Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. Up because of that nap yesterday; but I do feel rested and that feels nice.

2. Water.

3. I start to dig around for a new scone recipe but decide to just get donuts instead.

4. Colors of dawn. The moon is bright, less than full but still large in the sky.

5. Still quiet.

6. The last time I wrote was exactly a week ago. This needs to change.

7. What do I need? Macaroni elbows, command strips, bread for BLTs, a plan.

8. “What’s that tearing sound?” “It’s just me.” “Scrapbooking?” “Vision board.” “That’s what I meant.” I bring the large image of a field full of dried grass closer to me and place upon it the collected phrases that called out to me: “a muse for all times,” “artisans of enlightenment,” “home at last.”

9. “What does it take to a true Original these days? A willingness to break the rules, of course; a strong sense of personal style doesn’t hurt; but most of all, you need to have a meaningful point of view.” - W Magazine

10. Sweat collecting at the nape. Sweat cascading over eyelashes, salty drops slipping into the corners of my mouth. The last novel in the collection, “Imago.” I think of how expertly she handles the human condition and the way, through these characters, she reminds us that until we are willing to release ourselves from hierarchical thinking, we will continue to kill one another. Humans are unique in that way; we crave connection and intimacy, true community, but are unwilling to risk (perceived) loss of status or property.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Four

1. A little bit of sleeping in.

2. The sound of the coffee and the keys. The hum of the refrigerator. I warm up last night’s brussel sprouts for my breakfast. I’m craving something savory and substantial.

3. He wants me to take off the whole week of Christmas and then I think about how that means I would lose two days of pay and that I should just suck it up and go in for those days. And then I realize that this is how capitalism functions.

4. Everyone seems to think that the solution is to just make more money. It’s much harder to make the conscious choice to consume less. But there is no perfect answer, no perfect way.

5. Done.

6. I begin to undo the braids. I am not looking forward to the work required tomorrow. She is adamant that they com out today and be redone. She’s not wrong. I just don’t want to do it.

7. No rest for the weary.

8. I look him dead in the eye and tell him to stay out of the pan. I know he’s the one sneaking bites. How can someone so tall and sometimes uncoordinated be so stealthy in his pilfering of sweets?

9. “But communication with Humans was always incomplete.” - Adulthood Rites

10. So sleepy.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Three

1. Pioneer Woman drop biscuits. I remind myself to cut the recipe in half.

2. How a kid could be upset about having As and Bs so that he can play sports is beyond me. But here we are. Maybe he’ll feel good about it one day. Maybe he’ll care. Maybe he won’t.

3. How is it already the middle of December?

4. They crowd around the gameboard and I wonder why they’ve scrunched themselves against the wall. But I’m also happy to see that they’re playing together because they want to. The benefit of them being so close in age.

5. I cross off the list as quickly as I made it; only one real task and that is to find these gift sets.

6. I have to dig so far down into the box that I’m afraid I’ll fall over and into it.

7. I think of how I told him that I’m not so sure that this person really knows what they’re talking about, it’s just that they say it with such authority that it makes you wonder if you’re the one who doesn’t know. It’s almost funny.

8. Baby cheeks.

9. It was worth all the prep.

10. I shouldn’t be doing their chores. It’s just that I want to wake up tomorrow to a clean home with freshly vacuumed floors, and drink my coffee in the corner of the couch slowly and quietly.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Two

1. Beach dreams.

2. What will it feel like to get to 1000?

3. But these words in costar got me all messed up this morning.

4. That’s right. They said they wanted oatmeal for breakfast, the homemade kind.

5. fin de siècle — 1: of, relating to, or characteristic of the close of the 19th century and especially its literary and artistic climate of sophistication, world-weariness, and fashionable despair. World Weariness. Fashionable Despair.

6. Music. Out of podcasts. Why can’t I find Hear to Slay?

7. Tomorrow will be Friday the 13th. I’m not very superstitious but.

8. I take myself over to the cottage, put the new duvet covers on the twin beds. The feel of the linen. This is one way to ground myself: sneak away to the quiet, touch something soft.

9. I stand over the cans of wine with my camera, shifting their placement, adjusting the focus. I realize that I’m happy. Not just because there’s wine, but because I can feel creative juices going; the packaging excites me, the potential of the wine excitements me, the moodiness of the lighting and the vibrancy of the colors excites me. Maybe I’m doing the wrong thing.

