Ten.One Thousand & One

1. I am moving slower these mornings. Sleep is not as deep.

2. Quick prayer of gratitude. Celery juice. Grind the beans. I don’t want leftover cake. Maybe eggs?

3. Searching the corners for light.

4. Cough.

5. I let myself get too consumed with things. Little things. Focus on the work that matters.

6. “Beyond myself, somewhere, I wait for my arrival.” ― Octavio Paz

7. They talk about the fun things at school they’ll miss like the parties, the trip to the water park at the end of the year. I tell her that the water park will be closed so she won’t miss anything at all, that no one is going anywhere, that we can’t even go to the library.

8. I finish my petit manseng while in the tub. The water is not warm enough. Maybe I waited too long for it to cool off.

9. “Your no makes the way for your yes.” - Pleasure Activism

10. The mind is always filling itself in the moments when I need it empty.

Ten.One Thousand & One

1. I am moving slower these mornings. Sleep is not as deep.

2. Quick prayer of gratitude. Celery juice. Grind the beans. I don’t want leftover cake. Maybe eggs?

3. Searching the corners for light.

4. Cough.

5. I let myself get too consumed with things. Little things. Focus on the work that matters.

6. “Beyond myself, somewhere, I wait for my arrival.” ― Octavio Paz

7. They talk about the fun things at school they’ll miss like the parties, the trip to the water park at the end of the year. I tell her that the water park will be closed so she won’t miss anything at all, that no one is going anywhere, that we can’t even go to the library.

8. I finish my petit manseng while in the tub. The water is not warm enough. Maybe I waited too long for it to cool off.

9. “Your no makes the way for your yes.” - Pleasure Activism

10. The mind is always filling itself in the moments when I need it empty.

Ten.One Thousand

1. I hear a thud. I check the house, nothing seems out of place, no kid out of bed. 3:18am. There’s no way I’ll fall asleep again.

2. Just writing “One Thousand” gives me chills.

3. Olive oil cake for breakfast. The downside of the french press means that the coffee gets colder faster.

4. The scent of grated oranges.

5. I try to calm myself, but I can feel the anxiety rising. It feels like little blocks on the sternum and larynx. It feels like mild nausea. I even take deep breaths, but that doesn’t seem to alleviate it.

6. I just want him to stop coughing.

7. We ride around the neighborhood. I list gratitudes: the weather, the scent of orange blossoms, the green of the hills, clear skies. The timing couldn’t be more wrong, but it also couldn’t be more right. Every mistake had led me here. Every mistake a sacred thread.

8. He’s giving me permission to choose something different.

9. I still feel the blocks. I take the journal to the hammock and stare into the sun. I should be wearing sunblock. The sun feels good. I let the hammock sway.

10. I’m not normal, and I like it that way.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Nine

1. The first thing I do is check his temperature. Normal.

2. Must drink more water. I can feel a little soreness in my sides from last night’s quick yoga flow. I welcome it.

3. He brings me my coffee. I want to start drinking right away but know I must have some food in my stomach. I find a bosc pear, sweet but still crisp. I think I like these pears because of the color of their skin; it reminds me of an old oil painting. This sounds weird, but eating art is a thing.

4. I log in to listen to their coffee chat, not to lurk, but to be present. I tell them that I just want to listen. It’s just good to see and hear people in real-time.

5. I need to write.

6. I didn’t think of the alarm I would raise.

7. I stop her message so that I can journal. What she’s saying is making 10 light bulbs go off in my head. I need to stop and do it now.

8. We meander along the roads. It’s nice that the traffic is so light. You can ride in the middle of the road most of the time. Freedom.

9. I choose to sit in one of the chairs on the tiny concrete pad at the rear of the yard. This is where the sun is. The chorus bees. The thrum of the hummingbirds’ wings. These are the only sounds.

