Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty-One

1. I wake up after a dream with a burger patty the size of a plate, topped with ketchup, shoestring fries on the side. I am eating it with a fork.

2. Let’s hope the drain-o worked last night.

3. Dark, dark, morning. Where is the light?

4. Oh, wait, it’s Thursday. I’ll clean today. The sun is coming.

5. The coolness of the slate. The philodendron curling up in the sun.

6. They eat the leftover wings and I grab the ribs and sauce and go to my room. .

7. I find the light.

8. I remember that there’s still soup from night before so I pull out the pot and warm that instead. No work to do after all.

9. I think about conversation. About lineage, about protecting ourselves through instinct, about the truth that you don’t have to like everyone and everyone will not like you but that you can still respect one another’s work. We talked about Patreon, and other projects and ideas, about how children make you older that you intended to be.

10. I fight the urge to fall asleep too soon.

Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty

1. I’ll get up when the waves stop.

2. Steel cut oats simmered slow with butter and brown sugar. Lemon water.

3. Crusty stuff on my left eye which makes sense because it is on the left side of my throat that I feel the drainage and the left ear that keeps making that crackling sound.

4. I’m glad I left the house. Sun. So much sun and Mt. Diablo. In the next house, I want to see it from the window.

5. One large pot of ginger and lemon tea. I sweeten my cup with honey from her hives.

6. Tonight’s dinner already on the stove: the smell of onions and celery and garlic and carrots, bay leaf and rosemary and thyme.

7. The way the sun is hitting the pink petals. I am mesmerized.

8. I just want this to go to whomever it belongs.

9. Hot chicken noodle soup and a warm piece of rosemary focaccia.

10. The thing is, this only works because we are so different. How do we make sure that our differences in needs aren’t perceived as slights toward the other? We communicate but sometimes not well enough. A constant practice.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Nine

1. Happy New Year.

2. This is the kind of dark and quiet I like.

3. Bacon and scrambled eggs. No coffee because I don’t like what it’s been doing to me these past few days. Who am I kidding? I’ll make myself a cappuccino in a few hours.

4. A freshly fallen lemon. The oranges are getting more orange. It seems like a silly thing to say out loud except I also know that there is something to giving voice to your noticings.

5. What’s that voice? Whose tv is blaring? Oh. That’s the city’s New Year’s Day 5k.

6. 30 minutes of writing. Devotion.

7. Bird shadows.

8. She asks me if I am learning to read water. I say, “yes, actually I am. I just learned about how to read puddles. How you can tell which way is North after a rain.” She can’t believe it.

9. Beef stroganoff. A blend from Languedoc.

10. Bella’s heart chakra blend. I’ve been wearing it every night after the showers. The smell of it is youth and soft skin and joy.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Eight

1. The alarm. That sleep felt really short.

2. I search for the book of poetry in the dark and grab the big jar of water. Why hasn’t the first email sent? That’s weird. I’ll just manually send it now.

3. The computer says 2:54 AM. That can’t be right. The microwave says it too. Damn phone. How did I not realize that it was 3 hours ahead?! Well, ok. No wonder sleep felt so short.

4. Coffee. Pound cake. Still the smell of burnt cheese.

5. Duncan Sheik, “Barely Breathing.”

6. More photography videos. A lunch of marcona almonds, salami, white cheddar, a ripe bosc pear, a small glass of Pinot Noir.

7. Turns out you can also read puddles.

8. He asks me if I made the sauce or the sauce. I didn’t. We all can tell.

9. The three of us cuddled up on a twin-size bed watching Alfred Hitchcock.

10. A good first day. There’s something about writing in community that I have missed.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Seven

1. I should stop talking to myself and just get up and wash my face.

2. Pale blue sky, green palm leaves, golden glowing lemons.

3. I realize that the colors of Fever Dreams are the same as the colors of the Bird of Paradise.

4. It is probably too cold to take them up the mountain to eat. Well, too cold for us. This time next year I’ll have us fitted with the right kind of clothing. A new way of living sometimes requires a new way of dressing.

5. Cold Feet.

6. I pull the chair into a block of sunlight, place the jar of water by my feet, and a journal on my lap. The words come much faster today. This is a good sign.

