Ten.Nine Hundred & Five

1. So dark.

2. I peek outside the door to see if anything has been disturbed. It’s still very quiet. I start the coffee and stick the coffeecake in the oven to warm.

3. The sound of thick rain drops falling from the gutters. I light the candles, curl up on the sofa and begin to write.

4. We remark on their continued sleep. It’s after 6:30 and still no sign.

5. Child 1. Child 2. Finally Child 3.

6. It always seems like so much work for such a tiny moment. But there’s gratitude and that’s good.

7. I lay under the covers and she sits beside me working on her first little sewing project. We learn a running stitch and a back stitch and a whip stitch. The tiny donut is taking shape. “I’ve learned so much in one day from just working on one thing.”

8. Completion is the goal.

9. Prime rib with horseradish cream and brussel sprouts and cabbage gratin. I circle back for a yeast roll with butter.

10. “Because women always have got something, haven’t they, to keep them going? That men haven’t got.” - from “Passion” by Alice Munro

Ten.Nine Hundred & Four

1. The day before.

2. The crack of the can. To do: drink water, drink coffee, get cranberry sauce and brussels sprouts, and butter. Clean. Figure out how to wrap the pajamas without the children seeing me.

3. Cold and dark and I am missing them.

4. I send them an email letting them know I am available and able to help. I pour a large cup of coffee and sit down again.

5. Drop biscuits. This batch much lighter but crispier on the outside. Break open for steam. Push softened butter into its pillowy insides.

6. When you miss a call from your Vice President and then you call her back and she tells you that your voicemail isn’t set up on your cell phone.

7. Chocolate cake, salted caramel icing, coffee cake, cabbage gratin.

8. ”Though in fact she would go home and march back and forth, letting out whimpers or curses as she recalled some perceived glitch or fluster or, worse still, a mispronunciation.” - from “Silence” by Alice Munro

9. He tells his sister that these are the best cookies she’s ever made. Ever. How sweet.

10. Is it time for champagne yet?

Ten.Nine Hundred & Three

1. The day before the day before.

2. Break it down.

3. He offers to drive me in to work. I tell him I still need pajamas and things for the stockings so we much get on much earlier than usual. I fill the coffee cup for the 3rd time.

4. No traffic. If only every morning was only a 30-minute drive.

5. Problem solving. Investigating is fun.

6. The arrangement is full of lillies and roses and evergreen branches, leaves painted gold. I can do so much with this.

7. Why is it so hard to get a receipt?

8. Another lightsaber battle. She taught him moves. “1…(slap)…2…(slap)…3…(slap)….and…4….(slap)”

9. I go on and on. He tells me that I need to guard my thoughts, that not everyone knows what to do with that kind of information. I don’t think she’ll do anything. He’s convinced that I should present it to someone; it’s just a matter of who that someone is.

10. One thing at a time.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Two

1. I don’t hear an alarm but I know that it’s close to the time for me to wake. I hear him huffing, doing his workouts.

2. I start to walk out to the kitchen and he comes through with the little blug mug of coffee. I head back to the bed but change the sheets first. Fresh and crisp and cool. Hot coffee in my hands. Journal in my lap.

3. Lucky Charms.

4. Rose, white and wet from the morning’s rain. So delicate. So quiet in their beauty.

5. Jim and Pam.

6. Cramped fingers and cold, tired feet.

7. I think of her words. “Maybe next year…You are a master manifestor…What if you thought you could earn money with ease?”

8. I make a mental list of what is to be done tomorrow. Everyone seems very concerned about cranberry sauce and what will be for breakfast on Christmas morning. I just want to make sure I have plenty of coffee.

9. Too long.

10. “Few people, very few, have a treasure, and if you do you must hang on to it. You must not let yourself be waylaid, and have it taken from you.” - from “Chance” by Alice Munro

Ten.Nine Hundred & One

1. 3:52 am.

2. So much red.

3. How can I be so disciplined in all other areas except for this?

4. No one else is awake yet. I take my mug of nettle tea to the sofa and write. I keep getting distracted by the flicker of the candles. This is what Saturdays are for: quite, warmth, candlelight.

5. It’s still early enough that even though it’s the weekend before Christmas, the stores are fairly quiet. As in I can move about freely with my cart and take my time.

