Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Six

1. 4:46 am. There’s no sense in me going back to sleep now. Plus it gives me a few more minutes to get the last bit of recycling out and the potatoes started.

2. I walk her back to bed and tell her to get some more rest. Maybe I can get another hour alone before she’s up for good.

3. I gather the tiny peppers from my neighbor and diced them up for the potatoes. Home grown things just smell so different than their store-bought version. They just smell and taste more like themselves.

4. Twisted stomach. I go through the bookcase and dig out the books that I no longer want. There are only a handful. My eyes scan the shelves…Shakespeare, Munro, Carver, McCarthy, Williams, Austen, Dickens. One day I’ll have a room just for books.

5. I understand my mother’s point of view. I understand why she wants to just stay out of it for now.

6. The line at the DMV is pleasantly short.

7. Fighting fatigue. I dump the laundry on the bed and get to work.

8. Here comes the rain. The sound of it. The way it beats its way through the screens and streaks the glass.

9. But now I don’t know how to feel. I just know that there’s more to do.

10. Time to start the next volume.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Five

1. Up before the alarm. It’s so dark but I know it’s almost time. 

2. Can’t stop thinking.  

3. The kitchen is dark and quiet and so clean. This is the best part of the showings.  

4. Sun, glorious sun. Rectangles of it landing on the chalkboard wall and on the floor. It’s the really golden kind of light that emanates on a warm day. This is probably the last of the warm days. 

5. When I return I will need to harvest almost everything.  

6. You can’t not be happy around a happy baby.

7. Sitting on the couch talking life. Watching the light change through the windows. Shadows on the rocking chairs.  

8. Nerves. 

9.  Basin full of water to rinse all the herbs. I managed to grab all of the thyme, a good amount of sage, and all of the oregano. I’ll harvest the rosemary tomorrow. What will I do with this handful of okra? More peppers. Roast them and pack them in oil? Who knows. Just gratitude for the abundance. 

10. Waiting.  

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Four

1. A Monday that feels like a Sunday. Grateful for another day without the crush of places to be.

2. I just need to finish this proposal. I look up words to make sure that they are what I want them to be.

3. 6:30-7:30pm. Great. Looks like we’re going to Longhorn tonight.

4. Now to hold myself together. To keep faith but to not get too excited. But this feels a little different. A lot different. Just need to finish this proposal so that I can start cleaning.

5. Blast the Panic At The Disco.

6. But all the women in me are tired. And that’s because our culture has not set us up to thrive or to honor our humanity. How does one be against the game and yet play enough of it to find the resources to subvert it?

7. Action breeds clarity.

8. I should have known it was going to be a mediocre meal when we stepped in front of the hostess stand and it was sticky.

9. Mediocre Malbec.

10. They’re still there.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Three

1. I can’t sleep any longer so I might as well get up.

2. I hear the XBOX turn on and know it’s one of the boys. This time the oldest. I have to tell him no more Fort Nite videos on YouTube. I really hate this contraption.

3. Dark, dark, dark. I’ll make the waffle batter and the bacon and then, maybe it would be a good morning for a long walk with a thermos of tea.

4. It’s still drizzling but the coolness of the air feels good. I wear the obnoxiously yellow rain coat and converse. I should probably upgrade myself to a proper walk/run shoe.

5. 7 white cranes. The flapping of the ducks’ wings against the water sending ripples everywhere. Goldenrod bent over from the weight of the rain. It’s so quiet.

6. “Water is not a resource, it is the source of life.”

7. 6,500 steps in the prevailing weight of gray.

8. Salted Caramel Pavlova.

9. Eat the damn fruit. Sunni reminds me to honor my desires, to seek out the pleasures, to stop ignoring what’s gnawing at my heart.

10. Lists up on lists upon lists.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-Two

1. I sleep in just long enough to feel rested but not like I lost the morning.

2. Shower. Linen pants. Thin tee. I’ll clean first and get the laundry started. Ginger tea on the stove.

3. I find a lighter and set the sage, the hawk feather, malas, and the bowl from Jennette on the desk and then sit to meditate.

4. The smoke is thick. I start in the basement. I waft the smoke into the corners of every room and pray for peace, patience, and the return of good energies.

5. Another headache pressing against the back of the skull. I try to finish reading the cookbook anyway to distract myself. No, I should just close my eyes.

6. My miso is still simmering on the stove. I eat a bowl of chili. He’s right: the cinnamon. It's a surprisingly tasty addition. This might be the new chili standard in our home.

