Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Three
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Oh, shoot.
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First fire of the season. The sound and the smell of it.
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He is awfully agreeable this morning and that makes it all pretty easy.
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Last game.
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I keep moving toward the sun to stay warm but the sun is setting and there is no way to escape the chill.
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Turns out, if you call him and he answers he will usually do what you say. They get bold when the communication is via text.
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She stops to take a picture of the moon as we make our way back toward the car. The sky is pink and tan and powder blue and soft. Hazy from a prescribed burn on the other side of the mountains.
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Hot chili. Forgot the sugar in the cornbread.
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But really, who has a birthday party that goes this late into the night?
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Turning off the alarms.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Two
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Not how the day was supposed to go.
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“But here we are.”
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The tender colors of this morning’s sunrise.
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I drive up to the cafeteria, fill up three to-go cups - two with coffee and one half-full of oat milk.
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Cold.
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We really do talk a lot. It’s probably best that she doesn’t live here otherwise we’d never get anything done.
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Everything they are saying is everything I knew they would say and have already said. What is the compromise? How do we get to where we need to be with a sense of ease?
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Yes. I think this is going to be okay.
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The last home game of the year. The coldest game of the year. I will be happy to have my Friday nights back, but I will miss it.
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Proud.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-One
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Probably should keep the windows closed now.
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Leftover soup for breakfast. Hot lemon water.
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This morning’s sunrise and the softness of the sky and the way the leaves on the vines are changing.
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This meeting is never going to end.
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We made it happen. An escape.
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Bread and butter. Little gems with miso Ceasar dressing and shrimp. Chicken wings. Soft serve with pecan oil.
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Sometimes it’s just about having compassion. But it doesn’t excuse the behavior.
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I had fun. If this was the team, I’d be happy. Not ideal, but still happy. Good energy.
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Sometimes you just can’t capture it in a camera and so just soak it all in - all of the colors and the shapes on the horizon.
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I’ll believe it when I see it.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety
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Ready for mornings with the fireplace aglow.
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Bats.
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Thanksgiving is creeping up, which means Christmas is, too. I am not ready.
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Early. Just me and the quiet. Dark offices. Spilling my half-oat-milk-half-coffee all over my desk. Clickity clack of the keyboard.
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Soft.
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I want it to be better.
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Dare I say what is missing is feminine leadership?
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Window-down weather.
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I count eight today. I will be missing two or three tomorrow. Eight is not enough.
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She says more words to me in those five minutes than I heard all last season and I am shocked. Pleasantly surprised. Maybe everything will be okay afterall.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Eight
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Exactly what I expected.
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No, this won’t work.
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I keep looking at the calendar for the day and there is barely any room to breathe. The entire week is like this and I’m not happy about it.
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I am not entirely sure what to name the feeling, I just know I haven’t felt it in a long time. I wish I felt it more.
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I just say exactly what I want because otherwise, how else will I get it?
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Gratitudes for exactly this.
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I hear the nervousness in my voice. Dare I say it almost sounds like embarrassment?
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I keep trying to move slowly toward the door.
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Never enough time.
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I am nervous but trying not to show it.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Seven
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Better.
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Golden sunrise.
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The spider web in the corner is getting bigger.
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I can’t stop staring at the trees and the light and the green and I hear the woodpeckers knocking on the side of the house.
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“When We Were Birds”
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I should be doing less, but I seem to be doing more.
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The only way out will be if I vision my way toward a new path.
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I am quiet the whole way there and back. My mouth is closed but my mind is on hyperdrive. Sleepy but trying not to fall asleep and be rude.
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Another one bites the dust.
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Remember boundaries.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Six
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Almost time.
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I remove the dried flowers from my desk, stick them into the compost bin. Cool yet humid air. Quiet.
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Too much.
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All of a sudden I am questioning everything.
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What I want to do is not equal to what I should do.
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In the shade, it is incredibly comfortable. I sip slowly from the cup while we chat. I am overdressed for the current moment. I watch him catch a touchdown. I laugh a little. I am sad I have to go.
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Beautiful breeze.
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I hold the waxy candles against my sweater and then realize that’s a mistake.
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“What’s with the water today?”
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“Murder on the Orient Express” I wish I had these kind of sets when I was in high school.
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I needed this today.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Five
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Cold.
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Coffee, emails, cleaning.
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The time is slipping through my fingers.