10. The bath water is high but I let it get too cold. Seems like such a waste.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-One

1. The quiet dark.

2. I twist the rings until they settle into the just-right spot on my fingers, their weight familiar and comforting.

3. Lately I don’t have my first cup until I’m already in the car. I miss the slower mornings when it could be something I cherish. Waking earlier hasn’t necessarily given me more time to luxuriate; I’m too focused on making sure everyone has marked their morning checklist.

4. Thirsty.

5. Of course my decision to take Camino Diablo yields a less desirable result today. I just didn’t feel like sitting on Vasco. But now I’m sitting on J4. At least the scenery is a little different.

6. 13 minutes. 24 minutes. 36 minutes. I finally hear a human voice at 42 minutes. Just the time of year, I suppose.

7. Cheeseburger with the 1883 patty, cheddar, tomato, lettuce, onion. French fries. Lemonade. Even on a cloudy day the view is outstanding.

8. This is not the person to turn to.

9. I don’t have a clear “yes” but I definitely feel a clear “no".

10. “It was just a spontaneous dinner that happened to work out just right because I happened to already be preparing enough food. You know, kind of like what we sometimes did with the Messiers?” I feel a wave of melancholy as I gather the dirty forks and spoons from the dishes.

11. I pull my knees up and lean over to rest upon them while he talks to me. I can already feel the sweat forming at my temples and the base of my neck. I tell him that I am to gain this knowledge for what exactly. What, actually, is the point. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety

1. I should just get up anyway.

2. Where are my pants? I need to just get some clothes. What am I actually waiting for?

3. The sound of the coffee pot sputtering. The sound of my fingers on the keys. The soft glow of the lights from the window. I think about how she will tell me that she won’t eat a waffle made from the Krusteaz mix but she’s totally fine with an Ego.

4. They eat almost all of the Egos. What’s a mother to do around here to keep the fridge stocked?

5. I understand why there are so many black women entrepreneurs. Who has time to deal with foolishness all day. It’s draining.

6. But sometimes you have to decide that you just don’t care.

7. She stopped by and brought in a platter of cookies. I wish she was still here. At least she was kind.

8. “It’s just that you and I have zero tolerance for shitty people.” I just sometimes wish my intolerance didn’t display itself so prominently on my face.

9. I won’t tell him that yes, that very same thought occured to me today. We are really close. Maybe that is what I want.

10. “Do you even know what you want?” “No.” “Okay. When you figure that out, you need to tell someone.”

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Nine

1. More rested than I expected to be.

2. That soft red glow again. I ought to hunt down it’s source. At first glance it looks like the coming of dawn but it’s on the wrong side of the sky.

3. I warm up the leftover soup for us while he builds a sandwich and the other decides he will eat nothing at all.

4. Bright sun. Unexpected. The hills are beginning to turn green again. Funny that winter here is both life and death at the same time. Some of the trees lose their leaves but the grass turns green again, the roses are blooming again, the birds of paradise are alert, the lemons continue to ripen.

5. I tell her that I want to use this opportunity to challenge, which is not the same thing as shaming. But I hope that we weren’t asked because we felt like safe choices.

6. I keep to myself.

7. I wonder if I’m overly responsive about this particular email. It’s just that I’m eager for something to do. I try to remind myself that this is just the season we’re in.

8. The softness of the linen. Maybe this is what should be on my Christmas list.

9. How many pages in this chapter? The next? Can I get through both before the bath water gets too cold?

10. I still don’t like strawberry ice cream.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. That’s good sleeping in.

2. I opt for comfort. I think back to when I told her that I tend to dress for comfort and tend to forget that we can dress for confidence. They are sometimes the same thing but often not.

3. She’s sick. We’ll push it back to next week. I am grateful for the cancellation. On to cleaning toilets.

4. A rod of anger. He asks me why I’m angry. The anger is not really anger. I mean, it is. I know what is frustrating to me. But really I’m just tired and needing solitude.

5. I should not have come, but here I am, and It’s just an opportunity to practice patience and presence. I think that this is really something, What a bunch crock it all is, the encouragement for overconsumption.