7. Bed and reading. Ginger and lemon tea. So many thoughts.

8. He’s worried about me.

9. Chicken Marsala. Pinot Noir for me and Rose for him. Brownies from a box. I promised her that tomorrow we’ll make the salted caramel pavlovas. I’m looking forward to that.

10. I write up the newsletter and schedule it for the morning. I haven’t written one in so long. I remember I got sick and then I got side-tracked by life. But, as I was telling her on the phone the other day, I feel like what will be best for my sanity is to get back to work. Just work like everything is normal, even though it’s not. To continue to fill my days with new projects and with a focus on the things I love doing instead of fretting everything that isn’t happening. And like he said, if the thing we’re most stressed out about is this house and this move, then we really are doing quite well considering.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty-One

1. Dream: I’m in the back room and the manager is there with me. She’s upset because I was late for my shift but then starts talking about a medical problem her niece has. I explain to her what the medical condition is. She asks me if I like what I’m doing here—folding clothes and opening fitting rooms—and I say, “no.” “Then why are you here? Get the fuck out of here.” I wake up.

2. But she didn’t say it to be mean. She said it because I clearly was meant to do other things. And if I didn’t want to be there, then I needed to go and do something else.

3. The Napa cabbage is too wilted for me to work with now. It’s limp and has lost its color. I set it aside.

4. It’s just the two of us at the table eating baked potatoes for lunch. He’s brushing his hair. I think of him on the day we brought him home, swaddled up in a blanket. My baby. The first one. Not a baby any more.

5. I am wearing heels and I feel like I should feel taller than him.

6. Okay. I’m ready for the grayness to go away now. It was cute the first couple of days.

7. Queer Eye bonus episode of Nailed It.

8. Just the two of us in the car. I can hear her turning pages. “It’s much smoother in the middle.” This makes me laugh.

9. Pork tacos, a margarita, conversation, and laughter. Silly daughters. This is good medicine.

10. One more stop for a glass of wine and a few laughs. More good medicine. Tomorrow I’ll make a dashi and smudge the house.

Ten.Four Hundred & Sixty

1. His door is opening. It’s way too early for him to be away.

2. Whispy clouds layered into a sky the color of pink lemonade.

3. I take my shawl and a cup of tea to the alcove. The sun is in my face. I close my eyes and lower my head and feel the heat. It’s the most perfect kind of fall morning.

4. I buy the magic stamps. These will be perfect for the little gifts we’re mailing to the Fever Dreamers.

5. I keep checking Instagram. This is not what I wanted to do.

6. Laundry and spooky stories. Hot tea and rest. Headache pulsing behind the left eye.

7. So much sun.

8. No news is sometimes good news.

9. Silhouettes of trees against pale blue and green skies.

10. I just can’t think anymore.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Nine

1. But I didn’t want to wake up from that dream. 

2. I can hear the gusts but it’s too dark for me to see anything.  

3. Sub blueberries with strawberries. Sprinkle the tops with sugar.  

4. Come to life.  

5. Doctor. There is a wheeze. I’ll keep him home for the rest of the week. Email teacher. Call school. Scratch plans for the rest of the week. 

6. Hawks gliding in the wind. When I come back I want to come back as a bird.  

7. This is not the kind of news we wanted to hear. Nevertheless it’s exactly what we expected.  

8. Chicken noodle soup and focaccia. Pinot Nero for me and Rosé for him. Loud slurps.  

9. I should probably be more concerned. I tell him that the thing is we had a vision of what the rest of the year was going to look like and we’re watching it crumble away bit by bit.  

10. How do I get access to Moira’s wardrobe?

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Eight

1. So very dark. Evidence of rain against the window screens.

2. In my dream, the agent left awful feedback about the house. I realize it’s a nightmare and wake up way before the alarm.

3. Smoothie bowl. Hemp hearts. Granola. Walnuts.

4. I’m spoiled by this personal taxi service. He drives me to the arboretum to meet her. I read while he drives. I look up now and again to see bits of yellow on the trees. This is my favorite time of the year.

5. We make our way to the troll that overlooks the highway. The angles of his face and the nails on his toes and fingers. Even the circles of his eyes. Art can take so many forms and art is very present in these seemingly crude structures.

6. I text her our totals for the day: 4.2 miles and 10,000 steps. A reminder that exercise can feel good. That sometimes it’s not just cardio that’s good for the heart, but fellowship and a warm cup in your hands. Being heard and seen. That’s the kind of exercise we all need.

7. Vietnamese.

8. The light in the corner of the windowsill. Buying that eucalyptus was a good idea.

9. It takes me a full 90 minutes to blow dry her hair and twist it up for the night. I envy the length and silkiness of her strands.