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I talk to him while I wait for her to come to the office. We’re both excited for the season, the kids, the potential of everything.
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They jump out of the door and scare her. We let the girls play hooky to celebrate.
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Boundary setting.
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It always looks like you’re driving straight into the mountains, these blue-grey shadows on the horizon. It never gets old.
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My least favorite football field.
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Firey sunset.
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Two losses make for a long night.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Four
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This time of year when the sunrise slips through the little v of the valley.
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Not quite as early as I’d like to be.
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She asks me if I’m still not drinking coffee. I tell her no. I tell her that I’m trying to get better at managing my intake: more oat milk, start later, eat a better breakfast first.
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I ask who’s going to do the work. January isn’t that far away.
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Like a thousand cuts.
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I keep thinking I’m really clear about the task at hand but the questions persist.
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I pace in the parking lot, kicking up dust as my feet push the gravel around. I am honest with my thoughts. Clear and direct. I just want clarity. “I don’t care what it is, I just need to know what it is.”
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Somehow, we’ll have to manifest a path forward.
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The loudest game I’ve been to in quite some time. Cross-town rivalry at its finest.
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A later night than usual. Gott’s. Parents with salads and burgers and wine. Girls with fries and milkshakes.
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Gratitudes.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Three
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I keep trying to work myself back into the dream.
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I know what it means.
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These quiet morning drives into town as the sun rises. I do love a winter sky.
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Too hot for pants. t
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Sometimes I over-communicate.
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Feeling a little trapped.
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If she’s on vacation, who am I going to talk to every day?
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Oh, boy. We’re in trouble.
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Exactly an hour.
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“It’s gone a bit wayward.”
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Two
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I welcome back the dark mornings.
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Today does feel like a coffee kind of day. I grab the white ceramic tumbler and set it on the counter.
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This morning the sky is clear. Just soft blue and hot pink streaks.
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He asks me when he can start practicing driving. I remind him that he will be starting in a parking lot first. Always a parking lot first.
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How do I have a kid almost old enough to drive?
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Superbloom.
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The balance between not caring but also doing what needs to be done.
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I walk into the line to get my order and the girl starts giggling. “Haven’t seen you open gyms. Where have you been?” I say with a smile. She giggles again and promises she will be there on Thursday. The benefit of being in a small town is that you can never hide. The downside of being in a small town is that you can never hide.
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I will never get the answer I want.
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Nevertheless, we plug along as best we can. Keep asking the right questions to get the job done.
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I tell him that I don’t want to be angry anymore.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-One
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Too cold. Too tired.
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Raisin bran, hot water with lemon.
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On time again.
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This football stuff really stinks. Really, really, really stinks.
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Oh yes. Today is the day.
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No more privacy.
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I read it and then can’t focus. But I should probably just be moving more slowly anyway.
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I start daydreaming about laying on the floor underneath my desk and taking a nap like George Constanza.
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Oh boy. Emotions.
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The reason this works is because we both have the same philosophies and I couldn’t be happier.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty
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Forgot to turn off the alarm.
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I close my eyes again and remember all the things I forgot yesterday.
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Do I really want to drive to Santa Rosa?
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Hours spent today for minutes saved tomorrow.
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The little one offers to bring my lunch up to me. He even remembers that I like barbeque sauce.
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Sounds like something is knocking on the window. I think whatever was above the bedroom is now back to living above the bathroom.
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On pace.
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One more month.
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I look out over the hillside and watch the squirrels scurry across the ground. There are shoots of green and yellow leaves and that stack of old hay bales from when he used to practice with the bow.
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Ice cream?
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Nine
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I knew the morning was going to come too quickly.
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Another solo session in the soft light on this foggy morning.
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What is for me is for me.
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I know that it’s really not about me.
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Ok. Here we go.
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“I’m a socialist stockbroker.”
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Something about these big ribbons does make you feel good.
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“I asked the last guy if I only had one more wine to taste, what should it be and he said to come here.”
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Wine and pizza and beer and being up way past my bedtime.
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Winter is coming.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Eight
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Five days in a row feeling like we’re on time.
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Belgian waffle with strawberries.
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The pharmacy is not open yet. We head to the grocery store for a cup of coffee. I am in my slippers. Oh well.
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Half decaf, half regular.
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Moving slowly through the work piled up in front of me. What is absolutely necessary?
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Still feeling sick.
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That slight chill in the air.
