Ten.Nine Hundred & Eighty

1. What day is it?

2. Check the traffic. Not that bad. I still have time.

3. Stillness. The click of the lamp. I spill my water on the book, dry it off with my scarf and settle into the green chair to write.

4. Set ego aside.

5. I make my way down the street. The moon is high and bright. Dark blue sky.

6. She’s so pleasant. What a great start. Second person. Big smile. Kind words. Person three and four and five. And this is good service. This is worth it. Though they should probably forego the platter of pastries.

7. He tells me that he’s just waiting for love. I tell him it takes a lot of courage to end an engagement because you realize that it’s not going to work.

8. Why do people tell me so many things?

9. Thirsty.

10. He tells me it’s been a slow day, that he could count the number of people at the Oakland Airport on his hands. I remember that this…experience affects so many. That if no one is traveling, not only are the airlines losing money but so are the Lyft and Uber drivers who depend on the gig economy to bridge the gap.

11. What is happening?

12. Overcompensating.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. New wake-up time. I need the quiet and the dark.

2. The way the keyboard feels as I type. Still new. The newness reminding me of possibility.

3. Forgot to buy that coffee maker.

4. Morning pages. My first weekday morning pages in a long time. Worth waking up early for this.

5. Huh. Twice in a week, these episodes have been right on time. Last week, Michael Hyatt on productive meetings. This week, Daymond John on your “why.” Yeah, I’m on the right track.

6. I’m glad she asked her the question. Her mother wrote her a check for $250,000 to start her business. These are the very important details we don’t hear about people who build businesses. It’s not just Hustle; it’s Access.

7. Need more coffee.

8. I ask her the questions in Spanish.l but she answers me in English. Why is she doing this?

9. He takes me on a walk through the vineyard. It really is so beautiful. It’s hard to have a bad Monday with this kind of weather, these kinds of views. My ears hear the drip irrigation in the Petit Verdot block.

10. More questions. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

11. Full Moon vibes.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Nine

1. New wake-up time. I need the quiet and the dark.

2. The way the keyboard feels as I type. Still new. The newness reminding me of possibility.

3. Forgot to buy that coffee maker.

4. Morning pages. My first weekday morning pages in a long time. Worth waking up early for this.

5. Huh. Twice in a week, these episodes have been right on time. Last week, Michael Hyatt on productive meetings. This week, Daymond John on your “why.” Yeah, I’m on the right track.

6. I’m glad she asked her the question. Her mother wrote her a check for $250,000 to start her business. These are the very important details we don’t hear about people who build businesses. It’s not just Hustle; it’s Access.

7. Need more coffee.

8. I ask her the questions in Spanish.l but she answers me in English. Why is she doing this?

9. He takes me on a walk through the vineyard. It really is so beautiful. It’s hard to have a bad Monday with this kind of weather, these kinds of views. My ears hear the drip irrigation in the Petit Verdot block.

10. More questions. Putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

11. Full Moon vibes.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Eight

1. Lost hour.

2. Something about these don’t look right. I add another cup of flour. I must have only put in two. That’s better.

3. Still just as good. I brush melted better over them. I think of the biscuits from Church’s Chicken. I think of South Carolina. I think of the biscuits Chef Tate made for the opening dinner served with a sorghum molasses butter and satsuma preserves. How did I forget to take my menu as a souvenir?

4. Coffee and more coffee.

5. Softball for her, baseball for him. Gray skies. I wanted more rain.

6. I check the time. Not yet noon. Tea, blanket, book, bed. Slowing down my Sunday.

7. “Working hard for something we do not care about is called stress, working hard for something we love is called passion.” - Start With Why

8. I read the words and see a vision appear in my mind. It is sunny. There is a table out in a field, next to a garden. There are people. There is wine. There is food. Beyond the garden is a vineyard. Beyond the vineyard is my home. Beyond the home is a set of small buildings that are gathering/living spaces. This is where I do my work. This is where others come to do theirs. This is a place where ideas are exchanged, where community is fostered, where people dream the impossible dreams. I realize the vision is still the same as it was 10 years ago. But I am closer. I am so much closer.

9. The name is taken so now what?

10. These episodes are so long.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Seven

1. Saturday.

2. I start on the kitchen right away. I just want to be done before lunch.

3. What do I need to do to not want to kick all these roommates out of the house for the messes they leave behind? What’s the reframe? How do I shift this thinking? I think it’s just making them do more. I am always the default fixer. I’ve inadvertently trained them to trust that I am the one who will get to it.