10. I tell him about her message and what I end up realizing in my journaling process and that really what I need to exercise in these moments is compassion.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Eight

1. Nightmares about work. Nightmares about fevers.

2. So quiet.

3. He’s up but not really. I can tell by the way he’s walking. 100.6. More coughing. Nothing to do but keep notes and make him drink more water.

4. Leftover Brussels sprouts and bacon for breakfast. Hot coffee. We agree again that there’s no need to replace the drip pot.

5. Rain in the forecast. No plans for today. Not that really could be any. With his slight fever and cough, we have to reconsider the light interactions we’ve had going into the grocery store.

6. This will not sound right in written words, no matter how I put it. But at this point, does it matter?

7. I tell him to go to the bathroom. The door closes. I hear a loud thud and nothing else. I scream his name. Nothing. I yell his name again and try to push open the door but he’s right behind it. I try again, gently to use the door to push it open, he’s still not saying anything but his eyes are slightly open. Finally, he gets up.

8. Throwing up.

9. The nurse on the phone says she has no more appointments for the day but that we need to get him seen somewhere.

10. We sit in the lobby and wait. Because now you need to make appointments for urgent care but we don’t know that. The urgent care doctor says he sounds fine and there’s no need to bring him up to the second floor. Two conflicting opinions.

11. I am tired. It’s not sleepless-tired, it’s stress-tried.

12. She tags me in a post congratulation on 1,000. She remembers the date I sent that newsletter. I must have miscounted a long the way but we’ve done it. We’ve completed 1,000 days of this. I am better for it.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Seven

1. Thirsty.

2. Linen for today. I think of the meme that says something about wearing jeans in quarantine. I am that person. I get fully dressed every day. But today, I need linen.

3. I tell him to go back to bed, that it’s too early. He coughs a dry cough but returns to his room.

4. Coffee. Camera. I have to make something. I need to get back into the rhythm of making.

5. Three snails. So slow. Thank you.

6. I had a feeling. This opens up another hour in my day and so I will just enjoy that. I take a mug of tea out to the patio and sit in the sun. The sun feels so good.

7. Her questions make me think about things I hadn’t thought about in so long. Reminder: call them this weekend.

8. Watch party for Uncorked. Almost 200 black folks drinking wine and talking. Prentice Penny and DLynn Proctor hop on and talk with us. Prentice reminds us that it’s a not about winning the battle, it’s about winning the war. You need to figure out which hills are worth dying on.

9. He put together my compost bin. The kids are excited about this which I think is funny. Looks like we’ll need to add horticulture into our homeschooling lessons.

10. Hold the vision, Alisha. Hold the vision. And ask for help.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Six

1. Thursday. Right? Yes. Thursday.

2. Cold air creeping in from her open window. I try to shut it as quietly as possible.

3. Green sweater. I remember wearing this to work one day, and his jeans, when I was pregnant with the oldest. Still just as cozy.

4. Snail medicine.

5. It’s hard for me to ask questions in this way. And I probably really already know the answer which is that there is no answer. But always trying.

6. I take my phone call out to the patio. I know it’s barely 50 degrees but in the sun it feels so good. I lean my head back into the sun.

7. No, this still isn’t it.

8. No cream. No parmesan.

9. “When I get older…well, if I get to be older because the world might end too soon…” I try not to spit out the pizza. I look over at him and he’s also laughing. But then I wonder what he’s listening to and who’s he talking to that’s telling him that this is the end of the world. Or does he just know what it means when I say that maybe this is the apocalypse? He is pretty smart. Also, he’s not wrong but I hope he is.

10. I sit on the floor of the living room because it has the best light. I flip through magazines to find the right words, the right images to represent what I’m feeling. Farm. Comfort. Feel light transformed. Craft. Where community comes first. word. Independent, adventurous, gracious, and glorious. The art of not compromising.

11. Two whole Liberty Ducks. Raft Sangiovese and Syrah. Shop local. Alternative communities. We could do it differently if people weren’t so scared.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Six

1. Thursday. Right? Yes. Thursday.

2. Cold air creeping in from her open window. I try to shut it as quietly as possible.

3. Green sweater. I remember wearing this to work one day, and his jeans, when I was pregnant with the oldest. Still just as cozy.

