Ten.One Thousand, One Hundred & One

1. Sleepy start.

2. Teeny-tiny bodies and shells all over the grass.

3. I wake up and realize that there is actually no rush. There is plenty of time and it will all happen when it’s supposed to happen.

4. Being with small children delight me. I remember my own at that age and how much has changed. The perspective that comes with the passing of time.

5. Sun on the skin.

6. “It’s like someone rifling through your desk.”

7. Take stock.

8. I run the steam mop over the dried-up globs of chocolate ice cream. Tillamook Mudslide, maybe?

9. Dinner might have been too rich: duck fat potatoes and creamed spinach? But so tasty.

10. What would she say? She’d say, “Get clear about what you want. Don’t worry about the how. Just decide and get on with doing it. Look at all that you’ve done so far. The next thing is possible.”

Ten.One Thousand, One Hundred

1. Humidity still hanging in the air.

2. Too many tiny snails. I will tread lightly. Sorry to anyone I smush on my trek across the lawn to water the tomatoes.

3. Salad for breakfast.

4. Already in pain and it’s not yet 7 in the morning.

5. Tunnel vision.

6. I worry about the length of time in the car and being away from the desk for so long. It feels like a disruption in my schedule though it’s probably a good idea for me to be out of the house.

7. Yes. Let’s do it.

8. I think it’s starting to sink in.

9. I got them. Got them so good they fell on the floor.

10. “Look closely at the present you are constructing: it should look like the future you are dreaming.” ― Alice Walker

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety—Nine

1. A random vacation day on a Tuesday is a genius idea.

2. Really red tomatoes.

3. I move slowly, like a snail.

4. 100 percent distance learning to start the school year. This is not surprising but it is a little unsettling. School starts in 20 days.

5. A practice in setting boundaries. Clearly communicating needs and expectations.

6. I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m excited about it.

7. I am reminded that environment does matter to me. I am sensitive to the energy of a space. This space feels good.

8. There are different types of tired. This is the good kind. I tell him that the approved rewrite is a big relief. That today felt good. That I feel more excited than stressed.

9. I laugh. They laugh. We haven’t spoken since Sunday. They are spoiled by my new COVID-communication routine. Sunday was only two days ago. But, what is time?

10. I wish I could have a little bit of his optimism all the time.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Eight

1. It’s still dark. That’s not good.

2. I promise myself to go slow.

3. Leftover salmon and greens with a dollop of butter. I wish the rest of the family was as excited about savory breakfasts as I am.

4. Mirror, mirror, mirror, label.

5. I tell her what I’m thinking is the next thing. She approves. She’s the only one who would understand.

6. I can hear it in the voice. But it’s not as though I really needed any more confirmation.

7. Two phones means accidental double-booking. Didn’t I say I needed to rest?

8. I eat 4 figs while standing in the sun. This feels a little bit like heaven.

9. I drizzle champagne vinegar and olive oil over the tomatoes and feta and realize that it’s 2:03pm and I’m just now eating lunch because even though I know that over-working is a function of capitalism and white supremacy, I haven’t decolonized myself enough just yet. Like, I overworked to compensate for making someone else feel uncomfortable.

10. I work on the edits while sitting in the bleachers. The sun is beating against the back of my neck. Two dogs are barking. This kid is not 6 feet away from me.

11. Who’s going to massage this knot out of my shoulder? I can barely sit in this position anymore without stinging pain.

12. On deadline. I remember when I used to dream of saying that. “I’m on a deadline.”

13. All of this is hard, but so much of it is exactly what I wanted.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Seven

1. No alarm. Just the light filling the room.

2. Cobbler or Raisin Bran?

3. Coffee is weak. Not enough grounds or too much water. You would think that after 3 months of French press we would have figured it out by now. But every coffee is different.

4. We decide on Sebastopol. Will it be worth the drive? Yes. Yes, it will.

5. I can’t wait to meet her in real life. I might consider breaking all of my quarantine rules to hug her.

6. Is it silly that the shape of the hills makes me want to cry? No, it’s not silly at all.

7. Coconut, walnut, raisin tart. Worth $6. I’d pay &10 if it was hot and came with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Everyone here is respectful with the masks.

8. On the corner, 7 protesters with signs: “Black Lives Matter,” “Defund the Police.” We honk our horn and they, and we, raise our fists.