4. Please rain.

5. Done.

6. Rain.

7. I missed the first farmer’s market.

8. I send the email. I hope it makes sense because sometime I do these things without fully thinking.

9. 10 days.

10. I liked her as Mary, but I like her more as Alice Fletcher.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Six

1. Moving slowly through the dark. The sound of the heat blowing through the vents.

2. Bird chatter.

3. I make a full pot so I can fill a thermos to take to work. An extra two cups would be god.

4. 7:36 and no coffee yet. Headache. Shoot. Got too wrapped up in dishes to remember to drink a little bit of coffee.

5. “If you are not tested, how will you know who you are?” - Isabel Allende

6. Dark and quiet.

7. I tell her that reading for pleasure is easiest when I institute regular baths. “Make it really hot,” I say, “so it will last a long time. I read almost 3 books in the month of January just from taking a bath every day.”

8. Kisira and Ali talking about the lack of historical context we have as Americans when we figuratively and literally consume cultures.

9. The light in the living room.

10. I don’t want to keep talking about work but I have so many questions for myself, so many questions for him to talk me through, piecing together the ways in which all of my experience helps me to see things in a different way.

11. I show him Sinek’s Golden Circle: Why, How, What.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Five

1. Almost Friday.

2. The tightness of fresh braids.

3. Out of parchment paper. Need croutons for today’s lunch. Gamble with them being browner than I’d like on account of the dark pan.

4. Not enough coffee to fill a tumbler up for the road. Note to self: check Goodwill this weekend for a coffee pot to take into the office.

5. Vibes.

6. So much sunshine.

7. It is the same but also not.

8. I tell him the what, he gives me the why. I just call it intuition.

9. This is really just the beginning.

10. Almost Friday.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Four

1. I shouldn’t have had the ice cream before bed. I know better.

2. Home day. What to do. The list is long but doable. I can get it done.

3. So much sun. I realize that the other reason I am slower at work is the lack of natural light. Note to self: moving forward, always ask for an office with a view.

4. Still thinking about the Petit Manseng. Sonoma. The next home. Knowing that this won’t be it forever but also not ready to seriously consider another life change. Hold the vision; don’t worry about the “when” and “how.”

5. Resistance Served 2020 Vibes playlist blasting through bluetooth.

6. Kombucha in the pick-up line. Windows down.

7. Chicken Saltimboca. I pluck a crispy sage leaf from the plate.

8. “How long were you there?” “One year, two months, and seven days.” I feel like this is one o things I’ll never be able to forget.

9. More ease, please.

10. I do hope it rains. I just want a Saturday with nothing to do.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Three

1. The light is coming in fast.

2. Bacon. Eggs. Nettle tea in process.

3. I stare at the nectarine blooms through the window. That poor, sickly tree and yet so much beauty still remains.

4. Rain later in the week. Thank goodness. I hope it comes.

5. Nursing calf. Browning hills. They were barely green this winter.

6. Questions without answers. Questions with answers that I don’t like. Realizing I’ve been asking myself questions to avoid addressing the answers.

7. The orange blossoms are coming. He has lemon blossoms too.

8. I must not have recorded the dates.

9. The irony is that you know that you know. Despite knowing that you know what you know you continue to make choices that are out of alignment with that knowing.

10. Pax. Petit Manseng from El Dorado. Oh yeah. I had forgotten that wine could be fun and interesting.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-Two

1. Morning light.

2. Pigeon coos. Large lemons dotting the grass. I should really go over there and ask to harvest from his tree.

3. I need to touch the camera.

4. The deep pink of nectarine blossoms. Note to self: read up on what to do with ground fruit.

5. The nature of Me is to bloom.

6. The episode is about meetings. This makes sense. This is perfect timing.

7. The barrel room is still dark and there’s this way the light from the roll-up door is filtering through, illuminating the rows, making the wood glow. I should take a picture of this. Tomorrow. When I have the camera.

8. But can I get the owl box in the picture too?

9. The crunch of gravel underneath my feet.

10. I like the quiet but I do miss them.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy-One

1. Dreams full of people. There are phone calls I need to make.

2. I know that sound. It is the sound of a metal spoon against the bowl as one of the children digs at some cereal.

3. I walk to the back of the gym and enter the group exercise room. More and more bodies filter in. “This doesn’t look good. Amy is usually here by now. I hope we have a class.”

4. Class cancelled. I try to find another studio nearby. Nothing.

5. The stores aren’t open yet and she convinces me to take her to the French bakery to pass the time. I can’t decide. Everything looks so good. She picks 3 macaroons: lemon, coffee, salted caramel. I settle on a Pomme Fine. She makes the coffee to order. This might be the best thing I’ve had in this town.

