Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Four

1. This week’s schedule is a little off.

2. I slide the foundation onto my face. I haven’t worn make-up in 100-and-something days. It feels very unnecessary and yet, what is the protocol these days? You know what? Nothing is ever going to be the same. I can let this go.

3. Where is the time going?

4. This one looks particularly old. I think, just like a human being, the snails show their age. The older, bigger ones have darkers shells and their bodies are darker, more opaque.

5. Cold coffee. I keep drinking it.

6. Kale caesar.

7. The ceilings are tall and the walls are a rough wood panelling and I didn’t think I would like it, but I absolutely love it. A tree house. The treehouse. But maybe it’s not quite right for the children.

8. The smell of rosemary on a gentle breeze.

9. This one thing could be the deal-breaker.

10. There is still so much to learn. And that is what’s so exciting.

11. What can I do? I can cook. I prep slowly. Because sometimes dinner is just going to be at 7:30 no matter how hard you try to keep your routine. The slow chopping, the flipping of the bacon, the shredding of the cheese—all of this grounds me.

12. I lean my head against the glass, feel the tiny bumps on my shoulders that keep spreading down to my elbows. Stress? Diet? A combination of both?

13. I don’t want to break the streak.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Three

1. I don’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember is telling him that he needed to clean his room before I bought another remote. The remote didn’t walk away. 

2. Lists. 

3. What else is required? Courage.

4. Grits. Sugar and butter. Maybe, one day, he will not be allergic anymore, and I can get back to making shrimp and grits. 

5. I check again and again to make sure I’m not missing anything. FOMO. 

6. But what am I going to wear tomorrow? 

7. I take a break and step outside. I keep my feet bare. I like to feel the heat of the concrete. It is quiet. 

8. But why is he saying it like I didn’t say it five weeks ago? 

9. We open up the 2019 Trois Noix Chardonnay. The first thing we both say is “acid.” Acid is everything. Not everything, but one of the most important things. 

10. I make her cry, and I don’t mean to make people cry. But the tears are the good kind of tears, I hope.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-Two

1. I still have trouble remembering the days.

2. Birdsong.

3. There is a predictable rhythm to my work at the moment that is satisfying.

4. I know I am working slower than normal because I’m trying to listen so closely to what is being said. But what they are saying is so important and so necessary to hear.

5. There’s that sharp pain in my left shoulder again. Too much sitting in front of the screen.

6. I tell her she needs to drop a zero.

7. He asks me if I want to go for a ride. Yes. I have to take a break. I’ve been working for 5 hours straight already.

8. When you finally meet someone face-to-face - virtually - and you talk like you’ve known each other for years. But then you remember that you indeed have known one another for years. The internet is a strange place.

9. I remind him that when you’re stressed out and need to do a lot of things that you have to take care of yourself. Food is fuel and I need a lot of it. So, yes. I need a real vegetable with this chicken.

10. I need to rest.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety-One

1. I turn my head towards the window to look for the light.

2. What is happening?

3. Peach. Lemon bar. Bacon. Scrambled egg. Coffee.

4. I’m just procrastinating.

5. Softer.

6. The day is getting away from me.

7. One perfectly red Beefsteak tomato.

8. This is going to be good. Really good. Really, really good.

9. I settle myself on the bleachers and squint in the sun. I laugh at him. I am grateful for him and the way he manages the girls. For her first time playing sports, I am glad he is her coach.

10. Pizza. Again. Raft Weed Farms Syrah. 2014 Trois Noix Cabernet Sauvignon. Sun reflecting off the window into my eye. He reminds me that we always manage to do things that people tell us we can’t do.

11. They took it well.

Ten.One Thousand & Ninety

1. There will be duck today.

2. Waffles with butter and some plum jam. Coffee. Water.

3. I didn’t plan well enough for today.

4. He asks me if I want to go for a ride, and I agree to come along because I really shouldn’t be working today. Not on this. Not on my birthday.

5. Zooming in the car.

6. I feel like I should be more excited than I am.

7. The piece is written, but it’s not quite there. I send it to her anyway. It’s just not as dramatic as the first one. But it’s done. We still

8. This conversation feels very adult. But it’s good to be thinking this far ahead.

9. This one smells like smoked meat. This one smells like a can of black olives. This one smells like tar. Wild.

10. He asks me why I’m not more excited. I tell him that I just am not sure exactly what’s going on. I’m tired. I’m in shock. I’m not sure how I feel.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Nine

1. Today is a new day.

2. Out of coffee. Nespresso, it is. The apple fritter is underdone.

3. Computer and notes outside. I procrastinate by tip-toeing around the snails to water the plants. They cut back the birds of paradise, and they are already sprouting again.

