Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Nine
I don’t like this not-walking-in-the-morning thing.
She asks me how my week was. I don’t think we even have enough time to cover all that happened.
But yes. How do I feel?
The weight of Mom Guilt.
Maybe he could see on my face that I didn’t have it in me for one of his inappropriate jokes.
Looking out the window and watching the rain fall. Whatever tree this is, the red one, glows even more.
Present for who and what is there.
I wonder if someone else had delivered the message, would it have gone differently?
I’ve missed this.
Graded? A scramble for points. Welp.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Eight
The first morning that really feels dark.
Drinking a cup of coffee in the back seat as I get a ride to my car at the school. She rushes me and her brother out of the car. He says that she always speeds away as soon as he gets out of the car.
The leaves are really leave-ing today.
Early enough to have time to drink a cup of coffee on the balcony. I feel like I have a little secret.
I look at the chart and wonder if I will ever catch up.
It’s the first time I think he’s ever asked me what’s wrong — maybe the first time I’ve been short with him.
Our little trio on a walk in the vineyard. The security guard is eyeing us.
Eating tiny grapes off of the tiny clusters left on the vine.
Oh yeah, that clock doesn’t work.
She says he’s such a great addition. I’m glad she feels the same.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Seven
The real work is allowing myself to rest.
He told me he would eat hard-boiled eggs. I make eight. He takes none.
Progress.
She suggests that I go scream in my car.
A lunch reservation for a place that isn’t open for lunch.
“You can text me anytime you want.” No, thank you.
“What kind of Mickey Mouse operation is this?” I say this to myself in her voice way too many times a day.
Now I know the real reason.
Three coaches in the gym make so much difference.
It’s so loud in here, it feels like a playoff game. I’ll need to remember that when we come to play basketball here this year.
Why does it have to be hard?
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Six
A slow start.
Coffee in my own tiny pinch-pot mug.
I wonder sometimes if I’m doing too much, but then I think back to my conversation with him about how this is really like building a business. I’m always trying to convert people into fans.
I realize, far too late, that I accidentally took the Trinity Road option. And in 3-inch espadrilles.
It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, but the parking lot is already full.
They have definitely never seen this many Black women in this restaurant before.
She asks me if I met some new people: I found a Black Tarot Deck, a money woman, a mortgage broker, a model in Napa I can call for my work shoots, a potential new basketball coach, a Pilates instructor, strength training enthusiasts, and potters. So, yeah, I think I filled my basket.
Another one bites the dust.
Control the cotrollables.
“Success is not a continuum…” - Nick Saban
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Five
Reminding myself that it’s okay to rest.
Thank goodness my water bottle is exactly where I thought it was.
I’m the first one in the office, so I set my stuff down and head to the break room to grab a cup of coffee. The stone steps are wet, and sunlight beams through the trees. I walk through the tasting room doors to the Juliette balcony and stare out over the vineyards.
I tell her that I learned that he’s a pure, genuine soul.
Who’s using the other $3,000?
I check the date. Oh yes, that makes sense.
His first team dinner.
Women in wine.
“You have to work somewhere that works for you.”
“WHAT BROUGHT ME HERE?”
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Four
I’m never gonna catch up from that day with only three hours of sleep.
Riding in the backseat on the way to school. Smiling on the inside while drinking coffee.
Misty Napa Valley morning. If this ever gets old, it will be a problem.
She asks me if I think I’ll keep coaching after this year. I never know.
Headache. Hot tea. It’s 80-something outside but it’s cold inside.
It’s just us two. We talk a bit about strategy, then I suggest we go to Gott’s for a shake. He asks if they make root beer floats.
I could let myself ruminate and get stuck on this, or I can start making a plan for how we move forward.
Being scared to go all in.
“Action breeds clarity.”
Vanilla milkshake with malt and caramel.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Three
There’s not supposed to be an alarm going off right now.
A little more time.
Hot coffee on the back patio, listening to the water feature and watching the ripples in the water in the canal behind the house.
Tiny lizards.
Seashell hunting.
This is beautiful, but I love my Pacific Coast more.
“Dreams are central to the history of epistemology because they are a nightly reminder that we are inhabited by otherness at our core.” - An Alphabet for Dreamers
The juicy orange.
He says to pick the Dom or the Cristal because that’s all he has that goes with the sea bass, but I choose the Moët because we should wait for a few others who might appreciate it, too.