7. And the introductions begin. I had forgotten how comforting it is to circle like this.

8. I still can’t print.

9. The gloaming. The clouds are tinged orange, the blue looks pale and thin. My feet are still cold.

10. The smell of very burn cheese.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Six

1. I should probably just get up.

2. Ok. Scones first, then pretzels, then cake. I can’t believe I have an 11-year old.

3. I am not missing my phone. But I also am.

4. Breaking my coffee fast.

5. I hear my phone dinging. I have no idea who it might be. I write a post on Facebook that I don’t have a phone. But I only have 10 friends on Facebook. Whomever is texting me probably isn’t friends with me on Facebook. Oh, well.

6. The replacement phone is also broken. 2-3 business days, he says.

7. I shouldn’t have had that coffee.

8. The kind of panic that sets in when you realize that you won’t have a phone for the very phone-based online writing course you facilitate. The kind of way your heart flutters faster. And then there’s the acceptance that maybe it won’t be the most perfect run for you. That less-than-perfect should always be the expectation. Hope for the best, expect it to not go perfectly.

9. Electric guitar.

10. Snuggled up with her and Alfred Hitchcock.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Five

1. Waves crashing. Light creeping in through the slats.

2. Reheat the muffins. No one is eating them. I grab a small bowl of chex and some flax milk, a stack of cook books.

3. He’s angry about having to go grocery shopping. I don’t blame him, really. Grocery shopping is my least favorite chore.

4. I catch myself asking for what I want before asking her how she’s doing. I stop. Make eye contact and smile and ask her how she’s doing today. A little bit of kindness. A little bit more civility even when all I want to do is get the chore done.

5. The light.

6. Face lifted up to the sun. The inside of my eyes glow red.

7. I don’t miss having my phone today. I want to remember how freeing this feels.

8. It’s too bad this babysitter has to go back to Irvine for college, but she’ll be a good fit for next Wednesday.

9. Mortal Kombat. I think of how many times my brother and I played this game together. I want to text him but I can’t. Because the phone is broken.

10. Yeah, freshly vacuumed floors and clean counters really do make me feel good. It’s the little things.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Four

1. Awake in the dark without an alarm.

2. Ocean sounds from the mini speakers.

3. The big muffin tins are still dirty from the gratin potatoes so I have to make mini muffins, one set of plain and one set of blueberry.

4. This Instagram update. I guess I’m just going to have to quit.

5. The yellow glow of the sun on the lemon trees.

6. The wind is blowing so strongly that I can’t distinguish the palm leaves from the car engines.

7. I’m about to start sweating.

8. Chicken tortilla soup is a special kind of balm.

9. Dropped phone. Another broken screen. But instead of broken glass, everything is just black.

10. Family Nerf gun battle. I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. Should do this more often.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Three

1. 7:48 am.

2. I put on my comfy boots and leather coat. The sun is shining. It’s a 12 minute walk to the salon.

3. I don’t have hair. I ask her to do whatever she can to make it work so that I just don’t have to do my hair tomorrow.

4. We make it work while watching Travelers.

5. The walk back is even warmer. I’m walking straight into the sun. Instagram story because it really is so good. Sunshine. Walking. Hairs did by a black woman that I didn’t even have to drive to.

6. Day three of no caffeine. I like doing this. Sometimes I like feeling the fatigue. Plus, this kind of rest means that the cold that was knocking on the back door of my throat has gone away. Honor the need for rest.

7. Nap.

8. I snap the ends off the beans. No, really. I am so happy.

9. Ferrucci Carlotto 2017 Schiava.

10. Flashcards tomorrow.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-Two

1. I hear the sound of boxes being moved around. Didn’t we say 7? What time is it?

2. I get up and put bacon and the apple turnovers in the oven, slice the danish and put it on a platter.

3. Mimosas and a big bottle of water.

4. Everyone is satisfied. A fat stack of books and a pasta maker for me. Plus a set of V flats. I don’t know where to begin.

5. Twilight Zone plus hot tea and a nap. This is day 2 of no caffeine.

6. It’s too hot in the sun. Yes, I’m in all black, but still. Sweating on Christmas.

7. We talk about how today doesn’t really feel like Christmas. It does, but it doesn’t. We blame it on all the transition. This has been a long year with long periods of high stress. But it’s almost over and we’re here. Next year will be different. Next year will feel totally different.

