Ten.One Thousand & Sixty-Four

1. The heat returns.

2. More and more baby snails, some less than an inch long. Tiny miracles.

3. I listen.

4. I see all the black squares and it doesn’t seem right. This is not right. I am not wrong.

5. Long chains of puzzle pieces, no idea of where they belong. The puzzles help the nerves, give the hands something else to do that’s not scrolling.

6. The feeling of being an outsider never seems to go away.

7. I don’t have the capacity at the moment.

8. To text someone you haven’t talked to in 10 years so that you can unload your guilt. Audacity. But not surprised. I just hope none of the other white people from my past suddenly feel the need to call and text me.

9. We say “no” to the Youtube channel. I suggest making videos and sharing directly with friends through the messenger app. She says there is a 2-minute limit for videos. Then we have a short conversation—well, a lecture—on how working within constraints pushes your creativity.

10. She is preaching a sermon. I hope the ones who needed to listen, were actually listening.

11. How long could this last? For as long as people have time. Right now, they’ve got a lot of it. And, in some way, that is the beauty of cosmic timing.

Ten.One Thousand & Sixty-Three

1. Gray skies.

2. Where are all my clothes?

3. This is the last week; I hope we managed to do everything right. And, even if we didn’t, it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?

4. I start to write and then stop.

5. Dark clouds. Seems appropriate for today.

6. I mute the posts because…

7. I have no words. I watch the comments come in while I listen to all of the conversations on @blackfoodfolks.

8. I talk about the weather instead.

9. I call them while I work on the puzzle. Turns out it might be more effective to be slightly distracted while doing this particular puzzle.

10. We tell them that it gets really hot in Palm Desert.

Ten.One Thousand & Sixty-Two

1. White and gray. That feels appropriate for today.

2. I think of the thunder and rain from yesterday. How it had been so long since I’d last heard thunder. I don’t know when I’ll hear it again.

3. Crispy waffle with strawberries and fresh whipped cream. Coffee.

4. I read the final pages. It probably won’t be much help to me, but it was enjoyable.

5. Why?

6. I sit down to work on the puzzle. I can’t decide if I want to keep working on it or just put back in the box and work on Frida instead. But the joy of accomplishment, right?

7. I watch her say the things that I am also feeling. There is no space online to go that is not triggering.

8. Seven more lemons have fallen from the tree. I think we need to try our hand at making Limoncello.

9. But also, don’t let anyone steal your joy.

10. Chimera

    1. a: fire-breathing she-monster in Greek mythology having a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail

       b: an imaginary monster compounded of incongruous parts

    2. an illusion or fabrication of the mind, especially: an unrealizable dream

    3. an individual, organ, or part consisting of tissues of diverse genetic constitution

Ten.One Thousand & Sixty-One

1. High of 75. Yes.

2. The to-do list is short but heavy.

3. Bird chatter. The air has weight. It will rain today.

4. The way the light is falling into the room. I do love moody weather.

5. It takes no convincing. The youngest will come with us. I just need to get out.

6. Sunlight peeks through buttonholes in the clouds casting shadows on the hills and mountains.

7. I am almost certain we’ve been eating the avocado tacos and not the fish tacos and that is okay. To have a taco with so much texture that you don’t realize that you’re eating a fried vegetable and not a fried fish is admirable.

8. I think we could belong here.

9. We can belong anywhere, though. Can’t we?

10. I talk to her until the bathwater gets too cold. She reminds me that freedom is also about uninhibited self-expression. True and honest expression.

11. See the beauty. Seek the truth. Take care. Stay curious.

Ten.One Thousand & Sixty

1. So much light.

2. It will be cooler today.

3. So many babies trying to make their way over the blades of grass.

4. It is always so good to be in conversation with her.

5. “The questions are surrounded by answers. And the answers are surrounded by questions.” “I just want the facts!” “What would my hat say now?”

6. Sometimes it’s the actual conversation itself that is a poem.

7. Seeing her face always makes me happy. It just does.

8. Parmesan cheese. I grab a mask and my card. This is my first time in a grocery store in more than two months. There are three police cars in front of the store. They just seem to be talking so I guess whatever it is that brings them all here is of no concern. Everyone is keeping their distance though they seem to be ignoring the one-way signs.

9. Yes. Cooking does make me feel better: homemade caesar dressing, another batch of fresh pasta, homemade red sauce. If I was the real deal I would have milled my own tomatoes. Alas, it’s not tomato season yet.

10. I tell him that when I talk about the diversity in whatever new town we choose, it’s not really about diversity as much as it is me gauging our safety.