Bogle on Netflix.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-Two
So afraid of missing my alarm that I end up not really sleeping anyway.
I still can’t find my glasses.
He’s early. He clearly takes this very seriously. And he’s not talking, so I give him five stars.
When you get to the airport at 4 a.m. and have to wait until 4:30 a.m. for Peet’s to open, then you take a sip of your coffee and realize it doesn’t even taste good.
You know you’re not in California anymore when you walk by three airport bars, candy shops, fried chicken, burgers, Italian beefs, and have to buy a salad from the Home Run Inn pizza stand.
Empty threats.
I want to sleep, but I also want to finish this paper, so I ask for another cup of complimentary airplane coffee, which tastes much better than the Peet’s I paid for, and try to write.
Just the four of us.
This is a really nice view.
Soft water.
It feels like home even though I’ve never been here before.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy-One
Okay. This morning is really the last one. But I kind of like these short, early-morning talks.
Today is the real rest day.
All of the options are less than ideal, but which one will make you less angry?
Sad. Just sad. Sad for her. Sad for the state of things in this place. Not really worth it.
The first good sign is that he’s on time.
He’s painting his wall, cleaning up the scuff marks, and camouflaging areas where the drywall had been pulled away. We talk about the plants on his windowsill and how they’ve invited the spiders.
Details.
Magnums of Billecart. Guigal. Sauvignon musque clone, of course. Tench family since 1977. String lights and tiny candles. Familiaf faces and new ones. The guy who makes the nachos. Yes, more of this please.
Oh, this is what I have missed about Napa Valley — about being in wine in Napa Valley. And aren’t we the luckiest?
Maybe I can get 3 hours of sleep. Maybe 2.
Ten. Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventy
Last 6 a.m. practice of the season, I say as encouragement for him to get moving.
Not budging.
So many headlights heading our direction, so early in the morning.
I tell her that I keep thinking that I’m one conversation away from changing my life.
Rolling my eyes on the inside.
Done in time to join them for lunch, thank goodness.
I ask him if he ever thought that when he grew up, he’d spend his time deciding whether the paper should be white or cream.
Bring all the good vibes.
Numbers.
I never feel it while I’m doing it—it’s always after.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Nine
These weird dream scenes. No rest.
I remember my flashlight this time.
Voice memos on the morning drive.
She tells me that we can recreate the Yung Lean video. I promise her it will go viral. It would be so funny.
A parent practice?
Finally, the announcement.
We’re just going to pretend like he didn’t make this mistake. I giggle to myself.
He says it’s too early to lose my voice. I need it for basketball.
Where has this team been all season?
I’m going to have to tell her that I still haven’t had the conversation yet.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Eight
Little snippets of dreams. Driving north through Milwaukee, only to realize we should have been heading south to Los Angeles. Work conversations.
I don’t think I’m sleeping well without my mouthguard. Where in the world is it?
It’s so dark, I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see the road.
The Spotify DJ begins the set with “Chihiro,” and I turn it up. This is the only song that, when it comes on, you turn it up.
Yes, she’s right. We live in a beautiful place. Mornings are like walking through a series of paintings. Some people’s commute is through the industrial streets of Milwaukee. We have mountains and hot air balloons.
He asks me if I’m okay. Yes. Are you really? Yes.
Witches on retainer.
Last week before I get a little break.
It’s like there’s no room for truth.
All that work, and now I finally have a copy in my hands. Not ready yet, but so close.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Seven
A little bit of morning light.
Warm, orangey glow in the living room. I tell her I know it’s going to be hot based on the color of the light.
Man, I need another massage. Or a float. Or both.
Hank Hill and his complicated relationship with his father and son.
Trying not to think of how many hours of the day are left, and instead just live them.
Closet clean-out.
Headache nap.
On the other side of the card, the word “Truth.”
Is it the contacts? Is it just my eyes? A combination of both?
28 days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Six
Saturday. I need more sleep.
Already so warm.
I pick the community table and set out the packets. A cup of half-caff-half-decaf and a bacon-and-cheddar scone.
He’s excited. She’s excited. I’m excited. We’re all excited, and that means it’s going to be another good season. Twenty-nine days.
Prepared, selfless, joyful.
This is the most I’ve seen him all week. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed him. He’s here, but he’s not here.
