Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Sixty-Three
Snooze.
The way the sun weaves its way between the trees.
Hello, fox friend. Every year, at this time of year, I find a fox friend.
I can feel it in my spirit.
She tells me I just need to make that vision board, write it all down, and ease the overwhelm.
The man from Canada tells me I’m brave for not using a pour spout. What’s really brave is that I’m pouring red wine while wearing a white dress.
I think I’m right, but this is not the time and the place to prove it.
Oh, no. I’m going to be trapped here.
Keeping my shoes off today.
“Known as the strategists of the animal kingdom, foxes represent problem-solving, quiet observation, and calculated risk-taking.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Sixty-Two
No bird song just yet.
Later and later and later.
I could write a list of everything I’m thinking of, but seeing it all on paper wouldn’t keep the overwhelm at bay.
Blue sky. Sunshine. An open road.
“I like fresh air. It’s the only air I breathe.”
She asks us how we like the new office. I let my silence be the answer.
Questions about belly buttons.
The Role of Emotional Intelligence in Coaching.
I missed it.
And then you wonder, what is it all really for?
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Sixty-One
Better sleep.
Moving way too slowly.
There seems to be no end to the yawning.
She asks me if I can go back to writing more. Maybe. Change just feels hard at the moment.
What are we going to do about this umbrella situation?
Presence.
Don’t just go through the motions.
Why? Why? Why?
The Role of Emotional Intelligence in Coaching.
This happened the night before as well: I’m drifting between consciousness and sleep and can’t tell if I’m dreaming or awake. And that’s how I know I better get myself to bed.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Sixty
Still can’t sleep.
I see two circles in Terminal 2 and 1 circle still near the airport entrance.
Ur funny
Too anxious to lie in bed, so I get ready for the day.
It’s quiet. So quiet. So, so quiet. I should have taken another day off.
“Your hesitation isn’t wisdom — it’s fear wearing a thinking cap.”
“Chew the meat, spit out the bone.”
Did I really just spend four hours reading next week’s chapters instead of this week?
I won’t make it if I don’t take a shower to wake me up.
Ice cream for the reward.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Nine
When will I sleep again?
Yes, I know it takes me longer to get ready these days.
She asks me if I have my Juneteenth ties and wares. I think she’s confused me for someone else. But now I have a Juneteenth tie.
Black cod and vegetables at a BBQ joint
Oh captain, my captain.
All I can think about is the stack of statistics homework waiting for me on Sunday.
I wonder what it must feel like to be a normal person who doesn’t think about their car flipping into the water every time they go over a bridge.
The water of the bay is choppy. Murky waters cresting and crashing. Dangerous waters.
I just need a morning off.
Whatever is happening in the backseat is making me laugh so hard my stomach hurts.
Still can’t sleep.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Eight
These birds.
A detour onto the trail because the sunrise is so good.
Quietly filling balloons with helium from the tank. Sunlight coming through the window. Counting down.
The six of us at the community table. Coffees and lemonades. She gets an order of French toast with a side of sweet potato fries. A Belgian waffle with strawberries and extra whipped cream. Waiting for everyone to wake up.
She sets the receipt and card back onto the table and whispers, “Sir, you have a beautiful family.”
I should really take a nap. I really need to take a nap.
Fanning myself with the program to keep the sweat at bay.
There are so many more words I wanted to write, but in this moment, this is all I’ve got.
It’s not the end, but everything will change.
They say that they don’t think there’s a better place we could’ve raised our kids. I’d have to agree.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Seven
Last day of the work week.
A quick set for the arms and core.
I tell her that it’s the environment. Sensory overload almost every day. Trapped.
More questions than answers.
Everyone keeps asking me how I feel. How am I supposed to feel? My answer doesn’t seem to be what everyone imagines it should be.
Impossible to focus.
We decide that it’s better to roast a bit in the sun than to sit inside.
I tell her that I wasn’t trying to be a hammer today; I wanted to be more like a high five.
She realizes that we will not get a break from basketball.
He’s wearing cowboy boots with his scrubs.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Six
Who needs an alarm when the squawking jays and turkeys go wild at 5:30 a.m.?
Fogged in. I wanted a light-filled start to the day.
Now that I have it, I wonder how long it’ll take before I actually write in it.
Finding the beauty anyway.
Today is a sitting day. I think I need to take a break from standing.
