Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. Forgot to turn off the alarm.

2. Nee more water. Need more rest. Need more coffee.

3. I think about how I’m not good at giving gifts. Meaning, I forget to buy gifts in enough time to get them to people. I used to interpret it as not being thoughtful. It’s not that I’m not thoughtful. I think I’m very thoughtful. I just didn’t grow up in a home where there was a lot of exchanging of gifts. In what other ways am I capable of showing appreciation?

4. But I still feel bad.

5. Today’s intention: To make everyone feel noticed.

6. So many butterflies.

7. Four months in and I am more of an expert than others. Being able to pass on knowledge feels good. Remember this.

8. She’s so annoyed that I have to check her ID.

9. I tell him that I won’t ever work on Mother’s Day again. And it’s not about working on a busy day. It’s about not being able to spend the day with my family.

10. We’re going to go to the beach. Yes. That’s what I want for my birthday.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Eight

1. The light. One bright patch of it on the wall. Her rose garlands. It’s a simple, quiet, beautiful scene.

2. Cereal and milk. I did remember something for breakfast. I think I’ll have my coffee with the snails.

3. I’d rather stay home and read in the hammock, write, watch the boys’ baseball games. It will be different next year.

4. More coffee. Morning pages in the sun. Hummingbird. I set an intention for the day.

5. Quiet One.

6. Probably nervous for no reason. Large group. We knew it would be a matter of time. He tells me that I have the right energy for this.

7. External validation.

8. Holy. Mountains and hills and sky. And I swear the sun is gold. Gold!

9. Am I worried about tomorrow? Everyone seems worried about tomorrow. I am just bummed that I’ll have to rush out of bed for work. But then I remember that I’ll have hammock time all week and that I’ll have time to be at the water and watch a baby laugh and giggle and it will be so good.

10. I should have gotten the ice cream.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Seven

1. I grab English muffins, butter, and jelly. And three Lunchables. Ease.

2. Okay. Only 40 minutes.

3. This must be a part of the Delta where a lot of mass agriculture goes on. Tractors, large expanses of fields with neat rows of brown earth and tiny green things.

4. She tells me that my birth certificate will not work. I don’t understand. I can’t do anything today. I will have to leave and come back. She shows me the number to call to get another birth certificate. I tell her that I’ve been using this one for 20 years for all my other licenses. I’m shaking out of anger and frustration and maybe too much caffeine. “I’ve been here for 6 months and can’t get anything done.”

5. I slam the car door. Eighty minutes of driving for no reason. I make another appointment. July 31st. I feel bad for being snappy with her. It’s not her fault. But man, what a frustrating morning.

6. I have no meal plan but the tuna is on sale. So are the tomatoes. I grab Italian sausage and a can of crushed tomatoes and some pasta. Let it be easy.

7. Pepper Jelly.

8. No clouds in the sky. The dusty silhouette of the moon.

9. I don't know what that one is. The fruit is gaining in size, still bright green with a chalky look.

10. I can feel the answer in my gut.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Six

1. How much longer before the alarm goes off?

2. Linen feels right for today.

3. “It’s Thursday, isn’t it? Today is Cleaning Day.” I love it when he reminds me.

4. And I hate that the rewards are working.

5. I like that this is a judgement-free conversation. I say out loud that I need to dial back the ambition. I’m carrying over the goals from last week. Because, look. You can’t build Rome in a day.

6. I’m glad we’re back to our weekly calls.

7. The walk doesn’t take very long. The sun is bright. There’s a breeze. It’s quiet. Her shirt says Chicago.

8. I just need more sleep. I drag the hammock into the shade. There is the sound of a mower and a weed wacker, a prop plane, doves,

9. Four dragonflies circling the yard.

10. “Got treasures in my mind but couldn’t open up my own vault/My childlike creativity, purity and honesty/Is honestly being crowded by these grown thoughts/Reality is catchin’ up with me” - Power, Kanye West

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Five

1. Get dressed now? Or wait? I’ll wait.

2. The sizzle of butter in the pot. Water. Brown sugar. It’s not fancy. It wasn’t meant to be fancy. I can’t believe I’ve been making this for 10 years. The time goes so fast.

3. Something about this doesn’t feel right. Camino Diablo? I reset the directions. I wasn’t going to the right place. At least I’ll still be on time.