10. One year. One year. Only one year to go.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Seven

1. Nag champa. I remember when this was a part of every morning. I should bring this ritual back.

2. It makes me think of the green house and its white window sills and how the smoke would curl through the kitchen in the pre-dawn light.

3. Soccer this morning. Must not forget.

4. I never do these photo-a-day challenges but this might be good for me. Just to get me back to having my camera in my hands every day and for a little bit of inspiration to see things differently.

5. Solo bike ride on the trail and an episode of “hey, girl,” podcast; the episode with Jerelle from Chocolate for Basil.

6. All the goldenrod. And the purple flowers. And the white flowers with yellow centers that look like chamomile. I wish I had gardening shears and a basket so I could take cutting back home and fill the windows with them. Next time. Next time I’ll be more prepared.

7. Tea time. I’ve developed a steady craving for the Yogi detox tea, not because it’s detoxifying, but because the smell and the taste of the blend is so perfect for fall.

8. I forget that the downside of sharing parts of yourself publicly is that people feel compelled to comment. I know it comes from a place of support. But really, I don’t need another person to tell me to “be patient.” This has been a trying season. It’s not just these past 90 days that I’ve been waiting. We’ve been sitting on a hook since last December. I really have been patient.

9. Lights on, fireplace on, classical music on. Time to go.

10. I take the root beer cookies to go. I’ll eat them in bed while watching Schitt’s Creek. I’ll giggle before falling asleep.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Six

1. But it would be nice if I didn’t have make breakfast every once in a while.

2. He doesn’t understand it but this is another reason I’m not so excited about traditional work. I know that all it means is that I will add even more and more responsibilities to my plate with no other kind of assistance. This is what it means for every woman. I’m tired of asking for help. Why do women always have to ask for help?

3. Sun. Hot tea. Clear light of autumn.

4. I finish clearing off the vases and the mini Bialetti and the teapot from my desk. When I move the curtains I see a gigantic spider and manage to keep my composure long enough to squish it in the fabric.

5. I want someone to send me a survey about this experience.

6. Tomorrow from 6:15-7:15 pm.

7. She’s trying to make cookies. I’m trying to let her do it on her own but I can’t help but interject.

8. I am angry.

9. It’s just that it’s been 90 days now and there is no plan. No one has told us what the plan is. I don’t like not having a plan.

10. Just ready.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Five

1. I’m not so sure I’ve enjoyed this week without an alarm. I miss the quiet darkness.

2. She begs for donuts. I don’t want to cook. Sounds like a win for both of us.

3. Cough medicine and leggings. I’m in this store way too much.

4. Two texts about why I’m not on Facebook anymore. I giggle. It’s interesting the kinds of feelings this stirs up.

5. I take a tea and my journal out to the front porch and sit in the sun. The air is so cool and the amount of sun is just enough to keep me warm. I love these days. I am missing the big porch on the green house.

6. 81 days. I feel like I’ve lost a little bit of hope. But then, maybe this is the just right amount of time. Maybe this is giving me time to lay a better foundation for the kind of work I want to do once I’m there. Maybe this is giving me more time to learn how to trust in the divine timing of things…to trust in my own life’s path. Maybe this is giving me the time I need to learn how to be at rest. Maybe I need this time to conserve my energies before we’re swept away by the move.

7. I head down to the basement with a cup of tea, tape, and markers. Fever Dream playlist on. I repack the Christmas china. I make fast work of it and stack the boxed in the corner.

8. Leftover corn chowder and a deep breaths.

9. The deer. Both of them so close. Closer than usual. The littlest one and I stand outside and watch them. They stare us. We stare at them. I go around to the side of the house and clip sage, rosemary, oregano. It’s probably time to pick the watermelons. I’ll wait another week. There’s a temperature spike. Maybe that will bump up the sugars just a little bit more.

10. “A deep life is a good life.” - Deep Work

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Five

1. I’m not so sure I’ve enjoyed this week without an alarm. I miss the quiet darkness.

2. She begs for donuts. I don’t want to cook. Sounds like a win for both of us.

3. Cough medicine and leggings. I’m in this store way too much.

4. Two texts about why I’m not on Facebook anymore. I giggle. It’s interesting the kinds of feelings this stirs up.

5. I take a tea and my journal out to the front porch and sit in the sun. The air is so cool and the amount of sun is just enough to keep me warm. I love these days. I am missing the big porch on the green house.

6. 81 days. I feel like I’ve lost a little bit of hope. But then, maybe this is the just right amount of time. Maybe this is giving me time to lay a better foundation for the kind of work I want to do once I’m there. Maybe this is giving me more time to learn how to trust in the divine timing of things…to trust in my own life’s path. Maybe this is giving me the time I need to learn how to be at rest. Maybe I need this time to conserve my energies before we’re swept away by the move.

