Ten.One Thousand & Eleven

1. The alarm has not gone off yet. Just the sound of ocean waves.

2. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. I scoop the last of the coffee beans into the grinder. I wonder if the coffee from Red Bay is coming yet. Maybe I don’t need to drink coffee anyway. I am trying to rest, after all.

3. Probably didn’t need the brown sugar.

4. Tuesday group on a Friday.

5. If this is really the end, I’m not going out feeling stressed and depressed.

6. I realize that what I’m experiencing are actually mini panic attacks. I should probably lay off the coffee.

7. I miss the best parts of the writing group, trying to help her download and print and upload her math. I’m frustrated. It is what it is.

8. We talk about quarantine life and New Orleans and otherness and the books we’re reading.

9. The roses are exploding. I clip them, use the blade of the scissors to remove the thorns.

10. I head over to the hammock and flood my ears with Leon Bridges. I inhale the scent of orange blossoms and feel the breeze blow through my hair.

11. I face toward the sun and drink the Sangiovese while he tries to reassure me.

12. “Did you have sock hops when you were in high school?” “Sock hops? Oh my god, you’re so old.”

Ten.One Thousand & Ten

1. It seems a little dark.

2. I make the bed while he grinds the coffee beans. Speaking of beans, where is that order? I’m sure it will be here sometime this week. Won’t it? Who knows. Who knows anything any more.

3. Double-check the campaigns and scheduled posts, yesterday’s sales. Write a list of questions that are really just for yourself.

4. I try to make a list of things that will be easy to get for Easter. There isn’t very much. Or there isn’t enough of the right things. Talking about getting groceries makes me anxious. Neither of us wants to go.

5. That cough.

6. I feel the anxiety in my throat again, and I don’t know what it is precisely, it’s just there. Again.

7. I read the email, and my eyes start to tear up, and then I run into the kitchen to tell him. It’s a big deal—a big deal for me.

8. I will not let this scare me.

9. I stir the onions and the celery and the garlic. Stir, stir, stir. Think of all that I still need to do.

10. I bring a tiny bowl of chicken noodle soup and the last glass of Chateau St. Michelle Dry Riesling. We laugh. We talk about the pandemic. We talk about how ourselves or people we know have been sick and whether or not it was the virus. We talk about food and books and airlines.

11. I wonder how long this will be how we talk. I agree with her; I am already beginning to get tired of being on the computer and doing this. And yet, it’s better than nothing. But I also wonder if we just need to learn how to be alone.

12. I’ve got work to do.

Ten.One Thousand & Nine

1. Motivation today is high. Ride that.

2. I double-check the calendar. Three calls today- one for work, two for fun. I like this balance.

3. Surprisingly helpful.

4. I come out from the office and no one is at the table and working. I make him get off the phone and check-in with the kids. We need a better system.

5. No leftovers. In between grocery items. Not enough to make the right things.

6. We find the other masks. Grateful that we happen to have the right kind. Grateful we bought extras because of the fires that were burning when we moved here. Grateful for the fires? Just grateful to be able to believe that things happen for a reason.

7. I laugh. I needed the laughs. I didn’t realize how much I needed to laugh. We talk about everything: wine and food and work and systemic racism and the absurdity of what happen on “Below Deck.”

8. This is why I like her. I really like people who deal in Truth.

9. Pasta. Focaccia. The big kid makes the brownies.

10. He found his bubbles from last Easter. The three of them are in the back yard playing with bubbles. Now they’re playing limbo. All this because the internet is down.

11. Just keep doing what you’re doing.

Ten.One Thousand & Eight

1. Don’t want to get up. Feeling unprepared for the school day.

2. Make the bed. Fold the blanket and flatten it against the bed. Do something that gives a sense of completion.

3. Why am I pretending that I’m not going to eat the other half of the bagel?

4. Okay. If I can just get one hour of work in before I try to make them do work…

5. I tell her she doesn’t need to start her work until 9 but she just wants to get it over with. She is her mother’s daughter, that’s for sure.

6. I think these look good. This is good. Satisfied.

7. I get out into the yard so that I can finish up the rest of the work and get the vitamin D. I need the light. I need the warmth. Dad calls. I’m being asked to clarify a memory; they tell me that I am the holder of the unadulterated memories.

8. I show him the rose bushes and the nectarine, lemon, and orange trees. He gives me some suggestions. I had forgotten that he worked as a landscaper in college.

