Ten.Seven Hundred & Fifty-Three

1. Breathe.

2. I probably don’t need to make drop biscuits because we still have muffins but no one seemed to like the muffins so biscuits it is.

3. I stop them from making a second chai. Selfishly, I need to have a cup myself this morning and they need to not have any more caffeine.

4. I start to pick up the phone and then drop it again.

5. Pandora’s Gift. Be the hunter, not the hunted. The word wants to be written. Inner trust. She feels, she knows. In the world, not of the world. The spread has read me and read me good.

6. I think back to our vacation and the wifi password at the hotel: disconnect.

7. It’s good to hear these things come from the mouth of a white person. She understands where I’m coming from. This is a big deal.

8. Our conversation reminds me to get into the hammock. I finish Thich Nhat Hahn’s “How to Relax,” and read through the latest issue of Food & Wine. I add a few Chardonnays to my must-try list and then close my eyes.

9. He asks me if anything is wrong. I tell him that I just need a break from instagram. “From looking or from posting?” All of it.

10. I just need to make room for this transformation.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Fifty-Two

1. Forgot the alarm again.

2. Blueberry cornmeal muffins. No coffee for me but I make a pot for him then gather what I need for the chai.

3. The smell of orange, cinnamon, cardamom, clove, and ginger.

4. The girl makes one for herself with frothy whole milk and the oldest boy puts his over ice. I don’t know if I’ve made enough.

5. I think of how maybe it won’t be a loss but a gain. That I’d gain whatever it is that a normal life feels like. How there would no longer be a need for any kind of performance. How I could just cook and just read and just make what I wanted, when I wanted, without attaching anything to it.

6. I always scan the cookbook shelf.

7. There are so many cows to name.

8. I go back to the grocery store for more olive oil because I feel compelled to have an aioli for these potatoes. I’m making quite an elaborate meal for a regular Wednesday. But any day can be a special day, right?

9. He puts the slice of peach on his fork and then adds on the arugula/basil/goat cheese for one big bite. He gives me the thumbs up. “Only because of the peach!”

10. Random things that catch you off guard like your tween son watching “Fixer Upper” of his own free will.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Fifty-One

1. So much light. It’s definitely after 6.

2. I let out a deep sigh. I feel drunk but really it’s just lack of sleep.

3. Toast and jam and fruit. I slice up the Valencia oranges, set them into the blue bowl. I’m digging this color story.

4. Linen pants.

5. I help him carry the wine rack into the dining room and we place it in the corner. Such a transformation. Feeling more like home.

6. Why does it take me so long to make space?

7. I found it! I found it! I found it! It’s been here all along.

8. It does exhaust me.

9. He asks to snuggle. I make the popcorn and we find Jurassic Park. I close my eyes.

10. I tell him that even I can’t really remember what day it is. I work everyday and so everything runs together. Boundaries. I need better boundaries.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Fifty

1. I hear a movie playing. I check his room and both of them are fast asleep. I had forgotten there was a dvd player in his room.

2. Scones? Muffins? I should at least get the coffee going while I decide.

3. I rinse the blueberries and the strawberries, sprinkle them with a little bit of sugar. Then I whip up some fresh cream and place it in a small bowl. There’s still plenty of granola. I set everything out on the table. This makes me a little happier.

4. Marlborough Pinot Noir.

5. I worry that they think that me being a mother, and placing a priority on being a mother, makes me more of a liability than an asset.

6. We go over the incident again. It was just a crazy way to end the day.

7. I make him take a shower.

8. So many people and no familiar faces. This is new for everyone.

9. His math and science teacher is black. Black! A black man for math and science, his most favorite subjects. I want to cry.

10. Representation matters.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Nine

1. But I don’t want to get up.

2. At least today should be an even slower day. Maybe there will be space for daydreaming.

3. Today is our anniversary and I must have been so concerned about having the weekend off for our trip that I forgot to ask for the day off. I even forgot a card and I always remember a card. Is this what happens when the years begin to really accumulate? Well, our trip was like an early anniversary gift. There’s that.

4. There are still small bits of metal and plastic in the intersection; I think back to yesterday morning and the crushed up Toyota Camry; the Infinity SUV askew in the middle of the left-turn lane; the older man, thin and frustrated, carrying his bumper from the intersection and then throwing it into the parking lot.

5. A coyote crosses in front of me. Animal Medicine.

6. It will be warmer today but I’d still rather be outside.

7. General Animal Symbolism of the Coyote:

   • Skill

   • Instinct

   • Ingenuity

   • Enthusiasm

   • Transformation

   • Inventiveness

   • Intelligence

   • Playfulness

   • Resourcefulness

8. She just won’t stop talking.

9. All of this drama over a glass of wine that I can’t pour because it’s after 4:30. I can’t even complete a sentence. But she just won’t go home. I just hope that once she does leave that she never comes back again.

