Ten.Six Hundred & Ten

1. Biscuits for them. Hard-boiled eggs with pickled beet horseradish.

2. The rocking chair has just the right amount of creakiness.

3. The trowel. We make a u-turn and dig around in the garage for a trowel. A trowel.

4. I do love seeing her face. October will come soon but I wish it was sooner. We’re coming up on a year since the last gathering. This next one…I’m so ready for the next one.

5. So many beautiful things and yet I feel so out of place. But yes, please. This high-waisted jumper. And an ivory leather sofa.

6. Contradictions.

7. Chateau d’Yquem. Yes, more of this please.

8. Surprisingly good.

9. See you in the morning. See you in the morning? Are you sure? What I want to say is that I’m 99.9% sure that she will see me in the morning. But I also know that there is a chance that I might not. Of course I wouldn’t dare say that out loud but I always think it. I sincerely do hope I see you again in the morning. And I hope the day I don’t doesn’t come too soon.

10. How do I get Moira Rose’s wardrobe?

Ten.Six Hundred & Nine

1. It’s time for me to wake up.

2. I do have whole wheat flour but I don’t feel like baking today. Donuts it is.

3. Hot coffee and an old-fashioned. Gray skies.

4. Wash.

5. My arms are tired from reaching up over my head. Hair days.

6. Only 1/3 of the book left. I should be finished by Wednesday. Then it’s flash cards for the the next 18 days after that. I can do this.

7. I block out the times of day that I know I’m busy doing other things. The sound of the pencil gliding back and forth across the paper as I shade in the rectangles. The way the pencil moves across the paper makes me nostalgic.

8. Murder on the Orient Express. He says Poirot’s peculiarities are too similar to mine. Poirot says something about how his ability to see the flaws in things makes his life miserable. I guess we are indeed similar.

9. Pretzel salt in my sheets. We ought to find a better solution for movie night.

10. The hill in the background look familiar. Even though it’s in black and white, I can tell it must have been filmed in late spring or summer.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eight

1. I think I hear rain.

2. I am not opposed to a slow day at work. I like it best when I get to spend more one-on-one time with guests.

3. Now if only I could get my nose to stop running.

4. Why are we always arguing over eating fruit?

5. Today’s intention: honest connection; don’t take anything personally.

6. The rain. It will be a slow start to the day.

7. I surprise myself with what I know.

8. He hugs me. He smells a little bit like cigarette smoke. His Boston accent is endearing. He’s brought his mother-in-law who looks like she might be 80-something. She tells me about the first time she got buzzed on alcohol was just a few years ago.

9. Dipping in and out of the fog as I navigate the hills on the way home. The road is always the same but every night it looks a little different. In some ways it doesn’t seem real.

10. Growth.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seven

1. How is it already March?

2. Mental list of things to do and not to do. The “not-to-do” list is feeling a little long.

3. I try the store again, this time, moving more slowly. Remembering that patience is required in everything.

4. “Right on,” he says. That’s how I know I’m in California.

5. I fold six loads of laundry in the quiet. Head still heavy from congestion. I’ve been sick in some fashion for almost three weeks now.

6. 22 days.

7. He didn’t get the order right. I really wanted that chicken enchilada. And I really wanted that asada taco. But at least the margarita was good.

8. Sleep. The body needs more rest.

9. I had forgotten how visually stunning this movie is. The writing is not the best but the film is gorgeous.

10. Work tomorrow. I do hope his game is rained out so that I won’t have to miss his very first one.

Ten.Six Hundred & Six

1. I can’t believe there are more than 600 of these.

2. Nope. Still can’t breathe.

3. I tell myself I will skip cleaning day today. But then I immediately change my mind. I think about the compulsion. I think about how good I feel afterward even though I always hesitate to begin. I think about why I place such a value on order. I remember that some brains are made/conditioned to be that way.

