Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventy-One
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Night sweats at 1:00 am.
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3:30 am.
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Maybe it’s the full moon. Thirteen today.
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He runs up to tell me that my cocktail is on the front page of Apple news. That’s a way to start the morning.
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Frost on the course. Sun turning the burned trees gold.
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Double the batter to make three layers instead of two. Lots more strawberries. How do I still not have a cake stand?
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I tell her that the store looks different. She says it’s because she doesn’t own it anymore. This makes me sad. I can’t remember what I bought last time, but I remember the door being dark and full. A book store for book lovers, not book readers. I want the old store back.
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Overwhelmed by its beauty. I want to touch every little thing. I want to see every little thing. I tell her that the store is so beautiful it makes me want to cry. Which is something that probably sounded strange. But you can feel that this is a space of an artist. I want to go back.
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There is potential here.
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Giggles around the table. Thirteen. Sushi. Strawberry torte for dessert. Thirteen.
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The moon and her stars. I am a star. The star is me. Everything is one.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Seventy
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In the dream, she explains to me that they only spend time reviewing this set of work. Everything is material, but it’s not the meat of the work.
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Dentist day. Ugh.
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“Stop touching the computer, and get your shoes on!” I shouldn’t have to yell on vacation.
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A young girl sits down across from me and she tilts her head to read the spine of my book. I want to ask her what she likes to read, but maybe that’s weird coming from a stranger in a mask.
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No Beyblade talk yet.
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He will be thirteen tomorrow. Thirteen.
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I write the doctor a note. We need a more holistic view, is what I say.
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Big white moon through the silhouette of bare branches.
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The conversation soothes me.
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What I really want is a glass of 2018 Heitz Quartz Creek Chardonnay. Those three bottles went so quickly.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Nine
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Still so dark.
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Break down the last bit of evidence. Recycling center sometime this week.
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Trying not to fret about the passing of the days. This panic in the body that I get when I feel like time is running out.
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It’s chillier than I thought it would be but there is still a little line at The Station. There are still men standing in the parking lot, hoping for a little bit of work on a Sunday.
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For the first time in a long time, finding joy in meal planning.
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More Beyblades. This feels like the time when the oldest started playing Minecraft and wanted to explain every little thing to me. All of the talking.
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I am getting to the age where I just don’t care to learn new social media platforms.
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The questions aren’t easy, but they are necessary. And we always feel much better once we do it.
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They really are so funny.
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So much prep, but it’s so good: Vietnamese Lemongrass Beef and Noodle Salad with Pax Chenin Blanc.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Eight
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In the dream, I am packing to go somewhere.
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Should I even take that writing course? I haven’t written in two days. Will I be able to keep up? Thirty pages.
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Still so dark. More rain?
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So quiet. They are either still sleeping or already on the electronics.
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“…’Because they don’t know how beautiful it is to be colored’…” - Walter Mosley
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Nope. There’s just no way. Without bag number two, I can’t complete it. So much for this project. Maybe we can do the Razorcrest together.
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OMG beyblades.
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You always feel the heat at this spot; making the left onto the Knoll where the sun is bursting through the trees and you feel its warmth on your back as you head up the next incline.
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Grandma sees the dirty room while they are on FaceTime and makes him clean it up and then show her the completed result. I laugh. But he does it, and I love that he respects her enough to actually do it.
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Listing only ten goals feels limiting. There is so much I want to do.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Seven
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So dark.
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He thinks the kids are awake; I tell him it’s the owl. They are always so loud in the morning.
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He is always the first one ready to go.
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I want something different next time. But I don’t know what that looks like yet.
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Nothing to make but creamed chard and baked potatoes to go with the prime rib. Barolo tonight?
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I just really hope it works.
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The sound of the rain. It has a different tone up here in the woods; softer, maybe.
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I sit on the floor and build a forgotten Lego set from someone’s birthday last year.
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That feeling that time is running out.
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Someone in the neighborhood has their fireplace going and it smells sweet, like ham.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Six
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It just doens’t feel like Christmas Eve.
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Dressed as if I have somewhere to go.
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The thing about the press is that I always feel like I’m waiting.
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We scheduled 3.5 hours for our call, but clock out at 5. But that’s really not that surprising.
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Special sauce dripping down the side of my hand.
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“an epic sense of possibility.”
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Tiny ripples in the water. The willow continues to lose its leaves.
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Yeah, the bread is definitely good.
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Home Alone. It’s still a good movie when you only watch it once a year.
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Oh my god, it’s so late. Champagne and wrapping while watching Schitt’s Creek. Really underestimated how much time it would take.
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Next year will be different.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Five
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Walter Mosley says three hours, but I’ve only got one. I’ll use it.
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“Slow, but that’s to be expected.”
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Her face. Her smile. I miss being in the same room with her.
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The pad isn’t working, it keeps making that noise. She comes through and swipes a $100 gift card. We think she’s just trying to test the machine. She says, “there you go.” “What? What?” “Secret Santa!” I say “thank you” - at least I think I’m saying thank you. That has to be the best job of the day. Just walking around giving people free groceries. Especially in a time like this.
