Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-One
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A little dark. Must not be quite time to get up.
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This denim dress might the dress of the summer.
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I hate that I have to leave them in this way but I have to and I want to go so I am going.
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I have no sunglasses and no hat. And I am early so I should probably stop and get them. I find a floppy black hat, the kind I’ve been pinning, the kind that I sometimes make fun of because it’s very much a Californian-Instagram-It-Girl hat. Oh wait, maybe I am one?
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Power.
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But what makes a space safe?
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So many beautiful brown faces. I know this is really only because there is a scholarship in place to make sure that some of these brown faces are here. And it’s shitty that black women still have such a hard time being able to participate in important conversations.
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Bake another pie.
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How am I providing space in which others feel like they belong?
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I should go to the after party but I’m an introvert and I’ve peopled for 8 hours already. It’s best that I honor my energy and go home than to push myself and continue on, half extinguished.
Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy
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The birds are to chatty in the pre-dawn hours.
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Work day. Heading in on a weekday feels strange.
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Everyone is extra friendly this morning in the grocery store. I almost feel bad for how quickly I am moving through.
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Hey, Hawk. I see you there so poised, gazing off into the distance. Birds are my medicine.
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The Right People + The Right Places = The Right Opportunities. - Ken Coleman
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I see blue and know it’s her. The wonderful thing about meeting internet friends in real life is that it enriches your connection to all things. And how excited I am to have a weekend full of black women in wine.
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Late.
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Wine on the patio while he grills the tuna. But isn’t every day beautiful?
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Nerves. It’s the driving part that makes me anxious. Not the day time driving but the night time driving.
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Nothing about parenting is easy. Nothing. As soon as you get over one thing, you’re confronted with another. The fear of not getting it right and messing it all up. Knowing that no matter what you do, someone will need therapy anyway. (We all need good therapy.) Trying to stay confident in your abilities. Because at least you are trying to do the best and most right thing.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Nine
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What time is it?
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Go little snail, go.
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I don’t know what to wear. Jeans? Will I be too hot? Shorts? Will I be too cold. I laugh at myself. It seems like such a silly problem to have. All that really matters is that there will be sun.
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In talking to her I realize just how much I’ve actually done since we last met. I did the work of creating new systems of support for myself as I continue to navigate this transition.
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The work that is required to plant the seeds. The patience that is required for the harvest.
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Things have changed since last year and now there are options. I told him that I decided that I needed to give everyone and everything more than one chance before crossing them or it off the list.
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Journal and water and the hammock. I find myself writing about how uncomfortable it feels to talk about being happy. And it’s a weird thing to think—that you can’t share your joy.
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He brings me three things. I see two envelopes addressed to the LLC. Which is also me. I have an LLC. The last envelope is full of business cards. Slowly but surely. One foot in front of the other.
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I trade the cherry tree for the school field. Seven year-olds practicing baseball. Cool breezes in the shade. Thinking about the way everything changes and nothing stays the same.
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It’s a very small world.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Eight
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Already 6:30am. At least I got 2 hours in.
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But they really do look so good. And so it was worth missing all the sleep.
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Morning pages outside in the sun. I’m too tired to think.
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I think maybe I break so much glass because I’m trying to move too quickly. I just want to get the work over with. But all the broken glass is really just a sign to slow down. To accept that this is the work and to do it with more care instead of just rushing through it.
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I send her a picture of the whiteboard. A way for me to say, “See! I’m listening! I’m doing it!”
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It’s still a little cool, even in the sun.
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We make our way back home. I through my head back in the sun. “Man, I love it here!” “Right?!”
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I cocoon myself in the hammock. I watch the humming bird move from lemon tree to orange tree, to bird of paradise. Then it hovers near me. Just sits right there. Turns around and shows me its glittery green back. Then flutters away. I relax my head back into the hammock and smile.
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I realize that the table is placed there because you will get just enough shade at dinner time to make al fresco dining more pleasant.
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Blue crab beignets.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Seven
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So many snails. Withered roses. I need a sweater.
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The sun is beginning to rise. I go and get coffee grounds because I can’t wait another day for the grinder to arrive and I can’t keep using 3 Nespresso pods every morning.
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Finally a full cup.
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I make a list. I forgot how good it feels to check things off.