4. Everything lately feels like a lesson in physics: an object at rest stays at rest.

5. More Mucinex, another Dayquill, pot of ginger and lemon and honey simmering on the stove.

6. I can’t get warm enough.

7. Spain. Now I’m craving manchego and ham and Rioja, Pedro Ximenez, and that date cake from Niche.

8. The smell of smoke and fire.

9. Nothing is drying me out enough. Running and running and running.

10. How is it already March?

Ten.Six Hundred & Five

1. The sound of palms whipping back and forth.

2. Granola. Smoothie. Nettles and oat straw infusions.

3. Wait. Why is my nose running?

4. They say there might be rain but the clouds are parting and a little bit of sun is creeping through. Clouds are resting on the peak of Mt. Diablo. Hot coffee in my hand.

5. Bistecca, bistecca, bistecca. She must have mentioned bistecca alla florentina half a dozen times and now I think we ought to have steak for dinner.

6. Yes. Let’s pretend we’re in Italy for tonight, or some other place that is home but also not quite home. A little bit of beef, prepared simply with oil, salt, and pepper, served with a root vegetable puree and sauteed spinach. That other bottle of Chianti.

7. Back home so quickly.

8. Pictures of high water, flooded streets, flooded buildings, people in kayaks.

9. A running nose. Great. I know what this will turn into. Also, how is this possible? Between all of the liquids I’ve been taking plus the antibiotics plus the vitamins. And still. It finally found its way to me.

10. Dream, dream, dream.

Ten.Six Hundred & Four

1. Oh, right. Biscuits.

2. Gray light. Coffee percolating.

3. There is something about this that feels chaotic and almost too open.

4. I know I’m wearing my emotion on my face. I hope no one is taking it too personal.

5. Us on Skype. I hear myself mispronouncing words and it’s driving me crazy. It doesn’t really matter with them. I muddle my way through. I miss them. I miss those Tuesdays.

6. I should be doing other things not standing at the counter scrolling through Instagram and eating leftover Mongolian Beef. But right now this is about all I can do.

7. He gets into the car. I start to drive away. “What about Nora?!” We laugh. “I’m so used to just picking up one kid for the first stop. I forgot about Nora!” We laugh again as we exit the parking lot and then get right back in the loop again.

8. What is it about pirate booty that makes it irresistible?

9. Leftover chicken parmesan and Chianti.

10. We decide that we’ll do a day of Golden Gate, Muir Woods, and Stinson Beach. I can already taste the burger with bacon and avocado, the vanilla milkshake. I can feel the thin sand and the sharp edge of sea shells. I can smell the salt in the air. Three more weeks.

Ten.Six Hundred & Three

1. I don’t think I’ve worn this sweater in a while.

2. Hashbrowns. Potstickers. Coffee. Is there any leftover bacon? I’m finding it difficult to eat more than one piece these days.

3. I assure him that I’ve already emailed his teacher to let her know that it’s his last day. He is really the most easygoing kid.

4. What is happening?

5. What kind of tea shop doesn’t open up until 11:30? This is a bad sign. It will probably be closed soon. I get back in the car and drive down Balfour to the other local coffee shop. Chai and a gluten-free scone. Yes, please.

6. At first I think it’s snow. Then I realize it’s just the blooms blowing off the trees. Delicate white petals collecting in the cracks of the sidewalk. It feels like spring.

7. There are regulars. I like this. I like places where there are regulars.

8. Back to the car. Seeing her face. Yes. Her face always makes me feel better. We catch up on as much as we can. Decide that we def need to hang out before the retreat. Yes. I gotta get to Seattle. I need a break from these kids.

9. It’s closed. Again. We’ll try Enishi.

10. No dust in the case. This is a good sign.

Ten.Six Hundred & Two

1. I think, maybe, not enough of us bring intention into our work. Before I leave, I always think of an intention. What is my goal for the day with my guests? How do I want to make them feel when they’re there? When they leave?