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I take the boules out of the oven. They have risen! And perfectly brown. I hope they are done on the inside.
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I have to make two trips, one for this side of the circle and another for the other parts of the neighborhood. He says I should drive, but I need the fresh air.
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As I make my way down the hill, the light of late afternoon is shining on the vineyards in the valley below. There are a blue sky and golden sun, the craggy mountains and hillsides, and the naked vines. This was still a good idea.
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Gratitude.
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Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and it doesn’t feel like it. But nothing these days feels normal.
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Back to Schitt’s Creek.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Four
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I slip my feet into the warm slippers before heading downstairs to the cold floor.
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The electricity bill is going to be ridiculous.
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Dairy-free yogurt for the win.
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Coffee in hand, listening to the water below. Coyote. It looks healthy and strong as it trots along the trail. Remember who was here first.
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Well. Demolition has begun.
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I spread the cards before me. Self-acceptance. Is this a lifelong process?
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The office is done. One more box down.
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Laundry. A bowl of popcorn. Twilight Zone. Nap. Masterclass with Walter Mosley.
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“Even as a child she had lived her own small life within herself. At a very early period she had apprehended instinctively the dual life - that outward existence which conforms, the inward life which questions.” - Kate Chopin, “The Awakening”
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Cautiously optimistic.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Three
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Monday energy.
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Journal. Leftover brussels sprouts salad and asparagus. Coffee. I really need to do better with breakfast.
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She says the blood pressure medicine may relax the blood vessels and help with the circulation so that the fingers and toes don’t go numb. I’m not sure about it. I tell her to go ahead and write the script.
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But my toes are really cold. Maybe I just need thicker socks.
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I like this one.
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The way the light hits you right in the face as you come around the curve.
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Too much screen time.
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I make a list of all the things.
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Back in my feelings about it.
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Everything is annoying to me. And that’s my problem.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-Two
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Waiting for the light.
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Soup for breakfast. A little slice of Italian batard with salted butter. I’m goin to learn how to make baguettes this break. I think.
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We need a plan.
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Curled up in the chair watching the fog and the light, finishing the last few pages of “The Awakening.”
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We work together to rearrange his room so that his monitor doesn’t get glare when he’s gaming. I am jealous of all the light.
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We lost the Pokemon cards.
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I feel my anxiety shoot up. I am hot with anxiety and anger. Which is always what happens when I go against my nature.
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I come to the Zoom for the laughs and because I enjoy getting to know my aunts and uncles as an adult. Next week I’ll start adding to the conversation.
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Dog, Prairie Dog, Whale, Jaguar, Snake, Lynx, Otter, Beaver, Dragonfly.
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“Your success going forward rests on you changing the way that you think about and speak to yourself. You’ve come too far to lose your place in your future because of a crippling refusal to change your mind, words. Daughter, be free of fear…”
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty-One
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1:45 am. How much longer can I toss and turn.
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I can see the light slipping through the shutters. Success.
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So much to do. Always.
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In one of the packages I discover the Medicine Cards. I set the box outside of the garage door. More smells of petrichor. As hard as the last few months have been, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
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The Target feels busy but that’s only because it’s so small. There’s only a week until Christmas and we don’t even have to wait to check out. Strange. Nothing feels the same.
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Blue sky, thin clouds, bright sun.
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Chani’s got a new app!
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Charcuterie board and half a glass of Chardonnay for lunch in front of the fire.
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I want children like their children. Children who still want to look for the elf when they’re a senior in college. They’re all just really good kids. They’re a really good family. I want that.
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Broccoli and cheddar soup and roasted chicken. Pax Syrah. Charlie Brown Christmas. Lots of laughs. These kids.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Sixty
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Sigh.
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Naysayer coffee. Green juice. Orange juice. I fry up the rest of the breakfast sausage and the last few pieces of bacon.
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Wobbly. Can’t seem to find my balance even though I’m looking at the trees.
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I actually really enjoy presenting. Had forgotten that.
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There are a lot of people but everyone is doing their best to be as socially distant as possible.
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I could really not eat Gott’s for 90 days. Maybe that should be a new goal.
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We really need to start wrapping.
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T-shirts So many things to learn. 2021 is going to be amazing.
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Southside fried chicken, potato salad, asparagus, biscuits, chocolate chip cookies.
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Gratitude.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Nine
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I remind myself that if I can hear myself having a conversation in my head, then I am awake.
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No coffee. I check the front door to see if maybe we missed the delivery by accident. Nothing.
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We drive down to The Station. I cave and get myself a ham and cheese croissant.
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I am running out of time.
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The way the earth and air look and smell after the rain.
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I thank them, tell them that these are the best weeks I’ve had in a long time.
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Virtual retreat kick-off.
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I want to like them more than I do.
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So much warmer when you’re closer to the fire. I will need to buy a thick sheepskin to rest on.
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I need to send thirty pages of my writing and “To Reach Japan,” by Alice Munro. Thirty pages. That’s just six long forms. I can do that.
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I keep trying to turn the handle but it’s gone as far as it can possibly go.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Eight
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I can feel it in my jaw.
