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-Seven
Easy.
As I make my way higher and higher, I spot hot air balloons far off in the morning haze.
Dry dirt on hard rock is sometimes slippery. I keep my eye out for things that I don’t want to see.
Hawk feather.
So hot in the sun. Energy today seems low. No sleep, I’m sure.
Thirty-six days.
“It’s pretty nice to be talented. If you are, enjoy, but it won’t take you that far. Work takes you a lot further.”
― Natalie GoldbergOne scoop of olive oil fig gelato.
Everyone is gone again. It’s just the two of us. I guess we better get used to this.
A tomahawk is very large.
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.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-One
Quiet breaths on the back deck, staring out into the fog. Finding a few orange leaves in the trees. Ready for the season change.
Oh, I remember him. He talked about bears.
Hot in the sun, but cool in the shade. I’d rather stand under the merch tent than in the stands.
Drew. David. Dan. Douglas.
The long drive to Vallejo. The recognition of a body that has succumbed to disorder. Sea gulls eating spilled food off the hot asphalt. They still have plywood in the windows. She asks me if I need help with anything. How do you decide between 35 kinds of hair gel?
How many more days are we all willing to walk through these walls of gold and silver streamers?
“What do you daydream about?”
The Mayacamas backlight by the setting sun and that haze that settles in. That’s dreamy.
They’re 86 Gaja.
He is right. It is a good life.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety
Out of decaf.
This is more of what I like to do: problem-solving.
All the right pieces are here. It’s just a matter of putting them all together.
But I definitely can’t go 45 days without my email.
Tourists from the Midwest. I can hear it in their voice.
I manage to finish the quiz without getting car sick.
Big sky.
We take a route that winds alongside the lake. The light of the setting sun hits the ripples of the lake’s waters, and the land seems to jut straight up from the shore. Like a movie.
Two touchdowns. A two-point conversion. Tackles. Yardage on punts and kick-offs. And an interception. He did a little bit of everything, and he looks like it.
The upside of these late Friday nights is knowing I will let myself sleep past 5 a.m. the following morning.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Awake.
After the stretch, I do a little meditation.
A little bit of sunrise trying to split the fog.
Finally, a little bit of time to sit and write.
$4.60.
Really should have packed a lunch. Can only eat so many of these tiny packets of jerky and nuts.
When someone really gets what you’re doing and wants to support you, you have to spend time thinking about how to ensure that no one blocks you from the blessing.
Today, everything feels like it’s aligning. The secret was saying it out loud.
Locked out.
Consistency.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Eight
Getting easier and easier every day. I’m proud of me.
Grapefruit sprinkled with a little bit of sugar reminds me of my grandfather.
Electrolyte water. Posture brace. Decaf. Grapes. Work-from-home Wednesday feels good.
The most clarity I’ve had in a long time. I just needed someone to tell me how to break this down. Projects 1, 2, & 3. I like things in threes. I know what needs to be done.
I miss our daily chats. The gift of that place was the people.
One new face, and that gives me more hope. The focus has to be on who and what is present.
The gap between where I am and where I want to be feels wide but crossable.
The second-to-last scoop of macaroni and cheese.
I take a raffle ticket. “I’m in a winning mood,” I say.
I need the ocean.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Seven
Fruit day.
I arrive a little early, but they’ve already begun. Stack of half-ton bins filled with Merlot. It is still foggy and cool. I look at each station. I can do that and that and that. Could there ever be a time when I can do any of it again?
Eating tacos with her inher office. A familiar space. It feels good to be back in here again.
I tell her that I just don’t have the same sense of urgency as everyone else. That could be a good or a bad thing.
Everything is a choice.
I can feel the difference.
Maple walnut fudge.
It is only natural to think back and wonder what could have been done differently. But then, you wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t done what you had done. And a new you would require new choices, new ways of being and doing.
The time passes anyway.
Stacking the week with friend dates was a great idea.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Six
Consistency.
But stronger than last time.
Another foggy morning. Another French press of decaf. Another pan of bacon.
Familiar faces. It’s getting real now.
Salad and sunlight. A quiet spot in the back.
A new favorite hangout.
November 1? November 1.
It is always so cold in this grocery store.
Hammock time.
I can almost see it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Five
Morning fog.
Clarity.
“You see with your mind.”
This is an example of the hard things.
One more homework assignment.
One more grocery list without a meal plan.
Two pieces of burnt pizza. A corner of sun on the deck. Two more burnt pieces and a nap in the hammock.
Fifty days.
Fifteen.
What died in here? Probably a snake.
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Four
When no sleep feels like being hungover.
I start to think I should have picked a different weekend but there is no better weekend. Every weekend is the same. Every weekend will feel like we’re just trying to cram it all in. There is no perfect moment.
Cheetos.
I can’t wait to take a nap.
Gratitudes for the space and the ability to make this happen. And there’s not too much screaming. 15 seems so old.
Two-bite cupcakes.
No more snake sightings as of yet.
The older they get, the shorter the years. You just become so much more aware of the passing of time. How much little of it there is. I am afraid of losing it, of wasting it, of there not being enough.
I tell them that for the first time, it’s actually starting to feel like too much.
I will regret this bowl of ice cream in the morning but for now…
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty-Three
Can’t stop thinking about snakes.
Validation.
Where is my cookie?
This is not going to work out as well as I thought it would, but I’ll figure it out?
We talk about the difference between freelancing and a “real job” and the beauty and ugliness of both. The grass is never greener.
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting something different.
A smile on the face.
One minute late.
Extensions?
Very much not prepared for this birthday party that’s happening tomorrow.