Ten.One Hundred & Fifty-Two
1. I don’t want to get up but I know I must.
2. Skeleton trees.
3. The only thing saving me this morning is the light.
4. I start dinner at 10:30 but take a break to go get the tire patched. I should have done this months ago but there are some things I’m just not good at doing. Adult type things. Sometimes I tell myself, it’s okay, you’re only 32. And other times I cringe in embarrassment because...I’m 32 and shouldn’t I be better at these adult type things already?
5. Options.
6. I’m trying to just find my focus.
7. It’s already 1:45. I feel as though my day is already lost and gone. I know that once the kids are home there is no more space for breathing.
8. The clouds are moving quickly over the bern, so thin and whispy.
9. I need a vacation from my vacation.
10. Sleepytime tea with garlic honey.
Ten.One Hundred & Fifty-One
1. My dreams are strange and thin. I think it’s because I was afraid to miss saying good-bye to my parents before they leave for work.
2. I get downstairs in just enough time to say good-by to my mom.
3. Dad is down. I rub the dog’s back while Dad makes coffee and gathers his things.
4. I didn’t realize how much I missed having a dog. I mean, I don’t want one now—my children are my pets—but their faces and the way they look at you and the way one’s movement up and down the back are so meditative.
5. I’m sad. I’m always sad on my last day.
6. The sun is playing peekaboo with the palm trees. The air smells swampy, kinda like the air at grandma’s townhouse in Charleston.
7. Airport food.
8. As we begin to descend all I see is gray.
9. Home. The house still smells new.
10. Frozen pizza but I make candied walnuts for the salad. Early to bed.
Ten.One Hundred & Fifty
1. I wake up to the sound of him blowing his nose. A little bit of light is creeping in around the edges of the window.
2. Willa Jean for breakfast. I have coffee and kombucha and shrimp and grits. He gets the huevos rancheros. Amy, our waitress, has a tattoo of South Carolina on her wrist.
3. The light in this space.
4. I am a little disappointed that I didn’t get to do all the things I’d planned to do. I had my own expectations and reality didn’t align. I feel behind.
5. We head to Lucullus on Chatres. I decide that I’ll come back when I no longer have children in the home. This is not a place for people who like to really live in their homes.
6. I love beauty but I love function. I don’t desire to have things in my home that I am afraid to touch.
7. I forgot that City Putt is closed on Mondays. So is Cast Nets. We take the little one to go get some beignets to cover the wound of my forgetting.
8. Roasted chicken and roasted carrots with sautéed spinach.
9. I’m glad that I like my parents.
10. I’m not really ready to go home.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Nine
1. No one to tend to this morning.
2. The first parking lot we try is along the river and there’s this big oak tree she has me take a picture of before we get back into the car to find a cheaper lot.
3. We find a bakery but I opt for toast and fruit while everyone else eats gooey cinnamon buns.
4. Ogden Mueseum of Art.
5. I could stay in art museums for hours. In another life I’d be a sketch artist or maybe a painter or maybe a ceramicist or maybe a curator or maybe a gallery owner.
6. The same woman who made us breakfast is now here and she makes a treat.
7, Grey Skies in London: Gin, rosemary, and violet.
8. La Petite Grocery.
9. Red Burgundy, crab beignets, ricotta dumplings with hen of the woods mushrooms, duck confit with chilled barley and spaghetti squash and spinach and golden raisins, butterscotch pudding, coffee.
10. Early to bed.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Eight
1. The way the the wind is blowing through the palm trees.
2. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.
3. Two cousins, the husband, and I head toward the quarter so they can grab a few souvenirs from the market before they leave for their flight.
4. There’s a parade and the intersection of Frenchman Street and Elysian Fields so we take a detour down Esplanade. The colors and the shutters and the iron work on the balconies.
5. Satsuma trees still full of fruit.
6. Secret gardens.
7. Now only seven of us remain. It’s so quiet.
8. Steaks with red wine mushroom sauce. BV George Latour and Beringer Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon.
9. When you want to fall onto your knees and light candles and run fingers along rosary beads.
10. It’s so quiet.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Seven
1. This morning is for making sure he makes the biscuits and gravy in time.
2. Auntie is ironing all of the kids’ clothes.
3. My brother and I grab our cameras and hunt for light and decide that it has to be in the front of the house, outside, not inside like we originally planned. And all of us need to be squished in between the two pillars.
4. It only takes us 30 minutes to get in all of the shots. Mom makes a comment about how even though she hates taking pictures, she’s beginning to understand the importance of them.
5. I am feeling everyone's emotions.
6. I think of what it might feel like to be a man whose years of life have now outnumbered both his father’s and his younger brother’s.