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White bull grazing. Hazy sky. Oak-studded hills.
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Every wall is white and it’s full of light. I am thinking of all the possibilities: photo shoots and workshops and side projects. And she’s just as bright as her pictures. The space reflects her energy.
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I re-watch the Youtube videos. Parts.
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He does have an arm. He hustles so hard. I love watching him play.
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I still don’t know how to dress for this weather
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He tells me not to say up until 2 am. But I know I will anyway.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Six
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I woke up just in time. I don’t think I want to finish that dream.
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Snail friends. Bird song.
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This is what happens when you move too quickly. I giggle at myself and hope no one notices. Someone will.
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Nettle tea because there’s still no coffee and I just don’t want another cappuccino.
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This is the best part of the planning. The details that pull it all together.
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Journal. Water. Hammock. The hummingbirds. This other bird that also sounds like a hummingbird. A good Monday.
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The thing is that nothing is going to be perfect. But there are little bits along the way that light he way.
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Let it be simple.
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I remembered to call.
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Now all I want to eat is aged Parmesan, really fresh olive oil, and some focaccia.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Five
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Up before the alarm again. I don’t think it was the sprinklers that woke me up. But I’m up. And I want to go back to sleep.
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He gets donuts. I wash clothes. We really need to replace the coffee grinder.
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We finally catch each other on the phone. The conversation is not long enough and not deep enough but it’s better than nothing.
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Teju Cole.
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The minutes are passing so slowly.
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I watch my shadow as I walk across the gravel. There is a hazy quality to the sky, as if all of us have kicked up too much dust. But in the distance, green and brown hills, power lines, rows and rows of vines.
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I’m losing bits of my mind.
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It’s that I told her no. And that I told her that they’ve had what they were supposed to have. And that she told me I can pretend that I didn’t know. And I dislike that someone would ask me to ignore my own integrity for their own personal gain.
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And so is this feeling also because I’m a 1 (and a 2 and a 4) and at an unhealthy level I am inflexible and self-righteous? But then I realize that this is also just a part of our culture.
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I miss writing.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Four
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Birdsong.
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Three weeks in and push-ups 8, 9, and 10 are still hard.
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What can I do to make today as slow as last Sunday? Because having a free Saturday feels quite luxurious.
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I’ve learned to not complain too much out loud. I think it’s problematic. But it’s also necessary.
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The kids are on a roll today. Everyone is killing it at the plate. Their growth is so evident today. And isn’t it a perfect day for 7 year-old baseball? All sun, not too hot, chilly in the shade.
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Hammock. The side neighbor is yelling instructions to the back neighbor. He’s trying to hack off the dates on the palm. Such a bummer to miss out on all of that fruit but no one wants to deal with the bees and the wasps.
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What parent wants to go tell another parent something bad about their child? But in the end I leave with more understanding. I tell her, this is helpful information. It can help me guide their playtime better to reduce incidents. I think we both feel better. Her being able to share openly about her child’s needs and me knowing that we can still support the friendship but with better boundaries. And we both agree that kids should mostly play outside.
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Hummingbird magic. I will never not be amazed.
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Door bell but no one is there. Piece of paper under the doormat. An apology from his friend.
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At least he has good taste in music.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Three
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The birds are so loud at dawn.
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I remind myself that I have a call with her at 6:30 am my time and I rush to get the potstickers started on the stove before we begin.
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When you take the time to look over past work and see just how much you’ve created. We should be really proud of ourselves.
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But this does need more attention.
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Her face and her voice. I’ve missed her light. We both realize that October will be here before we know it, but today, the conversation is just about life.
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What am I hoping to gain out of this?
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Introversion plus dinner with 4 strangers feels like too much. But the sun is shining and I do love Yountville and I know the food and the wine will be good. So there’s that.
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Hugs from strangers. Genuine enthusiasm. Good souls. You can feel it.
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But the caesar salad with its soft buttery croutons. But the macaroni and cheese and the pork chop and the roasted carrots. But the Apsara Syrah. But the cheese and the griddled bread and the mixed berry jam. But the tres leches.
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When you stumble upon an interactive art project on your way to a post-dinner cocktail.
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When you genuinely want to see these strangers again because the strangers now feel like friends.