11. I tell him that I have nothing to say because I’ve already said it all before. I’m tired of having to repeat myself.

12. Rosé and Zora Neal Hurston in the tub. Open window. I can hear the palm trees blowing in the wind.

13. A Different World.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Nine

1. The sooner I get the toilets cleaned, the sooner I can get on with my day.

2. I mean to have my coffee sooner but other things keep distracting me.

3. Virtual coffee with her. It feels easy, like I’ve known her for an entire lifetime. But sometimes it’s like that when you’ve been connected with someone on social media for so long—and when they are so open and real on social media.

4. When we will be able to gather again?

5. I had forgotten how beautiful it is here. Blue, cloudless sky. Yellow-golden-brown hills. White and black and brown cows.

6. Oh. Pleasant Hill. Not Pleasanton.

7. Apriums and blueberries and tangerines and more mulberries. Thank goodness there are more mulberries.

8. I finish France. We take the old magazines and cut out images. I have her pull up a chair while we watch the zoom call. Glueless collages. I like this. I’ll do this again. I love the impermanence, the ability to recreate over and over again. She thanks me for asking her to do it with me. It feels like a parenting win when it doesn’t take much convincing for a child to choose time with you over time with their friends.

9. Technical difficulties.

10. “It was just a matter of collecting beautiful things.”

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Eight

1. I feel much better. I am still thinking of yesterday’s events, but a good, deep sleep was sorely needed.

2. Two more days of 100+ degrees.

3. I step outside to visit the snails. It is already so warm. So warm.

4. I said I wouldn’t do this.

5. I head outside. Less distractions outside. I’ve been sitting at the desk for too long.

6. It is refreshing to hear those words. I panic a bit; the timing is sooner than I had anticipated. But can I make it work? My job is to just hold the vision.

7. I offer to make the pasta. I remind myself that I feel so much better when I’m in the kitchen, when I’m making with my hands.

8. He tells me that the other parts are for making the noodles. My mind is blown. I make the oldest take a video to show my mom. It does make noodles!

9. Perfect.

10. Just hold the vision.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Seven

1. It’s already so hot.

2. I really ought to stop going to the desk right away. Is this just the pitfall of having your workspace in the bedroom?

3. I don’t even know what to do.

4. Already so very hot.

5. Right. What, exactly, is it that I want or hope to gain from pursuing this?

6. Everything else about today seems insignificant.

7. It looks like a vintage photo out here. Sepia tones and light streaks, and I worry about fire season.

8. “Self-determination.” There’s something about how she says it that, when combined with the conversations I listened to today and the goings-on of the world, makes me see that it is indeed enough to be so self-determined in the pursuit of my curiosities and dreams. Because that is a radical act; to be able to exercise as much agency as I possibly can.

9. I probably don’t need more books.

10. I sit in the hammock. It’s 102 degrees in the shade. The evening breezes are not as strong today. I can feel the sweat collecting under my arms.

11. I talk the plants as I water them; they all look so thirsty. I remind them that I’m learning and that I’m trying to understand the effects of the wind and the sun and the dryness.

12. It’s hard to not feel hopeless. I wonder how my parents have done it for so long. I wonder about the parents before them and before them. There is something there, I suppose. I am only here because they were hopeful enough.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Six

1. I could get up but I don’t want to.

2. I stare at the ceiling fan. I fluff the blanket and feel a rush of cool air against the skin.

3. Slugs. A lot of slugs. I take care not to step on the snails. The tomatoes need water. I’m worried about the heat and the wind.

4. That’s disappointing but not surprising. I’m beginning to understand.

5. So much truth.

6. I lose track of time in Burgundy.

7. She’s just as delightful as I remember her from Batonnage. I’m glad we made today work.

8. I have an itch to get somewhere. I worry about whether or not I will be able to do this, to do the right thing. What even is the right thing?

9. So hot.

10. I miss the ocean.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Five

1. It will be hot today. And even hotter tomorrow.

2. The way the rumpled sheets hold shadows.

3. Donuts.

4. I run my hands through the jasmine, and then again through the Russian Sage. I imagine that in the next house I’ll be there long enough to watch the aloes reach toward my waist. And maybe there will be an arbor covered in jasmine.

5. I’m glad I caught this conversation. To be reminded to think about legacy-building; to be reminded to dream for things that are bigger than ourselves.

6. I finished the edges.

7. Indexing with Esme. Needed this. Energized by this.

8. It’s not too late.

9. I finally use the suribachi. It brings me great delight. The little things. The little things.

10. The upside to the heat is that the evening unwinds slowly, it is more comfortable to enjoy the breezes and just one more glass. Everything is quiet.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Four

1. The sprinklers. I think they go off right before the alarm.

2. The sound of the palm trees in the wind. One of the most soothing sounds. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.

3. Just trust your vision.

4. I write “vision” and then wonder if it’s ableist language. What’s another way to say this? Trust in the power of your dreams? Your intuition? Your imagination? Just: Trust yourself.