6. What is the alternative? I mean, realistically. Because I also refuse to run away.

7. I break off pieces of the roof. The gingerbread cookie itself is not so sweet, but the icing is just sweet enough. I try not to leave a trail of crumbs.

8. I curl up in his bed just to be alone. It's quiet back in this corner. It's the smallest room in the house but also one of the coziest.

9. In the next house, there will be a wood-burning fireplace.

10. Writing. Learning how to be a better steward of the land. Learning how to communicate with members of my community. Growing confidence. Shifting people's perceptions by asking questions that matter. Quieting the mind. Yoga. Centering Pleasure. Meals that nourish and delight. More books. Solitude.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Seven

1. Oh no. The amount of her invoice is more than my daily limit. Maybe she will let me partially pay. I’ll give her a few bottles of wine for the inconvenience.

2. This corner. The soft yellow-orange of light trying to push through. Everything looks wet and alive.

3. They help me carry the bags through the back door of the kitchen. “I think I saw her making choux dough!”

4. Of course our tables are right next to each other. I laugh to myself.

5. But aren’t we both adults? Are we really going to act as if we don’t notice on another? I formally introduce myself to get break the invisible silence. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…

6. Bubbles and popcorn and sticky fingers.

7. Stress sweat.

8. I grab a tray and carry glass back to the kitchen. He touches my shoulder and asks me what I’m doing. I’m just helping. “I can clean a table. I used to work in a restaurant, it’s really no big deal.” In fact, as I’m doing it I remember how much fun I used to have, the conversations I would have with guests. It’s a dance.

9. My feet, my feet. I wore these shoes for a very specific reason but man, my feet.

10. Maybe the word for 2020 is Confidence.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Six

1. Why do I keep scratching my face with this nub of a pencil?

2. Oh Christmas tree.

3. I set to making the scones. Shred the butter, mix in the cream, add vanilla and some cinnamon. The feel of the dough in my hand. I miss the days of Thanksgiving with its slowness. When, finally, cooking didn’t feel like a chore but a meditation.

4. Bad Questions. Right Questions. Real Questions. It’s the Real Question that shifts everything.

5. I forgot the glass jars. And what was I thinking? Green on green? I wasn’t. This is what happens when you don’t have a list.

6. I write out the to-dos for the day. I timed almost everything just right but there is more list than time today. I don’t stress out about it. I remind myself that none of this is life or death. It’s meant to be fun.

7. I think she’s doing what I think she’s doing. I laugh. I don’t worry because I know that there is proof that I made the originals.

8. Humans are so interesting.

9. She wraps the jars of fudge while I wrap the glasses. We drop them into the bags. She adds a club brochure then helps me tie the ornaments and recipe cards to the small bags of mulled wine. 30 gift bags take up a lot of room in a tiny car.

10. But you still have to do the work.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Five

1. The red glow. Not dawn. Not street lights. Maybe someone’s Christmas decorations?

2. Did I move the elf?

3. Beloved Oil on the neck and breast bone. The gleam on the collarbone. I try to push the shoulders down.

4. I tell her that I know this feeling all to well. I dislike the longing. I especially dislike the longing when you know that what you’re longing after is no good for you.

5. A wall of white. I’m surprised there haven’t been more accidents this week. This is the first time I’ve driven through fog like this before. Two horses on the hill in the mist.

6. This podcast, this podcast. Yes! Maxine from Living Single.

7. I tell her that I’m feeling divided.

8. I don’t see anyone’s car here yet. I try the door. It’s locked. I take a picture of the building, the white arch, the worn wooden door. The brass lights on either side of the door. Beauty hunting.

9. I laugh when I see who I get for Secret Santa. But then I realize that it’s actually easier than I had first thought.

10. What would be my secret?

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Four

1. I don’t think I should be this tired.

2. I forgot to move the elf. No one is awake. I see an envelope stuck underneath him. She did write the letter. She really is the sweetest. I love that she has chosen to believe in the magic.

3. Then I realize I ought to write her back.

4. She reads it outloud. She seems satisfied with the response.

5. Back into the clouds.

6. I task myself with a few extra things and this keeps me busy enough to feel more productive. Then I wonder if I’m a sadist.