4. I need to get back to the ocean.

5. I'm not sure how one could be missing their softball clothes when one hasn't worn them in 100 days. Like, where else could they be?

6. I sit on the grass in the shade and write. Prickly. Sunshine and blue skies. They cheer each other on. I had forgotten how sweet this little team is.

7. "I like Brentwood, but it's starting to get a little uppity."

8. All of this sunshine. The colors seem so vibrant today.

9. Never underestimate the power of a long drive and a loud stereo. "I found solace in the strangest place/Way in the back of my mind/I saw my life in a stranger's face/And it was mine…"

10. Table full of wine, a familiar face.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Eight

1. I know I’m awake, but I don’t want to get up.

2. Weight.

3. Waiting.

4. Double-check to make sure everything is how it’s supposed to be.

5. Think outside of the box. Know what you can and can’t control.

6. I just don’t feel it, though.

7. When you’re halfway through stuffing the blanket inside of the duvet cover and then realize that the duvet cover is inside out, but you’ve already come too far to start all over again.

8. I can see it on his face. I begin to wonder if this was the right choice. If we hadn’t moved, he’d still have his job. Or, if we hadn’t moved and he had lost his job, at least our network would have been stronger, and maybe we could have figured it out. At least I’d have someone to talk to about all of this. No. This is where we belong. It hasn’t even been two years yet. Good things take time.

9. Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” Suddenly I’m back at Wake Forest in the dimly lit DKE house, or the Sigma Pi lounge, or the Sigma Chi lounge. Gray New Balance and denim skirts and Dave Matthew’s Band in her late 90s Lexus SUV. Driving alone with tears in my eyes up and down Silas Creek Parkway. Leaving.

10. We’ll just start again tomorrow. We can do hard things.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Seven

1. Water.

2. I should probably listen again.

3. Cool breeze, a lump of snails in the grass, wondering how I can make my way across the yard to water the vegetables without smashing my friends.

4. No one covered the lemon bars, and now they are dried out. I nibble on a piece of the cookie crust anyway.

5. Forty years of experience in Black excellence.

6. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem.

7. We talk about the gift of being in spaces that reflect your own experiences, how you feel more like yourself.

8. Sweat.

9. He’s probably paced his way to 10,000 steps.

10. Always so good to see her face. The conversation is too short, but there is still next week.

11. He keeps asking me what I want. I think I’m getting closer to the answer.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Six

1. There’s not much left.

2. Only a dull pulse remains from last night’s migraine. I just need to get through today.

3. What is my body telling me?

4. We head over the hills. Cows. I miss the cows and the thin white poles of the turbines.

5. The vineyards do make me happy. Everything is vibrant and green. I take pictures of leaves and grape clusters and the buildings, the roses in bloom. More of this, please.

6. We stop for gas. On the back of his motorcycle jacket is a Confederate flag. The jacket appears to be new.

7. Edits.

8. The question for which I have no answer.

9. She makes me smile. Her and her red hair and her energy.

10. Little Nora and Big Nora. I can still understand 2-year-olds. Plans for a socially distant lunch.

11. I confess to him that the emotions behind all of this stem from my fears and lack of confidence. “Imposter Syndrome,” she said. The inner work is never done.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Five

1. It feels like Friday, not like Tuesday. This is going to feel like a long week.

2. I find the tiniest one. It is active, reaching up and over the blades of grass to find the right path.

3. Cool air.

4. English muffin with butter and the plum jam. Perfection. I am quite proud of myself.

5. I double check to make sure that I am not missing anything important.

6. Headache. I try to squint it away.

7. She tells me that I need to water it. It’s already there, it just needs attention.

8. I realize that I haven’t really had a break from work since October. What, exactly, am I waiting for?

9. I am out of breath from dodging behind corners. She sees me laughing. “It’s good to be a kid,” she says. 10-year-old wisdom.

10. I can tell it was worth it.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Four

1. Monday. Here you are.

2. I put my feet in the slippers and make my way over to the plants as safely as possible. Stepping on a slug is inevitable. But I just want to make sure I don’t step on a snail. I’ve already been traumatized by the loud crunch beneath my feet too many times.