10. Burgundy with dinner and Joseph Perrier Cuvée Royale Brut Vintage 2002 for dessert.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Eight

1. I forget to add the blueberry and decide to just sprinkle sugar on top.

2. The smell of the scones. The sounds of the coffee pot. I am still the only one awake. I treasure the silence.

3. I have mixed feelings about leaving.

4. The drive feels long today. Maybe it’s the internal resistance that lengthens the distance.

5. The pace of today is just right. I’d rather it be slow and steady.

6. It’s funny to see how folks think that the amount of money they spend in an establishment allows them to be above the rules. That there is some kind of ranking system. But I guess it’s not funny. That’s what’s we’ve been told in our culture: the more money you have the fewer rules you need to follow.

7. Kind but firm. All the time.

8. On the drive home I catch up on The Slowdown.

9. “….The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence; not in silence, but restraint.” - excerpt from “Silence” by Marianne Moore

10. 2014 Louis Jadot Pernand-Vergellesses Clos de La Croix de Pierre

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Seven

1. I will try not to wish my life away by wanting to be somewhere other than I am right now in this moment.

2. Hard-boiled egg. But I’m missing the Piment d’Ville.

3. Feeling like everything needs to just be burned to the ground.

4. I can’t see her but hearing her voice is enough. I check the countdown clock: 2 months and 14 days. She says her stomach just did a flop. It’s soon. It’s coming so soon.

5. I order more supplies, secure our hotel for the night before we all arrive to the ranch, message someone about a camp burner. All of it coming together. This is the kind of work I want to build upon.

6. How do I continue to grow?

7. I shoot off a text. I realize that I am in a whiny mood. I am ready for this mood to be gone.

8. Too close.

9. I tell him that I feel stuck. No growth. No movement.

10. “But at we’re here. We’re here. It can’t go perfectly all the time. There will be times like this but we’re here.” I look up at the setting sun and watch the rose vine sway. There is new growth on the palm, healthy and green. And yes, we are here.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Six

1. Here.

2. Now acutely aware of the connection and noise. Missing the roosters.

3. But I’m not as angry with myself this morning. I can grant myself some grace. I can make different choices.

4. I skip the grocery store and drive down to the market stand instead. I fill brown paper bags with tomatoes, squash, and green beans. I think of the green bean salad with anchovy vinaigrette and sweet cherry tomatoes that we had at the hotel.

5. I can either lean into or away from my own kind of magic.

6. Bird song. Loud. Thuds of nectarines dropping from the tree. The sound of the sliding door opening and closing for questions that don’t really need answers.

7. The smell of roasted garlic.

8. Not a dresser but a bookcase.

9. We are wild vines.

10. Finally feeling more like myself.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Five

1. The roosters are calmer this morning. I wish I could trade the sounds of roosters for the sounds of dogs that I’ll be returning to back home.

2. Twenty more minutes before the coffee shop opens.

3. I try my best to tiptoe through the room but the floors still creak underneath my footsteps.

4. I start to tear up as I sprinkle cinnamon into my coffee.

5. I opt for the bacon and goat cheese empanada. There are little bits of red bell pepper in it. The pastry is crisp and flaky, yet soft. We should have come here for lunch yesterday.

6. The construction guys are back. He’s talking about how he killed his dahlias last year and how he can’t get an avocado to sprout. They always wait until 8:30 to begin.

7. Molly is coming down the front stairs as we make our way into the lobby to check out. I hope I run into Molly the next time I’m here.

8. We take the 128 out of town. I can see myself having a ranch here one day. Yeah. I can see that.

9. What element of this will I be able to recreate or continue to live out once I return home?

10. The wisdom of the body.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Four

1. Wow. The roosters are really loud today.

2. I try my best to tip-toe through the room for clothes, find what I need to wash my face and put in contacts and get ready for the day.

3. I look at my watch. Oh good, Moosewood is just opening. I have her come with me to get coffee and some pastries for the others.

4. Cinnamony.

5. Baby persimmons.

6. Had I understood what everyone meant by going to the river, I would have packed appropriately. We find the rockier parts of the beach and they try to skip rocks while I watch the water run. Yes, I need to be closer to water.

7. I try to fight away the pang of pre-departure sadness.

8. Filtered or unfiltered 2015 PInot Noir? We’ll take both.

9. Suitcase rosé of Syrah while we sit in these chairs for the last pre-dinner drink. I say something about wondering if I’m naive in thinking that I really can have a life that I don’t need to vacate. That I want travelling to be about experience and exploration, not escape.

