Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifty-Four
A good sleep-in.
Game-day outfit - red-and-white-striped sweater, flare jeans. Final day. A good day.
He starts the bacon. I find the box of coffeecake mix. I can’t find my appetite, though.
There are more pages than I thought there would be.
The best seat in the house is the scorer’s table. The most stressful seat in the house is…the scorer’s table.
In my notes, the word “scream.”
Better.
2nd place. 2-1 for this tournament. One down, one more to go.
I show her a picture of a painting of Louis XIV because when I meant he didn’t look like he’s from this century, this is what I meant.
Exhausted in the best way possible.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifty-Three
Why did I pick this one?
The sky is a weird color: blue and pink and orange. Like a fire sky.
He asks me if I felt the earthquake. No, but I never do. Then I hear the alerts for tsunami warnings. Seven-point-somethings are not small at all.
Hanger steak and french fries and a glass of wine for game-day lunch.
It feels like this is more complicated than it needs to be.
I know why she’s calling.
“…. We are ourselves good fortune.”
Exactly what we needed. Maybe we found the right words to unlock it.
Snapped the streak. Finally.
Back at it tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifty-Two
One more day.
Body weight only.
There’s only one slice left, so why not?
Knowing it won’t work, but trying anyway.
Distracted by the hummingbird feeding on the flower. How cool is it to see, in December, a flower in bloom and a hummingbird flitting about in the sunshine?
Giving oneself permission to let it run its course.
The right kind of soreness.
I tell him that sometimes all you can do is laugh. Because, after all, they’re here to have a good time.
It’s not the work, it’s the people.
It’s always about the people.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifty-One
Just one log.
A Tuesday that feels like a Wednesday.
To be called disingenuous.
Both. And. Compassionate but with boundaries.
Not enough time to sit and doodle and think. But in two more days.
I should have taken a walk today.
Change is change, and in this moment, it’s too early to know whether it’s good or bad.
Cold legs.
Tomato soup and grilled cheese.
Second-to-last slice of pecan pie. A few minutes of a baking show. A quick write-up for the paper. Trying to hold the vision.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Fifty
I will regret this lifting later today.
Only enough time for one log on the fire.
One more cup of decaf.
I remember that I can just take a walk. Perfect in the sun but a little chilly in the shade. I kick up the yellow and brown leaves as I walk past workers sitting beside their trucks.
Stop eating salad while standing up.
Have fun. At the end of the day, there has to be a little bit of fun.
So close. So close. Is there such a thing as a good loss? Yes.
Can never eat dinner after a game no matter how hungry I am.
I run my shoulder into the doorframe and feel those lifts that I knew I would regret.
Pie?