Outlining the fake case I need to create. I choose Hank Hill. Surely, there’s enough to work with here.
They’re off the menu, but she says she’ll make them for me anyway. Sweating while drinking rosé and eating salad. Even in the shade, there’s not much respite.
Nap.
What in the what?
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Five
Consistency.
Watching the color of the morning.
I round the curve, and that last bit of fog is thinning, and the sunrise is breaking through the trees, and it looks like a dream. Or like a Thomas Cole painting.
He’s a no-show again, and that means I need to find another option.
Oooops.
I leave the meeting less angry than I thought I would be, which adds to my good mood when I meet him for lunch. Pulled mozzarella and insalata de pollo. A lemonade. It’s been too long.
I stop in the olive oil shop to buy oil and vinegar for my lunch salads—and to talk about the kid. A dad walks in, overhears me talking about my basketball team, and says I need to convince his daughter to play. I walk through the screen door, feeling full of gratitude.
This isn't anything I ever dreamed of for myself, but I love so much of it.
I tell him that all of my meetings went so well today. Just great, really.
Really can’t beat these football sunsets.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Four
October 1.
Core and very slow walk. Reminding myself that the only way to get better is to actually rest.
The light!
I stop to get a salad. I start to walk up and see a line of people. Well, it’s Thursday, and it’s after 8:30 in the morning. I turn around and decide there’s no time to wait.
Better remember to take off the pink Crocs.
Practice just enough to leave them wanting more. Pockets of motivation. Start from where they are. Don’t obsess over the gap. Make commitments instead of goals. Process. How do we create an environment where the game teaches the game?
He really hates this idea.
I didn’t think they would tell us the name. But they have. And we have a timeframe, and I don’t know if I feel better or worse.
Now that it’s Thursday, it feels like Wednesday.
Ugh.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Three
Rest day.
I miss this kind of open morning time when I used to start my days with ease.
More sushi. Keep it light.
Down an amigo today.
Not seeing what you want, but hoping it comes at some point.
Actually, this is what I enjoy doing the most.
His excitement about it all makes me excited too.
The problem is, it doesn’t hurt when I’m doing it. It’s only after.
Another bowl of ice cream — but a smaller one.
Tomorrow is already October.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-Two
I’m going to get out of bed on time today.
If the sale of the store means a better-functioning POS, then I’m here for that, too.
More pink?
Building heat.
A little bit of pleasure from three women telling a man that it’s incredibly offensive to tell a woman to smile more.
One dead bird. Two malfunctioning computer screens.
I thought I was coming as a spectator, but here I am behind the scorer’s table, doing the books for the middle school game. The ref asks me if I’m still coaching basketball. Yes, of course. He tells me I’m going to have a good group of players coming in next year.
I’ve seen these faces before.
Peanut Butter Campfire.
Tongue still feels burnt.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty-One
Headache.
I don’t wanna. But I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.
“I train like I’ve never won. And I compete like I’ve never lost.” - Eileen Gu
OMG. It’s after 8 a.m., and I’m still not in the shower yet.
She says that this is the latest I’ve ever shown up to work. But I had a headache. I almost didn’t want to come at all.
Lunchtime is the best time.
I don’t even know what to say.
But you’re lying.
Dinner in the Grove. 2017 J. Schram Rosé; 2011 J. Schram Rosé; 2017 J. Schram Blancs; 2007 J. Schram, Late Disgorged; 2017 J. Schram Noirs; 2004 Schram Reserve, Late Disgorged; 2023 J. Davies Estate, Cabernet Sauvignon, Diamond Mountain; 2007 J. Davies Estate, Cabernet Sauvignon, Diamond Mountain; 2022 J. Davies Estate “Jaime”, Cabernet Sauvignon, Diamond Mountain; 2012 J. Davies Estate “Jaime”, Cabernet Sauvignon, Diamond Mountain
I should skip the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.
Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixty
A runny nose?!
I bet someone in the stadium breathed on me.
Those two bird body prints in the window.
Bone broth for sipping.
I open up my palms, tell him he’s holding these gifts, and that he just needs to take them.
Back to bed for a nap, trying to sleep this cold away.
Wishing for a second Saturday. Reminding myself that I have some time away coming soon; save the PTO for another day.
Will they realize we didn’t get the groceries today?
Are we shocked? Yes. And no.
Halloween Baking Championship.