9. First IG live. Not bad. I probably ought to invest in a stand for the phone if I decide to do more of these. Also, I need more lighting in the office. Also, this is kind of fun.

10. He asks me how many people were there. I say that I’m not sure, that it didn’t matter to me. What excited me most was the conversation and that she asked me questions no one’s asked before. That’s what made it enjoyable for me.

11. “I was crying out of anger.” “Or, you were crying because you were tired. I’ve known you all your life.”

Ten.One Thousand & Seven

1. Monday. First day of learning at home. But first, coffee.

2. I sit down and write a list of what needs to be done today and think that maybe I will bounce back and forth between the office and the dining room.

3. The older ones don’t want to wake up but we need some kind of routine again. We must have some kind of routine.

4. It takes me way longer to set them up than I thought it would. I feel the frustration rising. Some links are not working. Other links are. We aren’t sure what the order of the assignments really ar. Every teacher has a different plan. I tell them to just work on whatever they have access to.

5. I tell them no chromebooks except for school work. Two of them go and play UNO on the floor. They are loud but they are together and that is most important.

6. Someone gets back on their chromebook anyway. I can’t care because I have work to do. Now, I get it. It is not so easy to be managing them and myself at the same time.

7. If I wasn’t working this would be much easier.

8. Some white grape from Germany that I can’t recognize. This Italian wine is Negroamaro. Can’t remember if I’ve had this varietal before. I like it.

9. I’m tired. I am rested but still tired. I know that it is just from feeling all the things at one time, all of the time.

10. Fill my eyes with pretty things before I fall asleep.

Ten.One Thousand & Six

1. More rain.

2. The soft gray light falling on everything. Coffee. Morning pages. The children are still asleep.

3. What I want to do is go back to bed.

4. It’s just myself, her, and her husband, which is just right for a Sunday where I’m feeling very coherent. Nerves.

5. Imposter syndrome.

6. But to share space in this way, with words, with wine, with presence and attention. We need art right now. It’s the artist who will have a big hand in shaping what is to come.

7. Generator, 3/5.

8. She says it’s like anticipatory grief. I liken it to having the Sunday blues but every day is Sunday. I don’t want to go back. Why would anyone want to go back to that?

9. Risotto without the Parmesan because I forgot that we didn’t have any. But it’s okay. We drink the Pinot Noir from Navarro.

10. Just be in response to life and trust your intuition.

Ten.One Thousand & Four

1. Friday. Friday? Friday.

2. Pre-dawn quiet. The candle hisses after I light it. I watch the flame for a moment.

3. I had told myself that this was the week we would get back into a routine but I’ve been too distracted. We can do it though. On Monday. We’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.

4. There are only 6 of us. I see her name and her face and I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. This feels like a good group. I am still intimidated.

5. I am transfixed by this image. Good art does this-transfixes.

6. The letter says they don’t anticipate us returning for the school year, that this is not meant to be stressful and to communicate with them if it feels that way. Sad that the only way institutions are willing to be (act) compassionate is when faced with a crisis.

7. What am I even going to read?

8. I lay in the hammock, coffee table jazz station in one ear and a book in my lap. The sky is blue and clear. The scent of orange blooms rides the breeze and fills my lungs. At least there is this.

9. I somehow managed to make the kale too salty. I’ll put it in a frittata.

10. Too much.

Ten.One Thousand & Three

1. We get to “meet” today. It’s been too long.

2. Pops.

3. Coffee with them, via the screen. This is better than nothing. Much better. And yet.

4. So much sun. Must get out there today. Hammock time?

5. So many tech issues. The majority of the faces on the screen looked stressed or confused. I realize that I’ve taken my comfort with technology for granted. The teacher says he just wanted to connect and see his students’ faces. He doesn’t think we will return to school. He’s grading on a pass/fail. He asks parents to communicate with him if the work is too much. We’ll miss this teacher.

6. None of this is easy.

7. Dance and sing and clean. Laundry. Try to forget about checking the news. Stay away from the ‘gram.

8. So much coughing. Even with the medicine. He says his side hurts then coughs again.

9. “When we let ourselves see the possibilities instead of the improbabilities, we become as flexible and resilient as we really are. It is human nature to create. When we cooperate with our creativity, using it to live within the lives we actually have, we surprise ourselves with our level of invention.” - Julia Cameron, The Sound of Paper

10. Giggling.

Ten.One Thousand & Two

1. I hear him saying something quietly, and then I hear the coughing. 3:44am.

2. I close my eyes and hear the cough again and get up to get him cough medicine. I try to go back to sleep but google cough remedies and double-check COVID-19 symptoms because that is what a worrier does.