3. I sit at the desk and make a plan for the day.

4. He takes over the office. I didn’t plan for this.

5. Plums and peaches and apricots and a bottle of wine on the floor. I should work on my styling.

6. Therese Nelson in conversation with Monica White.

7. He says that nothing happens unless women are involved. That two men talking can’t get anything done. Women do the work.

8. No focus.

9. Finally, we get to talk.

10. I taste the jam: a little tart, a little sweet. I pour a little into a small jar for the winemaker.

11. Fish tacos with pico de gallo and crema. The only way they could taste better is if I made the tortilla myself.

12. I tell her I wish I could carry her in my pocket to be my hype woman.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Three

1. Dry.

2. I dip the spoon into the pot of the jam and taste. I imagine it drizzled over pancakes or a small bowl of vanilla ice cream.

3. Coffee and condition.

4. “Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” ― Toni Morrison, Beloved

5. Shrinkage. It’s just shrinkage.

6. I try to piece together the transcript while I listen to her talk. “Are you resting?”

7. The dog is barking and whining and sounds miserable. They yell at it to stop barking in between laughs. I just want to be outside.

8. The heat makes me weary. It also makes me feel alive.

9. The pasta sheets don’t look wide enough to make the ravioli. He’s removing the croutons and the focaccia from the oven. I still need to whisk and egg yolk and some parmesan into the dressing.

10. I think this is the last round of boil/simmer/cool.

11. Is it necessary?

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Two

1. I mean. I tried to sleep in.

2. I watch the light change as the minutes pass.

3. I can tell by the color of the light that it will be hot again today. Must get out and water the plants.

4. I decide I ought to take my advice, move slowly through today.

5. What do I want? What do I want? I repeat the question in my head as I pit the plums, cover them with sugar, stir.

6. Am I breathing?

7. I ride with him to pick up the CSA and the wine. I just need to get out of the house. I stare at Mt.Diablo, the yellow-brown hills that rest below it. I spot a field of head-trained vines, then another.

8. I need more of an escape.

9. Take-out because I just don’t have the energy.

10. Make room for the unimaginable.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-One

1. Today’s the day.

2. I check everything to make sure it’s ready and scheduled. My brain has just been so foggy this week. Work is done.

3. Necessary conversations. They were still kind of as awkward as I expected them to be. I wonder, for myself, when it could feel like old times again. But maybe there is no such thing as going back to how it used to be. Everything is changing, has changed. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

4. I can’t help but sing when I hear the song.

5. Harmony over balance. The real definition of lynching and why you should know it. The relationship the wine industry has with white supremacy. Dr. Cadet shook us in the ways we needed.

6. Hungry but not hungry. Wanting to eat but only able to eat a few bites at a time. I haven’t been able to eat all week.

7. Sabering complete.

8. The best conversations always happen during the after-party.

9. We’ve got to learn to use our voice. To not be afraid of using our voice. And we need to name what we see when we see it.

10. And then we dance.

11. Mentally, emotionally, physically tired. I lay on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. This weekend I just need to dream and get clear.

12. But really, what we were able to do in only two weeks. So much love for Chevonne and Lindsay and Roxy. Thank you to Dr. Cadet, Julia Coney, Kisira Hill, Jimmie Herrod, all the attendees, the people who reshared all the posters, and the images and the links. Thank you to the folks who came wanting to listen and learn.

13. And that’s just it. This is what wine is supposed to do: bring people together.

Ten.One Thousand & Eighty

1. Today. But tomorrow.

2. Illy in the french press. Two extra scoops just in case.

3. Count down the hours.

4. But this is what we need: community, someone who understands our perspective, someone who is willing to listen.

5. I don’t think I’m the best interviewer, but I do enjoy these conversations. I look forward to writing this. Also, I think she and I could be friends in real life.

6. Funny.

7. I look for more baby watermelons. Half-hearted hand pollination means there are two so far. I should probably give more of an effort.

8. She is the first person I’ve seen that’s not directly related to me. We stand on the sidewalk under the shade of a tree, catching up, trying to understand what’s going on. I tell her that the only place I’ve ever worn my mask is to pick up my CSA. I feel like I need to yell. All of this is so strange.