9. The entire wall of windows is covered in BLM signs.

10. A statue: a black hand holding a red heart, at the bottom: “Black Lives Matter.” This little town is surprising me.

11. Which is to say that too much of energy is spent trying to determine where I might feel safe. These visible displays of support are important. I can relax. I just hope they really mean it.

12. Pax Piquette.

13. Still one of my favorite dinners.

14. Still tired, but more aware of what I should be doing in the world.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Six

1. Still groggy. Still tired.

2. He leaves the room but remembers to leave the ocean sounds on so that I can continue to rest. But, I’m already awake.

3. Bright, bright sun.

4. No traffic. Golden-brown hills, blue sky, sagebrush. I still don’t know the proper names of things.

5. More confusion, less clarity.

6. Heading south on 29 I see two Black Lives Matter signs and that makes me feel a little better.

7. He surprises me. He tells us about the local baseball and softball scene. His kids are about the same ages as ours. He’s nice. But this one won’t be it.

8. I slice the peaches and apricots and apriums and cook them in the butter with a little bit of flour and a dash of cinnamon.

9. Food as resistance.

10. Not there yet.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Five

1. Friday? Yes, finally Friday.

2. Cool breeze. The cover for the grill is in the grass. I step carefully to avoid the snails so that I can check on the tomatoes.

3. I am setting the intention to move slowly today.

4. I listen to her speak as I make the bacon and the eggs and finish building out the pages. I’ve missed the softness of her voice.

5. Laundry.

6. We are both feeling the same. For whatever reason, we are both particularly glad that it’s Friday. Both wondering about what will happen next.

7. I give up. I put the puzzle back into the box. Maybe Frida Kahlo will be easier.

8. I grab a thin blanket from the chest and lay down on the bed. King of the Hill. The 8-year-old was supposed to be here. He’s the one that requested snuggle time.

9. I wake up to the sound of him pulling a stick of string cheese out of the wrapper.

10. The 12-year-old suggests that we buy a whole wheel of the Boont Corner. I’m not opposed. 6 oz is never enough. I can just imagine a little piece of it atop a thin cracker and dollop of the plum jam.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Four

1. This week’s schedule is a little off.

2. I slide the foundation onto my face. I haven’t worn make-up in 100-and-something days. It feels very unnecessary and yet, what is the protocol these days? You know what? Nothing is ever going to be the same. I can let this go.

3. Where is the time going?

4. This one looks particularly old. I think, just like a human being, the snails show their age. The older, bigger ones have darkers shells and their bodies are darker, more opaque.

5. Cold coffee. I keep drinking it.

6. Kale caesar.

7. The ceilings are tall and the walls are a rough wood panelling and I didn’t think I would like it, but I absolutely love it. A tree house. The treehouse. But maybe it’s not quite right for the children.

8. The smell of rosemary on a gentle breeze.

9. This one thing could be the deal-breaker.

10. There is still so much to learn. And that is what’s so exciting.

11. What can I do? I can cook. I prep slowly. Because sometimes dinner is just going to be at 7:30 no matter how hard you try to keep your routine. The slow chopping, the flipping of the bacon, the shredding of the cheese—all of this grounds me.

12. I lean my head against the glass, feel the tiny bumps on my shoulders that keep spreading down to my elbows. Stress? Diet? A combination of both?

13. I don’t want to break the streak.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Three

1. I don’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember is telling him that he needed to clean his room before I bought another remote. The remote didn’t walk away. 

2. Lists. 

3. What else is required? Courage.

4. Grits. Sugar and butter. Maybe, one day, he will not be allergic anymore, and I can get back to making shrimp and grits. 

5. I check again and again to make sure I’m not missing anything. FOMO. 

6. But what am I going to wear tomorrow? 

7. I take a break and step outside. I keep my feet bare. I like to feel the heat of the concrete. It is quiet. 

8. But why is he saying it like I didn’t say it five weeks ago? 

9. We open up the 2019 Trois Noix Chardonnay. The first thing we both say is “acid.” Acid is everything. Not everything, but one of the most important things. 

10. I make her cry, and I don’t mean to make people cry. But the tears are the good kind of tears, I hope.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Two

1. I still have trouble remembering the days.

2. Birdsong.

3. There is a predictable rhythm to my work at the moment that is satisfying.

4. I know I am working slower than normal because I’m trying to listen so closely to what is being said. But what they are saying is so important and so necessary to hear.