Ten. Six Hundred & Sixty-Two
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I get up to close the sliding glass door. The sound of the sprinklers is piercing through.
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Smoothies. I have just enough juice. I forgot that there’s not coffee grinder which means no coffee which means, oh goodness.
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He won’t stop talking about his field trip.
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He comes back with a venti black coffee from the Starbucks down the street. I’m saved. I take sips in between washing the dishes.
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100 2nd graders waiting in front of a movie theater. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. I’m only in charge of two. I wonder how many other parents don’t do field trips because they don’t want to be a chaperone. I offered to transport but not stay at the movie. I made a wise decision.
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The book shelves at Goodwill are showing out today: The Warmth of Other Suns, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Singin’ and Swingin’ and Gettin’ Merry Like Christma, The Alchemist, On Wings of Song.
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Scattered.
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I tell him that if I’ve fallen off the meditation train this week. If I’d been meditating I would have been more patient.
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The spicy slaw is really spicy. I should have halved the chipotle powder. But the flavors are there. Fish tacos with seared tuna and spicy slaw for the win.
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He says that maybe to some people it could have come off as bragging or being spoiled. But that since he knows me, he understood what I was saying. I meant to say that I’m aware that privileges exists and that we all have these privileges. And we can have privileges while also being part of a marginalized group. Oh well. I can’t control other’s reactions.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-One
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I’ll let them sleep in a little bit. I too am still a little exhausted from yesterday’s sun.
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I put on the denim dress and try to make sure that my eyes are evenly lined. I still don’t really know what I’m doing today other than I’ll be talking about Chardonnay and then having a quick interview.
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I lift the lift off the grinder and the whole thing falls to pieces. Springs are on the floor, coffee grounds are scattered all over the counter. Sigh.
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“It’s taking you so long because of those shoes.”
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I giggle at the sheep. The sheep always make me giggle. The hills are browning. I think about how the slowly dying grass as not so much just a function of the sun, but of the combination of low cutting and grazing by all of the cows and sheeps. And I’m listening to Krista’s conversation with Wangari Maathai about the importance of ecological preservation. Sometimes, too many times, we humans are the worst.
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Green screen. I feel my nerves pick up. They say I did a great job. I can’t wait to show the kids the final cut.
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I tell her that this place just feels like a place where you can make your dreams come true. She looks me square in the eyes and says that it is. It really is. If you’re determined and you want it, you really can do anything.
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Back to Brentwood. I put on a thinner dress and sit out in the sun. I get an email that says my LLC is filed in California. Then she tells me that I would be charging too little. I need business cards by next weekend. I’m still working on that shift from a creative person who sometimes sells things to a creative business owner.
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I watch a Youtube video to learn how to start the charcoal grill and feel quite accomplished.
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Expansion. But I forgot to call my dad.
Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty
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I want to re-do Sunday and Monday. Back to our regularly scheduled program.
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I’m pretty sure everyone is going to complain about not having any options for lunch. But there’s plenty of food. They just have to make a little more effort.
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Lunchable.
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“On production of a valid receipt, travellers of elegance and style wearing designer and/or hand-tailored clothing or flaunting individual pieces of jewellery including wristwatches with a minimum purchase price of 10,000 US dollars may now board.” - Thank You for Waiting by Simon Armitage via The Slowdown Podcast
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Then you remember that you too were meant for poetry.
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Covered in sun and revelations.
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I panic a little bit when I see that Monse isn’t there. But he grabbed his book this time. His margaritas are still too strong.
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Cartography.
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A base hit. Steal to second. Steal to third. Steal to home on a wild pitch to score the tying run. I jump up in the stands. I realize that I might not be cheering, but yelling. That’s okay. I’m proud. Also very competitive.
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It’s hot here.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Nine
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Early light.
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He’s already up. Why?
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He wants to go over the plans 10 times. I tell him he just has to come along for the ride. The real concern is how much xBox time he’s going to be able to squeeze out of the day.
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The receptionist at the eye doctor is confusing to me. She can be brisk but kind, smiling and frowning. Maybe it’s her strong eyebrows.
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What am I saying? I could totally live here.
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“What’s the difference between a hill and a mountain? Are these hills or are they mountains?” “I don’t know the technical definition, but I think that those vines right there would be hillside fruit and the vines up there would be considered mountain fruit. But I really don’t know.” They ask if they can see the barrel room, I tell them, not today. Next time we come we’ll make sure Ms. Elizabeth is here to show us.
