Ten.Nine Hundred & Nine

1. I walk around to each bedroom and make sure the alarm clocks are off.

2. So much making to do today. His 12th birthday. First, another batch of drop biscuits to accompany the omelettes and sausage and gravy.

3. No one is eating the biscuits.

4. Then I realize that she can’t find anything likes because I’ve already told her that she can’t have what she wants. But seriously, how can one pass up on these mauve New Balances? Or the black Pumas with gold specks?

5. I go along for the ride to get the burgers. It’s much cheaper when you skip the shakes.

6. Nausea.

7. I start on the cake. Seems simple enough. So thin. Meringue spread across the top?

8. Twelve years. A mother for 12 years. How is that even possible?

9. Did I really just sit here for an hour and fifteen minutes? But it wasn’t exactly a waste of time. I did learn a few things. And some of what makes me uncomfortable is actually an opportunity for growth. Wait. Do I actually believe that?

10. One more day.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Eight

1. Up early. Even without the alarm, there’s some consistency in the range.

2. Speaking of alarms. Why are they even set? Maybe getting them alarm clocks was a bad idea.

3. Then I remember that I must make a grocery list and go grocery shopping. I take my beverages back to the bed and get under the covers. I want some new things and some things that feel familiar. But mostly new. I’m so tired of eating the same things over and over.

4. It feels really early for this kind of exchange. I don’t say much. I just stay quiet. It seems like that is the preferred way of being.

5. I move slowly through the aisles. I don’t worry about trying to hide the feeling from my face. I’m not so good at hiding emotions anyway.

6. I didn’t realize that Soledad was this funny.

7. I miss the ocean.

8. Bubbles necessary.

9. I can hear them talking through the door. She asks a question about every 90 seconds. I’m grateful for his patience.

10. Daughters and mothers and grandmothers. This story about the things we inherit, how we see what we want to see in order to experience a desired truth, how no one is experiencing the same moment in the same way. Anyway, this story and I think about her post about not having any living grandmothers and how I said I didn’t have any either. And isn’t it kind of absurd that both of mine died by the time I was 22. In theory they should have both been able to know their great grandchildren. I’m only 34 and have no grandparents. That seems so tragic. I’m glad my kids get to know at least one set of theirs so well. Rambling thought.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seven

1. In the dream we walk up to the school and the principal greets us outside the door and walks us in. The school is situated at the foot a mountain and everything around it is tall and green. The school building is red, like a barn, with white trim and large windows. I have a good feeling about it. We walk through and sit in desks and she asks me about my son and I tell her that he’s actually a very good student but that I think he needs something different. But then all of these older kids come into the room and they are talking over one another while also trying to present a project and I look to my son and ask him how he feels about the noise level in this room. I can barely stand it. I want to like it but I can’t.

2. Still quiet.

3. I remove the leaves from my hair and find flecks of gold scattered across my forehead and I’ve stained the edge of my sweater orange from the stamen of the lily.

4. I cut up the old cards, rip up the old receipts, move the Kaiser cards to another slot in the wallet. I make space. I can’t shake the desire to clear out every bit of space before the new year.

5. I can’t tell if it’s snow or clouds that look like mountains.

6. Hawk on fence post. An odd combination of sheep and cranes sharing a field.

7. Cinsaut from a vineyard planted in 1886. My favorite by far. Mostly likely due to the age of the vines. Everything else has such muted fruit. But this is fertile soil; this is a place for production, not precision.

8. I hate the feeling of having made a mistake even when you haven’t made a mistake.

9. “The thing about life, Harry had told Lauren, was to live in the world with interest. To keep your eyes open and see the possibilities—see the humanity—in everybody you met. To be aware. If he had anything at all to teach her it was that. Be aware.” - from “Trespasses” by Alice Munro

10. What is this fear? It’s that I might be committing myself to something that is actually nothing at all close to what it is my heart longs to do. It’s that maybe I spent too much time afraid of a dream and now it’s too late.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Six

1. Already?

2. I hear one of the alarm clocks going off. I ask him why he’s already awake and then realize that it’s 7am.

3. I scroll through the old messages in the ipad and find Ryan’s number and message him. We makes plans to catch up soon. Friday seems good.

4. Sometimes it feels as though my greatest weakness is Indecision.

5. His name is actually available on gmail and so I make him take it. Because he’s too young to understand the importance of understanding digital real estate.

6. Everything must be approved by me. That makes me feel a little better even though they feel inconvenienced.

7. I think I might like it because it’s mostly white.

8. He asks me for access to tiktok. “What we’ve begun to learn about kids your age, and even kids older than you, is that access to social media seems to increase rates of suicide and bullying. And so while, yes, it is a form of connection, it is also has some negative aspects to it and we don’t feel you’re old enough for it yet and therefore…” He throws his head back and lets out one of those preteen sighs. “I get it.” Good.

9. I tell him that one of my goals for 2020 is to find a friend that I really want to hang out with who also actually lives close to me. Oakland, Napa, Sonoma…just too far for a drop-in, a post-work drink, a last-minute coffee date.

10. It’s funny how every time we go and look at a house, we come back to this one and think that it’s really not so bad. Like, we could make it work. And, also, I’m not really interested in moving again any time soon.

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.”