The same commercials on repeat.
The best compliment.
The cards told me to pay attention to the signs. This is one of them.
Wait. Where did broken umbrellas go? Where is Phil? How are we going to eat outside now without a fan of shade? I really need to buy an umbrella tonight.
It shouldn’t be this hard.
Ten.Two Thousad, Six Hundred & Fifty-Five
Bright sun. A good sign on shoot day.
I misjudged the morning temperatures and am sweaty before 9 a.m.
My legs. I want to lie on the floor and not move. We must demand access to a golf cart.
Who ate my lunch?
Three down, which means there should be at least four, but we only have two.
He says that he’s into astrology and Rococo; he is warm and innocent and open and deep. I dig.
It’s an odd assortment of folks.
Listening to the way she speaks about this, you remember that we could have done so much more.
Car metaphors while drinking wine on a low-slung couch. The kind of Napa Valley scene outsiders think you live on the regular.
No more words. Peopled out.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Four
Gratitude for this morning light.
What the cards say: don’t be afraid of your power; use your power; trust your intuition.
Tiny ripples across the water.
All I can think about is that there’s still more statistics homework to do.
I’d rather be outside.
Digging, digging, digging. I find everything but the one thing I really want.
I open up the slats of the blinds. It’s a desperate attempt to hold onto time. Can I sneak in a few more minutes of light? A few more minutes of life?
“Harsh self-criticism activates the sympathetic nervous system (fight/flight) and elevates stress hormones. Self-compassion, on the other hand, triggers the mammalian caregiving system and hormones of affiliation and love such as oxytocin.”
― Marc Brackett, Permission to Feel: The Power of Emotional Intelligence to Achieve Well-Being and SuccessThe last bit of ice cream.
The end is coming.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Three
When sleeping in is waking up at 6 a.m.
Tahitian Vanilla.
Yes. I want to romanticize my life.
He reminds me that there are many different paths. A bite of wisdom I didn’t realize I was hungry for.
I look down at the time and realize that more than two hours have passed. That’s a good thing.
She says she wants to romanticize her life.
The colors in this one.
Schramsberg and fried chicken tenders.
Sidewalk. Sunshine. Summer breeze.
Fever Dreams.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-Two
Slow pace, deep breaths.
You should have your beliefs and thoughts challenged; otherwise, there is no growth.
They must live their life in a perpetual state of panic.
Sunlight through the window.
Fried chicken and Brut Rosé. Key Lime pie and decaf. Conversation and laughter.
Trying to envision that little slice of pie that will remain after this is all done. Almost there. We’re almost there.
I wish there could be more joy in these moments.
Hot honey pepperoni.
Do we think big enough?
Yes, more of this please.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty-One
4:30 a.m. Rain.
5:19 a.m. I already know what her message says. I lay in bed a little longer, listening to the rain taptaptap on the roof.
A mixture of release and more stress.
I owe her a phone call, but I can’t seem to squeeze in the minutes.
Just me, myself, and I.
Is it weird that I want to study my next chapter of statistics?
Every minute after 3 p.m. here is torture.
She says she has an eye twitch. I was there not too long ago.
What am I thinking about? Everything.
Realness.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Fifty
Cool, cool morning.
Stretches of bumpy pink clouds hover over the ridge.
I stand in the middle of the parking lot and watch a red-tailed hawk fly from tree to tree. But he didn’t drop a feather for me.
Hot tea.
Not the sandwich boards again.
We’re all on the Titanic. We know the water is coming in, but we still have a little more time.
At least we can eat in the sunshine today.
The sound of rain crushing the rooftop.
I forgot my speaker.
Je te lasserai des mots = I will leave you words
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Nine
A recitation of phrases to get me up and out.
I turn my mat towards the windows so I can watch the sun rise while I sweat.
All I’m missing is the dill. But I’ve taken the last of the roasted chicken.
At least I have them.
Is this his passive way of telling me that I have to come to this dinner?
When you’re given the right words at a moment when you are questioning everything.
Your gut is always right, even when you don’t want to believe it is.
But why? There’s a bigger, deeper reason for all of this that goes beyond the normal.
The last time I wrote one of these was on April 6. What happened in between? So many things that I cannot remember.
What’s the likelihood they are still here?
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Eight
1:11 a.m.
I add 40 more minutes to the alarm.
Loud turkey calls.