7. I head down to the basement with a cup of tea, tape, and markers. Fever Dream playlist on. I repack the Christmas china. I make fast work of it and stack the boxed in the corner.

8. Leftover corn chowder and a deep breaths.

9. The deer. Both of them so close. Closer than usual. The littlest one and I stand outside and watch them. They stare us. We stare at them. I go around to the side of the house and clip sage, rosemary, oregano. It’s probably time to pick the watermelons. I’ll wait another week. There’s a temperature spike. Maybe that will bump up the sugars just a little bit more.

10. “A deep life is a good life.” - Deep Work

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Four

1. I will remember that he has soccer this morning.

2. I have no desire to make a meal plan for the upcoming week but every desire to eat at some point. So I guess I will make a list. Or at least a rough outline.

3. I have no words. I mean, I have no time to work out what wants to be said in a way that makes sense right now and so I type a single sentence. How does one begin?

4. It’s dark and cool and the kind of weather that makes you want to sleep all day. Soup again for dinner. And a sandwich. Maybe a salad too. Or chips. That sounds like a good dinner for a Friday.

5. I am silent. I am thinking all the things but not wanting to speak out loud. I tell him that I’m going to get rid of Facebook. It doesn’t serve me. I don’t know if it really serves any one. I’ve tried multiple ways of trying to make in work so that I’m in alignment with my own values and goals but I find myself continuing to resist it. I don’t want to be consumed.

6. Petit Chablis and Pinot Nero. Prawns, sausage flatbread, cheese plate, charcuterie board.

7. Not cool, but cold.

8. If I start the soup now then I can lay around and drink tea with the kids after school without feeling rushed to get dinner done. Strip corn from the cobs; chop the onions and the bell pepper, the celery and the carrots.

   9. The rain is falling and it’s exactly the kind of weather you want for soup and a slow evening.  

   10. Yeah, I think I’m done.  

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Three

1. Cleaning day plus dentist day.

2. My feeds are full of women supporting women and that feels powerful. And yet I am also discouraged, once again. I think of the women who call themselves feminists but don’t bring that same rage and urgency to issues of race. I’m hoping that as time continues to pass, that we begin to truly believe that no one is free if everyone isn’t free. Our liberation is tied together.

3. I do a quick breathing meditation before I get in the dentist chair. This has been one of the more helpful tools in navigating the anxiety around dental work.

4. I get to decide who I want to be.

5. I step into the store and feel at home again. I miss this place. I find cinnamon brooms to scent the kitchen and my bedroom, some eucalyptus for the rooms upstairs, a butternut squash and some vegetable stock because I feel like making soup.

6. I toss open the windows and let in the fresh air. This is my favorite season. This is the season when I am overcome with the desire to cut things away. I am making a list in my mind of what needs to go: Facebook, self-doubt, superficial relationships (either I am ready to invest my time and self in them or it’s best to step back), television…

7. The watermelons are probably ready. There are three of them, deep emerald green with a cream-colored patch on their underside. The worms ate the remaining stubs of lettuce. The strawberry plant is growing tendrils and broadening its leaves. There are more and more peppers.

8. Quiet.

9. I feel like nothing is happening. I feel like everything is happening all at once.

10. Deeper work is calling.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-Two

1. Up late again because I’ve decided not to use an alarm for a little while. There’s a tiny bit of pain at the back of my throat which means I’m closing in on a cold. I must get as much sleep as I possibly can.

2. The moon looks full and low and bright against the pale morning sky.

3. I need to warm my hands. It’s almost time to begin the mornings with fire again.

4. The deer are back. Both of them. We all stand at the sliding door and watch them. They linger at the back edge there the trees get thick again.

5. We hop on our bikes for a ride. We’re both colder than we thought we would be. The golden rod and milkweed are getting taller and taller.

6. There are large pieces of insulation floating in the pond. Who will retrieve it before it poisons the water and the fish and the birds even more? Do they even do ecological surveys around here before they begin to build? The concerns are only ever about property taxes and traffic, never about environmental harm.

7. We meet at Emerson Creek Tea Room and have a mug of hot tea and eat a bowl of creamy sweet potato soup and a turkey club while the wind blows. The sun is bright and it’s quiet out here.

8. She drives me home in her little green convertible. And when I walk inside the house I realize just how much I’ll miss her.

