Ten.Six Hundred & Fifteen

1. Thin slice of orange sandwiched between clouds and blue sky. Maybe the sun will come out after all.

2. He asks me what the stuff in the bag is. I tell him that it’s Israeli couscous and he should give it a try. Substitute it in where you might usually use rice. More than anything, the kids think it’s fun because it’s shaped like tiny balls.

3. Someone ate the entire box of Lucky Charms and I’m trying not to be mad but I am mad.

4. You know the coffee will be good when you can still see the oils on the beans.

5. “I wish my games were on Sundays so that you could come.” A little stab of mother guilt right as I head out the door to go to work.

6. Everything about his whole vibe is uncomfortable. And then he begins to speak and confirms my intuition. Then he swats away his significant other’s hand and I can feel my heart racing a little bit. I see the embarrassment and shock in her face. I’m suddenly very thirsty.

7. I take a lunch and ask for pictures from the game. Insert more mother guilt. Insert ponderings of alternatives to this. Insert a surge of determination.

8. I feel too tired to be determined.

9. Thoroughbreds hang out with Thoroughbreds.

10. The not-quite-right feeling is lingering. Residual bits from the day. I may need to find new rituals of release after these days with people. Empathy is draining.

Ten.Six Hundred & Fourteen

1. So much light. The time time changes this weekend. I’m so ready for it.  

2. I grab the coat out of my closet. I’d been meaning to get it altered. Navy blue with gold buttons. Another piece of vintage Ralph Lauren found in a heap of clothes. But today he will wear it and pretend to be Robert Livingston. 

3. She says I look fancy.  

4. The young woman is bright and has so much energy. I’m envious of her energy. This is the kind of job you can only do if you’re young.  

5. We head down Vasco. The clouds are making shadows on the hills and the turbines are moving and it doesn’t even look real. It looks like a painting.  

6. Daffodils in the sunlight. Tall grass. Cows looking down on us from the steep pasture. 

7. Something about today. Maybe it was the sight of familiar faces...talking about things all of us know. Being with friends.  

8. This was the kind of week that I needed. A week of speaking and feeling heard. A week of being with others. As much as I fancy myself a homebody, I needed to be present in public spaces.  

9. Too tired to do anything else.  

10. The house is a disaster. I’m going to try not to think about it. I’m going to play word games instead. Run definitions through my head. Hope for the rain to stay away tomorrow.  

Ten.Six Hundred & Thirteen

1. Oh. Maybe it won’t rain today.

2. “Everyone in the car?” I turn around and see two faces. We’re good to go.

3. The cleaning is not going to get done today and I know it won’t and I’m trying to make peace with it.

4. I hear my name and look up and it’s a friendly face. A black face. I am at first surprised and then I remember that this is one of the reasons we came here.

5. “Would you prefer a male or a female?” “Female. And can I ask that she be of color?” “Of course. We can do that.”

6. Fifteen years off and on and I can say that I’ve never had a black therapist. Never. And I’ve looked but rarely was there ever anyone in my area. No one I could get to with ease. But this is why we moved here. I needed to have access to care providers that look like me.

7. We talk about stuckness. She reminds me to not worry about the how but to hold on to the dream.

8. We select dates for May, October, and January. It feels good to commit.

9. She’s there waiting for me.

10. We both gush over our California experiences today. These are the things that happen that affirm our decision to move. The stress of it all has been worth it, even if it is sending me back to therapy to gather resources to help me adjust with this major transition. The good is outweighing everything else and that puts the soul at ease.

Ten.Six Hundred & Twelve

1. The sound of rain dripping from the gutter.

2. Yeah, these really taste good. Not the healthiest but definitely tasty.

3. A crack of sunshine on a cloudy morning. I start to close the garage door and then he yells, “Mom! Mom! What about Nora?!” We laugh. I open the garage door back up and see her standing in the doorway. Oh jeez. Twice in one week I’ve almost forgotten her. Pretty sure she’ll be telling her therapist about this in twenty years.

4. Flashcards.

5. School. She has a stomach ache and a fever.

6. The phone cut out at 4 hours. We’ve been on the phone for 4 hours. We laugh.

7. Now he’s asleep on the sofa. Is he sick too?

8. Tomatoes and garlic roasting in the oven. Rosemary focaccia.

9. He’s still sleeping.

10. Heart chakra oil.

Ten.Six Hundred & Eleven

1. What’s the weather supposed to be today? By the lack of light I’m guessing we’re supposed to get some rain.

2. I’m dubious about the 100% whole wheat blueberry muffins but they look so pretty in the tin that maybe they’ll turn out just fine.

3. Every other building is vacant. There could be so much potential here. I wonder what happened.

4. I’m here is 10 minutes early and send her a text to let her know that I’ve parked. I send another text at 7:01 to let her know that I’m ready whenever she is. At 7:12 I send her a text telling her that I’ll be leaving soon if I don’t hear back from her. She tells me she’ll be there in 15 minutes.

5. There’s a man walking around the parking lot in circles. He may be homeless. The biker dude who’s drinking something on ice asks him if he can buy him a coffee. The maybe-homeless man appreciates the offer but turns him down.

6. I send her a text at 7:58 telling her I’m going home.

7. I soothe my annoyance and disappoint with a few bunches of ranunculus and eucalyptus, Israeli couscous and a wedge of Parmesan.

8. Tired eyes.

9. Hot oil on the tender skin of my wrist.

10. Ready for it to be over.

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.