7. I head out into the rain and turn the corner to find three deer. Three. My magic number. They look at me and I look at them. We look at each other. I smile. I ask them if they’d like to go. But I take it as good medicine.

8. Affirmations and Confirmations.

9. Oh, Wendy.

10. We drink the Azul-Verde and I immediately regret it because it was so delicious. Hot bath. Too hot. A few more chapters of Lilith’s Brood. I wonder if baths are now my creative outlet. I mourn my inability/unwillingness/lack of presence to sit and do the work I fell called to do. Like she said in that episode, I’m not doing the work that makes my insides happy.

11. And, yet.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Three

1. What is supposed to be for breakfast?

2. No more celery juice. I need more celery juice. What kind of person is a person who craves celery juice?

3. The freedom of a slow morning. I think about life before and how this was my morning every morning and how I miss it. I wonder if it’s something to aspire to get back to.

4. I notice the large wave of her hair, the big tortoise shell glasses, the gold stud in her nose that reminds me of India. I think it funny that had we not started on such a bad foot, she might be the kind of woman I’d like to get to know.

5. I tell them that there’s no need to meet on Thursday. They seem to be surprised. I’m surprised by their surprise.

6. Driving up into the rain. I giggle to myself. I think of how incredible it is that I am ascending so high that I am literally in a cloud. I drive THROUGH clouds.

7. Two deer on the side of the road. I wonder if it’s weird that I think almost everything is a sign.

8. I make my way through the gate but pause and pull the talisman out of my pocket. The contrast of wet asphalt, mottled leaves, knit sweater, shiny silver, and the word “trust.”

9. Something about her writing feels familiar. Or maybe it’s her voice, tone and cadence of her speech. It’s hard not to think “I want to write like that.”

10. Solution-based thinking. Also: sometimes you just need to ask the question.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Two

1. Just a few more minutes.

2. Biscuits but not enough milk to make gravy.

3. Everyone seems to be upset about having to return to the normal routine. We have only 3 weeks before another 2 weeks off. I remind them that they’re barely in school.

4. I crest the hill and am met with a curtain of gray clouds and fog. It’s dramatic and moody and I wish I could pull over and take out my camera. This is a different color scheme, one of muted browns and grays and deep green. An ever-changing landscape.

5. We both agree that something isn’t quite right. She has the language for it; I just have the feeling. We develop a plan.

6. The time is flying by today and that’s a good thing. I make myself a big mug of tea scented with orange and honey and cinnamon.

7. Oh, yeah.

8. Unknown. I know who it is.

9. Another wave of guilt. Another wondering if I shouldn’t have just made a different choice.

10. We opt for a smaller tree and In-n-Out for dinner. Gratitudes.

Ten. Eight Hundred & Eighty-One

1. I open the bedroom door, her back is to me. I hear the Nespresso machine and then my heart melts. I tell him I guess I should get back under the covers so she can bring it to me in bed.

2. She’s proud of herself. Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s just her personality or social conditioning, that she’s seen me be the caregiver for so long that it seems like it’s what she’s supposed to do. But then I also know that she’s also just a sweet little girl.

3. I finish the cappuccino with a slice of banana bread and a thick smear of butter.

4. I write the prayer.

5. The sound of wind and rain.

6. I work until the battery dies. It’s always so hard to write about yourself. I talk myself through it. I remind myself that it’s the first one and so it won’t be perfect but it will be done. This is all just a process.

7. I put on Twilight Zone and rub his head until he falls asleep. It doesn’t take too long. I think I’m right behind him.

8. Note to self: stop using my phone number.

9. Navarro Vineyards Pinot Gris.

10. I hear giggles from the back room. I knew this was a bad idea.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty

1. Slippered feet making their way to the kitchen.

2. I pull out a jar of celery juice while I prepare the coffee. The whir of the beans, the sound of the water filling the carafe.

3. I forgot about the banana bread.

4. I claim the same corner of the sofa and write my pages. I will miss not having this time in the morning.

5. She says she’s a little scared but excited. I’m surprised by her choice of studs over the gold balls but who doesn’t love shiny things. I stare at the pen marks on her lobes. I turn my head so that I can’t see the actual act of piercing. I hope she doesn’t notice.