10. I could eat this plum tart for the rest of my life.

11. I sit at her table and we talk about the ills of digital connectivity, privacy in the digital age, life-altering experiences, the definition of sanity. She starts every other story by telling me that’s she’s a private person, but “I’ll tell you this.” Her eyes sparkle in the candlelight. He asks me how old I think she is, I say she’s at least 80 but maybe older.

12. Another pang of pre-departure sadness.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-Three

1. The roosters are so loud.

2. What is that clanking sound? It feels like it must be time to get up.

3. It’s only 50 degrees. I did not plan properly. I grab a sweater and my shawl and my camera and head out to the gardens.

4. We find the coffeehouse that opens at 7. The case is filled with homemade pastries and empanadas. I must come back for an empanada.

5. The baby goats. But I could do without the flies.

6. The best goat cheese I’ve ever tasted. I will be back for more.

7. I’m looking at her and she thinks I’m confused but I’m actually just searching for the words. Finally, “Estamos comemos.” He says her face lit up when the Spanish came from my mouth. I ask her to come back tomorrow. “Hasta Luego!” “Hasta Luego!”

8. The power of language as a bridge. Words build connection. The right words lay a foundation for intimacy and belonging and compassion. This is why I try to be so careful with what comes out.

9. Roederer. Phillips Hill. Drew Family Cellars.

10. She asks me if this is the kind of place I want to move to when the rental is done. I tell her that this is the kind of place I’d come to after her and her brothers have made a life of their own. But that yes, I love to be in places where I know names and faces and everything feels familiar and walkable. I like feeling like I belong.

Ten. Seven Hundred & Forty-Two

1. Today is the day.

2. The third tickling session in order to coax him awake.

3. They start asking about the length of time we’ll be in the car. I don’t want to tell them the truth. I give them vague answers like “It will take some time. It won’t feel too long. We’re breaking it up.”

4. The temperature drops 6 degrees as we enter Bodega Bay. No one is hungry like we thought they would be so we get back in the car for another long leg.

5. He pulls over at a turn about. Her iced chai turns over. Only three of us get out to look at the ocean. The fog is beginning to recede. Waves with white caps. The sounds of cars passing by.

6. Gualala. I’ve never heard of this town but Upper Crust Pizza gets 4.7 stars so we stop there for lunch. The owner tells us to just settle the tab when we’re all done. Small town things. The couple at the high top beside us is from Wisconsin. I could live here.

7. They warned us that it might still be foggy in Point Arena. I still want to go to the lighthouse. I’ve never been to one. I say that if I had an official bucket list, I think going inside of a lighthouse would be on the list. Today, I’m checking it off.

8. My thighs are burning.

9. Mountain View Road is not as scary as they made it seem though 22 miles of those twists and turns do a doozy on the stomach before it dumps you out into Booneville.

10. Not even here for an hour and I’m already planning a new retreat.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty-One

1. One more day. Just need to make it through one more day.

2. No pain.

3. I make a list. I still don’t know what I’m doing but I’m hoping it will all work out.

4. This feels more like me.

5. He says that the day is going okay but that he thinks the heat is making people cranky. Oh, boy. I know. I know. I’ve had those days too.

6. 100 degrees feels like 100 degrees.

7. Done and done and now a breath. And packing.

8. I tell her that I’m not doing much of anything except new things that I didn’t think I’d ever do and have now discovered don’t really suit me. And that kind of clarity is good, a relief.

9. No tv. I can’t wait.

10. “In a group, if everybody thinks about the other person’s needs, everyone’s needs are actually fulfilled in the end.” - The Art of Gathering

Ten.Seven Hundred & Forty

1. I have to wake up now.

2. I don’t want to go. But I have to go. There’s just not enough time in the day.

3. Skipping coffee today.

4. Just get the words out before I have to go. Just get it done.

5. At least it’s a short drive. I think this might be okay. I might be okay today. I might be okay.

6. I’m okay but I’m ready for this to be over with.

7. Lost.

8. Stir the pasta in the stock. Add a dash of salt. I can’t remember anything today. Too much to hold.

9. I realize how this might be bad for my creativity.

10. If only.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Nine

1. The quiet.

2. I rinse the fruit, put the strawberries and blueberries in different bowls because each kid likes one or the other, not both. Fresh whipped cream lightly sweetened.

3. I head outside to write my pages first because I know if I don’t write them now, I’ll never get to them. The sun is coming up over my shoulders, filing the paper with bright light.

4. On hold for 33 minutes and 12 seconds.

5. One hour. I wonder if she heard the trembling in my voice as I expressed my frustration. This is why she’s making sure she comes back to me with a real response, with a real solution. I won’t fault her for that.

