Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Eight
Why am I so hot?
Coffee in my chair instead of drop-off.
The usual walk toward the car, and a bird bursts from a tree, and then hundreds of bugs flit about. They look like miniature dragonflies but almost translucent.
Tuesday = loud.
Lunchtime escape. Dim sum and wine.
They say the very things we’ve been saying at home. If I could have recorded it. But it just affirms that we know what we know. We know what we know.
I take my call outside on the dusty picnic table. It’s 101 degrees but bearable in the shade. The honk of the wine train
Found another one.
No one knows what to do with me.
“May your private expounding carry the fullness of these insights. Remain vast, steadfast, and trustworthy.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Seven
Late start for him means a more relaxed pace for the morning.
It’s just because I really like where I live. That’s why I want to be here all the time. That’s not a bad thing. That’s a good thing.
I text him two and a half hours later to say that I’ve already completed my to-do list.
What else?
I’m a little early so I walk a bit of the vineyards beside the office. Small berries with green and purple skins. Big green leaves. Spiky straw sticks between the openings of my shoes.
I think this waiter is confused. I look familiar but the context is not the same.
I wonder if I am gushing too much about the past.
Yes. She’s right. Things can be different this year now that I have help.
It’s going to come quickly.
He’s right. I do like I did at the last place and just find my people.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Six
I could use one more day.
A big scoop of apple crisp and coffee.
Silverado trail on a Sunday morning. Sunlight brightens everything. Crawling vines. Golden-brown hillsides dotted with oaks. The struggling cyclist.
It’s always scary the first time.
He says she was more afraid of me than anything.
Yes. I’ll have to do this two more times.
I’m reminded of another goal.
17 years. Champagne and Burgandy and cherries jubilee. Look at how quickly the time has passed.
I stare out the window toward the west, toward the sunset, as we drive back home. I am delightfully full, and all I can say is, “So pretty. So pretty.”
And in bed by 8.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Five
If I don’t do it now, it won’t get done until it’s too late.
Whatever this was could not have been something small. Every Gatorade bottle is broken through. The bottom of the container is sticky from the mess.
Sweat pouring down my eyebrows.
Just. follow. the rules.
This is a longer drive than I thought it would be. The sun feels good on my legs. I can barely keep my eyes open.
This will be harder than I wanted it to be.
Inventoried and organized. Envisioning them
Keep it in check.
I should really water those plants.
Gratitude.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Thirty-Four
Friday. Finally.
No football. No alarm.
Driving down Highway 29. Sunlight on the vines and the hazy morning sky. A line of redwoods. Coffee. Gluten-free coffee cake.
If anyone can do it, she can.
I thought this was brick?
Remember to take some time to dream.
Radio silence.
The answer is still “no.”
I don’t do this nearly enough. Yes, more of this, please.
The feeling of sliding into a clean, cool bed at the end of a long day.