3. I close my eyes but don’t really go back to sleep.

4. So much coughing.

5. This morning, a whole family of snails. I watch the smallest one climb the stacked landscape pavers. How slowly they move.

6. It must be how I chugged that beet juice. I hope it’s just that.

7. I forgot how time-consuming this particular kind of work is.

8. I love the parts of our ride where Mt. Diablo is in view. No clouds. Not as quiet. More people out post-lunch? There are new blossoms on some of the trees. A lonely lemon in the gutter.

9. He asks me if I want the rest of the Syrah. Of course, I want the rest of it.

10. When the message gets repeated to you over and over and over again, and you realize you just gotta do it. However you can, in whatever small way you can, just do one simple thing to stay connected to it. One simple thing to move it forward.

Ten.One Thousand & One

1. I am moving slower these mornings. Sleep is not as deep.

2. Quick prayer of gratitude. Celery juice. Grind the beans. I don’t want leftover cake. Maybe eggs?

3. Searching the corners for light.

4. Cough.

5. I let myself get too consumed with things. Little things. Focus on the work that matters.

6. “Beyond myself, somewhere, I wait for my arrival.” ― Octavio Paz

7. They talk about the fun things at school they’ll miss like the parties, the trip to the water park at the end of the year. I tell her that the water park will be closed so she won’t miss anything at all, that no one is going anywhere, that we can’t even go to the library.

8. I finish my petit manseng while in the tub. The water is not warm enough. Maybe I waited too long for it to cool off.

9. “Your no makes the way for your yes.” - Pleasure Activism

10. The mind is always filling itself in the moments when I need it empty.

Ten.One Thousand & One

1. I am moving slower these mornings. Sleep is not as deep.

2. Quick prayer of gratitude. Celery juice. Grind the beans. I don’t want leftover cake. Maybe eggs?

3. Searching the corners for light.

4. Cough.

5. I let myself get too consumed with things. Little things. Focus on the work that matters.

6. “Beyond myself, somewhere, I wait for my arrival.” ― Octavio Paz

7. They talk about the fun things at school they’ll miss like the parties, the trip to the water park at the end of the year. I tell her that the water park will be closed so she won’t miss anything at all, that no one is going anywhere, that we can’t even go to the library.

8. I finish my petit manseng while in the tub. The water is not warm enough. Maybe I waited too long for it to cool off.

9. “Your no makes the way for your yes.” - Pleasure Activism

10. The mind is always filling itself in the moments when I need it empty.

Ten.One Thousand

1. I hear a thud. I check the house, nothing seems out of place, no kid out of bed. 3:18am. There’s no way I’ll fall asleep again.

2. Just writing “One Thousand” gives me chills.

3. Olive oil cake for breakfast. The downside of the french press means that the coffee gets colder faster.

4. The scent of grated oranges.

5. I try to calm myself, but I can feel the anxiety rising. It feels like little blocks on the sternum and larynx. It feels like mild nausea. I even take deep breaths, but that doesn’t seem to alleviate it.

6. I just want him to stop coughing.

7. We ride around the neighborhood. I list gratitudes: the weather, the scent of orange blossoms, the green of the hills, clear skies. The timing couldn’t be more wrong, but it also couldn’t be more right. Every mistake had led me here. Every mistake a sacred thread.

8. He’s giving me permission to choose something different.

9. I still feel the blocks. I take the journal to the hammock and stare into the sun. I should be wearing sunblock. The sun feels good. I let the hammock sway.

10. I’m not normal, and I like it that way.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Nine

1. The first thing I do is check his temperature. Normal.

2. Must drink more water. I can feel a little soreness in my sides from last night’s quick yoga flow. I welcome it.

3. He brings me my coffee. I want to start drinking right away but know I must have some food in my stomach. I find a bosc pear, sweet but still crisp. I think I like these pears because of the color of their skin; it reminds me of an old oil painting. This sounds weird, but eating art is a thing.

4. I log in to listen to their coffee chat, not to lurk, but to be present. I tell them that I just want to listen. It’s just good to see and hear people in real-time.

5. I need to write.

6. I didn’t think of the alarm I would raise.

7. I stop her message so that I can journal. What she’s saying is making 10 light bulbs go off in my head. I need to stop and do it now.