7. The way the water is reflecting the colors of the trees and the people and the sky.
8. All of the live oaks.
9. Squeezing all of the leftovers into smaller containers.
10. He finally pooped.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Six
1. I don’t make it downstairs until almost 8 and I feel the best I’ve felt all week.
2. Toasted crossiant and fruit and coffee.
3. We plan for the meals of the day: what will be cooked, when and what will go where, how long does is all need.
4. It’s so sunny today. We look up at the chandelier.
5. I sit on the semi-circle driveway, find a place in the sun, and begin to write. The neighbor from across the street honks his horn at me and says something I and understand but I’m sure it was Happy Thanksgiving.
6. The food is good and familiar and after we’re done we make my auntie a bitmoji.
7. Then the topic turns to genealogy, the history of the names and personalities of people from another place and time.
8. I wish I knew more.
9. We are a family of storytellers.
10. Happy Thanksgiving.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Five
1. Double batch of granola and a little bit of coffee before we head to the quarter.
2. Elysian Fields.
3. We get to Cafe Du Monde in just enough time to grab two tables together. The way the waitress says "baby." The powdered sugar everywhere; I shake some of it off the plate into my cafe au lait.
4. We walk into Jackson Square (I thought they were supposed to be taking down the Confederate statues?), pass some street artists and then the fortune tellers that sit in front of the Cabildo, before heading down Pirate's Alley.
5. Faulkner House books. I grab a collection of poetry by Tennessee Williams.
6. We split up for a bit so that I can head to the little postal shop on Bourbon Street where they sell the kind of postcards I like. I pick up a few that make me think of my dear ones who love this place just as much as I do.
7. 18 different personalities is a lot to hold. There are all of these overlapping triangles.
8. I am a milder version of her.
9. I am my mother's daughter. What is biological? What is learned? What is it that stays dormant for so many years? Why does it all come out at once sometimes?
10. The cold is still sticking around. I'm almost certain I've reached sinus infection stage. I make a cup of sleepy-time tea and head up to bed. I wanted to make coffee cake for tomorrow.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Four
1. My alarm goes off and I touch snooze. Then I touch snooze again before I remember that I’m supposed to go get the smoked turkey from Honey Baked Ham.
2. Pink scrubs. Shiny pearly white Cadillac. Her kids don’t like turkey so she does ham. She seems a little sad about this fact.
3. From three lanes to two lanes down to one. The return trip was almost twice as long as the departure.
4. Let food be thy medicine, and medicine thy food. - Hippocrates
5. They got the #10 can of tomato paste intead of tomato sauce. Let’s see if I can make it work.
6. Veedercrest.
7. Chateau St. Jean Bijou rosé.
8. Hugs by the kitchen sink. When you know but don’t know and can only offer your embrace.
9. Charades.
10. Sleepy time tea + NyQuil.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Three
1. No sleeping in.
2. The chandelier. The way the light is cutting through the glass.
3. 7 kids.
4. Tickle in my throat that won’t go away. But I have coffee and light. A few laps around the neighborhood to reset after making the meals.
5. Is it only Monday?
6. The things you learn when you decide to close your mouth and listen.
7. I want more books.
8. 17 people.
9. Bacchanal. All of these 20- and 30-somethings trying so hard to be so different and yet they all look exactly the same.
10. Colonization.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-Two
1. 5 AM alarm.
2. Everyone is on adrenaline and dressed with backpacks packed full of toys and homework and coloring books.
3. The sun is coming up but the clouds want to stay close. But there is a thick split in sky where the orange glow is peaking through.
4. She left her water bottle in her backpack.
5. Babies on a plane.
6. I squeeze out three pages while in the middle seat. My throat is still scratchy.
7. “I just love New Orleans,” she says from the back of the taxi as we make our way to 610.
8. Grey high-top Converse with tiny silver threads running through them. I might have to jack them from my mom.
9. Thick palm tree branches, browned, lying on the side of the road.
10. We try to put in dreads.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty-One
1. I need just 5 more minutes.
2. Today is pictures before the game. More powder, mascara, eyeliner, and gloss.
3. I have little patience today. It probably has something to do with the 0-0 score at the half.
4. I tell my husband that it’s like they forgot everything we practiced on Tuesday. No sense of urgency! I try to remember that they are only 9 years old.
5. My throat is feeling scratch and my nose is running. Echinacea tincture. I remember how she says that a little bit of pain is okay. It’s good to be able to feel a little bit, even if it’s sickness.
6. Laundry. Always with the laundry.
7. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. But I’m glad it’s all out. It feels like a clean slate. Let it be the last time, please.