8. Prime rib, a heavy Italian Sangiovese and Syrah blend, those cheesy potatoes, green beans in bacon fat.

9. One medium slice of chocolate cake with salted caramel frosting. We decided that the cake looks rustic but that didn’t interfere with its taste. Clean plate and fork.

10. More Twilight Zone and back to bed.

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty-One

1. Almost. 

2. Why won’t any of these children just let me sleep?  

3. I grab ingredients. On the list for making today: chocolate cake, salted caramel frosting, muffin tin gratin potatoes.  

4. No baking soda.  

5. The grocery store is full but not yet crazy. The woman helping me at the checkout is still friendly. 

6. There’s the rain.  

7. The feeling of learning something new.  

8. The five of us in the bed watching Home Alone and eating popcorn, finishing a glass of Chirobles.  

9. I get a sting in the heart. I miss Chicago just a teeny bit. I’ll miss the way houses are lit up on snowy evenings. I miss the feeling of being familiar with people and places and things. 

10. Wrapping paper. The Great American Baking Show Holiday Edition. Bugey-Cerdon La Cueille Sparkling Wine, methode ancestral, made from Gamay.  

Ten.Five Hundred & Forty

1. 7:30 is too late. She comes in saying that needs waffles.

2. I feel a bit of a cold coming on. I’ll keep it to one coffee today.

3. Overcast morning but the sky is still bright. A soft glow over everything.

   4. Unravel Your Year.

   5. I think all the way way back to January and just how full the year was for me. This was a year big things: big hurts and big dreams and big transitions. I made it through. Vision is a powerful thing.

   6. Next year: more gratitude and joy. More devotion to the work that wants to be done.

   7. Lunette. 

   8. An unsatisfiable hunger. 

   9. Chimichurri can really go on anything.  

   10. Note to self: get sparkling wine for tomorrow’s late night wrapping session. 

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Nine

1. Ocean sounds.

2. He taps me on the exposed shoulder, “You know it’s 7:16?!” I know kid, that’s why I’m still sleeping. Why won’t you let me sleep?

3. The sun is bright, casting an orange glow on the palm leaves and the chimneys.

4. How to Read Water.

5. The Fedex guy says he’s been really careful and creeping up the sidewalks because all the parents are trying to hide the packages from their kids. We laugh.

6. Three days before Christmas and we’re sitting on the front porch without coats, sun on the face.

7. I need to get back to the water.

8. A complete Alice Water’s The Art of Simple Cooking meal: slow-roasted salmon in herb butter, creamed spinach, roasted carrots. Sonoma Coast Vineyards Freestone Hills Pinot Noir.

9. I think about islands and stones and oceans and ponds. Wave patterns. How reading water is a metaphor for living life.

10. Up too late playing Wordscapes.

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Eight

1. Late start.

2. The color of the amaryllis. The way the red is pulsating with life.

3. Cinnamon raisin toast with coffee.

4. She’s the friendliest deli counter person I’ve ever had, but she can never remember the orders. But I’d rather her triple check than mess it up.

5. Grocery shopping is much more enjoyable when you put your headphones in.

6. Note to self: no one here does anything before 8 am.

7. I start shifting the boxes and the table around. What do I do with these chairs? Then he comes in and stops me.

8. But what exactly is the goal?

9. I look like me but not quite like me.

10. The longest night of the year. The winter solstice. The return of the night. I myself am feeling a return to light. Brilliant in my emergence.

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Seven

1. Thursday. The last day before they get out on break. I feel unprepared.

2. Quick run for donuts. Seems like I’m not the only one needing to do this. The person before me gets 3 dozen. The person before her got 5 dozen. I feel a little bit better about my 2.

3. We drop them all off at school and head out to complete that last bit of shopping that needs to be done.

4. Didn’t get the coffee into the system early enough.

5. It’s only 10:30 but we are done. I slip into leggings and under the covers, tea in hand, headache still pressing against the side of the skull.

6. The grayness is a blanket over everything.

7. How do I feel like this all of the time? I want to feel like this all of the time.

8. Is this what maturity is? Is this what growth is? Is this what feels like to emerge into womanhood?

9. But I can do whatever I want. Because this is my body.

10. And so it begins.

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Six

1. It’s nice to have a morning where I can get dressed in the light.

2. There’s not enough sugar for her to make pavlovas for her teacher. I promise that we’ll do it today after school. Must buy more sugar.