6. She picks the churro sticker. I tell the cashier that she’s probably too young to remember Delia’s. In another life I would have shopped here as a kid too, could have lived out all my Jnco dreams. Am I now old enough to remember things that no longer exist?

7. Wash day.

8. Jim and Pam.

9. The chili is too spicy. She and I look at each other but don’t say anything.

10. “responsibility and freedom, play and rest.”

Ten.Nine Hundred & Seventy

1. Bird chatter. I can’t remember the dream. I just remember that I wanted to remember it.

2. I just want to be done by 10.

3. I can’t help it. I google the name to see what he looks like. There’s a recent article from the 20th; new evidence retrieved. I feel hopeful.

4. “But here you are. And I think we have found each other because we are meant to create, dream into being, something that has never existed here.”

5. Game time.

6. An even playing field. I like this coach a lot.

7. Game ball.

8. So cold. Wind whipping. I know the kids out on the field are freezing. These innings are too long.

9. I let them skip showers so that I can have all the hot water to myself. It’s been too long since I had a bath.

10. ”You have opened a door, and because you have opened it, we must go through.” - Cry, The Beloved Country

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Nine

1. Friday. I should be more excited about the weekend. I just see a very long list of things to do and very little time.

2. Pre-dentist nerves.

3. They all promise me it won’t be that bad. They’ll see me in a few weeks. She says again that it’s really not that bad. I think there must be a note in my chart about my anxiety.

4. No one is here. Wait. That means I have to disarm the alarm.

5. No. No way. I did it. I walk back to the parking lot and find a place in the sun. It’s 9:42. Someone should be here by 10. 10:15 at the latest. There was worse places to be than outside overlooking a vineyard.

6. Note to self: always keep your keep on you.

7. Answers that prompt more questions.

8. I’d recognize that blue hair anywhere. She says I seem different. That you can tell that I’m different since Resistance Served. 30 minutes is not enough.

9. If only I’d known.

10. They seem very nice. She reminds me of Melissa which makes me miss Fever Dreams which makes me wonder when I’ll have time again to gather which makes me wonder if I’m really doing the right thing.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Eight

1. Late. Later.

2. Forgot to dry the clothes. I do everything but keep the pajama pants on. This feels weird.

3. No weird bird noises today. I almost miss it.

4. There’s the water.

5. Because they are living their truth and that’s what is making my tears-eyed. Truth-telling and all this sunshine.

6. I kinda knew it.

7. A gift. Her hug. It’s good to know at least one person.

8. He says these are lemons but I’m pretty sure they are oranges. They really look like oranges-imperfect ones but oranges. I stick 3 in my lunch bag.

9. They look so old. So old. Amazing how the removal of one thing compounds another.

10. I don’t know. I don’t know. But I do know I don’t want to go to the dentist tomorrow.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Seven

1. 4:47.

2. Wednesday. I forgot my charger. Going to have to fix that.

3. Morning pages on the sofa. I drape the soft blue blanket around my soldiers. Coffee. Quiet.

4. Home.

5. I know this won’t work but I keep fiddling with the pieces. This will just be a waste of time.

6. More questions.

7. She helps me by running to get the papers from the printer. We like fancier font but the simpler one is easier to read. We sigh. But function over form.

8. The silhouette of Mount Diablo against a faded tangerine sky.

9. Cold bleachers.

10. “Thirty days,” he says. “Thirty days.“

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Six

1. I can’t remember the specifics but it was strange.

2. Make the coffee, make a lunch, drink water. I make a slice of toast. Coffee. There’s time for me to sit this morning.

3. Emails in that inbox keep piling up. I will need a dedicated morning for it sometime this week.

4. I like the way the little stream reflects the morning light. I always look for it: a curl of glimmering water amongst the green pasture.

5. This guy is funny.

6. There is no way I can use that drip pot. Maybe I will take it home to clean. I look over the kitchen area and then make my way over to the tasting room’s break room to see if they have a Keurig in there. Nothing. I take myself and my empty cup back to my desk. He offers to make me an americano with his espresso machine. Well, hot damn. I wish I had seen it earlier.

7. Note to self: obtain coffee pot for office.

8. Lunch under the peppercorn tree overlooking the vineyard.

9. I tell him that I worry that I am not doing enough. He reminds me that it’s only my second day.

10. What would it be like to exist without the unnecessary pressure I put upon myself? When did I develop the habit of overworking? And why?