5. There’s that sharp pain in my left shoulder again. Too much sitting in front of the screen.

6. I tell her she needs to drop a zero.

7. He asks me if I want to go for a ride. Yes. I have to take a break. I’ve been working for 5 hours straight already.

8. When you finally meet someone face-to-face - virtually - and you talk like you’ve known each other for years. But then you remember that you indeed have known one another for years. The internet is a strange place.

9. I remind him that when you’re stressed out and need to do a lot of things that you have to take care of yourself. Food is fuel and I need a lot of it. So, yes. I need a real vegetable with this chicken.

10. I need to rest.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-One

1. I turn my head towards the window to look for the light.

2. What is happening?

3. Peach. Lemon bar. Bacon. Scrambled egg. Coffee.

4. I’m just procrastinating.

5. Softer.

6. The day is getting away from me.

7. One perfectly red Beefsteak tomato.

8. This is going to be good. Really good. Really, really good.

9. I settle myself on the bleachers and squint in the sun. I laugh at him. I am grateful for him and the way he manages the girls. For her first time playing sports, I am glad he is her coach.

10. Pizza. Again. Raft Weed Farms Syrah. 2014 Trois Noix Cabernet Sauvignon. Sun reflecting off the window into my eye. He reminds me that we always manage to do things that people tell us we can’t do.

11. They took it well.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety

1. There will be duck today.

2. Waffles with butter and some plum jam. Coffee. Water.

3. I didn’t plan well enough for today.

4. He asks me if I want to go for a ride, and I agree to come along because I really shouldn’t be working today. Not on this. Not on my birthday.

5. Zooming in the car.

6. I feel like I should be more excited than I am.

7. The piece is written, but it’s not quite there. I send it to her anyway. It’s just not as dramatic as the first one. But it’s done. We still

8. This conversation feels very adult. But it’s good to be thinking this far ahead.

9. This one smells like smoked meat. This one smells like a can of black olives. This one smells like tar. Wild.

10. He asks me why I’m not more excited. I tell him that I just am not sure exactly what’s going on. I’m tired. I’m in shock. I’m not sure how I feel.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Nine

1. Today is a new day.

2. Out of coffee. Nespresso, it is. The apple fritter is underdone.

3. Computer and notes outside. I procrastinate by tip-toeing around the snails to water the plants. They cut back the birds of paradise, and they are already sprouting again.

4. I need to get back to the ocean.

5. I'm not sure how one could be missing their softball clothes when one hasn't worn them in 100 days. Like, where else could they be?

6. I sit on the grass in the shade and write. Prickly. Sunshine and blue skies. They cheer each other on. I had forgotten how sweet this little team is.

7. "I like Brentwood, but it's starting to get a little uppity."

8. All of this sunshine. The colors seem so vibrant today.

9. Never underestimate the power of a long drive and a loud stereo. "I found solace in the strangest place/Way in the back of my mind/I saw my life in a stranger's face/And it was mine…"

10. Table full of wine, a familiar face.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Eight

1. I know I’m awake, but I don’t want to get up.

2. Weight.

3. Waiting.

4. Double-check to make sure everything is how it’s supposed to be.

5. Think outside of the box. Know what you can and can’t control.

6. I just don’t feel it, though.

7. When you’re halfway through stuffing the blanket inside of the duvet cover and then realize that the duvet cover is inside out, but you’ve already come too far to start all over again.

8. I can see it on his face. I begin to wonder if this was the right choice. If we hadn’t moved, he’d still have his job. Or, if we hadn’t moved and he had lost his job, at least our network would have been stronger, and maybe we could have figured it out. At least I’d have someone to talk to about all of this. No. This is where we belong. It hasn’t even been two years yet. Good things take time.

9. Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” Suddenly I’m back at Wake Forest in the dimly lit DKE house, or the Sigma Pi lounge, or the Sigma Chi lounge. Gray New Balance and denim skirts and Dave Matthew’s Band in her late 90s Lexus SUV. Driving alone with tears in my eyes up and down Silas Creek Parkway. Leaving.

10. We’ll just start again tomorrow. We can do hard things.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Seven

1. Water.

2. I should probably listen again.

3. Cool breeze, a lump of snails in the grass, wondering how I can make my way across the yard to water the vegetables without smashing my friends.