4. Snail medicine.

5. It’s hard for me to ask questions in this way. And I probably really already know the answer which is that there is no answer. But always trying.

6. I take my phone call out to the patio. I know it’s barely 50 degrees but in the sun it feels so good. I lean my head back into the sun.

7. No, this still isn’t it.

8. No cream. No parmesan.

9. “When I get older…well, if I get to be older because the world might end too soon…” I try not to spit out the pizza. I look over at him and he’s also laughing. But then I wonder what he’s listening to and who’s he talking to that’s telling him that this is the end of the world. Or does he just know what it means when I say that maybe this is the apocalypse? He is pretty smart. Also, he’s not wrong but I hope he is.

10. I sit on the floor of the living room because it has the best light. I flip through magazines to find the right words, the right images to represent what I’m feeling. Farm. Comfort. Feel light transformed. Craft. Where community comes first. word. Independent, adventurous, gracious, and glorious. The art of not compromising.

11. Two whole Liberty Ducks. Raft Sangiovese and Syrah. Shop local. Alternative communities. We could do it differently if people weren’t so scared.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. The dark. The sound of the heat blowing. I hope the sun manages to come out today.

2. I try to chug the 750ml. I haven’t been drinking as much water lately and I can feel it in my body.

3. The soreness of the push-ups is wearing off. But I also miss that feeling. Now there is time to get back to yoga.

4. The snails are back. I watch from a distance.

5. I download report after report trying to see how I can make a better go of it. I have the ideas but can’t get the right data. This is incomplete. I suppose I could just act as if there is no data.

6. I tell him that it’s hard to be in conversation with people who want to use this time as an opportunity to spiral into panic. I can’t choose that. I don’t have the mental capacity.

7. What day is today?

8. The article says the schools will be closed through May 1st. I know that means we most likely will not return this school year. This means we’re going to be homeschooling for the rest of the year. My other friends don’t seem to be as excited about this as I am.

9. I tell her that I wish I’d been able to have my land by now.

10. I end up talking to them for 2 hours. It’s late where they are. I should let them go to sleep.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Five

1. The dark. The sound of the heat blowing. I hope the sun manages to come out today.

2. I try to chug the 750ml. I haven’t been drinking as much water lately and I can feel it in my body.

3. The soreness of the push-ups is wearing off. But I also miss that feeling. Now there is time to get back to yoga.

4. The snails are back. I watch from a distance.

5. I download report after report trying to see how I can make a better go of it. I have the ideas but can’t get the right data. This is incomplete. I suppose I could just act as if there is no data.

6. I tell him that it’s hard to be in conversation with people who want to use this time as an opportunity to spiral into panic. I can’t choose that. I don’t have the mental capacity.

7. What day is today?

8. The article says the schools will be closed through May 1st. I know that means we most likely will not return this school year. This means we’re going to be homeschooling for the rest of the year. My other friends don’t seem to be as excited about this as I am.

9. I tell her that I wish I’d been able to have my land by now.

10. I end up talking to them for 2 hours. It’s late where they are. I should let them go to sleep.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Four

1. So looking forward to french press this morning. No need to replace our coffee pot. I should drink less coffee anyway.

2. The memory it wants to share is of the last time, the second time, I failed my certified exam. Do I want to share it? Ego says no. but I also know the value of failing at something multiple times, especially when it’s something you really want.

3. Pie for breakfast? No. I reheat the leftover beet greens and add some bacon and the end piece from the loaf. No one likes the end piece but I love the chewiness of the crust.

4. I try to find evidence of snails but I realize I forgot to put in my contacts.

5. Literally laughing out loud.

6. She reminds me that it’s been a month at this new job and a year since I failed my last exam. I ask if I shared that and she said she just keeps notes. I think it’s a gift.