6. Christmas leggings.

7. I so desperately want to nap but can’t seem to fall asleep.

8. I start to think “I’m not ready to go back…” and then stop myself. Gratitude for catching the thought before it completed itself. I ask myself for an alternative, something positive that I can replace it with. “I am looking forward to using this week to pull together the final pieces for the event next Saturday.”

9. No. None of these. Is it just today? My mood? Or do I just know what I want and I can recognize that this is not it?

10. Wet again. I hear the wind whipping through the trees.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. I don’t think I’m even hungry.

2. But these shortbread cookies would go great with a cup of coffee.

3. Maybe we’ll try something a little different this year.

4. Morning pages while tucked into the corner with the most light. Water and coffee.

5. I finish the book. Not my most favorite but a simple idea that’s easy to put into place. I’m curious to see how many people use it and stick with it.

6. I text my uncle about questions I should ask the financial advisors. Then we decide that maybe we just work the investments on our own together.

7. I recognize guilt about talking about investments and try to trace it. Shame if you don’t have it, shame if you do. Awareness is what matters. Reducing harm along the way is what matters.

8. Sun, sun, sun.

9. More cabbage gratin and ham. The savory-sweet flavors. I should drink more water. I remember this season. I remember Mondo. I thought she would like this.

10. I realize that it’s about settling my body.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Eight

1. I see the door open and a little face peak through. I can tell by the way the light is falling into the room that I’ve slept in again.

2. Homemade banana bread toasted with a thick smear of butter, hot coffee.

3. I realize how much of that anger I’m still holding. I realize that it’s partly out of this fear of not being perceived as good enough (hello perfectionism and messages from the dominant culture).

4. I light all the candles and settle into a corner of the sofa. He brings me a short pour of sparkling Rosé. I flip open the latest issue of Fast Company.

5. I think about writing.

6. I can feel the excitement in my body as the dough gives a proper rise. I am grateful for the time and space to cook and make at my own speed. I remember how much I do enjoy cooking, an active meditation.

7. The cheesy cabbage gratin is everything I wanted it to be.

8. I think about how I thought about writing and how no writing was done. I decide to not beat myself up about it to much.

9. She has a good vibe.

10. Settling the body.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Seven

1. A little sleeping in.

2. Gray skies. She says she fell asleep to the sound of rain. I tell her I could hear while I was taking a bath. And wasn’t it so soothing?

3. Emails already. Of course, the day I figured I wouldn’t be busy enough to go into the office is the day an avalanche of questions pours in. It’s okay.

4. Costco on the day before. He tells me to relax. I try.

5. Sweet potato casserole, cheesy cabbage gratin, Alison Roman’s deep-dish apple galette. I think of the kind of conversation I want to have at dinner tomorrow; how to communicate gratitude as well as acknowledgment of the real truth of this particular day.

6. 2 glass dishes and 1 Italian glass carafe.

7. The feeling of being supported, to know you have people in your corner. And also know that you’re not making this stuff up even though you sometimes worry you’re taking it too personally.

8. All of this just leads to growth.

9. The galette is leaking and she says she hopes it doesn’t have a soggy bottom. I giggle. Leaking aside, I think it will be okay.

10. He says that he thinks we’re the only black family that didn’t eat macaroni and cheese. I laugh. I say that I almost thought about making it this week just because I actually do like macaroni and cheese. Like Aunt Monica’s. Yeah, like that.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Seventy-Six

1. He’s here again, adding to the warmth beneath the covers. His had still feels small when placed inside my own. I’m grateful for that.

2. The last celery juice. I grab the leftover roast chicken and mashed potatoes and broccoli for my lunch today. Someone ate all the rolls.

3. She cries when she sees it. I imagine she’s feeling all things at once which is a very human way to be.

4. I walk over to the tasting room for crackers and cheese to place into the cottage fridge. It’s gray,so dray, and windy. Leaves, browned and curled, scratch at my ankles and tiny drops begin to fall.

5. Something wicked this way comes.

6. She should spend less time talking to me and more time trying to find another place to have this event.

7. Chicken noodle soup. Only two of us are really happy about it.

8. He makes a joke about me and my can of wine and the bathtub. I decide I need break from the serious stuff and grab Lilith’s Brood by Octavia Butler. I forget how much I like science fiction.

9. I have no list.

10. I should stay up to make this list but I don’t want to.