9. I listen to the song over and over again.

10. Just look at how far we’ve come.

Ten.One Thousand & Seventy-Nine

1. Forgot coffee again.

2. It ceases to be fun when it is no longer a challenge. I’d rather focus on more complex and nuanced issues.

3. What is the next thing?

4. Can’t focus. Can’t focus. Focusing on the wrong thing.

5. But this is exactly what I want.

6. He tells me that I am not myself, that I need to get back to my practices. He means that I need to meditate. He means that I am the one he calls a buddha. Where is my compassion? I am just angry, and there is a reason for that anger. But he is right. I can’t let it consume me.

7. I’ve been sitting here for too long. I need to stop. But I also want just to be done.

8. Pain.

9. Miso butter on steak.

10. “Are you navigating towards power, or are you realizing you are powerful?” - Ashtin Berry

Ten.One Thousand & Seventy-Eight

1. Warmer than I’d like it to be.

2. Intention: hammock after lunch.

3. Still can’t focus.

4. They’re back with the chainsaws. What more is there to remove?

5. I plug in the Nespresso and think back to the day we opened up the box at the old house, a surprise gift from my sister-in-law. I am not so good at giving gifts. It feels like a talent that I have not been able to acquire.

6. What is the source of the mental fog? The cumulative effects of all that is occurring around me? I need to take a break.

7. I just want to see the ocean.

8. I tell them that sometimes I wish I was still just a stay-at-home mom. Not just. Actually, yes. Just a stay-at-home mom. Because somehow, I haven’t been able to figure out how to shift everything to where it feels harmonious.

9. She asks me what I think it is that’s helped me navigate, and it’s just all the years of my self-work, all the years of reading books and learning on my own, that gave me the tools to do this now.

10. It’s like standing in the middle of a room full of plates spinning on tall thin rods and watching them all crash to the ground, one at a time.

11. But I’m not a very patient person.

Ten.One Thousand & Seventy-Seven

1. Monday.

2. No appetite. I grab an apple and head out to see the snails.

3. Coffee. Start early.

4. I begin to remember things about myself.

5. Watching a wild idea take off with such little time to prepare. There is magic in just doing the thing.

6. He asks me how I’m not also angry. I’ve been really angry for the last two weeks. I don’t have the energy to display anger any more. I do, however, feel on the verge of tears. I just lean against the wall and say, “I can’t think right now.”

7. Mother guilt. I think of how we moved and how I started working almost right away and how this was the first school year where I worked away from home most of the days and how maybe that wasn’t such a good idea for my family because what it meant was that I wasn’t there to help foster the connections we all need after such a big transition.

8. Did I eat lunch?

9. Some of the empanadas split open. She tells me I might have had air bubbles. She would know since she watches all the baking shows.

10. He’s so much happier after baseball. If he could play all day he would be just fine. There is no one to play with. I have no one to play with. How do I make him understand that I am just as lonely too?

11. Her face and her laugh. Good medicine for today.

Ten.One Thousand & Seventy-Six

1. Deep inhale. Bird song.

2. I watch the littlest snail slide over thick blades of grass, its translucent body stretching, and gliding.

3. A bowl of Apple Jacks so I can drink the coffee before the IG live.

4. Why am I feeling panicked all of a sudden?

5. I ask him if everything I said made sense because I can never remember anything I say after I do these kinds of things.

6. I’m still not sure.

7. The masks came. They are excited to know that their grandma made them. I look at myself in the mirror, a big swatch of navy fabric covering half of my face. I am a stranger to myself.

8. Miso glazed salmon. Overcooked but delicious still.

9. This is all very helpful.

10. Moving squares.

Ten.One Thousand & Seventy-Five

1. No alarm. Still too early.

2. Shivering trees.

3. All the baby snails.

4. Coffee and the latest issue of Bon Appetit. I see a familiar face, and then another, and another. Their faces make me smile.

5. I remind her that it’s hard enough to be a mother, let alone a Black mother. So just do what you need to do.

6. She asks us for our name and walks away. Then she comes back and says that it’s nice to put a face with the name from Instagram finally. I giggle a bit. He tells her that we love them, their farm.

7. The email says she came to my blog because she was in an online writing class through Seattle’s Hugo House, and the instructor shared me and my blog with them and that they wrote their own 10 Things. And then I wonder if on the new blog I remembered a footnote about the 10 Things and how I started writing. And then I wonder if I should care that people are teaching. And, should I be excited that an Assistant Professor of Creative Writing liked my words so much that she felt compelled to write to me?

8. Craving Boont Corner cheese.

9. Love Drunk Rosé.

10. I’ve always had this dream.