4. No one covered the lemon bars, and now they are dried out. I nibble on a piece of the cookie crust anyway.

5. Forty years of experience in Black excellence.

6. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem.

7. We talk about the gift of being in spaces that reflect your own experiences, how you feel more like yourself.

8. Sweat.

9. He’s probably paced his way to 10,000 steps.

10. Always so good to see her face. The conversation is too short, but there is still next week.

11. He keeps asking me what I want. I think I’m getting closer to the answer.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Six

1. There’s not much left.

2. Only a dull pulse remains from last night’s migraine. I just need to get through today.

3. What is my body telling me?

4. We head over the hills. Cows. I miss the cows and the thin white poles of the turbines.

5. The vineyards do make me happy. Everything is vibrant and green. I take pictures of leaves and grape clusters and the buildings, the roses in bloom. More of this, please.

6. We stop for gas. On the back of his motorcycle jacket is a Confederate flag. The jacket appears to be new.

7. Edits.

8. The question for which I have no answer.

9. She makes me smile. Her and her red hair and her energy.

10. Little Nora and Big Nora. I can still understand 2-year-olds. Plans for a socially distant lunch.

11. I confess to him that the emotions behind all of this stem from my fears and lack of confidence. “Imposter Syndrome,” she said. The inner work is never done.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Five

1. It feels like Friday, not like Tuesday. This is going to feel like a long week.

2. I find the tiniest one. It is active, reaching up and over the blades of grass to find the right path.

3. Cool air.

4. English muffin with butter and the plum jam. Perfection. I am quite proud of myself.

5. I double check to make sure that I am not missing anything important.

6. Headache. I try to squint it away.

7. She tells me that I need to water it. It’s already there, it just needs attention.

8. I realize that I haven’t really had a break from work since October. What, exactly, am I waiting for?

9. I am out of breath from dodging behind corners. She sees me laughing. “It’s good to be a kid,” she says. 10-year-old wisdom.

10. I can tell it was worth it.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Four

1. Monday. Here you are.

2. I put my feet in the slippers and make my way over to the plants as safely as possible. Stepping on a slug is inevitable. But I just want to make sure I don’t step on a snail. I’ve already been traumatized by the loud crunch beneath my feet too many times.

3. I sit at the desk and make a plan for the day.

4. He takes over the office. I didn’t plan for this.

5. Plums and peaches and apricots and a bottle of wine on the floor. I should work on my styling.

6. Therese Nelson in conversation with Monica White.

7. He says that nothing happens unless women are involved. That two men talking can’t get anything done. Women do the work.

8. No focus.

9. Finally, we get to talk.

10. I taste the jam: a little tart, a little sweet. I pour a little into a small jar for the winemaker.

11. Fish tacos with pico de gallo and crema. The only way they could taste better is if I made the tortilla myself.

12. I tell her I wish I could carry her in my pocket to be my hype woman.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Three

1. Dry.

2. I dip the spoon into the pot of the jam and taste. I imagine it drizzled over pancakes or a small bowl of vanilla ice cream.

3. Coffee and condition.

4. “Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” ― Toni Morrison, Beloved

5. Shrinkage. It’s just shrinkage.

6. I try to piece together the transcript while I listen to her talk. “Are you resting?”

7. The dog is barking and whining and sounds miserable. They yell at it to stop barking in between laughs. I just want to be outside.

8. The heat makes me weary. It also makes me feel alive.

9. The pasta sheets don’t look wide enough to make the ravioli. He’s removing the croutons and the focaccia from the oven. I still need to whisk and egg yolk and some parmesan into the dressing.

10. I think this is the last round of boil/simmer/cool.

11. Is it necessary?

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Two

1. I mean. I tried to sleep in.

2. I watch the light change as the minutes pass.

3. I can tell by the color of the light that it will be hot again today. Must get out and water the plants.

4. I decide I ought to take my advice, move slowly through today.

5. What do I want? What do I want? I repeat the question in my head as I pit the plums, cover them with sugar, stir.

6. Am I breathing?

7. I ride with him to pick up the CSA and the wine. I just need to get out of the house. I stare at Mt.Diablo, the yellow-brown hills that rest below it. I spot a field of head-trained vines, then another.

8. I need more of an escape.

9. Take-out because I just don’t have the energy.

10. Make room for the unimaginable.