Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixty-Nine
If I don’t do it, I will think about it for the rest of the day.
The best part of morning practices is being there before everyone else, drinking decaf, and blasting Incubus and Smashing Pumpkins.
Almost eight.
The older I get, the more car-sick I get. I remember that I must do this drive in just a few short weeks.
The part of the drive on Highway 1 where you finally see the ocean crashing against the shore and the craggy thumbs thrusting from beneath the surface of the dark waters.
“You used to do the girl’s program at St. Helena, right?” “I still do,” I say with a smile.
I look in the back seat and don’t see my bag. I see everything else but my bag. I take a step inside the motel room and then step right back out and sit in the car. And I had just said that the room number was lucky. I just need to get to the water.
She says that she’s surprised that I was able to find underwear, that it’s always the first thing to go on the wall.
Who are the people rating this at 4.5 stars?
Can feel it. But there are no words for it yet. I won’t rush its formation. All things in due time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixty-Eight
Slow.
First hours of the first day. Shower. Oil. Decaf.
He tells me that I won’t miss the group. Just drive about a quarter of a mile, and I should see them.
She and I end up sticking together for the hike. We talk and talk until we get to the point where we begin to climb. I tell her that this is my first time at this park, too, even after four years. Sometimes it is so hard to be a tourist in your own town.
So many lady bugs my skin begins to crawl. Never seen such a thing. Hundreds, probably thousands of them on logs and branches and leaves that line the path. “They’re good luck,” she says.
I tell her that this morning, I wrote in my journal how I was so close to this age that at one time seemed so far away.
“What would 40-year-old you tell 27-year-old me?” “Learn how to set boundaries sooner than later. Nothing is permanent. Life is a series of choices—make the hard decision; what comes after is easier than you think. The hardest part is just making the decision.”
Trust your gut.
The hike ends right as the rain begins to drip onto our eyelashes and cheeks.
Nature takes it time, yet everything is accomplished.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixty-Seven
Keeping my eyes closed.
Skipping the workout to rest the body.
Everyone had the same idea, she says. If we stay focused, we can be in and out of here quickly.
Can barely keep my eyes open on the way back home. It’s not even noon yet.
Trying to journal but too tired to find the words.
Making peace with the fact that all of the things I thought I would do during the break are not going to happen.
More rain.
Another nap.
Christmas Eve Eve.
She asks me if we have the stuff to hang the stockings. We do. I just haven’t done it yet.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixty-Six
I can do it.
The challenge of something new. The way the body shakes. The way the mind needs to focus.
Losing time while trying to find what has been lost.
Tumeric latte and a frittata. She says she’s been trying to catch my eye. Wants to understand how I got my hair this way. And where do I live? Here. Yep. Here.
Remembering to put the chicken into the Instapot for tacos.
Last year? A wonder we lost by only 13 points.
I tell him that I think tonight I might need to break my caffeine fast. “If I’m asking them to have energy, I need to bring some energy, too.”
I turn on my 90’s and 2000’s alternative playlist and sip on a dirty chai while setting up the gym. “11 a.m.” by Incubus. Pushing the switch to raise the backboards.
A lot of smiles and laughter. I don’t stop the conversations. This is good. Let it carry.
31-28. A few more minutes to go. I think we’re going to do it. I think it’s going to happen.
Now, tomorrow, we can really party.
Ten.Two Thousand, Three Hundred & Sixty-Five
Body says to rest today.
But I feel the lack of energy. And I’m out of decaf pods for the placebo effect.
Mind is moving slow, slow, slow.
Krug is never a bad idea.
Who knew scratch-offs would be the hot ticket item for the white elephant? I end up with a set of whisky glasses into which I’ll pour crisp white wine for fireside reading because sometimes you don’t need to follow any rules.
Still mulling over what the goal of the afternoon will be. Just gotta go with my gut.
What is a pathway to joy? Gratitude? Sleep? A combination of both.
He asks me if we had an intervention. Kind of.
The timing of things.
One more day and then some real days of rest.