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It didn’t take much work on their part to get from a $10 budget to a $20 budget. But it’s hard for me to refuse books. They each leave with two, I leave with one very large volume about California wines.
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We make it Oxbow for ice cream. Land of Milk and Honey + Dad’s Cardamom. Everything is melting rapidly, even in the shade.
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“I’d rather do this every day than play xBox.”
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He tells me that it’s okay to like and want nice things. That it doesn’t make me a bad person. That being wealthy isn’t a bad thing. That if I can, I can live where I want.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Eight
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You have to wait until 7.
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“Look! There’s a giant egg out there! See! That yellow one!” “That’s not an easter egg sweetie, it’s a lemon.”
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Blueberry muffins, coffee, water, mimosa.
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“I guess I better go grab those easter eggs.” I walk out to the rear of the yard and am overwhelmed by the scent of lemon and orange blossoms. It reminds of the ranch last spring and every path you wondered down was lined with the fragrance of orange and lemon and jasmine.
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I think we might have a peach tree. He asks me if I can imagine how cool it would be to make peach cobbler from our own peaches, all golden brown in the cast iron skillet from Aunt Janice. I can. I can imagine it.
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A hammock and a book.
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“May we all seek to approach the world thus—as a place of overwhelming wonder and also inevitable transformation, where there are always new dewdrops to discover, clinging at dawn to every leaf.” - Lost Worlds of the San Francisco Bay Area by Sylvia Linsteadt
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If could write as simple and beautiful as this, yes, please.
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Rotating chairs to chase the sun.
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We think about the things we’ll grow in the next house. But really I should start now. Bring me the rosemary and the sage and the thyme, tomatoes and blueberries and blackberries.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Seven
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Just a little bit longer.
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The window experiment worked. Feeling refreshed after a pleasantly cool night. But will this work in July?
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Thirty minutes alone before I need to leave. I love home. I love being home. I love that this is my home.
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Microclimates. Sun at the base of the hills and now I’m driving up into the clouds.
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All the sheep are gathered in one big group. From here they look like large stones studding the hillside.
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I can tell by the look on his face.
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He says he’ll take my shift for tomorrow. I know the kids will be happy. It’s too late to make new plans, but at least I’ll get to relax after the kids hunt for their eggs and I’ll drink a mimosa and go for a walk.
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The hills are indeed turning brown already. I was telling her that I think, maybe, we really are just closer to the sun. I know it doesn’t make sense but that’s how it feels. I am closer to the sun.
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Tetramythos Roditis.
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Fill the eggs. Hide the eggs. Laugh about how the two youngest still believe in the Easter Bunny. Steal only a handful of jelly beans.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Six
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It’s officially tank top weather here and I love it.
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Before I begin making my list, I write the intention at the top of the page: More veggies and fruits, lighter on the gluten and dairy.
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Okay, okay. Let’s go get some wine. It’s a holiday weekend. I talk him out of going all the way to Berkley and we settle on Walnut Creek instead.
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I tell him that one of the things that would keep me from moving here is overhearing a conversation like this. “We couldn’t have this conversation if a woman was here….What he said was, ‘Women aren’t as good as men at science and that’s why they aren’t in those positions and I mean, he got crucified for it….My wife says she has to work twice as hard to get the same recognition as her male counterparts….She says she needs to leave the company because it isn’t friendly to working women. What does she mean? I’m surrounded by women in the workplace.”
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I want to turn around, walk over to the table, and slap their middle-aged-white-male-fragile-sexist-racist-classist faces. I stuff olives into my mouth instead.
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“This is your first summer here, right? It' gets really hot.”
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Denim dress. I opt not to belt it for comfort.
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Date night. Paloma. Delamotte Brut. Shrimp, salad, porkchop. brownie. It’s almost there.
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Pastel colors in the sky. Home before the sun has fully set.
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The work never ends.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Five
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Oops. Not enough eggs.
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I step over a handful of snails and walk through the garden bed to snip the rose. It’s as if it doubled in size overnight.
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They won’t stop talking about the dead racoon and rabies.
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Alignment over balance.
