Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty-Six

1. It’s early. I’m not sure how early, but it’s early.

2. Nope. It still doesn’t work. I can’t type the numbers at all. But the alarm is still going off.

3. Bacon and hashbrowns. Everybody wants a fried egg white. What am I supposed to do with all of the yolks.

4. Thin turbine blade peak out through the bottoms of the clouds. The cows’ coats look particularly black today. Maybe they have just been cleaned by yesterday’s rains.

5. This drive through the hills, though. I can’t complain.

6. A cup of tomato soup. I should have gotten a whole bowl. On a day like today, I could stand to eat a little more.

7. I’m zoning out. It’s not out of boredom, the coffee has worn off, the food has kicked in. It’s been a long day.

8. I don’t mind the traffic today. It gives me more time to watch the cows and birds. One big beautiful hawk sitting on a fence post.

9. I tell him that of all the things I learned today, what stuck out the most to me was how excited I was being in the vineyard. That’s what I want to do. Even more than wine making. Yes. Put me on the ground with muddy boots and talk to me about wind speeds and fog patterns and grafting and canopy.

10. In due time. All in due time.

Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty-Five

1. The man’s name is Dom. That’s what I remember from the dream. And he had a scraggly beard and wild hair and tender eyes. I don’t know who he is and yet I do. I’m drawing circles and figure eights in his palm with my fingertip. It feels like this means something.

2. I fell asleep too early last night. The clock says 4:16.

3. I apologize for having to drop them off a little earlier than usual. I have no idea what the traffic will be like.

4. I start my way through the hills and I feel the pressure building up behind my eyes. The tears want to come. I’m just so happy.

5. People will tire of hearing how happy I am, won’t they? I don’t care.

6. It’s funny how tears can mean so many different things. Two months ago the tears were salty. Now they taste fresh.

7. I think again about the tender dream. I could have more tenderness.

8. Mama said
   Fulfill the prophecy
   Be something greater
   Go make a legacy
   Manifest destiny
   Back in the days
   We wanted everything, wanted everything
   Mama said
   Burn your biographies
   Rewrite your history
   Light up your wildest dreams
   Museum victories, everyday
   We wanted everything, wanted everything

9. I forgot to thaw the ground turkey.

10. But really, I can’t wait to take them tasting, and to the beach, and to the woods. March can’t come soon enough.

Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty-Four

1. Up before the alarm. But it’s okay. I need to be up anyway. More time to sit in the dark.

2. I wipe down the counters and sweep the floors. I see that he’s unplugged the Christmas tree. It’s really time to take her down.

3. Coffee? Yes. I think today is another coffee day.

4. I take myself back to bed, fully dressed. Coffee in one hand and wordscapes in the other.

5. The sound of the rain. This is one of those sleepy kind of Sundays. It should be slow in the tasting room today.

6. He’s from here in California but went to Alabama for school. Work just made him get a passport so he’s curious as to what’s in store for 2019.

7. The four of them work for ESPN. That must be fun. Twenty-something and travelling across the country for work, tasting wine in your downtime. I know the city they are from.

8. He’s from Germany and so we talk about the old world whites from cold climates that we like: things from Alsace and Austria, Alto Adige in Italy. He thinks the California wines are too heavy but he still leaves with a bottle of reisling.

9. The two of them want to take a picture with me. They are the last ones to leave the tasting room but were so kind—which is what you’d expect from a group of southerners raised right by their mothers and fathers. “Roll tide,” they yell as the group tromps out into the rain.

10. This drive at night in the rain just wrecks my nerves. It takes a few minutes to unwind, unclench, remember to breathe.

Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty-Three

1. Dark, dark, dark.

2. The twinkle lights making the quartz and the tiny glass jars full of feathers sparkle.

3. Minimalism.

4. Today is a coffee day I think. I can’t remember the last time I had coffee. Maybe a week?

5. The call. One hour of this kind of connection is so good for the soul.

6. I scarf down luke-warm soup, grab a bottle of kombucha and put on my converse to head out to work.

7. Everyone is worried that it will be too slow of a day. I am okay with the slowness.

8. A photographer. He writes down his contact info for me.

9. These two are on a date. Or are getting to know one another more. It’s cute.

10. I unload my pockets and realize that the folded bill they gave me was not $10 but $20. I notice that I am having mixed feelings about the tips I am receiving. I wonder why it makes me emotional. I wonder why I care at all. I am grateful and curious and honored. It is challenging me to be okay with receiving.

Ten.Five Hundred & Fifty-Two

1. The phone was right. It was pretty easy getting up at 5:30 after waiting until 10:30 to go to sleep. I think I’ve been going to bed too early.

2. Let’s make something with prosciutto and eggs.

3. No one is as excited about crispy prosciutto as I am.

4. Examine your expectations. Examine your expectations. Examine your expectations.

5. The quietness of a grocery story on a weekday morning. I hear my own heals, managers talking to other employees about the day, where to stack things, what items are missing. And it’s early enough that everyone is still pleasant and happy.

6. Headache.

7. Camera play. I block the light and then reveal it. Eye contact with the camera. Who is this woman?

8. I join him on his bike ride. It’s a little chilly but yet I’m still breaking a tiny sweat. “I’m glad we live in California,” he says. “Look at this. I’m riding a bike in shorts!" Yes, man. You’re wearing shorts in January.

9. How do we expedite this?

10. The irises are opening up beautifully. They remind me walking through Whole Foods with Jennette before we headed to the ranch. I can’t wait for Fever Dreams. 9 Months to go.

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.