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We wind our way through Pope Valley. Dry grass and oaks, hillsides. In the distance, craggy red mountains. I had forgotten how pretty it is over here. But there is so much beauty everywhere.
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I miss the catch but watch him run into the endzone.
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A half-eaten moon floats above the gray-black silhouettes of the mountains.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Seven
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In the dream, I am exposed but comfortable. Aware, but free.
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The rumble of the neighbor’s truck as an aural cue.
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A head full of ideas in a world with not enough time.
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The desk is here. Now it’s beginning to feel like a real office.
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A perfect 1-hour lunch at Himalya Sherpa Kitchen outside, slightly cold in the shade. Chicken tikka masala, garlic prawns, lemonade instead of Navarro Guwerztraminer because I’m still on the clock. Running into a friend who joins in.
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Taking advantage of this pause before the next flurry of chaos arrives.
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Once you accept it for what it is, you can’t not see. So what do you do with what is in front of you? You embrace it, or reject it. But either way, some action must occur.
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Pump the brakes.
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She takes two dribbles in and shoots. She makes her first basket. Finally.
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Just the two of us at the table eating dinner and talking. Talking about football this year and being on varsity next year. Worried about not having time to get back into basketball before the season begins.
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I walk into his room, he takes one ear bud out of his ear, gives me a thumbs-up sign, and smiles. He did, in fact clean his room. I really like this version of him.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Six
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Mornings like these.
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I get him out on time even though he slept in and that is a big win.
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At the last minute, I eat a few egos. I have to stop forgetting to eat breakfast, even though I’m not really hungry.
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I read the words and feel a sense of defeat.
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I remember that everyone thinks they are the one with the best idea and so it is never anything personal when there is a disagreement. But I do know that my instincts are usually correct.
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But what is best for the team? What sets everyone else up for success?
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The pozole is hot and as I take it out of the microwave a little bit spills onto the tender meat between the index finger and thumb causing me to spill it all over the counter and floor of the kitchen. Now, all that is left is a container of tortilla chips and a few spoonfuls of hominy, no broth. But it’s about right for how things are going this week.
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Windows down kind of weather.
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They bring us outside to look at the new railings. Everything is complete enough for us to be out there safely. It opens up the view so much that it’s almost as if it’s invisible. I tell them I can’t wait for my parents to get here and enjoy it.
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But I like the Burgundies the most.
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I just want to stop complaining.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Five
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I tell myself it will be a fun yet full day.
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Hot water. Not even a tea bag. Nothing tastes good to me.
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Sometimes doing it alone feels easier.
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First in. Dark offices. Only the light in the kitchen on. The sound of the hot water falling into the mug. My footsteps echo as I make my way up the metal staircase.
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Forgot to eat.
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Not exactly what I expected to be doing today, but here we are.
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But here we are.
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I like to eat with people who aren’t afraid to eat.
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For a scrimmage, this is an intense game. Three-point win, down to the last second.
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From where did this myth emerge?
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Four
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Morning fog.
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Out of office responder.
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Two cups of coffee that I immediately regret.
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The contractor is back to work on the deck. I read against the background noise of saws and hammers. Nothing new. There is always work being done. If not a saw, then a chipper or a leaf blower or a helicopter or a jackhammer. It is normal now.
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Gratitude for the ability to just sit.
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I do another count and realize I am short - that I will be really short if I do not go back and try to get them to play. I write a letter to parents in hopes they will encourage their children to come out. Try to reassure them that I am different. We will see.
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Appetite is still not the same these days.
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I see a calendar notification come across my phone. I am tempted to open the work computer but resist. The point of not working is to not work.
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Almost all done.
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The risk would be big, but so would the reward.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Three
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I know I’m awake when I realize I’m wondering whether or not I’m awake.
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Quiet.
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I think this does require coffee.
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Perfectly cool and foggy. It is mostly just on the trails save for a lone mountain biker or two. The sun starts to break through and in the distance the bright green and yellow of the reeds lining the lake look like they are glowing.
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Pulled stomach muscle?
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I am drowsy, despite the two cups of coffee I drank while on our walk.
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We watch Nailed It Halloween addition. Me in the bed, him on the floor.
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I think I need another day.
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Lasagna and Ceasar salad.
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Gratitudes: slow Sunday; movement; conversation; feeling a little brighter; one more day; foggy mornings; frozen lasagna; hugs; the sounds of nature.