6. He has on a Packers sweatshirt. I smile to myself. I regret not saying something about being a Bears fan.

7. Mac and cheese and a pour of Charles Wetmore in the 8 year-olds bed because they are playing xBox in the kitchen and he’s watching football in our bedroom and so this is the only refuge. I slink beneath the covers and turn on “Glow Up.”

8. “I’m already so bored from watching t.v.” And it’s only the first day of Christmas break.

9. Undone.

10. I should have bought dessert.

Ten.Nine Hundred

1. So sweaty. I can’t fall asleep. At least it’s only 1 o’clock in the morning which means there’s a chance I can get at least 2 more hours of sleep.

2. Pain.

3. I forgot to wash their pajamas for pajama day. Short cycle wash.

4. Nine hundred. In 100 more days I will have written 1,000 days which is 10,000 things. 10,000 moments of an ordinary extraordinary life.

5. Start from the beginning.

6. I think it’s funny how every night I feel so uncertain and limbless but every morning I manage to wake up with a new kind of resolve. What happens throughout the course of the day that strips away at surety?

7. I want to never return.

8. That moment when you remember you no longer get to hang out with your family during breaks because things have changed.

9. Eat up all the leftovers. Find comfort in not having to stress about cooking.

10. Chance the Rapper while scrubbing toilets. I tell him that I just want to wake up to a clean house. I just really enjoy a clean house. Perhaps he forgot all those things about Cancers that she read aloud.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Nine

1. I should just get up, even though I don’t want to.

2. Am I overthinking it all?

3. The truth is that there are some things I want to return to. But there is no way to go back and undo what is done. And it’s not that I really need to leave, it’s just that I have yet find what will replace what I’m longing for. And I don’t exactly know how to reach those longings except through the passage of time.

4. So dark, so quiet. I do not wish to wake them though I must.

5. I roll my eyes at the car who will not let me through because I know that we will just meet again at the next merge.The dance of the daily commute.

6. Waiting.

7. I lean back in the chair and stare at the ceiling. I take a deep breath. “You look just how I feel.” “I’m just trying to clear my mind so that I can come up with a solution.” I laugh then pull myself back to the desk and get to work.

8. Maybe it’s by alphabetical order.

9. I thank him for answering my questions so that when I’ve been presented with things like this I know the right answers.

10. “Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with/ linguists and contenders,/ I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.” - from “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Eight

1. Oh, yes. I did promise olive oil cake.

2. I’m running out of places to hide the elf. In the old house I had a lot more options. Something about the layout of this place feels limiting. Not limiting. It’s just different.

3. I am missing all the old things these days.

4. I grab some shoes and step out into the dark and the rain to see if I can grab a few lemons for the cake. Nothing is hanging low enough. It’s so quiet though, just the sound of thick drops beating against the rooves. I could sit out here all morning.

5. This is what I miss about solitary cooking: the ability to hear one’s thoughts. Almost as good as journaling.

6. She asks me when the next liberated lines will be. I think this is the third time I’ve been asked this question in the last handful of months. I wonder if this is the sign that I need.

7. It’s just that I think I’d rather be outside all day.

8. It’s just the two of us today. I like Wednesdays. They’re quieter.

9. I feel like I have to decide and I’m not exactly sure about either of the choices.

10. “the light that came to lucille clifton/ came in a shift of knowing/ when even her fondest sureties/faded away. it was the summer/ she understood that she had not understood/ and was not mistress even/ of her own off eye. then/ the man escaped throwing away his tie and/ the children grew legs and started walking and/ she could see the peril of an/ unexamined life./ she closed her eyes, afraid to look for her/ authenticity/ but the light insists on itself in the world;/ a voice from the nondead past started talking,/ she closed her ears and it spelled out in her hand/ ’you might as well answer the door, my child,/ the truth is furiously knocking.’” - from “for the mute” by lucille clifton

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Seven

1. Why?

2. I sit down and begin to tinker. Someone DMs me to tell me they think the site might have been hacked. I forget that there are still people who actually visit the actual website, not just my instagram stories. It’s good to know that people have your back.

3. I know when he reads it he will want to come and talk to me.

4. It’s just actually repressed feelings.

5. That ponytail will be nonexistent by the time she comes home.

6. He lets me pat him on the leg. I’ll settle for that if I can’t get a hug.

7. Never not amazed by the size of these giant maple leaves. I want to pile them all up and kick them into the air.

8. I make a project for myself. 10:45 am. I wait on hold for her to give me a new delivery time for the fridge. 11:15 am.

