Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirty-One
D-Day.
It feels like 5 a.m., but it’s only 4.
Grateful for a little more light this early in the morning.
Underestimating the amount of time lost by all of this driving.
Trying to figure out how to receive treatments based on your potential football playoff schedule and the non-league basketball games that can be missed. Maybe this one week in late December? The sports med receptionist doesn’t seem surprised by this.
There are certain things about the suburbs that I miss.
Do I really want to go? I need to go.
They’ll come around.
Talkative today.
Dunks.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Thirty
Fall back.
Not only did I remember how to change the clock on the stove, but I also figured out how to switch it back from French to English.
Grateful for technology that lets me do my grocery shopping while sitting down.
Warm in the sun, so cool in the shade.
Only one cookie today. Just one.
Underwhelmed.
Wrong day, but it means I get to make the call.
“Are you living? Or are you existing?”
I hear Christmas music coming from the room. I think about how few of these are left. They call me up to the room. “I only have two more of these left; I’ve got to make the most of it,” he says. “Well, I’ll probably come home for the holidays.” “Probably?” she says. “I mean, I most likely will.”
Tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Nine
Not enough sleep.
I keep adding to the list.
Looks like someone didn’t get the memo.
I notice that the sign is taped over a plaque, and it’s a little thing that says a lot.
The dunks are fun to see, but watching teams get blown out by 50 and 60 points is not.
More tri-tip sandwiches.
Standing in front of a box of cookies for 10 hours and only eating two is an accomplishment.
She says that the shrimp and grits are on their way out. “Have I been looking at my watch that much,” I say.
“Make decisions from the perspective of who you want to become.”
Crawling into bed.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Eight
Finally Friday.
I think I hear her playing Christmas music in the bathroom.
Lots of decaf to keep my fingers warm.
A long overdue lunch. Olivia Brion Pinot Noir. Fried olives. Gnochetti. Cookies.
How do you escape the hamster wheel?
There are still possibilities.
What if I just give them what they want instead of trying to convince them that this is what they need?
We look at each other with one of those knowing looks.
Not sure how I thought we could write on paper in the rain. This will be an even longer night.
Lights out again. Some accident somewhere this time. Almost the whole town is without power. What a way to finish up your last game at home.
So, so cold. So, so wet.
It’s almost time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Seven
Colder and colder. Very ready for fire.
Slow start to the morning light.
Two coffees? No, just one. Out of those decaf pods.
But where are the bunny ears?
Bowls of salt-water taffy on the sideboard. Irresistible.
Phrases and notes on a thin stack of Post-it notes. I finger the thin slivers of paper throughout the day. I know what they say without having to read them.
Never on time.
Evolving.
Another bowl of chili. A reminder not to have too much too soon. Soup season has only just begun.
Halloween, as a parent of teens, is a lot different. Sometimes easier, sometimes more stressful. Less physically exhausting and more emotionally exhausting. But that’s just parenting in general.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Six
Late start. Cold room. 57 degrees inside. Bonus: less sweat.
Out of decaf. For a brief moment, I consider a little bit of regular coffee.
I’d rather be at home.
They say they enjoy the energy of the space and I understand what they mean by that.
Salad and chips and two mini Snickers bars.
I send ChatGPT a prompt over voice because why not? I just need to decide on the plan and stick to it.
What is the source of this insecurity?
Excited? Yes. Excited.
Small adjustments for big changes. Even my shooting has gotten better over the past few weeks.
He says it’s worth it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Five
Lights on.
Waiting to meditate.
Starting 5.
Another men’s oxford.
Another beautiful sunrise in wine country. Sunlight filters through the morning fog. A few hot air balloons in the distance. 41 degrees.
Freezing cold in here, and only regular coffee.
Another blow. A quick body count. A text to the group. A few helpful responses. Freak out over.
Care of the body.
“The audacity of self-belief.”
Moving from respect toward like.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Four
Monday, bloody Monday.
Almost fall asleep during meditation.
Exciting for weather that warrants a thin turtleneck. Time to think about when to have the firewood delivered.
Electrolyte water and decaf and a naked drink while waiting for the sun to rise.
Clarity. Commitment. Consideration. Consistency. Courage. Confidence.
“Dream big dreams.”
“Dare to move forward.”
Less anxious. More excited.
It will be different because I am different.
Shivers. Where’s that firewood?
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Three
Sunrise yoga.
I found the pods.
And so it’s done.
Something about this men’s oxford and jeans.
Two more domains.
Who would have though you could—or should—use a spreadsheet for this?!
Sunshowers. Unexpected but welcome.
He says he could tell I was excited. I tell him that it’s just so much fun to be on these calls with other women coaches.
So tenderheaded his toes are curling.
Creatures of habit.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-Two
Much to be done.
Still no decaf. I begin to plot my morning with the assurance I’ll have time to swing by the market to pay $4.60 for a large cup of coffee.
Meal plan done. Groceries ordered and set to be delivered. Now, a little bit of time to breathe.
I am not late after all.
“She detested fashionable books and knew that time would never allow her to keep up to date.”
It is short and sweet but feels incomplete—nevertheless, a good way to spend a few hours in the shade.
I wonder if anyone else feels this way or thinks these things. I sense the shortness of time that’s left. I am thinking too far ahead.
But what’s with the sneakers and the socks?
Losing light.