4. Hills browned over. They look like gold and very dry. Off in the distance the fog lays low, hugging Mt. Diablo.

5. I don’t think I could live all the way out here.

6. I usually get a feeling about things and this time I am feeling uncertain. Not good, not bad. It could go either way. I play out alternative scenarios. None of them feel like losing.

7. Funnyons.

8. I forgot that she was coming today. I remind myself that no child cares about how clean my kitchen is. But tomorrow, I really do need to clean. It’s giving me too much anxiety.

9. I keep talking about her wines. I keep telling me how much he’s going to like them. I keep telling him that we need to get back up to the valley again. That up there is where we belong.

10. We have the same name. I find that amusing.

What Makes a Space "Safe"?

What I wanted to talk about was the Batonnage Forum I attended this past Saturday. About how there were several panels that left me with more questions than answers, a renewed sense of spirit and community, and a reminder that none of us are having the same experience. I wanted to talk about how refreshing and inspiring it was to be at a conference with over 450 people who were genuinely interested in having difficult conversations about how we can create a more equitable culture within the wine and hospitality industry. I wanted to tell you about the all of the wonderful black women who attended the forum thanks to the scholarships provided by Julia Coney and the staff of Batonnage.

Instead, what I find myself circling back to is this idea of “safe space.” It is a phrase I myself use frequently in describing my intention for an event or gathering. When I label my retreats and workshops as a “safe space,” what I’m trying to communicate is that this is a space where your humanity is honored and cherished. That it is a place where you will be respected and listened to. That it is a place where you can be free to stumble in your words and your art. That this is a place where I am willing to be honest and vulnerable with you if you will be honest and vulnerable with me, and that my goal is to withhold judgement and shame.

And so at the start of the conference this phrase, “safe space,” was used, most likely to mean the same things I mean. Yet, I’m curious to know if it really and truly did feel safe for some of those who were in attendance. When issues of race, sexuality, and equity were brought to the table, how many felt truly safe?

For the black women in the audience who came alone, how safe did the space feel?

For the queer women who traveled alone, unsure of how many other queer women would be there, did they feel safe?

How safe did the woman who made a controversial statement about young women in tight and revealing clothing feel once she made her statement and was met with groaning disapproval?

Did any of the men in attendance feel safe at a conference that is, at its essence, challenging their status of power?

These questions are not really about the forum specifically, but about a deeper inquiry into what it means when we who organize events label a gathering as a “safe space.”

To me, feelings of safety require a certain level of intimacy with the people and the place I am in. Feelings of safety are most likely to occur when we are in true community with whom we are sharing space. In what ways is it possible to check in with folks to gauge their feelings of safety, with genuine care and without crossing boundaries, especially when the length of an event doesn’t allow for deep connection? How do we ensure that everyone does indeed feel safe? Is it even possible to make all participants feel truly safe?

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Four

1. Pre-dawn run to the grocery store. I forgot about the breakfast for his class.

2. They try to get me to sign a petition as I exit the grocery store and I want to tell them that I’ve already been warned by the folks on the Next Door app that they are being paid by the developer. Plus I’m not yet registered to vote here yet.

3. The coffee still tastes weak. I need to figure out the right grind.

4. The good thing about being early is having time to circle blocks multiple times in search of parking.

5. Taquine.

6. One pale blue plate with a small hunk of bread, evenly sliced. A small ramekin of olive oil. A pile of large flakes of salt. It’s almost too pretty to eat.

7. How is this my life right now?

8. The route home takes me up Claremont Rd., past the Claremont Hotel. I think back to last year when Jennette and A’Driane and I walked into the lobby to pick up some cases of wine that had been left for us to use at the ranch. I remember how oddly out of place we felt. But it is beautiful.

9. I sigh. He asks me what’s wrong. I tell him that nothing is wrong. It’s just that I had such a good day. That I couldn’t believe that I was sitting in Berkeley eating lunch and drinking wine with a winemaker and an artist. That it just seemed too good to be true.

10. Everyone hurry up and go to bed.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Three

1. The roses just seem to appear out of nowhere. Some of them are still wet from the sprinklers. I gently shake away the little droplets.

2. Cool, almost cold.

3. Isn’t it a Monday?

4. I pick a seat facing the sun and close my eyes. The background noise for the meditation is of running water. I think of that one spot on the trail in Muir Woods where the water was running over the rocks and there was this tiny sliver of sunlight that broke through the canopy and made the water sparkle.