6. Sometimes I forget where I am until I see the hills come into view and the wide blue sky laid out before me.

7. Seeing familiar faces.

8. All of tomorrow will be ruined now because of this tooth that is now an emergency. So much I wanted to get done before we left. So badly not wanting to work while on vacation. There is no escaping it now.

9. He asks me what the anxiety is really about. It’s about a genuine fear and displeasure of the dentist office; it’s about going to someone new; it’s about the money associated with going to the dentist; it’s about fear of being shamed by the dentist; it’s about the fact that I lose another day of work trying to take care of this and there is so much work that needs to be done; it’s about how much I have to do all of the time; it’s about how much I am always doing and me not being able to figure out how not to do it while also trying to do my best to make a life for myself.

10. I wish I had just stayed in school and become a doctor.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Eight

1. Still dark.

2. More light.

3. Everyone else is slow to wake. I start the coffee too late. I can feel the headache coming.

4. But I just wish he was as happy about this as I am. He just keeps avoiding my eyes. I rub his back. This is exciting.

5. I don’t but I do.

6. I sit back into the hammock. and look at the sky. All blue. Tall date palms blowing in the wind. Bird chatter. I close my eyes.

7. This does feel good.

8. The gifts of tidying up: finding pictures you didn’t know you had, visual order, space.

9. Yeah. They’re right. This garlic bread is really good.

10. He’s making me watch the ESPY’s.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Seven

1. Sprinklers. I knew I should have closed the door.

2. Morning gold.

3. I must be waking up too late to see the snails.

4. We both apologize for sleeping in. I’m too late to do anything too creative for breakfast this morning. I grab a slice of toast and she decides on a mouthful of cherries.

5. Grateful that we made the time.

6. I remind myself that I don’t have to read anymore of it. Five chapters in and nothing resonating. I can let it go. It’s okay to quit it.

7. Close time.

8. I’m okay with this being a part of my personality.

9. They decide that they’ll pipe the pavlovas onto the parchment paper. Though they are a little brown, they are the best ones she’s ever made.

10. Emotional cooking. Emotional eating. Everyone loves this recipe.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Six

1. I am up.

2. Hollow.

3. Olive oil cake. I find some peace in the sifting of the flour. The zest of the Valencia orange smells so much sweeter.

4. Morning sounds: sputtering coffee maker, my fingers on the keys, sprinklers, bird chatter, a small plane cutting across the sky.

5. The color of the hills. The gray-white fog off in the distance. That cow is number 18; I wonder how many there are in total?

6. It reminds me of the cottage in the Missouri Hopper Vineyard.

7. It might be one of the more perfect weather days we’ve had in some time. Morning pages done in the afternoon. Reading about miracles in the hammock.

8. Margie is making me cry.

9. She gives me a hug and thanks me for letting her help me tidy up.

10. The upside is that I have a nightstand and can drink the leftover Muller Thurgau from this morning’s tasting group. And there’s the sound of her turning pages in the dark, the palm trees rustling in the wind, one more plane.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Five

1. Still gone.

2. The way the yellow-gold light comes through and falls across the bed, makes the shadows on the wall.

3. Bacon and scrambled eggs for me. They add waffles for themselves. Small cup of coffee while I search.

4. I gather my things and move outside. The air is cool but still. Birds are fighting in the trees.

5. False hope.

6. Now, a different book. Now, water with thin slices of cucumber. Now, the hammock.

7. The inability to keep my mind from drifting to other things not contained in the book. Forcing myself to return to the book. I sway and read.

8. Two hours have passed with me just here. This is the mark of a good Sunday.

9. I think about tomorrow. About the phone calls that need to be made. The work that needs to be done. The food that needs to be bought. All of the bits of regular and ordinary life that must be dealt with.

10. What an odd couple of weeks.

Ten.Seven Hundred & Thirty-Four

1. It’s still gone.

2. I must have waited too long to eat. Every bit elicits a painful pang in the gut. Or maybe I just can’t eat donuts anymore.

3. Coffee in the little blue mug. Not enough before a day of work.

4. The New Yorker Fiction Podcast. I finish the one of Emma Cline reading her latest work.

5. I like being outside the best.

6. I like rules. Rules help contain chaos. Other people don’t like rules when the rules interfere with the desires of the ego.

7. I sit in the car and make the phone calls. One wants pictures so that they can cross-reference. Another wants to make sure I’m local. The other I have to to force to take down a description and my name. But that’s something. At least I’ve done something.

8. A piece of me is still missing.

9. He reminds me that it’s just an object.

10. But a piece of me is still missing.