9. She reads a brief description of each of the signs. My Leo baby is definitely a Leo. I am definitely the Crab. My Capricorn baby, he is fully into expressing his displeasure with life, but that could just be preteen angst. My Virgo does just want to be loved. And the Libra. Well, he doesn’t seem to fit most of it. I’m curious to know what other signs are at play for him.

10. I let the water turn cold as I finish the last handful of pages. That’s it. And now what to read next?

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Six

1. In the dream, I had dropped my phone over the Golden Gate Bridge and into the water. I could feel myself stressing out. I’m glad it woke me up.

2. Sometimes you do need a fresh look to brighten your day. These jeans and this sweater are enough life to get me through Monday. I’m already wishing I could wear it every day this week. Note to self, find this sweater in more colors and buy a second pair of these jeans.

3. The smell of bone broth and coffee.

4. I grab a banana and a donut. I don’t eat the donut. I nibble on the banana. I make the potstickers, warm the leftover rice.

5. I wish him good luck as he gets out of the car. The anticipation.

6. I wish I hadn’t asked. But I’m also glad that I did. I relax, tell myself that this isn’t something that needs to be fixed immediately. I ask him to write about his experience and email it to me so that I have documentation to present along with my requests. Here again we are presented with the gap. Lack of communication. So much transition.

7. She forgot about Tuesday.

8. It takes a lot longer to make the salad that I had anticipated. I tear the bread and drizzle it with olive oil and let it cook while I cook the bacon, chop the shallot, rip the escarole. I use my hands to coax the sweet bacon dressing onto the firm yet tender leaves. She’s right—how could I ever not make homemade croutons again?

9. I vacuum a little bit of the crumbs. I feel a little bit of rage bubbling to the surface. I think to myself that I want to tell all of my friends who are stay at home moms to not fall for it. Don’t go back to work thinking that you won’t still be doing everything at home. It always still feels like you do everything.

10. I don’t want to get out but the water is getting cold. Only 50 more pages to go.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. Up because of that nap yesterday; but I do feel rested and that feels nice.

2. Water.

3. I start to dig around for a new scone recipe but decide to just get donuts instead.

4. Colors of dawn. The moon is bright, less than full but still large in the sky.

5. Still quiet.

6. The last time I wrote was exactly a week ago. This needs to change.

7. What do I need? Macaroni elbows, command strips, bread for BLTs, a plan.

8. “What’s that tearing sound?” “It’s just me.” “Scrapbooking?” “Vision board.” “That’s what I meant.” I bring the large image of a field full of dried grass closer to me and place upon it the collected phrases that called out to me: “a muse for all times,” “artisans of enlightenment,” “home at last.”

9. “What does it take to a true Original these days? A willingness to break the rules, of course; a strong sense of personal style doesn’t hurt; but most of all, you need to have a meaningful point of view.” - W Magazine

10. Sweat collecting at the nape. Sweat cascading over eyelashes, salty drops slipping into the corners of my mouth. The last novel in the collection, “Imago.” I think of how expertly she handles the human condition and the way, through these characters, she reminds us that until we are willing to release ourselves from hierarchical thinking, we will continue to kill one another. Humans are unique in that way; we crave connection and intimacy, true community, but are unwilling to risk (perceived) loss of status or property.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Four

1. A little bit of sleeping in.

2. The sound of the coffee and the keys. The hum of the refrigerator. I warm up last night’s brussel sprouts for my breakfast. I’m craving something savory and substantial.

3. He wants me to take off the whole week of Christmas and then I think about how that means I would lose two days of pay and that I should just suck it up and go in for those days. And then I realize that this is how capitalism functions.

4. Everyone seems to think that the solution is to just make more money. It’s much harder to make the conscious choice to consume less. But there is no perfect answer, no perfect way.

5. Done.

6. I begin to undo the braids. I am not looking forward to the work required tomorrow. She is adamant that they com out today and be redone. She’s not wrong. I just don’t want to do it.

7. No rest for the weary.

8. I look him dead in the eye and tell him to stay out of the pan. I know he’s the one sneaking bites. How can someone so tall and sometimes uncoordinated be so stealthy in his pilfering of sweets?

9. “But communication with Humans was always incomplete.” - Adulthood Rites

10. So sleepy.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Three

1. Pioneer Woman drop biscuits. I remind myself to cut the recipe in half.

2. How a kid could be upset about having As and Bs so that he can play sports is beyond me. But here we are. Maybe he’ll feel good about it one day. Maybe he’ll care. Maybe he won’t.