5. And then, just like that.

6. I have him do another breathing treatment and drink another glass of water. What it is about a child’s cough that hurts you so much?

7. I prep the peppers and the onions and the spices for the soup while the chicken thaws. I laugh at myself. At how I’m making soup because it’s feeling cool this morning. I mean, it does feel like soup weather. But it’s mostly a meal of convenience.

8. Whatever this is, it’s not worth it.

9. She asks me why I’m smiling. I tell her it’s because I got to have conversations with people I admire. She tells me that she’s proud of me. She thanks me for the hug.

10. Not folded, but clean. And today, that has to be enough.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-Two

1. More people-ing today.

2. Thinking over the things I heard, saw, and experienced yesterday. Any time you are in a space with that with many people and having some uncomfortable conversations, it’s bound to bring up ideas, questions, emotions. Mostly ideas. Big ones.

3. Already time to go.

4. I break a bottle of rosé. Of course I’ve broken something. My fingers have a way of failing me.

5. Cheese head. Packer’s fan. He’s a funny one. Sometimes people just want to talk, to be listened to. I like to listen.

6. Sometimes I just don’t know.

7. The sun is gone and the clouds are moving through. I didn’t think it rained in May.

8. I stop myself from thinking these things. So easy to go down the rabbit hole. I think of Brenè Brown. What is the story that I’m telling myself? And is this story true?

9. Moving up and down and in and out of the clouds’ shadows. I miss poetry. I miss the practice of poetry. I guess it’s good that I have a poetry course coming up soon.

10. Add more sleep.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy-One

1. A little dark. Must not be quite time to get up.

2. This denim dress might the dress of the summer.

3. I hate that I have to leave them in this way but I have to and I want to go so I am going.

4. I have no sunglasses and no hat. And I am early so I should probably stop and get them. I find a floppy black hat, the kind I’ve been pinning, the kind that I sometimes make fun of because it’s very much a Californian-Instagram-It-Girl hat. Oh wait, maybe I am one?

5. Power.

6. But what makes a space safe?

7. So many beautiful brown faces. I know this is really only because there is a scholarship in place to make sure that some of these brown faces are here. And it’s shitty that black women still have such a hard time being able to participate in important conversations.

8. Bake another pie.

9. How am I providing space in which others feel like they belong?

10. I should go to the after party but I’m an introvert and I’ve peopled for 8 hours already. It’s best that I honor my energy and go home than to push myself and continue on, half extinguished.

Ten.Six Hundred & Seventy

1. The birds are to chatty in the pre-dawn hours.

2. Work day. Heading in on a weekday feels strange.

3. Everyone is extra friendly this morning in the grocery store. I almost feel bad for how quickly I am moving through.

4. Hey, Hawk. I see you there so poised, gazing off into the distance. Birds are my medicine.

5. The Right People + The Right Places = The Right Opportunities. - Ken Coleman

6. I see blue and know it’s her. The wonderful thing about meeting internet friends in real life is that it enriches your connection to all things. And how excited I am to have a weekend full of black women in wine.

7. Late.

8. Wine on the patio while he grills the tuna. But isn’t every day beautiful?

9. Nerves. It’s the driving part that makes me anxious. Not the day time driving but the night time driving.

10. Nothing about parenting is easy. Nothing. As soon as you get over one thing, you’re confronted with another. The fear of not getting it right and messing it all up. Knowing that no matter what you do, someone will need therapy anyway. (We all need good therapy.) Trying to stay confident in your abilities. Because at least you are trying to do the best and most right thing.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Nine

1. What time is it?

2. Go little snail, go.

3. I don’t know what to wear. Jeans? Will I be too hot? Shorts? Will I be too cold. I laugh at myself. It seems like such a silly problem to have. All that really matters is that there will be sun.

4. In talking to her I realize just how much I’ve actually done since we last met. I did the work of creating new systems of support for myself as I continue to navigate this transition.

5. The work that is required to plant the seeds. The patience that is required for the harvest.

6. Things have changed since last year and now there are options. I told him that I decided that I needed to give everyone and everything more than one chance before crossing them or it off the list.

7. Journal and water and the hammock. I find myself writing about how uncomfortable it feels to talk about being happy. And it’s a weird thing to think—that you can’t share your joy.

8. He brings me three things. I see two envelopes addressed to the LLC. Which is also me. I have an LLC. The last envelope is full of business cards. Slowly but surely. One foot in front of the other.