8. We meander along the roads. It’s nice that the traffic is so light. You can ride in the middle of the road most of the time. Freedom.

9. I choose to sit in one of the chairs on the tiny concrete pad at the rear of the yard. This is where the sun is. The chorus bees. The thrum of the hummingbirds’ wings. These are the only sounds.

10. I tell him about her message and what I end up realizing in my journaling process and that really what I need to exercise in these moments is compassion.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Eight

1. Nightmares about work. Nightmares about fevers.

2. So quiet.

3. He’s up but not really. I can tell by the way he’s walking. 100.6. More coughing. Nothing to do but keep notes and make him drink more water.

4. Leftover Brussels sprouts and bacon for breakfast. Hot coffee. We agree again that there’s no need to replace the drip pot.

5. Rain in the forecast. No plans for today. Not that really could be any. With his slight fever and cough, we have to reconsider the light interactions we’ve had going into the grocery store.

6. This will not sound right in written words, no matter how I put it. But at this point, does it matter?

7. I tell him to go to the bathroom. The door closes. I hear a loud thud and nothing else. I scream his name. Nothing. I yell his name again and try to push open the door but he’s right behind it. I try again, gently to use the door to push it open, he’s still not saying anything but his eyes are slightly open. Finally, he gets up.

8. Throwing up.

9. The nurse on the phone says she has no more appointments for the day but that we need to get him seen somewhere.

10. We sit in the lobby and wait. Because now you need to make appointments for urgent care but we don’t know that. The urgent care doctor says he sounds fine and there’s no need to bring him up to the second floor. Two conflicting opinions.

11. I am tired. It’s not sleepless-tired, it’s stress-tried.

12. She tags me in a post congratulation on 1,000. She remembers the date I sent that newsletter. I must have miscounted a long the way but we’ve done it. We’ve completed 1,000 days of this. I am better for it.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Seven

1. Thirsty.

2. Linen for today. I think of the meme that says something about wearing jeans in quarantine. I am that person. I get fully dressed every day. But today, I need linen.

3. I tell him to go back to bed, that it’s too early. He coughs a dry cough but returns to his room.

4. Coffee. Camera. I have to make something. I need to get back into the rhythm of making.

5. Three snails. So slow. Thank you.

6. I had a feeling. This opens up another hour in my day and so I will just enjoy that. I take a mug of tea out to the patio and sit in the sun. The sun feels so good.

7. Her questions make me think about things I hadn’t thought about in so long. Reminder: call them this weekend.

8. Watch party for Uncorked. Almost 200 black folks drinking wine and talking. Prentice Penny and DLynn Proctor hop on and talk with us. Prentice reminds us that it’s a not about winning the battle, it’s about winning the war. You need to figure out which hills are worth dying on.

9. He put together my compost bin. The kids are excited about this which I think is funny. Looks like we’ll need to add horticulture into our homeschooling lessons.

10. Hold the vision, Alisha. Hold the vision. And ask for help.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Six

1. Thursday. Right? Yes. Thursday.

2. Cold air creeping in from her open window. I try to shut it as quietly as possible.

3. Green sweater. I remember wearing this to work one day, and his jeans, when I was pregnant with the oldest. Still just as cozy.

4. Snail medicine.

5. It’s hard for me to ask questions in this way. And I probably really already know the answer which is that there is no answer. But always trying.

6. I take my phone call out to the patio. I know it’s barely 50 degrees but in the sun it feels so good. I lean my head back into the sun.

7. No, this still isn’t it.

8. No cream. No parmesan.

9. “When I get older…well, if I get to be older because the world might end too soon…” I try not to spit out the pizza. I look over at him and he’s also laughing. But then I wonder what he’s listening to and who’s he talking to that’s telling him that this is the end of the world. Or does he just know what it means when I say that maybe this is the apocalypse? He is pretty smart. Also, he’s not wrong but I hope he is.

10. I sit on the floor of the living room because it has the best light. I flip through magazines to find the right words, the right images to represent what I’m feeling. Farm. Comfort. Feel light transformed. Craft. Where community comes first. word. Independent, adventurous, gracious, and glorious. The art of not compromising.

11. Two whole Liberty Ducks. Raft Sangiovese and Syrah. Shop local. Alternative communities. We could do it differently if people weren’t so scared.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Six

1. Thursday. Right? Yes. Thursday.

2. Cold air creeping in from her open window. I try to shut it as quietly as possible.

3. Green sweater. I remember wearing this to work one day, and his jeans, when I was pregnant with the oldest. Still just as cozy.