3. How is it already the middle of December?

4. They crowd around the gameboard and I wonder why they’ve scrunched themselves against the wall. But I’m also happy to see that they’re playing together because they want to. The benefit of them being so close in age.

5. I cross off the list as quickly as I made it; only one real task and that is to find these gift sets.

6. I have to dig so far down into the box that I’m afraid I’ll fall over and into it.

7. I think of how I told him that I’m not so sure that this person really knows what they’re talking about, it’s just that they say it with such authority that it makes you wonder if you’re the one who doesn’t know. It’s almost funny.

8. Baby cheeks.

9. It was worth all the prep.

10. I shouldn’t be doing their chores. It’s just that I want to wake up tomorrow to a clean home with freshly vacuumed floors, and drink my coffee in the corner of the couch slowly and quietly.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-Two

1. Beach dreams.

2. What will it feel like to get to 1000?

3. But these words in costar got me all messed up this morning.

4. That’s right. They said they wanted oatmeal for breakfast, the homemade kind.

5. fin de siècle — 1: of, relating to, or characteristic of the close of the 19th century and especially its literary and artistic climate of sophistication, world-weariness, and fashionable despair. World Weariness. Fashionable Despair.

6. Music. Out of podcasts. Why can’t I find Hear to Slay?

7. Tomorrow will be Friday the 13th. I’m not very superstitious but.

8. I take myself over to the cottage, put the new duvet covers on the twin beds. The feel of the linen. This is one way to ground myself: sneak away to the quiet, touch something soft.

9. I stand over the cans of wine with my camera, shifting their placement, adjusting the focus. I realize that I’m happy. Not just because there’s wine, but because I can feel creative juices going; the packaging excites me, the potential of the wine excitements me, the moodiness of the lighting and the vibrancy of the colors excites me. Maybe I’m doing the wrong thing.

10. The bath water is high but I let it get too cold. Seems like such a waste.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety-One

1. The quiet dark.

2. I twist the rings until they settle into the just-right spot on my fingers, their weight familiar and comforting.

3. Lately I don’t have my first cup until I’m already in the car. I miss the slower mornings when it could be something I cherish. Waking earlier hasn’t necessarily given me more time to luxuriate; I’m too focused on making sure everyone has marked their morning checklist.

4. Thirsty.

5. Of course my decision to take Camino Diablo yields a less desirable result today. I just didn’t feel like sitting on Vasco. But now I’m sitting on J4. At least the scenery is a little different.

6. 13 minutes. 24 minutes. 36 minutes. I finally hear a human voice at 42 minutes. Just the time of year, I suppose.

7. Cheeseburger with the 1883 patty, cheddar, tomato, lettuce, onion. French fries. Lemonade. Even on a cloudy day the view is outstanding.

8. This is not the person to turn to.

9. I don’t have a clear “yes” but I definitely feel a clear “no".

10. “It was just a spontaneous dinner that happened to work out just right because I happened to already be preparing enough food. You know, kind of like what we sometimes did with the Messiers?” I feel a wave of melancholy as I gather the dirty forks and spoons from the dishes.

11. I pull my knees up and lean over to rest upon them while he talks to me. I can already feel the sweat forming at my temples and the base of my neck. I tell him that I am to gain this knowledge for what exactly. What, actually, is the point. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Ninety

1. I should just get up anyway.

2. Where are my pants? I need to just get some clothes. What am I actually waiting for?

3. The sound of the coffee pot sputtering. The sound of my fingers on the keys. The soft glow of the lights from the window. I think about how she will tell me that she won’t eat a waffle made from the Krusteaz mix but she’s totally fine with an Ego.

4. They eat almost all of the Egos. What’s a mother to do around here to keep the fridge stocked?

5. I understand why there are so many black women entrepreneurs. Who has time to deal with foolishness all day. It’s draining.

6. But sometimes you have to decide that you just don’t care.

7. She stopped by and brought in a platter of cookies. I wish she was still here. At least she was kind.

8. “It’s just that you and I have zero tolerance for shitty people.” I just sometimes wish my intolerance didn’t display itself so prominently on my face.

9. I won’t tell him that yes, that very same thought occured to me today. We are really close. Maybe that is what I want.

10. “Do you even know what you want?” “No.” “Okay. When you figure that out, you need to tell someone.”