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I check the front door to see if UPS happened to have come by after fell asleep. Nothing. No coffee.
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The cappuccino just isn’t doing it.
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“She’s wrong,” I say. “These donuts are delicious.”
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I missed it. Oh, Google maps.
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But really, the cutest baby.
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I can tell by the way she’s talking she’s young and not very experienced.
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Shut down again. But we knew it was coming.
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Fear.
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Grinding.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Seven
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Weird flashes coming from his phone. I flip mine over to see if there’s some kind of emergency alert I should see.
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I use the Bialetti for the last bit of coffee.
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What are the necessary elements? Oxygen, Heat, and Fuel.
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“I left him the night of our eighth date when he came back to bed with a cookbook and started to flip through its pages. “I want to make you dinner,” is what he said. His eyes were green and sharp and bright. Parts of his ivory-skinned body still flush from touch. I quietly pretended to listen, but all I could hear was Blackbird fly, blackbird fly.”
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I miss the free write, she asks me to read the memory prompt.
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She’s right; there is more here. Maybe I can write an entire book.
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I thank her for being so patient. All these years later, and it finally clicks.
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Perfection isn’t required.
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He asks to snuggle and watch “Nailed It.” I agree.
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Pax Chenin Blanc in front of the fire. Can I just hold on to this?
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Six
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Okay. Not that early. Not that late.
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Coffee and finalizing projects.
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I drink coffee and fry bacon while trying to squeeze in a few pages of Kate Chopin.
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She sends me a text about the new moon. I feel it all.
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It’s as if the fog swims up and down the course.
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A photo underneath the willow tree would be amazing.
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I take a break and ride with him to pick up the children from school. The littlest gets in first and shows us the coupon book he made for his older sister. “Breakfast in bed. (Is toast ok?)”
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“One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was from a horse master. He told me to go slow to go fast. I think that applies to everything in life. We live as though there aren't enough hours in the day but if we do each thing calmly and carefully we will get it done quicker and with much less stress.” - Viggo Mortensen
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He shows me how to build a fire of my own.
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Almost.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Five
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The sound of rain. And voices. I wander around to find the source. One tv turned up really loud and one 12 year-old awake at 4:00 am watching it.
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Coffee, quiet, rain. Just need a fire.
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Place an order for delivery instead.
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Early morning chat with a familiar face.
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Laundry. “Rebecca.” The book is probably better.
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I pack the pork butt in sugar, brown sugar, and salt for tomorrow’s dinner. We opt for a simple pho for tonight.
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Surprised, but not surprised.
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The Pattern.
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'I lost sight of something. I came in search of it. Having found it, I'm going home.' - Ross Poldark
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After the storm.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Four
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Let’s go beauty hunting today.
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Hydrate.
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I remember the date and realize that we do actually need to leave the house today. Only two weeks before Christmas. And there is wine to pick up.
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Fog clinging to the hillside.
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Every yellow leaf looks like it’s yelling.
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Bahn mi.
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I think I’ve done all that I can do.
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The mail truck reminds me that I need to return those letters. I walk back outside and walk up the hill towards the row of boxes. Everything is wet. The air smells sweet and earthy and alive.
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Feet by the fire.
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I miss them. I really miss them. I miss everyone.
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Three
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How do you hold on to this energy?
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Wants: coffee, creativity, sunshine, yoga with Jayne, a clean house, ocean views.
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Why do I hear the beeping of a truck backing up at 5:55 am. They are most certainly violating some kind of noise ordinance.
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Let’s just get it done and over with.
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My arms feel week. Fridays are the only days I seem to look up.
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“It’s nice up here,” he says as he starts to toss wood from the back of the truck. “It is. I needed the quiet. It’s just very peaceful.”
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We carry the wood down the stairs and stack it. I imagine us at some point in the future doing the same thing but on another piece of land north of here, maybe closer to the coast.
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Why isn’t anyone doing their homework?
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Wine plus fire plus Christmas lights.
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So much. Too much. Just enough?
Ten.One Thousand, Two Hundred & Fifty-Three
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Why is he already up?
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Dream Big Darling.
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I am fretting over this piece. I start and stop and start again. I remember that she said we can make this experience whatever we want it to be. So I pick an old piece and work through it again. Adding and subtracting. With even more distance the story feels different.
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Just need to finish.
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Cold toes. The downside of being next to the windows all day.
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Cleaning did not get done. This irritates me.
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Daily walk. The jackhammer is so loud. These trucks are from Indiana. I wonder how long they’ve been away from their family.
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Release. Validation. Not that I should have needed more validation but now I know I’m on the right track.
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“Relax the hold of darkness and be at cause.”
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I find the images and send them off. I tell him that I can’t decide if I want to return. I can return, but with boundaries. I can return if I remember why I am there in the first place.
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I ask him to drive me to the store and buy me flowers.
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It’s supposed to rain this weekend. And the power is supposed to be shut off on Saturday. I’m looking forward to the slowdown.
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Gott’s.
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I want to go to bed but they are talking to us, really talking to us, and they are beautiful and funny and their minds are expanding. It’s wild.