8. Salmon and risotto and spinach. I needed something light and yet satisfying.
9. Packing for 5 people for 10 days.
10. One sleep.
Ten.One Hundred & Forty
1. I feel good about today.
2. Everyone is still sleeping so I fill the coffee grinder and walk back into the laundry room and grind them there. The one thing about a new construction home is the thinness of the walks. The plaster and lath in the old house provided so much more sound insulation.
3. I have him drive me to my meeting so that we can have lunch afterwards. It's the last time we'll get to be together for a while.
4. This kind of side project feels good. I get to use my creativity and tell stories and be a part of a larger conversation. I'm glad she thought of me.
5. Steak Frites. Our waiter is young and doesn't know what a decanter is. It's kind of cute.
6. I go through the boxes down in the basement and find an assortment of plate, the coffee mugs, the teacups but not saucers. The Friendly Village China is one of the few things I willingly took from my mother-in-law.
7. Women are coming to sit in my home and learn about herbs. This is the facilitation part of my vocation. I want to keep making spaces for women to learn and grow and share their knowledge. So grateful.
8. I have to forget about the fact that the mantel is unbalanced and that almost all the walls are still so bare. No one cares.
9. Rosehip spread.
10. I stack the dirty china on the counter, heat up the leftover ginger tea, and go upstairs to go to bed.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Nine
1. I can by how dark it is that it will be a gray day today. I've got to get one of those lights.
2. The smell of bacon. How much my mother disliked the house smelling of meats like this. She'd rather fill it with the smell of cakes and breads. Cinnamon-Raisin was her specialty.
3. Today is supposed to be cleaning day. I get all of the rooms straightened but just read before the interview.
4. I'll figure out a better set up. When we looked at this house I wondered where my space would be. I wish I would have made it more of a priority, a need and not just a want. The basement is okay except for its spotty reception and lack of natural light. I need an expert in space planning.
5. I have to set up the iPad in a very precarious position and sit on my bed for this one. Luckily it will be short and the risk of the iPad falling over should be fairly low.
6. I update my portfolio page on my website and then write them a little note. They're hiring and I don't necessarily fit any one of the positions they are hiring for, but since I can do a little bit of everything, I just tell them that.
7. Laundry.
8. Leftover are for dinner. While they warm up I clean the bathrooms. I just saw someone's insta-story where they said that they *get* to clean, they don't *have* to clean. To have the privilege to do something feels much more expansive.
9. Spreadsheet for a week of meals for 20 people. It's not so daunting when you see it on paper.
10. Roz.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Eight
1. The sound of cars on Wolfs Crossing.
2. In this little corner of the sofa by the window, I can hear the beginnings of rain.
3. In my morning pages I confess that I'm nervous, but that I believe that I can do this. That I'm intimidated to be shooting in her studio, but that this is good for me to a little nervous. I think, maybe, that my nervousness is no longer about achieving perfection. My nervousness is now my motivator. It's the clue that I'm doing something that's going to challenge me in new ways.
4. The drive to her studio is long but feels short. The most excruciating part of it is waiting 15 minutes for a medium black coffee from McDonald's. I should have just driven a little farther and gotten a proper coffee from Atomix.
5. This is my first time seeing her studio in the daylight. Big windows and soft light and a hammock and a sofa and this gorgeous long table and all the white dishes.
6. Dreams and goals.
7. She arrives. We do our thing. She makes me less nervous and this is good.
8. I am trying to read the next chapter of this book while I sit in the car and wait for the kids to come out but I keep falling asleep.
9. Creamy spinach, tomato, bacon, and chicken with rigatoni.
10. Four sleeps until New Orleans.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Seven
1. Up before the alarm. Before 5:30.
2. The warm glow of lights against the window. The way they’re draped over the red blocks and the pomegranates.
3. Blueberry muffins from a package while the coffee brews.
4. It’s the little things sometimes. I miss the Trader Joe’s and the way Gartner winds and the way the branches reach out overhead and the piles of leaves in the gutters.
5. Lunch with her downtown. Gumbo and a jalapeño cheddar muffin and iced tea and coffee.
6. What am I feeling called to?
7. Every time pull into the driveway I say a quiet “thank you.” Because this might just be what I needed.
8. Herbs de Provence.
9. Basketball practice. I realize that I actually look forward to these practices and games. That I like being called “coach.” That this is way better than trying to coach 4 year-old soccer.
10. I’m still so nervous.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Six
1. The fog. It's thick and milky and reminding me of the desert. All the colors are faded and dusty and it's so beautiful.