4. Snail medicine.

5. It’s hard for me to ask questions in this way. And I probably really already know the answer which is that there is no answer. But always trying.

6. I take my phone call out to the patio. I know it’s barely 50 degrees but in the sun it feels so good. I lean my head back into the sun.

7. No, this still isn’t it.

8. No cream. No parmesan.

9. “When I get older…well, if I get to be older because the world might end too soon…” I try not to spit out the pizza. I look over at him and he’s also laughing. But then I wonder what he’s listening to and who’s he talking to that’s telling him that this is the end of the world. Or does he just know what it means when I say that maybe this is the apocalypse? He is pretty smart. Also, he’s not wrong but I hope he is.

10. I sit on the floor of the living room because it has the best light. I flip through magazines to find the right words, the right images to represent what I’m feeling. Farm. Comfort. Feel light transformed. Craft. Where community comes first. word. Independent, adventurous, gracious, and glorious. The art of not compromising.

11. Two whole Liberty Ducks. Raft Sangiovese and Syrah. Shop local. Alternative communities. We could do it differently if people weren’t so scared.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. The dark. The sound of the heat blowing. I hope the sun manages to come out today.

2. I try to chug the 750ml. I haven’t been drinking as much water lately and I can feel it in my body.

3. The soreness of the push-ups is wearing off. But I also miss that feeling. Now there is time to get back to yoga.

4. The snails are back. I watch from a distance.

5. I download report after report trying to see how I can make a better go of it. I have the ideas but can’t get the right data. This is incomplete. I suppose I could just act as if there is no data.

6. I tell him that it’s hard to be in conversation with people who want to use this time as an opportunity to spiral into panic. I can’t choose that. I don’t have the mental capacity.

7. What day is today?

8. The article says the schools will be closed through May 1st. I know that means we most likely will not return this school year. This means we’re going to be homeschooling for the rest of the year. My other friends don’t seem to be as excited about this as I am.

9. I tell her that I wish I’d been able to have my land by now.

10. I end up talking to them for 2 hours. It’s late where they are. I should let them go to sleep.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. The dark. The sound of the heat blowing. I hope the sun manages to come out today.

2. I try to chug the 750ml. I haven’t been drinking as much water lately and I can feel it in my body.

3. The soreness of the push-ups is wearing off. But I also miss that feeling. Now there is time to get back to yoga.

4. The snails are back. I watch from a distance.

5. I download report after report trying to see how I can make a better go of it. I have the ideas but can’t get the right data. This is incomplete. I suppose I could just act as if there is no data.

6. I tell him that it’s hard to be in conversation with people who want to use this time as an opportunity to spiral into panic. I can’t choose that. I don’t have the mental capacity.

7. What day is today?

8. The article says the schools will be closed through May 1st. I know that means we most likely will not return this school year. This means we’re going to be homeschooling for the rest of the year. My other friends don’t seem to be as excited about this as I am.

9. I tell her that I wish I’d been able to have my land by now.

10. I end up talking to them for 2 hours. It’s late where they are. I should let them go to sleep.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Four

1. So looking forward to french press this morning. No need to replace our coffee pot. I should drink less coffee anyway.

2. The memory it wants to share is of the last time, the second time, I failed my certified exam. Do I want to share it? Ego says no. but I also know the value of failing at something multiple times, especially when it’s something you really want.

3. Pie for breakfast? No. I reheat the leftover beet greens and add some bacon and the end piece from the loaf. No one likes the end piece but I love the chewiness of the crust.

4. I try to find evidence of snails but I realize I forgot to put in my contacts.

5. Literally laughing out loud.

6. She reminds me that it’s been a month at this new job and a year since I failed my last exam. I ask if I shared that and she said she just keeps notes. I think it’s a gift.

7. I finally get the hang of this Marco Polo thing.

8. "Just think of it: This virus is imposing a level of involuntary discernment about the big things in life. It’s a level of habit-wrecking that you’d otherwise have to shell out large to attend a retreat centre to learn and employ. And you don’t have to go anywhere, do anything more than stay inside and look out the window, letting the wonder take care of the fret for a few minutes. It isn’t easy. It’s simple, though. The best advice any monastery ever sent the world: Work. Bless. Repeat." - Stephen Jenkinson

9. Two halves.

10. So much. Too much.