2. Bacon. Coffee. Waffles from a mix.

3. Cloud cover. Looks like rain but you never know.

4. The morning time passes too quickly.

5. I still care too much.

6. I ask her what’s been the most surprising thing about having a new middle school-er. “How mean they are. Some of the things these kids are saying are things I’d neeeever think of saying to another person.” My heart aches a little bit at hearing this but I understand it.

7. They give me a list of places to go for cocktails in Walnut Creek.

8. She’s a teacher. She also lives in Brentwood. She also says she loves it. I get more and more confused when I hear people talk about where they live and why they love it. Everyone has a sense of pride about where they come from.

9. Were it not for the cloud cover, a sign that the rain is indeed coming, the sky would be a little brighter. But still. So nice to be leaving work with a little bit of light still hanging in the sky.

10. Wente Cabernet Franc with the pot roast he cooked for dinner. Seems like the right kind of meal to prepare for the upcoming week.

Ten.Six Hundred & One

1. I’ll get up when he gets up.

2. What am I to do with these braids?

3. Waking up a preteen is a thing.

4. Freshly tilled fields over on this side of town. What will be planted?

5. Rhone, Loire, Languedoc-Roussillon, Armagnac, and Cognac. I manage to get a good chunk of reading done. There is much that I do still remember. There is a lot that I don’t.

6. So quiet.

7. I tell him that it was nice to have a Saturday off. It’s been so long since I had a Saturday off. And this one was slow. There was plenty to do but there was an ease about it. Chai and snacks and water and good time to study.

8. He tells me that maybe Napa will not be the place. I don’t disagree. What I do want is greater proximity to the things I find culturally relevant: museums, art, good food, a literary scene, talks and what not. I like here a lot. It’s a beautiful, friendly suburb. But I’m too far out. I tell him that I don’t want to repeat what we did in Oswego. I don’t want to love my house but be so far from the things that feed my creativity.

9. When is roast chicken not a good idea?

10. I miss baking bread. After this exam, I’ll get back into the kitchen. “After the exam.” I feel like everything is on hold.

Ten.Six Hundred

1. 600. Six hundred days of living through words.

2. The sound of an owl? Not a pigeon. Too early for the pigeons. It must be an owl.

3. Chai then coffee.

4. Not a cloud in the sky. I can already feel the cumulative effects of sunshine on my spirit.

5. This looks like it’s probably the school. His stomach still hurts. I had a feeling this call was coming.

6. I take the two little chicken breasts and make a quick chicken soup. “You’re a good mom,” he tells me. I’m always trying my best.

7. I see a sheep chasing another little sheep and it makes me giggle. It’s still funny to see cows standing next to the bases of the turbines. Nature and machine in such close proximity.

8. Her accent is soft. She’s from Barcelona. The waiter too speaks Spanish to us first. I like it. Croquettas, Pulpo, and Gambas. The gin and tonic arrives in a large glass with a sprig of rosemary, edible flowers, and juniper berries. Even the cuts on the large rectangular piece of ice are beautiful. Garnatxa Blanc from Empordá, Basque country. I can’t wait to go to Spain.

9. The call. We finally got the call. There’s space for him in our home school now. It means only one school for drop-offs and pick-ups. It means walking to school. It means me having a chance to get to know other parents. It means no more 1.5 hrs in the car each afternoon. It means getting a little bit of life back.

10. Hawaiian bowl. Riesling from Trimbach. A classic pairing. The extension of daylight. Promises of warmer weather that is to come. I can’t wait for Spring.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Nine

1. I know they’ll appreciate the blueberry muffins.

2. Cleaning day. But I don’t feel like it. But I also know that the sun is coming out and what I’m going to really love is freshly vacuumed carpets on a sunny day. It’s the little things.

3. Who am I when I am alone? A crier. A woman with perpetually teary eyes. Tears of empathy and joy and frustrating and gratitude.

4. An extra-long session of morning pages. So many ideas, never enough time.

5. The sound of the palms waving back and forth. In the alcove, I don’t feel the wind, but all of the sun is on me. The light reflecting off my pages is almost blinding.