2. Finally a little bit of sun.
3. We argue over which pajamas are the right kind of pajamas to wear to pajama day at school and I can feel the irritation growing. Because why does this have to be a thing?
4. I'm standing at the counter while they eat and I catch myself just staring at them all adoringly. Like, their faces are so perfect and the colors of their eyes are all slightly different shades of chestnut and they are really most beautiful in the mornings when they're fresh from rest. Even when we're arguing over weather appropriate clothing.
5. I love Jennette and I love these chats and dreaming and doing with her. The beauty of soulful collaboration, of experimentation, of dreaming.
6. This apple and manchego salad with lemon vinaigrette.
7. Duval-Leroy Rosé de Saignée.
8. Chicken tortilla soup.
9. I dig out a tiny Christmas tree and she helps me decorate it with these all these tiny ornaments and tiny garlands. I'm craving the coziness of Christmas decorations. I want the lights and the music and the smells. Maybe I just want to feel like a kid again.
10. Sometimes it's so hard to create with my hands all the things I can see in my mind.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Five
1. I wake up with the alarm. Biscuits and hash browns and sausage for breakfast. She asks my breakfast is so fancy today. I don't know. It's Sunday.
2. I didn't realize how much I missed having a fireplace. There's no smell of wood or that crackling sound, but there is heat and movement and that glow.
3. He's much better today. I can tell because he keeps talking.
4. There is really nothing to do but dream today.
5. What am I truly hungry for? What is the vision I'm trying to grow into?
6. That foggy feeling you get when your nap is too long and now it's dark and you need to make dinner which is roasted chicken and potatoes and brussel sprouts. Domaine Gilles Noblet Macon-Fuissé.
7. We leave for New Orleans in 7 days. I can't wait to feel its warmth. To see the square. To wander down Pirate's Alley. To eat beignets and pralines and grilled oysters. To laze around with family. To stick spanish moss into my pockets.
8. Charlie Brown Christmas album.
9. I pull my glasses on for a few episodes of Stranger Things and eat a handful of whoppers. I think of what is coming up for me this week which suddenly feels like a lot, too much, right before the five of us leave.
10. Deep breaths in and out.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Four
1. There were enough leftover hand pies last night that I was able to bring some home for this morning's breakfast. The girl and I are the only ones who eat them.
2. We do much better moving without the ball. Way less fouling. But the boys look sleepy. They are too young to be so tired. To my surprise, we win.
3. I drop her off at gymnastics and then run to the store for meatballs and to pick up a large coffee table I found on craigslist. I need something on which I can do my food and wine photography and this $5 table seems like a good investment.
4. What am I even doing?
5. I wish I had done all of my cleaning on Thursday or Friday so that I could have just enjoyed the dark quiet of today. So this afternoon is for bathrooms and baseboards and mirrors and floors. And music, turned all the way up from the Bluetooth speakers.
6. Meaningful movement.
7. Spaghetti and meatballs and an Italian red blend. Which reminds me that I need to get back to my wine studies.
8. What am I even doing?
9. I decide to lead a dance party for the three of us that consists of a variety of old and made-up dance moves. Then we take turns following one another. We are laughing and giggling and my legs are burning. We end by dabbing to the clean version of Jay-Z and Kanye's "Ni**as in Paris." I think about how I've become the old parent who doesn't listen to any new music but returns over and over again the songs that shaped her in her 20s.
10. She says that we should do it more often. I agree. A thousand gratitudes for a kitchen big enough to dance in.
Ten.One Hundred & Thirty-Three
1. Today I sleep in until 6. Maybe my body wants to do the opposite of what I say I will do.
2. Frozen strawberry waffles for them, banana and an apple for me before I take in the first cup of coffee.
3. The light in the corner of my dining room where I take the pictures is orange. Something about the color of this morning's sunrise and the way the sun is coming up and over is changing.
4. This morning's post is about being fed, literally and figuratively. Because while I often feel loved, I don't always feel cared for. And some of that is on me. I am so bad at articulating my needs.
5. Emails.
6. Today is a day for crossing all the tings off the list. Except for cleaning. I'm choosing not to clean today. Maybe tomorrow.
7. Buttered popcorn cookies and blueberry hand pies. Yes.
8. He's sick. And really sick. I can see it in his face. And he's not talking—that's how I know he's really sick.
9. Brazilian cheesy bread and salad and chicken alfredo and garlic bread and wine and pie and ice cream and coffee. And conversation. And laughing. And sitting with friends. Missing community. Knowing that this will be the season of intentionality.
10. Everyone is tired. I stayed an hour later that I meant to but it was worth it.