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I realize that the queasy feeling is my gut telling me that I’m pursuing a course that would make me exactly like them. And that’s exactly what I don’t want.
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Staring at all of these words is making me cross-eyed. But I’m putting it on my list of things to do. Because I want it.
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All the laundry. It takes me 2 hours and 45 minutes to just fold all of the things that had been sitting in the baskets for the week.
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It’s the hammock.
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The little corner fills up with high school boys in their baseball uniforms. Maybe it’s because I’m about to go pick up my own son, clad in a baseball uniform, voice not quite as deep. I feel thick with loss at the idea of him aging, and also excited for what could be possible for him.
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Gorgonzola.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Four
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What are we eating for breakfast today?
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Water, water, water. Four snails so far. The distance they travel at such a slow pace. I never would have thought I’d be so captivated by these little things.
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I’m so bad with taking my vitamins.
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He says something about the roses. The blooms are larger than they were yesterday. It’s early but it already feels so warm.
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I really hope she moves soon so that I can leave because I’m too nervous to try to pull out of this space with her so close to me. Another one of those random anxiety things about driving a car.
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Books on the table. Food. Some insight. Introductions. And yet I leave feeling slightly unsure of myself. This might be one of the alignment things she talked about.
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But everything is so beautiful.
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What is that? He stepped on a snail.
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It occurs to me that maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. This is one of the reasons I stopped inserting opinions in public spaces. But I didn’t do or say anything wrong. But I’m still obsessing over it. But I probably should have just not said anything at all.
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Okay, okay. I’ll eat the ice cream sandwich.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Three
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Adopt the pace of the snail.
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Chilly morning. No one is up yet. I should finish water, make tea, grind beans for coffee. Today feels like a good day to make a pot of chai.
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Whatever bush this is, when sunrise is peaking through its leaves, it’s glorious. I need to do some self-portraits in front of it. But maybe not until the bees go away.
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Meditate.
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I tell her that the reason I am no longer doing this work is so that I can focus on the things that really do bring me joy. I am fortunate in that I don’t have to do this one particular thing just because it brings in income. I can take that energy and now put it towards the things that really excite me. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
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It’s a cute little downtown. Old. It holds something that I can’t articulate but can feel.
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Dolmas, hummus, falafel, spanakopita, a handful of french fries, Foundi Estate 2011 Xinomavro. We should buy a whole case of this Xinomavro.
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We left all the baseball stuff in the car. The car that was left at the dealership. Everyone is upset.
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I even meditated today and all the humans are still pushing me over the edge. “So it’s just your judgement call?” says parent/coach. “Yes! It’s his judgement call because he’s the ump!” I say in my head. “Yes, it is my call,” says the ump. Can’t we all just remember that these are 10 and 11 year-olds and 6 and 7 year-olds and that it’s really not that serious?
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The Office, Season 5, Episode 14.
Ten.Six Hundred & Fifty-Two
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Where did the contact go?
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Turkey breakfast sausage and potatoes and coffee with frothy oat milk. Extra gratitude for oat milk. For finding one that I can actually tolerate enough of drink throughout the day.
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So slowly.
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The gray is taking over but it’s the kind of gray that fills the sky with peace. I take my nettles and water and laptop into the boy’s room for my client call. I love his little desk. It’s an authentic mid-century modern piece that’s a little wobbly but the wood is so great and the lines so classic. I wish it were mine.
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I DM her and set up the plans. We’ll have Sunday lunch here. Good. Motivation for me to finally hang something on the walls.
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It’s a very large bottle.
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He drops us off in front of the store for a little bit of shopping while he and the boys go to the batting cages. Last week she told me she likes black and blue. Everything she touches is full of electric color. I laugh to myself. It’s a good thing I didn’t try to do this on my own.
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Apsara Cellars 2015 Whole Cluster Syrah, Las Madres Vineyards, Carneros. Mind blown. Yesterday we drank a 2015 Syrah that was almost 3 times the price but only 1/8 as good.
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Investing in clarity. This is one of the smartest things I’ve done in some time.
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I savor the last little bit in bed playing wordscapes and listening to The Office. Cool cotton against the skin. The faint scent of lotion. He tells me that the big kid is in the little kid’s room, on the top bunk. They’re talking about baseball cards. How sweet.