6. Maps, maps, maps.

7. They are always excited for those 10 chocolate chips.

8. I buy my ticket for Batonnage. If I wait, I’ll miss out. I am working on overriding my tendency to hesitate unnecessarily.

9. He tells me that I need new business cards and right now. I want to wait until after the exam so that I can put “Certified Sommelier” after my name. Maybe that part doesn’t even really matter.

10. The “why” matters.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Eight

1. Another one of those dreams I don’t want to wake up from. So much tenderness. So much ease.

2. I send a text telling her that my consciousness must be shifting because my dreams are so different right now.

3. Yes, it’s a performance. But all the world’s a stage.

4. “Are we hiding from anxiety? Are we hiding from a good idea that will demand difficult work? Are we hiding from a question that will take time to sort through?” - Reclaiming Conversation

5. Who am I when I am alone?

6. It’s always satisfying to listen to a person talk about their dreams. Their excitement makes me excited. But more than anything, it’s knowing that this process of pursuing dreams is about them reclaiming space for themselves. Yes. That’s what makes me happy. Seeing someone reclaiming bits of themselves.

7. We walk in but there’s just something about it. I don’t think I can eat here. Pizza it is.

8. Short day. Body begging for nap. Gratitude for the privilege to rest. Still worried about the other things I could and should be doing beside laying down.

9. “Thank you.”

10. It’s early and despite the nap sleep is coming easily.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Seven

1. I wanted to get back to the dream. I couldn’t make my way back. I wanted to see the face again.

2. Steel cut oats.

3. But if this truck gets in front of me it’s going to add 4 more minutes to my commute.

4. The New Yorker Podcast. I keep thinking of Tracy K. Smith’s words.

5. We both look at one another at the same time. But I decide that I don’t want to let him in front of me. Oh. Yes. Now I understand how people get petty on the freeway.

6. There’s still snow on the mountains. What is the name of the range that runs east to west? I always have questions. Snow and green hills and blossoming trees all in one scene.

7. Unnecessary.

8. Red salsa on my white shirt. Trying not to care.

9. So much sun.

10. It’s just okay. This is what happens when a dinner is unplanned and last minute. What’s happened to my routine?

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Six

1. I get up and stick potatoes in the oven then make my way back to bed.

2. But what is it that I want to say?

3. I tell him to get a refund for the movie tickets. We should take advantage of the weather and be where there’s some light.

4. Yes, these hills do look like mountains.

5. Flowering Rosemary.

6. No one is as interested in the Eames exhibit as I am but I make us all walk through it anyway.

7. The Art of Living.

8. “Most people aren’t trained to want to face the process of re-understanding a subject they already know. One must obtain not just literacy, but deep involvement and re-understanding.” - Charles Eames

9. So many chic hair cuts. Whispy layers, blunts bangs, angular bobs.

10. I wonder what her play dates are like. I bet, like me, she lays out pieces of fruit and good Parmesan for the children. The other moms are probably served wine or sparkling water in stemless glass and the conversations are about art and food and politics.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. How much longer can I stay in bed?

2. I see his thin body snake its way through a crack in the door. I know he’s looking for an electronic device. “Get out of here.”

3. Sunshine donuts. One cup of coffee even though the doctor didn’t recommend it.

4. The colors, the colors. In another life I’d be a painter.

5. Cold hands.

6. The ways in which the things we don’t stay say still have a way of making it into the air. Anything can be felt.

7. It seems silly to say that I’ve never seen clouds like these before, but, I really feel like I’ve never seen clouds like these before. Perhaps it’s just that here, in this particular landscape, they take on a new kind of shape.

8. So much sun.

9. I leave before everyone else. I wish I could stay. But I just want to get back to my family.

10. Full moon vibes. There’s just something about the way it illuminates the sky, making the arrival of night more friendly.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Four

1. A little bit of daylight.

2. They’re stocking the grocery store. I am only one of three people actually trying to shop. But I just need a little bit to get them through the next few days.