9. I trade the cherry tree for the school field. Seven year-olds practicing baseball. Cool breezes in the shade. Thinking about the way everything changes and nothing stays the same.

10. It’s a very small world.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Eight

1. Already 6:30am. At least I got 2 hours in.

2. But they really do look so good. And so it was worth missing all the sleep.

3. Morning pages outside in the sun. I’m too tired to think.

4. I think maybe I break so much glass because I’m trying to move too quickly. I just want to get the work over with. But all the broken glass is really just a sign to slow down. To accept that this is the work and to do it with more care instead of just rushing through it.

5. I send her a picture of the whiteboard. A way for me to say, “See! I’m listening! I’m doing it!”

6. It’s still a little cool, even in the sun.

7. We make our way back home. I through my head back in the sun. “Man, I love it here!” “Right?!”

8. I cocoon myself in the hammock. I watch the humming bird move from lemon tree to orange tree, to bird of paradise. Then it hovers near me. Just sits right there. Turns around and shows me its glittery green back. Then flutters away. I relax my head back into the hammock and smile.

9. I realize that the table is placed there because you will get just enough shade at dinner time to make al fresco dining more pleasant.

10. Blue crab beignets.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Seven

1. So many snails. Withered roses. I need a sweater.

2. The sun is beginning to rise. I go and get coffee grounds because I can’t wait another day for the grinder to arrive and I can’t keep using 3 Nespresso pods every morning.

3. Finally a full cup.

4. I make a list. I forgot how good it feels to check things off.

5. White bull grazing. Hazy sky. Oak-studded hills.

6. Every wall is white and it’s full of light. I am thinking of all the possibilities: photo shoots and workshops and side projects. And she’s just as bright as her pictures. The space reflects her energy.

7. I re-watch the Youtube videos. Parts.

8. He does have an arm. He hustles so hard. I love watching him play.

9. I still don’t know how to dress for this weather

10. He tells me not to say up until 2 am. But I know I will anyway.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Six

1. I woke up just in time. I don’t think I want to finish that dream.

2. Snail friends. Bird song.

3. This is what happens when you move too quickly. I giggle at myself and hope no one notices. Someone will.

4. Nettle tea because there’s still no coffee and I just don’t want another cappuccino.

5. This is the best part of the planning. The details that pull it all together.

6. Journal. Water. Hammock. The hummingbirds. This other bird that also sounds like a hummingbird. A good Monday.

7. The thing is that nothing is going to be perfect. But there are little bits along the way that light he way.

8. Let it be simple.

9. I remembered to call.

10. Now all I want to eat is aged Parmesan, really fresh olive oil, and some focaccia.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Five

1. Up before the alarm again. I don’t think it was the sprinklers that woke me up. But I’m up. And I want to go back to sleep.

2. He gets donuts. I wash clothes. We really need to replace the coffee grinder.

3. We finally catch each other on the phone. The conversation is not long enough and not deep enough but it’s better than nothing.

4. Teju Cole.

5. The minutes are passing so slowly.

6. I watch my shadow as I walk across the gravel. There is a hazy quality to the sky, as if all of us have kicked up too much dust. But in the distance, green and brown hills, power lines, rows and rows of vines.

7. I’m losing bits of my mind.

8. It’s that I told her no. And that I told her that they’ve had what they were supposed to have. And that she told me I can pretend that I didn’t know. And I dislike that someone would ask me to ignore my own integrity for their own personal gain.

9. And so is this feeling also because I’m a 1 (and a 2 and a 4) and at an unhealthy level I am inflexible and self-righteous? But then I realize that this is also just a part of our culture.

10. I miss writing.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Four

1. Birdsong.

2. Three weeks in and push-ups 8, 9, and 10 are still hard.

3. What can I do to make today as slow as last Sunday? Because having a free Saturday feels quite luxurious.

4. I’ve learned to not complain too much out loud. I think it’s problematic. But it’s also necessary.

5. The kids are on a roll today. Everyone is killing it at the plate. Their growth is so evident today. And isn’t it a perfect day for 7 year-old baseball? All sun, not too hot, chilly in the shade.

6. Hammock. The side neighbor is yelling instructions to the back neighbor. He’s trying to hack off the dates on the palm. Such a bummer to miss out on all of that fruit but no one wants to deal with the bees and the wasps.