5. We sit down at the table and start to work on the puzzle. She yawns and yawns and yawns. I tell her to just go back to bed.

6. It’s all coming together.

7. Saturday and already have the Sunday blues? He reminds me that Monday is a holiday. Oh, good. One more day.

8. Also: how to not have that feeling.

9. I’m ready to go.

10. Miracles are scattered beyond.

11. 2019 Massican Sauvignon Blanc. I want to remember that it is possible to make a Sauvignon Blanc in Napa Valley that has this much acidity and zip. Sometimes a wine can make you want to go back to rediscover the possibilities of a region.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Three

1. I linger in the bed and watch for the light. The crows are very loud.

2. Today is my favorite day because of the magic of our little writing circle.

3. Side project on top of side project. I’m glad she wants to do this. It’s good to have something that excites you.

4. The sun reflecting off the neighbor’s house and into the room making a small corner of light.

5. She says she still has more work to do for her project. I sigh. But she’s doing it. In her own time, working at her own pace.

6. The magic of a collective. I have to think of a way to thank her for making this space. And to thank the rest of them for showing up.

7. I can tell by his body language.

8. I get excited about the email but then we decide that the last thing a kid who doesn’t like school wants to hear is that he was chosen to do an accelerated program. We laugh.

9. Perfect spring day.

10. To lemon bar, or not to lemon bar.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-Two

1. Friday?

2. I lay in bed a little longer and watch the light creep in.

3. Water, water, water.

4. A baby snail on the back of a grown-up snail, and my goodness, I think my day is made.

5. Wet slate.

6. I know that if I make them come outside for recess, they will just complain.

7. Another round of lemon bars. This time she recruits her little brother for help. He tells her that we already have too many desserts: ice cream, 4 slices of chocolate cake, and 5 chocolate chip cookies. He’s not wrong.

8. I drop a hint; maybe I shouldn’t have.

9. The thing about frying fish is that everything ends up smelling like fried fish.

10. I compose the whole thing in my head and then decide I probably won’t write it anyway. The point is: don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something.

11. Miracles are scattered beyond.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty-One

1. What is today?

2. Bird song. Not as loud as yesterday but I still hear their chattering so clearly.

3. I don’t eat the biscuit that I warmed. Somehow managed to overcook the bacon. Ho-hum.

4. Oh, these snails.

5. He looks much better today.

6. We spot two baby tomatoes on one of the plants. I hope the new pots come soon. The basil seems to be surviving the experimental transplanting. The leaves of the watermelon plant are getting bigger and fuzzier and I think they’ll be just fine.

7. “Can we go house hunting? We need a pool.”

8. It’s a small world afterall.

9. I remind him to not let himself get distracted by the opportunities but to get clear on what it is he really wants and which opportunity is the best choice for putting and keeping him/us on that path.

10. Right. Don’t take advice from people with goals that are so different from your own.

11. I hope there are mulberries in this week’s box. Mulberries and more apricots and more cherries. Just more of everything.

Ten.One Thousand & Fifty

1. So cool. Bird song. Time to get up.

2. I spy three snails on the wet slate tiles.

3. Unmotivated. I sip my coffee while stretched out on the chaise. Not unmotivated. Maybe slightly overwhelmed.

4. Moving boxes and adjusting sizes and making thing fit. Deciding that this is a limitation I am unwilling to fight through. Let it be easy.

5. She seems sad that I’m relocating myself back to the office. In time, I will most likely be here with them at the table.

6. The sound of the wind blowing through the palm trees.

7. We go to the park. There are very few people: a mother and son beside their bikes; a mother who is staring into her phone while her older daughter and son play with a ball and bat; the landscapers breaking for lunch; a food truck. The three of us have mitts, the fourth a basketball.

8. I find my rhythm.

9. Passed. On to the next.

10. Raft Jonquille. Sticking my upper-body in the sun to stay warm. Good things come in threes.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Nine

1. Chilly. More than chilly. Cold.

2. Those itty-bitty snails. The garden hose in the way. There’s no way they make it over. Then again, who am I to underestimate them?

3. Don’t drink all the coffee.

4. The sound of rain beating against the leaves.

5. “What’s an elective?” “I just want to continue to do online learning.” “We’ll talk about it. For now, let’s just do the work.”

6. But really, what’s he’s asking for is what I’ve been wanting to offer to him, specifically, for so long. And though I finally have the stamina, now I have traditional work. Can I do my traditional work in non-traditional ways? What could it look like? Have I just not tried hard enough?