3. Short day. Second-to-last day before school is out for break. Trying not to stress out about all that remains on the to-do list.

4. We left a little too early and so he and I just sit in the car, listening to music while he plays wordscapes on my phone.

5. I keep getting onto the wrong Highway 4 ramp.

6. The fog is still sitting on top of the hills. Before me are shades of orange, red, brown, green, gray. The black cows dot the hills, some of them so close to the fence on the highway. Every new crest brings a different view. I feel like I’m driving through a movie.

7. Oh, yes. We should do this. Because we really can do this and do it well.

8. The mixer is still going. They’re going to overbeat those egg whites.

9. Bordeaux from Pauillac. Steak and veggies.

10. “What’s your schedule for tomorrow?” “I’m with you tomorrow.”

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Five

1. Seven days and nothing done yet.

2. How many? One, two, three. They’re all awake. Now I can grind the beans.

3. Feeling the pinch.

4. I keep looking into the dining room. I’ll get back to you soon, I promise. It’s just….it’s just that it’s Christmas time and I have to get all of these other things done first.

5. The sun. So much sun.

6. Gay 90’s pizza.

7. I think we both cry a little bit every day. Tears of gratitude and joy.

8. German engineering.

9. My wings are on fire.

10. She keeps asking me questions. I realize it’s because I skipped something that everyone else usually does first before they go to work. I don’t want to say too much. Not that it really matters in the end. But right now, I just want to live in stealth mode for a little while longer.

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Four

1. The elf. Almost done with the elf.

2. I set out breakfast. I like this more continental thing we’ve been doing lately. Less waste and no one seems to be complaining.

3. What is the opposite of gloam? What are the other words to describe the very beginning of morning right before the first hint of light?

4. We take a different path. What’s that smell? Is it this bush? Oh, no. The sidewalks are lined in rosemary bushes, or something like a rosemary, cut square to look like hedges. We run our fingers through the leaves and then smell them. I think about how being here is sensory overload but in the best possible way.

5. I like secret projects. This feels good.

6. We don’t have much time to talk but it is enough.

7. The light, the light, the light. I can see me in here.

8. The three of us rocking out to Paramore in the pick-up line, waiting for the oldest.

9. Having a kid in the front seat is pretty cool The conversations shift when you are side-by-side. Also: how is he almost 11?

10. The sunset. It looks like there’s a beam of fire shooting right out of the top of Mt. Diablo. Will this ever get old? I don’t think it will.

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Three

1. Shut off alarm. Manage to only “sleep” for 30 more minutes.

2. Why is it that I’m always afraid that I’m going to run out of time?

3. A proper Sunday breakfast: bacon and eggs and hashbrowns and fruit. I must be hungry. Too bad the coffee is weak.

4. He says that there some more fruit on the ground. I walk out and pick up a few lemons from the ground. I tug on a few of the lemons still on the tree but none of them give. I walk over to the orange and inspect. Nothing that looks ripe enough yet. Then I move on to the Pomelo. I grab one that’s already on the ground.

5. Soft morning light. There will be rain.

6. Create with Joy.

7. Create with Courage and Joy.

8. This is the kind of slowness on a Sunday I love.

9. “Can I make pavlovas?” “No.” “I mean, yes. There is enough time.” There is usually enough time. I’m trying to work on that reflexive “no.”

10. The hills are alive.

Ten.Five Hundred & Thirty-Two

1. 5:30 and I catch him on the computer watching Fortnite videos on Youtube. I send him back to bed.

2. I try to shut my eyes but I can’t. Nerves, maybe?

3. I wonder how many more years I’ll get these kinds of hugs from her.

4. Pink clouds at sunrise.

   5. The fog in the hills. Feels like I’m driving through a dream. To a dream? It’s all very dreamy.  

   6. Of course I’m workng with him. He’s the one who knows everything.  

   7. I accidentally give them too much wine. But now I know how to poor correctly.  

   8. The joy of getting to serve a group of black women on my first day. High fives, laughter, and an invite to come eat with them next time they’re in town. 

   9. This was a good idea.  

   10. Sore feet but a grateful heart. Seeing how everything I’ve done, am doing, and want to do is connected.  

   10.1 I need to start Christmas shopping.