7. What parent wants to go tell another parent something bad about their child? But in the end I leave with more understanding. I tell her, this is helpful information. It can help me guide their playtime better to reduce incidents. I think we both feel better. Her being able to share openly about her child’s needs and me knowing that we can still support the friendship but with better boundaries. And we both agree that kids should mostly play outside.

8. Hummingbird magic. I will never not be amazed.

9. Door bell but no one is there. Piece of paper under the doormat. An apology from his friend.

10. At least he has good taste in music.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-Three

1. The birds are so loud at dawn.

2. I remind myself that I have a call with her at 6:30 am my time and I rush to get the potstickers started on the stove before we begin.

3. When you take the time to look over past work and see just how much you’ve created. We should be really proud of ourselves.

4. But this does need more attention.

5. Her face and her voice. I’ve missed her light. We both realize that October will be here before we know it, but today, the conversation is just about life.

6. What am I hoping to gain out of this?

7. Introversion plus dinner with 4 strangers feels like too much. But the sun is shining and I do love Yountville and I know the food and the wine will be good. So there’s that.

8. Hugs from strangers. Genuine enthusiasm. Good souls. You can feel it.

9. But the caesar salad with its soft buttery croutons. But the macaroni and cheese and the pork chop and the roasted carrots. But the Apsara Syrah. But the cheese and the griddled bread and the mixed berry jam. But the tres leches.

10. When you stumble upon an interactive art project on your way to a post-dinner cocktail.

11. When you genuinely want to see these strangers again because the strangers now feel like friends.

Ten. Six Hundred & Sixty-Two

1. I get up to close the sliding glass door. The sound of the sprinklers is piercing through.

2. Smoothies. I have just enough juice. I forgot that there’s not coffee grinder which means no coffee which means, oh goodness.

3. He won’t stop talking about his field trip.

4. He comes back with a venti black coffee from the Starbucks down the street. I’m saved. I take sips in between washing the dishes.

5. 100 2nd graders waiting in front of a movie theater. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. I’m only in charge of two. I wonder how many other parents don’t do field trips because they don’t want to be a chaperone. I offered to transport but not stay at the movie. I made a wise decision.

6. The book shelves at Goodwill are showing out today: The Warmth of Other Suns, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Singin’ and Swingin’ and Gettin’ Merry Like Christma, The Alchemist, On Wings of Song.

7. Scattered.

8. I tell him that if I’ve fallen off the meditation train this week. If I’d been meditating I would have been more patient.

9. The spicy slaw is really spicy. I should have halved the chipotle powder. But the flavors are there. Fish tacos with seared tuna and spicy slaw for the win.

10. He says that maybe to some people it could have come off as bragging or being spoiled. But that since he knows me, he understood what I was saying. I meant to say that I’m aware that privileges exists and that we all have these privileges. And we can have privileges while also being part of a marginalized group. Oh well. I can’t control other’s reactions.

Ten.Six Hundred & Sixty-One

1. I’ll let them sleep in a little bit. I too am still a little exhausted from yesterday’s sun.

2. I put on the denim dress and try to make sure that my eyes are evenly lined. I still don’t really know what I’m doing today other than I’ll be talking about Chardonnay and then having a quick interview.

3. I lift the lift off the grinder and the whole thing falls to pieces. Springs are on the floor, coffee grounds are scattered all over the counter. Sigh.

4. “It’s taking you so long because of those shoes.”

5. I giggle at the sheep. The sheep always make me giggle. The hills are browning. I think about how the slowly dying grass as not so much just a function of the sun, but of the combination of low cutting and grazing by all of the cows and sheeps. And I’m listening to Krista’s conversation with Wangari Maathai about the importance of ecological preservation. Sometimes, too many times, we humans are the worst.

6. Green screen. I feel my nerves pick up. They say I did a great job. I can’t wait to show the kids the final cut.

7. I tell her that this place just feels like a place where you can make your dreams come true. She looks me square in the eyes and says that it is. It really is. If you’re determined and you want it, you really can do anything.

8. Back to Brentwood. I put on a thinner dress and sit out in the sun. I get an email that says my LLC is filed in California. Then she tells me that I would be charging too little. I need business cards by next weekend. I’m still working on that shift from a creative person who sometimes sells things to a creative business owner.

9. I watch a Youtube video to learn how to start the charcoal grill and feel quite accomplished.

10. Expansion. But I forgot to call my dad.