Now, I want to each a slice of porchetta.
I say I’m going to eat all of the Reese’s, but instead I eat all of the jellybeans.
What do we do now?
No homework due today, but a quiz in two days time.
Maybe tomorrow is the day.
This drive at golden hour is always breathtaking. The colors of the sky and the shades of green and gray of the mountains.
Timing.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Seven
Setting a second alarm.
Really gotta give this leg some more attention.
Probability.
Conformity, compliance, obedience.
I think my jeans might melt onto my legs.
“If you are still in one place, then you never move.” / “It’s not success if it’s not shareable.” / “I’m living in a body that tells me two things at once.” - José Andrés
“They didn’t see it for me, but I see it for me.”
Ham, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, asparagus. Spring.
Can’t control Mother Nature.
Anthony Bourdain’s “Les Halles Cookbook”
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Six
Would you believe it? A turkey call to wake me up.
I remember that I’m back on the clock today which means I must get out of bed and dressed and down to breakfast on time. I hear the bell ringing, letting me know I have 15 more minutes before breakfast is served.
I am the first one down; there are not many of us left today. I am tempted by a plate of fluffy banana oatmeal pancakes but stick with fruit, chicken sausage, and coconut yogurt with granola. Coffee.
I join them today and they tell me they’ve been painting together for the last few days, and that they feel like old friends, and that they are certain they are getting on Nino’s nerves. I have to leave for a call as they talk about living during the terror of the Golden State Killer.
Technical issues.
I buy a large bundle of sage, three notecards, and three milagros: a heart, an evil eye, and a key.
More emails, but in the sun, with a breeze, and a heavy mug filled with decaf.
One last meal: roasted salmon, salad with a lemon vinaigrette, green rice, bean salad. Black-eyed Susan cookie. A second helping of green rice and bean salad.
Protecting energy.
He asks me where I was. I tell him I needed a bit of time away and some quiet. “That’s valid,” he says.
I promise them that we’re not having pizza again for at least three weeks.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Five
I lift the curtain to see how much light there is; I’m worried about encountering animals here if I’m out too early.
Not all sunrises are the same.
Avocado toast. Bacon. Fruit. Coconut milk and granola. Journal. Fireplace.
I sit and think while she works on my fingers. I can’t hold anything; there is nothing to watch. I can only be.
Ginger shrimp, ginger and garlic green beans and peppers, rice, salad with orange and almonds, and tamarind. Coconut macaroon. I do a little shimmy in my chair. Full but not weighed down.
Just want to keep slowing down time.
Five pages by hand.
Legs straight out in front of me. Moving the chaise to be partially in the sun and partially in the shade. Finishing a book. Pure bliss.
“The land was pointed out ot me from the road, which ran along the side of the hill above it, and right away I wanted to buy it. If the agent had spoken to me of the disadvantages, I would not have heard him at that moment. I was numbed by the beauty of what I saw: a long valley of blood-red vineyards, half flooded with late summer rain; in the distance, yellow fields choked with weeds and thistles and behind them a forest covering a hillside; in the middle of the valley, higher than the fields, the ruin of a farhmouse: a mulberry tree grew up thorugh the broken stone of its garden wall, and nearby, theshadow of an ancient pear tree lay across the carpet of brown, rotted fruit on the ground.” - “The House Plans”, The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis
Urfa spice on the hanger steak with a Piquillo sauce. The roasted kabocha squash, polenta, and salad with a vinaigrette. Seconds of steak and polenta, with a drizzle of Piquillo sauce. Lemon olive oil cake for dessert.
Ten.Two Thousand, Six Hundred & Forty-Five
Today’s the day.
I take my time getting out of the door, which is a bonus, because it means that I am walking in the daylight.
Her face and her voice and her laugh. Has it really been seven years since we last saw each other in person. The world has changed so much since then.
First stop: the ocean.
Collected shorty stories by Lydia Davis while listening to the waves crash. Young women8 who look they should be in school walking along the shore line. But surely, if I lived here, I’d skip, too.
Grocery store sushi because I forgot to eat breakfast.
A hug from him in the main office.
A hug from her, our first time meeting each other in person, in the dining hall before I pile on more chicken and chimichurri onto my plate.
I slide scoops of chocolate pot de creme with a coconut whipped cream into my mouth and text her that the food is still a 10 out of 10.
A little bag of caramel corn for a late night snack.