7. I finally get the hang of this Marco Polo thing.

8. "Just think of it: This virus is imposing a level of involuntary discernment about the big things in life. It’s a level of habit-wrecking that you’d otherwise have to shell out large to attend a retreat centre to learn and employ. And you don’t have to go anywhere, do anything more than stay inside and look out the window, letting the wonder take care of the fret for a few minutes. It isn’t easy. It’s simple, though. The best advice any monastery ever sent the world: Work. Bless. Repeat." - Stephen Jenkinson

9. Two halves.

10. So much. Too much.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Three

1. Back to the alarm; I need the routine. And my goal is to get the work done during my most productive hours and that’s all the hours between 7am and 12pm.

2. I pour in the water, fill it with the grounds, and press the button. Nothing happens. No sputter and cough, no steam. It’s finally dead. Too bad we didn’t go ahead and order one yesterday. Not that we would have gotten it any time soon anyway.

3. French press?

4. I take my coffee back to the office, search for images, type, jot down ideas for this week and next week’s content.

5. I don’t alway sask why. Especially when I can sense the tone in the voice. Sometimes, you can feel the why and that is enough.

6. We find a quick bike route to the grocery store. He emerges with eggs and butter, two things I could not find last week. Also wine.

7. I clean and trim the beets, chew on a stem, realize how sweet it tastes. I listen to the whistle of the steam escaping through the lid.

8. Flour and butter on my hands. There is time for this. I wanted the time for this.

9. I take a sip. “Sauvignon Blanc?” “From where?” “Loire.” “Yep. Sancerre.” I give him a thumbs up. I should have passed that test.

10. Tender beet greens and roasted potatoes and cod, breaded and served with a beurre blanc.

11. An email with promise.

12. So much uncertainty and yet now there is space for clarity to emerge.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-Two

1. That was just a dream.

2. The sound of the coffee pot. I will miss working from home. I wonder how I can bargain for only 2 days in the office. Introvert things. Hard to break the habit of being in control of your own time. Also, I still have at least 2 more weeks of this so I should just enjoy it without worrying just yet.

3. Mug with no handle. Hot hands.

4. Back in bed with coffee and book. I could get used to this. I like this very much.

5. Leftover bolognese, add one more can of tomato sauce plus salt and various seasonings, mix in the tiny bit of mozzarella, drop big spoonfuls of ricotta, stick in the oven. We’ll have leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch.

6. No leftovers.

7. We don’t really know where to go, we just pedal. I say we should go ride in the new construction neighborhood to see what it’s like now that it’s almost full. No, I don’t think I could live here. I mean, I could, but I wouldn’t love it.

8. Am I devoted enough?

9. Chicken fat croutons.

10. My own bottle of wine. Kind of.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety-One

1. So much light. Why am I oversleeping now? No alarm? Nervous system overload?

2. I lay still a little longer and stare at the light peeking through the blinds.

3. Coffee. Morning pages. I missed two days. What happened? Oh yeah, trying to get to the grocery store.

4. Chance the Rapper while I clean the office. Eventually two of us may be working in here on a more consistent basis. Also, it just feels good to clean.

5. Cleaning as a coping mechanism for when you feel as if you have no control.

6. We go for a walk It’s quiet on our street but then we get closer to the park and see more and more people. I jump onto the grassy areas because, I think, people don’t know what 6 feet actually looks like in practice. We decide to go back home.

7. I’m not ready to be inside yet. I take the broom from the garage and sweep the front porch.

8. Hammock . Garden & Gun.

9. “Why does the language of a tribe, or any community, need to be purified? I will answer for myself that the prescribed duty is to keep the language capable of telling the truth…. To stand by one’s word is everybody’s duty. To make words precise enough and clear enough to be stood by also is everybody’s duty, but I think that that has got to be the paramount duty of every writer, not just of every poet.” - Wendell Berry

10. Pax Petit Manseng and a backyard fire after an early dinner. The gray-white ash of the embers. Gratitudes for this blue sky.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Ninety

1. I should have gotten up earlier. I need coffee before I go out there again.

2. Today I will just try Sprouts. The coffee is done. I will go now.

3. No line outside the door yet. Good. Maybe it will be normal in here.

4. No bread, no eggs, no dairy. Unless you want to spend $14 on a pound of raw butter or raw milk. Why do people keep getting so close?