9. I have lots of letters to write.

10. Two years of this disconnectedness. I need to remember how much I need my people. Not enough time here to recover from the move and then do the work of building relationships. Sometimes too far from the ones I do know best.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty-One

1. Darkness. A little bit of light from the full moon.

2. Chop onions, chop peppers, wash the potatoes. Start the cooking. Hope that they don’t decide to wake up until after everything is already done.

3. Now I remember why I stopped making these for breakfast.

4. The air outside is more humid than I thought it would be. The sky is low and dark and it feels comforting.

5. I fold in the blueberries and think of how this might be the last time I get to sit with them on a Tuesday. morning drinking coffee.

6. The role of the artist.

7. I do love a good bell bottom jean. I don’t care if it’s in season or not.

8. As we drive past open fields and leaning houses I am longing for a long drive in the country. It’s good to be reminded of how much open space still exists. And I find detritus intriguing. I wonder who still lives in these almost-forgotten places. I wonder what kind of light falls through the old and dusty windows or the cracks in the barns.

9. We stand outside and watch the trash cans blow from one side of the street to the other. I am ready for a good storm.

10. They never even came.

Ten.Four Hundred & Fifty

1. Almost to 500. When will this end? Will it ever? I don’t need to decide.

2. The sky is showing off for sure.

3. Today is a self-serve breakfast day. I’ll make the smoothies, they can grab oatmeal or a bagel, fruit. I need to gather myself.

4. Another hawk.

5. I go upstairs to wake the older two an then realize that he has before-school intramurals. The youngest one tells me that it might be a good idea for me to write things down on a piece of paper so that I can remember them.

6. I do like days like this when he can drive me around to do my errands.

7. One man with a small set of speakers around his shoulders blasting Bob Marley while perusing produce.

8. Cloud cover but there is still good light and a light breeze.

9. Vulnerability hangover. I see my weaknesses. One of those weaknesses is how often I perceive myself to have weaknesses that actually do not exist. There is also the continuing need for external validation and when it’s not received, retreating back and away from the things that are tugging on the heart. And then there is also the way in which I continue to punish myself for past mistakes and failures from years and years and years ago. This kind of self-flagellation is no good for the spirit. How do I continue to move forward in spite of this?

10. Ducks and geese flying north. That doesn’t seem to make sense. But I bet they have a sense of what to do. There’s something to be said about a life lived on instinct.

Ten.Four Hundred & Forty-Nine

1. I can’t tell if my tooth is hurting for real or if it’s just a very realistic dream.

2. I can see the fog rising up from the wetlands out back. It’s a very fall-like scene.

3. There is nothing to do today but make him his birthday meals and do all the laundry and the dishes and pray that someone calls with an offer today.

4. I bring the baskets of clothes up from the basement but instead of folding laundry decide to sit on the porch in the sun and read a cook book. I am longing for something quiet and restorative.

5. I tell her that the things that I used to do to calm myself are no longer working. I’m needing new things to center myself.

6. We finally get to connect and I feel so much better. I feel like, “yes, oh yes, this is what I’m meant to be doing. This is what feels good. And how do I have more of this?” We talk out way through the ideas for next year’s retreat. It’s getting closer and closer and I truly can’t wait.

7. I grab three wines: Klipfel Cremant D’Alsace, Domaine Gilles Noblet Macon-Fuisse, and Domaine Chante Cigale Chateauneuf-Du-Pape.

8. He wants a pound cake and so that’s what I get started on first. My arm feels sore from folding the meringue into the stiff batter.

9. Good house smells.

10. Maybe there will be good news this week.

Ten.Four Hundred & Forty-Nine

1. I can’t tell if my tooth is hurting for real or if it’s just a very realistic dream.

2. I can see the fog rising up from the wetlands out back. It’s a very fall-like scene.

3. There is nothing to do today but make him his birthday meals and do all the laundry and the dishes and pray that someone calls with an offer today.

4. I bring the baskets of clothes up from the basement but instead of folding laundry decide to sit on the porch in the sun and read a cook book. I am longing for something quiet and restorative.

5. I tell her that the things that I used to do to calm myself are no longer working. I’m needing new things to center myself.

6. We finally get to connect and I feel so much better. I feel like, “yes, oh yes, this is what I’m meant to be doing. This is what feels good. And how do I have more of this?” We talk out way through the ideas for next year’s retreat. It’s getting closer and closer and I truly can’t wait.

7. I grab three wines: Klipfel Cremant D’Alsace, Domaine Gilles Noblet Macon-Fuisse, and Domaine Chante Cigale Chateauneuf-Du-Pape.

8. He wants a pound cake and so that’s what I get started on first. My arm feels sore from folding the meringue into the stiff batter.

9. Good house smells.

10. Maybe there will be good news this week.