I?
Pretty sure someone in the parking lot sees me stooping over on the sidewalk trying to take pictures of grapes while my bags fall onto the ground.
Patterns.
Trying to erase the words of doubt that creep in. What would I rather see instead? There are other versions of this story.
Need to fix my face.
Oblivious.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Three
Back at it.
Morning meditation. Peace.
The sun is breaking through so brightly, so clearly. The heat is coming.
When your 15-year-old compliments you, then you know it’s legit.
Making the drop-off loop and forgetting to circle back into town for that cup of decaf.
You could just tell the truth.
The thing is that there is a plan.
The questions that I ask myself.
Hanger steak and creamed spinach always go over well.
So much laughter at the dinner table. Sometimes, a table full of teenagers is the best—only two more years of this.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Two
Slow Sunday.
Feeling the work of the week.
These cool mornings are just a tease, but I’ll linger under these dark skies for as long as I can.
First day of fall.
Costco order, and then a test, and then clip-building, and then, and then, and then.
“The Fire Inside.”
The power of intuition and love—and anger.
Preparing for all the stares and maybe a few questions.
Sunday lamb chops are becoming a thing.
You know what they say about a woman who cuts her hair: They’re about to change their life. Kind of the same thing.