5. So much.

6. I take a mug of hot tea and the latest issue of Garden & Gun to the front porch and sit in the sun. I think of how she told me that I picked the hardest genre to want to break into. It was not what I expected her to say. And she might have been right. But I also know that I stopped trying after that day.

7. “As we begin the third decade of the twenty-first century, we face unimaginable challenges of stewardship. From climate to democracy, from civility to equality, the infrastructure of our lives is wearing thin; certainty about the future is as difficult to glimpse sometimes as a firefly in the very first whispers of twilight. This issue calls us to cherish what is right before us and to secure its fate as best we can for as long as we can.nobleIt’s a noble, achievable mission—and too few things in life are both noble and doable.” - Jon Meacham, “Southern Stand,” Garden & Gun

8. It’s just stress.

9. I change my clothes and head out to the backyard. Headphones in my ears. I transplant the mint and rosemary. I grab the inserts from the wine shipment and take them out back, fill them with dirt. I find the seeds from my old garden. I fill the soil with okra and tomatoes and corn and peas. I decide that the far corner might be best for lettuce. It’s shallow and I can’t dig, but I can probably get some greens to grow there.

10. Virtual happy hour with the ladies from the house. It’s good to hear their voices and their laughs. But it’s not the same, it’s not the same.

11. Nothing will be the same and that’s okay. Isn’t it?

Ten.Nine Hundred & Eighty-Nine

1. As I write the title for today’s page I realize that I will reach 1,000 ten-ish things posts while under the shelter-in-place order and that seem significant.

2. Today feels different.

3. I decide that I need to get to the store for toilet paper. I can’t risk it. Not enough if the Amazon delivery is pushed back again.

4. The parking lot here is full but the store is so big surely they have some left. So many people inside. Long lines already. It’s just barely after 7. The man stocking the shelves says everyone just took everything out of the boxes. People keep coming too close to me. I leave.

5. I drive to the Safeway. I can see that the line wraps all the way back to the produce section. I go to the main entrance. So many people. I try to walk back to where the toilet paper would be but then two bodies sidle up beside me. Too many people. I run back out to my car.

6. Target doesn’t open for another 15 minutes. I am number fifty-something in line. There’s no point in going anywhere else. People do not understand what 6 feet is. Space please. I think about today’s alternatives if I can’t get the toilet paper. I can figure it out. I leave with toilet paper and bleach.

7. I tell my husband that it wasn’t the anxiety about not getting toilet paper. What made me anxious was the amount of people. All I could think, every place I went, was “We are all going to be sick.”

8. I schedule the day’s posts for the winery and then decide to clean. I clean the bathrooms, wipe down all the doors. I vacuum. I light the sage and walk to every corner of the home. Usually I have a short prayer I say, but today all that’s in my mind is the chorus of this song. So I sing that instead.

9. "Please just go easy on me baby, go easy on me baby…” - Matt Meason, “Go Easy”

10. If it all ended tomorrow, would I be happy with how I showed up in the world today?

11. I read him some lines from the book. They send a chill down my bone. He says it’s just coincidence, a common phrase. I think of it as prophecy.

12. What really matters?

Ten.Nine Hundred & Eighty-Eight

1. Normal time.

2. Still groggy. May need to make some adjustments.

3. Grateful for the time to gather. I’ve missed every call so to be able to sit there and just listen, be present, breathe, meditate. I needed it more than I realized.

4. Messages asking if we are okay, if I am okay. I am fine. Fine is a default response that ignores the particularities of an experience.