3. I need to renew my routine of proper meal planning. I hate this errand-running thing.

4. Coffee. First cup in four days.

5. All the rain means saturated earth, saturated colors. Everything is more rich and lush.

6. I walk to the car for a lunch break and turn on The New Yorker Poetry podcast. There’s just something about Marie Howe’s voice.

7. So much pain.

8. The moon is almost full and there’s still a little bit of evening light left over. Silhouettes of mountains. The promise of a star-filled sky.

9. Turkey burgers are waiting for me.

10. The wait in the ER feels so long. The last thing I want to do right after a long day at work. I play word games on my phone. But at least it’s quiet. At least I’m sitting down. Yes, a bladder infection. Medicine. I’ll feel better tomorrow.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Three

1. The sound of rain.

2. He’s sleeping with his legs crossed. Even now, in their growing bodies, the way they sleep mirrors much of the way they slept as babies: arched backs, fists at the chin, legs crossed, arms overhead.

3. A little bit of sun.

4. Resistance. Just not feeling it. Could also just be the stress of it all.

5. The fear of missing out.

6. Culture over everything. But how sometimes that philosophy makes it hard to do the things you need or have to do.

7. The rain is back.

8. What do I want to be when I grow up?

9. “…that life can be perfectly satisfying without major achievements.” - “Too Much Happiness”, Alice Munro

10. That feeling you get when you realize that life still is not set up in such a way for you to do everything you want to do, but that it is primed for the kind of work that your heart’s been longing to do. There is time for the writing. There is time to be the greatest writer I can be. If only I weren’t so afraid of the work required.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-Two

1. I’ll save the boxes of candy for after school.

2. I remember how my mother used to buy the both of us a box of chocolates every Valentine’s day. She never said anything either. They would just be there in the morning when we came downstairs for breakfast. Every year.

3. A little bit of sun breaking through. Everything is damp and glittering.

4. What is it about freshly vacuumed floors that give so much pleasure?

5. What is it that I want to do though? How is it that I’ve come all this way and now feel so lost? It i s both scary and freeing.

6. Acknowledge where the blessings have already been received.

7. We drive to Livermore in the rain. The hillside is dotted with cream-colored sheep. Where did they come from? What lies on the other side of the hill? Cows gathering in the corner of the pen, their backs turned toward the rain.

8. “You just can’t do strip mall sushi.” “You’re such a snob.” “I’ve always been bourgeois.”

9. He offers to get the kids from school which is really the very best kind of gift anyone could give me.

10. Champagne and pizza and a long, very hot shower.

Ten.Five Hundred & Ninety-One

1. I feel like I need more sleep.

2. The sound of the rain hitting the concrete. I wish it was one of those days where I could just lay in the bed and read and drink tea.

3. Cold hands. Cold feet. He reminds me that I forgot sliced cheddar and chicken nuggets. The other kids always wonder why he gets so much more and that’s because he is always asking. I think of how my mother used to tell me, “Ye have not because ye ask not.” Is that from the Bible? I don’t know. I just know I wish I was as comfortable with asking for what I wanted as my 7 year-old.

4. Short day. Cinnamon, cardamom, clove, a slice of orange, peppercorns. Sweeten with local honey. Add a little bit of vanilla pea milk. Oh, yes. This is going to be addictive.

5. It’s too late to quit. I better sit down and get to work.

6. The pond looks like it might overflow. Where will the water go when it does? There is something peaceful about today’s rain. The way the palms are swaying in the breeze is hypnotic.

7. Maps.

8. The dough is yellow just as I’d expect it to be. I can’t get the pasta machine to roll it out thinly enough. It just won’t anchor to the counter well enough. I decide to hand roll the rest. I end up with big fat squares filled with basil and ricotta.

9. I wish I had Chianti. I pull out a bottle of Sonoma Coast Vineyards Pinot Noir. But then I think about how they ruined it by changing the clonal selection and I decide not to open it. What I really need is a Chianti, anyway.

10. We manage to get the hair done without tears.