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Nine

1. More rested than I expected to be.

2. That soft red glow again. I ought to hunt down it’s source. At first glance it looks like the coming of dawn but it’s on the wrong side of the sky.

3. I warm up the leftover soup for us while he builds a sandwich and the other decides he will eat nothing at all.

4. Bright sun. Unexpected. The hills are beginning to turn green again. Funny that winter here is both life and death at the same time. Some of the trees lose their leaves but the grass turns green again, the roses are blooming again, the birds of paradise are alert, the lemons continue to ripen.

5. I tell her that I want to use this opportunity to challenge, which is not the same thing as shaming. But I hope that we weren’t asked because we felt like safe choices.

6. I keep to myself.

7. I wonder if I’m overly responsive about this particular email. It’s just that I’m eager for something to do. I try to remind myself that this is just the season we’re in.

8. The softness of the linen. Maybe this is what should be on my Christmas list.

9. How many pages in this chapter? The next? Can I get through both before the bath water gets too cold?

10. I still don’t like strawberry ice cream.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. That’s good sleeping in.

2. I opt for comfort. I think back to when I told her that I tend to dress for comfort and tend to forget that we can dress for confidence. They are sometimes the same thing but often not.

3. She’s sick. We’ll push it back to next week. I am grateful for the cancellation. On to cleaning toilets.

4. A rod of anger. He asks me why I’m angry. The anger is not really anger. I mean, it is. I know what is frustrating to me. But really I’m just tired and needing solitude.

5. I should not have come, but here I am, and It’s just an opportunity to practice patience and presence. I think that this is really something, What a bunch crock it all is, the encouragement for overconsumption.

6. What is the alternative? I mean, realistically. Because I also refuse to run away.

7. I break off pieces of the roof. The gingerbread cookie itself is not so sweet, but the icing is just sweet enough. I try not to leave a trail of crumbs.

8. I curl up in his bed just to be alone. It's quiet back in this corner. It's the smallest room in the house but also one of the coziest.

9. In the next house, there will be a wood-burning fireplace.

10. Writing. Learning how to be a better steward of the land. Learning how to communicate with members of my community. Growing confidence. Shifting people's perceptions by asking questions that matter. Quieting the mind. Yoga. Centering Pleasure. Meals that nourish and delight. More books. Solitude.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Seven

1. Oh no. The amount of her invoice is more than my daily limit. Maybe she will let me partially pay. I’ll give her a few bottles of wine for the inconvenience.

2. This corner. The soft yellow-orange of light trying to push through. Everything looks wet and alive.

3. They help me carry the bags through the back door of the kitchen. “I think I saw her making choux dough!”

4. Of course our tables are right next to each other. I laugh to myself.

5. But aren’t we both adults? Are we really going to act as if we don’t notice on another? I formally introduce myself to get break the invisible silence. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…

6. Bubbles and popcorn and sticky fingers.

7. Stress sweat.

8. I grab a tray and carry glass back to the kitchen. He touches my shoulder and asks me what I’m doing. I’m just helping. “I can clean a table. I used to work in a restaurant, it’s really no big deal.” In fact, as I’m doing it I remember how much fun I used to have, the conversations I would have with guests. It’s a dance.

9. My feet, my feet. I wore these shoes for a very specific reason but man, my feet.

10. Maybe the word for 2020 is Confidence.

Ten.Eight Hundred & Eighty-Six

1. Why do I keep scratching my face with this nub of a pencil?

2. Oh Christmas tree.

3. I set to making the scones. Shred the butter, mix in the cream, add vanilla and some cinnamon. The feel of the dough in my hand. I miss the days of Thanksgiving with its slowness. When, finally, cooking didn’t feel like a chore but a meditation.

4. Bad Questions. Right Questions. Real Questions. It’s the Real Question that shifts everything.

5. I forgot the glass jars. And what was I thinking? Green on green? I wasn’t. This is what happens when you don’t have a list.

6. I write out the to-dos for the day. I timed almost everything just right but there is more list than time today. I don’t stress out about it. I remind myself that none of this is life or death. It’s meant to be fun.

7. I think she’s doing what I think she’s doing. I laugh. I don’t worry because I know that there is proof that I made the originals.

8. Humans are so interesting.

9. She wraps the jars of fudge while I wrap the glasses. We drop them into the bags. She adds a club brochure then helps me tie the ornaments and recipe cards to the small bags of mulled wine. 30 gift bags take up a lot of room in a tiny car.

10. But you still have to do the work.