5. I really should just rest.

6. We drive to the farmer’s market pop-up to support the local small farms. The lines are around the corner and kind of doubled-up and everyone looks like they are still standing to close to one another. I tell him that it’s too many people and that we’ll just go to Urban Edge.

7. Beets, gold potatoes, sweet potatoes, kale, local honey, cara cara and blood oranges, the calendar I wanted last summer but didn’t get.

8. Taxes. Now, there’s really no excuse of not having enough time.

9. I don’t think it’s me. Maybe it is me. Maybe it’s all of us. Maybe we should drive to the beach and go stare at the ocean.

10. We could be doing things differently.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Eighty-Seven

1. Dark.

2. Fruit Loops while the coffee brews.

3. Morning pages. Reminding myself that I get to choose my mindset. I get to choose how I respond.

4. These are the things I can do right now.

5. BLTs. Lunch break. I like the working from home thing even though everyone else is also home. But efficiency. Comfort. Talking out loud to myself.

6. The thing is now we have time but we can’t really spend it how we want to.

7. Focaccia. Flour, salt, yeast, water. Nourishment. Gratitude that I’ve learned how to make so much with my own hands. I’ve learned how to make magic. “Kitchen Alchemy.” Whose words are those?

8. I walk back into the yard to find a patch of sun. The smell of orange blossoms and lemon blossoms. The buzz of the bees. The olive tree is dying. When did the oregano die? I’ve missed so much.

9. I ask him what the day is. He says it’s March 17th. He says that it’s funny, that he hadn’t even heard anyone say “St. Patrick’s Day” today. I laugh. It’s true. Nothing is the same.

10. I giggle. Never again use the word “funky” to describe a wine.

11. Hot bath. Needed this. What day is it even?

Ten.Nine Hundred & Eighty-Six

1. Just act like everything is mostly normal. I don’t think I can sleep much longer anyway.

2. Coffee. Bacon. Morning pages. Still so quiet. The bonus of breaks: later bedtimes which lead to later wake-up times which mean a longer stretch of quiet in the mornings for me.

3. Adjust the agenda.

4. Call from a friend. We toss around ideas on how to pivot based on the circumstances. He reminds me sometimes it’s best to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. Show the value. (But also, so tired of trying to prove value.)

5. Outlines.

6. Idris has it.

7. The email says there will be a press conference about a “shelter in place” order. I read the names of the six counties. Alameda and Contra Costa are on the list. Of course they are. I knew they would be. Pivot again.

8. Our Resistance Served family trying to pull together a virtual happy hour. I love it. I love them. I’m sad to not be in New Orleans reliving some of those moments.

9. I talk to Dad and Mom and Brother and Nieces.

10. I tell her it’s my worst spring break too. Do you think I want to be stuck here?

11. I should really go get those lemons off the tree.

12. I know the answer isn’t what he wanted to hear but it is the truth. And I remind him that both feelings and both truths can exist at the same time. Neither is wrong or bad, they just are. And I feel my whole body lighten in just being able to finally say that.

13. Not the last bottle of Eric’s.

Ten.Nine Hundred & Eighty-Five

1. Light poking through the slats. It’s way later than I think.

2. Slight chill in the air. Gray skies. A breeze. Still feeling unsettled.

3. Coffee. Morning pages. Get the mind right. Just get your mind right.

4. Books in bed. The sound of the dryer spinning and spinning and spinning. More coffee.

5. She asks to play with friends. I say no. Blame it on social distancing. Also, let’s just all have a quiet day at home. We need to learn how to be okay with being alone.

6. I get the clay and some paint, miniature trees. If nothing else, at least she has some supplies to keep her busy over break. I stop at Trader Joe’s before we head home. I just need flowers.

7. They’ve shut us down. I had a feeling this would happen. Worry. But then, this could give us the time and space to create new ways of doing things.

8. Too many ideas.

9. Cautiously optimistic.

10. “Don’t be afraid of who you are.”