I should have just driven myself; I’m not getting any sleep anyway.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-One
Up before the alarm but slow to slide out from beneath the warmth.
Trying to find things in the dark.
Pacing around the kitchen, trying to figure out what could replace the missing decaf. Nothing.
I never think of this place but it’s kind of perfect.
Kids PB & J. I tell her it’s my go-to when I don’t really have an appetite but need to eat something. And it’s also the cheapest sandwich you can order from Sunshine.
My questions are probably not relevant, but they keep popping into my head.
Not fitting in anywhere.
I didn’t realize they were related.
You can feel it on a night like tonight.
We can do better, though, can’t we?
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-One
New movements.
Sunlight.
No more decaf pods. I slid her Birkenstocks over my hiking socks and mentally prepare for the walk inside the store.
Hot water with lemon. No appetite.
Professional ambition?
You can see what you want to see.
Last home game. That means it’s almost time now.
I take it back.
I tell them that they like high school. But I knew they would.
Should have gotten a cheeseburger. Lettuce wrap. Grilled onions. Bacon. Special sauce. Ketchup. Mustard. Pickles.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty-One
Fogbound.
Numb fingers. It’s not even that cold yet.
Trusting my own method of recovery.
Sun on skin and fresh air.
Chainsaws and voices in the distance.
We talk about books that we go back to over and over again when we need a bit of inspiration to keep going: the first chapter of East of Eden, any of my favorite shorts by Alice Munro, Octavia Butler, a play by Tennessee Williams.
“When I discover who I am, I’ll be free.” ― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man\
Less than two weeks.
Blank space.
Affirmations.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Twenty
“Last round, best round.”
This one is too easy now, which is a good thing.
Maybe just one more day?
I take my decaf and journal to the chair and stare out at the trees without writing a word or taking a sip. I just look out into the distance.
When you can feel it in your body.
Ticking boxes.
““When seeking guidance, don't ever listen to the tiny-hearted.” ― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves
He says that he sounds like he’ll be a good partner. I think he will be, too. This is going to be a good year. We’re building the right team.
Smothered pork chops and mashed potatoes. No one is eating the squash.
They’ll be home by midnight.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Nineteen
Dark and quiet.
As I twist, I watch as the sun begins to turn the tops of the trees yellow-green.
I snore myself awake while in Savasana. That’s how I know I’m tired.
They say that the second one was scarier than the first. That’s usually hard to do. I don’t think I’ll be watching it, though.
“Release the shame you feel when resting. It does not belong to you.” ― Tricia Hersey, Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto
I needed that four-hour nap.
One more day.
What can be squirreled away?
Someone had to lose.
“You have to expect things of yourself before you can do them.” – Michael Jordan.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Eighteen
Okay.
Very dark. A group of 13-year-olds with no real direction from the teacher. It will work itself out, I suppose.
When I see the bleachers set up, that’s when I know this pet parade is a big deal.
One of the best decisions I’ve made since living here.
We could offer feedback, but then again, we will never have to do this again.
So tired.
Another one of those empty-nester kind of nights. A split of tomatoes and burrata, steak frites, and a bottle of Burgundy.
These kids never cease to amaze me. Watching them grow in their skills and ability, as well as their confidence on stage over these years is quite a gift.
Big moon.
I already know I need one more day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Seventeen
Better late than never.
Daydreaming about morning fires.
He gets it. Maybe more than the others, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.
I decide on “Last August” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. She says she’s curious about this one. “It feels achievable,” I say.
She said she was hoping I would get more cookbooks. Did I make anything out of the ones I just had?
Sun.
A little bit of peace.
Tired. So tired.
What is nature, and what is nurture? Is it too late to nurture out some of the nature?
Tomorrow is going to be a long day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixteen
“Last round, best round.” I hear her voice in my sleep.
Maybe it’s cool enough for me not to sweat.
The sun through the fog is blindly bright but it casts a holy glow over everything.
I knew I should have just stayed home.
Leftover Italian wedding soup for lunch. Quiet except for the sound of my fingernails on the keyboard.
Driveway littered with browning oak leaves.
Friday night football on a Thursday. Everything feels just a little weird.
Supermoon hanging in the sky.
The wind is picking up. The power is already off in the towns just up the hill. We shouldn’t be affected, but we’re so close, you never know.
Still up.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifteen
In the dream, she has a giant parmesan wheel, and she cuts me a wedge.
Still very dark.
An explosion of orange out of nowhere. And I feel drops of rain. These two things don’t seem like they should go together.
This chair. This cup with hot decaf. This gray and moody sky. This quiet.
Where did all the time go?
So much moving around of words. How else can we say the same thing over and over and over again?
“The audacity of self-belief.”
I tell them they need to go to bed now. “It’s only 8:30!” they say. Oh, so it is.
These knees.
Big, big moon.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fourteen
I hear him moving around, but it’s so dark. And I know it’s not quite time for me to get up yet. It feels too early.
3:44 a.m. If I don’t think about how I won’t fall asleep, I will fall asleep.
Making time for two meditations.
The perfect foggy October morning. Spooky season. I start to make a list of all the scary movies I want to watch.
The irony of the follow.
Pineapple does make my tongue hurt.
And with that, I think it’s time to pack up and head home.
A more comfortable evening in the gym.
It’s best to deal with the decision-makers first.
Two pot pies are not enough.