7. I go over the list. Cross out the items. Review the list again.

8. Back to beer.

9. The just-right amount of sunshine and breeze and quiet.

10. They say that they’d like to try homeschooling for real. I tell them that it will look more intense than what they’re doing now because of COVID. They say they still want to do it. They like being able to work at their own pace, in their own time. They like the freedom.

11. Maybe this is the next edge.

12. There is time.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Eight

1. The cooing of pigeons. They are so loud in their nests tucked between solar panels.

2. Gray skies. Rain and wind in today’s forecast. A cleansing is coming.

3. So many little ones in the grass today, I dare not step into the lawn to visit the plants out of fear that I may crush one.

4. Two biscuits. I gotta stop making these if I’m the only one eating them.

5. Location, Flavor, Aroma, Balance, ABV, SRM, IBU.

6. The streets are quieter than I expected after what seemed like a rather boisterous Saturday in the neighborhood. I make notes to self: plant jasmine in the next house—maybe add an arbor of bougainvillea too; get yourself somewhere with a better view; but maybe I just need to belong to myself first.

7. What am I thinking?

8. It looks like rain. I feel a drop of water on my cheek. The clouds are now a milky gray, obscuring the sun. I head back inside. The sun returns. Of course.

9. “And what’s new for me, or at least what I’m seeing differently as a mom is that even living in a place long viewed as a progressive enclave won’t save your family.” - Dani McClain, We Live for the We: The Political Power of Black Motherhood

10. I remember the day I came to that realization. When the real fear of parenting was no longer about whether or not I would pick the right preschool or school district for my child, but whether or not I could truly keep them safe.

11. Coffee table jazz station on Spotify. Red wine in a stemless glass. “Die Wise,” “We Live for the We,” “California Calling.” The sounds of the television creeping in. The night breeze caressing my bare ankles. Too many open tabs.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Seven

1. I will just doa walk and check on things. 4:36 says his clock. I should go back to bed.

2. Oh yes, the biscuits.

3. Tiny snails trying to make it over thick blades of grass. They do not quit. They do not quit.

4. Always so good to see and hear her. I realize that I won’t get to sit with her in her home this year, maybe not even next year. Wow.

5. I see life. I hover over each one and thank them for perking up, apologize to the ones with yellowing leaves, and promise them that I’m trying to do my best, beseeching them to help me out and tell me what they need.

6. I finish the last few episodes and feel renewed.

7. They ask me if I’ve had hammock time. I haven’t. But I am outside, as much as possible.

8. Miracles are scattered beyond.

9. “A story is yours alone until it is spoken. When words are secret, it is you who decides if they exist.” — Natalie Singer, California Calling

10. Dessert is a handful of fruit and words.

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Five

1. I bet it’s almost 5.

2. I keep the pajamas on because it’s cleaning day. He’s still sleeping; I think about cleaning the kitchen before everyone wakes but why do all that work just to have them all mess it up right away?

3. The one snail stuck to the window. Is it dead or alive? Should I pluck it off the glass and set it on the ground to see what will happen? They seem so delicate.

4. They better get that box today.

5. That box.

6. I add manchego to the list because she saw the recipe for fried manchego in the tapas cookbook and, I mean, friend cheese.

7. She gets awfully close to me to hand me a pen and I try to keep myself from running away from her lest they think I’m one of those “over-reactors”…though I am one of those. I just want to sign for my CSA.

8. Mulberries. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a mulberry. I had a little bit o everything: mulberries and cherries and apricots and tangerines.

9. Hot soup on a day like today.

10. Why the scaly skin?

Ten.One Thousand & Forty-Four

1. There are the sprinklers again.

2. Humid morning. But cool. Sweater and jeans kind of cool. I make my way across the patio and find a snail with a bluish hue.

3. I slice the leeks and at them to the red onions, caramelize them for the baked potatoes. I think about how this is indeed Pandemic food. But it’s not pandemic food; it’s resourceful food. It’s using what you have kind of food which is what most folks do every day. It’s what we’ve always done.

4. I text her to confirm the time of surgery. She says the hospital will send her text updates.

5. “The future is in your mouth.” Ocean Vuong

6. “…reclaiming the practices that sustained our ancestors.” - Bryant Terry

7. I feel like I need a nap. I slide beneath the covers and open “California Calling: A Self-Interrogation. I am relieved to see a structure that is nonconventional. Or is it more conventional now? Either way, it’s encouraging to see published work that looks more like how I write.

8. I don’t even wear the kinds of things she makes but when she describes them it makes me excited and I can tell she’s excited too and so this is what I tell her she should focus on.

9. I tug at the hose, frustrated. Why is everything so limp and turning yellow? They look like they are simultaneously over-watered and under-watered. Nothing is germinating in the seed tray. This is a learning year, maybe. But still. I want to eat the peas. I want to eat the lettuce. I want a harvest.

10. How much longer will I avoid it?