11. I look at all of their faces and, wow. They are not babies anymore.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Five

1. It was lunch time in the dream and everyone kept moving me from table to table. They were trying to convince me that this was the best place to be. I wonder if there will be a third time and, if there is a third time, will it be the charm?

2. First day jitters.

3. Water, celery juice, orange juice, more water. Stomach to jumpy for solid foods it seems. I’ll settle down at some point.

4. Monday morning traffic is the worst.

5. I turn off 84 onto Vineyard Avenue. There is still some fog draping over the vines. I see a little house I hadn’t noticed before; it’s the perfect little wine country cottage. Surely someone must live there. The sound of gravel beneath the tires.

6. Less nervous. More excited.

7. I will forget these names.

8. So much sunshine. I call him as I walk among some recently pruned Sauvignon blanc. This feels good and right.

9. He asks me what I like to drink. I tell him old world wines for sure. He gives me a bottle of Trebbiano and Nebbiolo. He tells me that he loves new world wines and rhone reds iike Grenache and Syrah. I tell him that Syrah is one of my favorites and totally unappreciated. He agrees and then pulls out an unmarked bottle of Syrah, a side project. He’s also growing mushroom. Winemaker Jesse and I will be good friends.

10. He had a good day too. We both needed a good day like today.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Four

1. The birds again.

2. The smell of coffee, the sound of him playing with his X-wing fighter, the burst of heat coming through the vent.

3. Celery juice.

4. I finally commit to getting myself to the yoga class and it’s cancelled. It’s cancelled!

5. Her face, her voice, her laugh. I let out all that’s been happening in the last month. All of this has happened just in February! I try to talk about Resistance Served and what it was and what it means to me. “It sounds like it was a coming home.” Yes, that’s exactly what it was. It was like coming home.

6. I take her to the store for more jeans. We can’t decide on the appropriate length for shorts. I won’t let her get press-on nails. I try to be logical about it, “but like, you’re playing softball. How are you supposed to play softball with press-on nails? They’ll never last.” Tweens.

7. She’s pouty. Maybe I ought to plan a day of thrifting. We can talk about consumerism in a different way, how we can shop based on values, and how she can create unique looks and her own style by avoiding the traditional mall-like stores. Parenting.

8. Popcorn for lunch.

9. He tells me he’s proud of me and excited for me. I just feel nerves. Like Linda said, “You got a big-girl job.”

10. Fish tacos. Sparkling wine. I should eat more. I’ll be hungry when I wake up.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Three

1. Two dreams. Both about community, being in groups. The first dream was my Resistance Served family. The people in the second one were unfamiliar. I know, I know. I’m meant to do community work.

2. Same time each morning. Chorus of bird song. They sound like they are in the walls. Maybe in the chimney? It’s loud, so loud.

3. Coffee, milk, and orange juice.

4. Drop biscuits. I forget how good these are until I break one open and bite into it. So light and fluffy. She says she doesn’t like drop biscuits. She’s wrong.

5. Target first thing in the morning is not so bad. I see faces that look like mine and then ask myself again, “Am I willing to move to where I am the one and only again? Am I willing to do that to myself and my kids?”

6. A field of wild mustard.

7. I just want everyone else to love a clean home as much as I do. Don’t they know I’m a Cancer?

8. Bryant Terry’s fried smashed potatoes. But first the corn relish. The corn is not as sweet as I’d like it to be but in the summer when the Brentwood Sweet Corn returns, it will take this recipe to another level.

9. I miss my art.

10. That’s what I can hold on to. I can hold on to the coming bounty of spring. I can hold on to plum tarts and peach cobblers and tomatoes sprinkled with flaky salt and figs drizzled with olive oil. Little pleasures that tether.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Sixty-Two

1. In the dream we were sitting by the ocean, watching the water crash against the shore.

2. In the next dream I couldn’t get on the plane to get home. This is the fourth dream about planes and airports and an inability to get to where I want to go. I need to look this up.

3. Last day.

4. I feel rushed now and I hate feeling rushed.

5. ”No Problem” by Chance the Rapper. I look over at him and see trying so hard not to like it. How can you not like it?

6. The last time I drive down this road at 8:42am.

7. Orchid and cake.

8. The three hours go by too quickly. How am I already done? Done, done?

9. ”Politicians is phony, they be villains, impostors! / They gonna tell you it’s gold, but show it really be copper / And they don't want you tappin' into all that spirit inside us / They want you chasin' the carrot / Want you fiendin' for Pradas / They want you sick 'til you vomit / 'Cause you no use when you conscious” - “Alkaline” by Kota the Friend

10. Thresholds.