Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Eight
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In the dream, we win our first game. I double over in disbelief.
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So, so cold.
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Sticking your head in the sand only makes things worse in the end.
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But this sunrise.
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Quickly eat the quiche before the office fills.
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Best if I just keep myself planted here even without the double screens and wireless mouse.
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How do we make this work?
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We start with 4 and end with 2.
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I sit in the gym after they leave and look up at the lights. The work is to move away from a state of self-pity, away from the fear of disappointing anyone, and remembering the core philosophies.
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I reread the plot of Hoosiers on Wikipedia.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Seven
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Coldest morning yet.
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I find it almost humorous how different the responses are to the same question when they are coming from different mouths.
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I am the first one in. Only quiet. I open the window to let in a little bit of fresh air. The vines that run up the hill are changing colors. It is a beautiful view. A beautiful morning.
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I sneak downstairs to have a more private conversation because a conversation must be had.
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I find the comment funny but also incredibly immature.
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If I could just have fewer interruptions in my day.
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I sit on the bench and staple the papers together. How many will there be? I am almost certain I already know my final count.
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Would this materially change the outcome of my season? No. If not, then what is the best decision for the team? How can I make this work?
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Less light but more work.
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I crawl beneath the weighted blanket and tell him that I feel like I’m being taken advantage of.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Six
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Kind of just want to curl back into bed.
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Probably should go ahead and have the coffee.
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I refuse to commit to it without a confirmed resolution.
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I keep talking and talking and my mouth gets drier and drier.
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I have no feelings either way.
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It’s just that there are so many interruptions.
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Today. Let’s see what happens today.
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He wasn’t kidding when he said she didn’t speak any English. We know enough to muddle through introductions. I find one of my players to translate for me. And then I make a mental note to learn a few phrases in Spanish.
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Small but mighty. I can’t really ask for more than that.
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Finally, a real dinner, all together at the table.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Five
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I hear her alarm go off. Good.
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I lose track of time and I haven’t checked in on her. We need to leave in 2 minutes, she is still in her pajamas, digging clothes out of the dryer. We are not even close to being ready.
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The hours are going by fast and I am not sure I am accomplishing anything.
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That did not go as planned.
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More and more yellow on the leaves.
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The thing is that we may talk a lot, but we do solve problems.
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Exactly what I predicted which is still not enough.
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Might be my least favorite day of the year.
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We decide to stay in. There is no need for us to walk around in the cold. Beer and wine and more cornbread.
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Tomorrow.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Four
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That is sleeping in. I need one more day of this.
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It shouldn’t be this hard.
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“If it’s filled with a bunch of 5-year-olds, I’m gonna leave.”
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We stop on the side of the road. He tells us that there’s supposed to be a garage sale here. Here at the house I’ve been oggling for two years.
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A old gravity-fed press in the barn. Quite possibly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
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Giant protractor. An old picking bin. A small wine barrel. Wooden boxes. A set of 8 glasses that match some given to us years and years ago.
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He tells me that it’s already sold. I imagine how it will all be torn down. No respect for the history it holds.
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Shower.
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I intended to do more but I’m too tired.
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Tired and hungry.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Three
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Oh, shoot.
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First fire of the season. The sound and the smell of it.
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He is awfully agreeable this morning and that makes it all pretty easy.
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Last game.
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I keep moving toward the sun to stay warm but the sun is setting and there is no way to escape the chill.
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Turns out, if you call him and he answers he will usually do what you say. They get bold when the communication is via text.
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She stops to take a picture of the moon as we make our way back toward the car. The sky is pink and tan and powder blue and soft. Hazy from a prescribed burn on the other side of the mountains.
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Hot chili. Forgot the sugar in the cornbread.
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But really, who has a birthday party that goes this late into the night?
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Turning off the alarms.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-Two
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Not how the day was supposed to go.
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“But here we are.”
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The tender colors of this morning’s sunrise.
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I drive up to the cafeteria, fill up three to-go cups - two with coffee and one half-full of oat milk.
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Cold.
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We really do talk a lot. It’s probably best that she doesn’t live here otherwise we’d never get anything done.
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Everything they are saying is everything I knew they would say and have already said. What is the compromise? How do we get to where we need to be with a sense of ease?
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Yes. I think this is going to be okay.
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The last home game of the year. The coldest game of the year. I will be happy to have my Friday nights back, but I will miss it.
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Proud.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety-One
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Probably should keep the windows closed now.
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Leftover soup for breakfast. Hot lemon water.
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This morning’s sunrise and the softness of the sky and the way the leaves on the vines are changing.
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This meeting is never going to end.
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We made it happen. An escape.
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Bread and butter. Little gems with miso Ceasar dressing and shrimp. Chicken wings. Soft serve with pecan oil.
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Sometimes it’s just about having compassion. But it doesn’t excuse the behavior.
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I had fun. If this was the team, I’d be happy. Not ideal, but still happy. Good energy.
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Sometimes you just can’t capture it in a camera and so just soak it all in - all of the colors and the shapes on the horizon.
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I’ll believe it when I see it.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Ninety
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Ready for mornings with the fireplace aglow.
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Bats.
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Thanksgiving is creeping up, which means Christmas is, too. I am not ready.
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Early. Just me and the quiet. Dark offices. Spilling my half-oat-milk-half-coffee all over my desk. Clickity clack of the keyboard.
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Soft.
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I want it to be better.
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Dare I say what is missing is feminine leadership?
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Window-down weather.
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I count eight today. I will be missing two or three tomorrow. Eight is not enough.
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She says more words to me in those five minutes than I heard all last season and I am shocked. Pleasantly surprised. Maybe everything will be okay afterall.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Nine
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I don’t think I could wake up any earlier than I already am. But I need to wake up earlier than I already am.
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The half-oat milk, half-coffee seems to be doing the trick.
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His cart is still wet and a little dirty. He slides across the entire seat to dry it with his pants. A true gentleman.
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I am sad that I can’t go, but I also need this time alone to do real work.
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“…how come you didn’t tell me?” “I don’t know.”
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The sound of gravel crunching underneath my feet. Little gray lizards scurrying between the rocks. The courts are empty and quiet.
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Sometimes, when you don’t care, you feel a little more free.
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I am excited for her.
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Fewer than yesterday but keeping the faith.
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He’s feeling proud.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Eight
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Exactly what I expected.
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No, this won’t work.
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I keep looking at the calendar for the day and there is barely any room to breathe. The entire week is like this and I’m not happy about it.
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I am not entirely sure what to name the feeling, I just know I haven’t felt it in a long time. I wish I felt it more.
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I just say exactly what I want because otherwise, how else will I get it?
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Gratitudes for exactly this.
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I hear the nervousness in my voice. Dare I say it almost sounds like embarrassment?
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I keep trying to move slowly toward the door.
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Never enough time.
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I am nervous but trying not to show it.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Seven
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Better.
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Golden sunrise.
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The spider web in the corner is getting bigger.
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I can’t stop staring at the trees and the light and the green and I hear the woodpeckers knocking on the side of the house.
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“When We Were Birds”
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I should be doing less, but I seem to be doing more.
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The only way out will be if I vision my way toward a new path.
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I am quiet the whole way there and back. My mouth is closed but my mind is on hyperdrive. Sleepy but trying not to fall asleep and be rude.
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Another one bites the dust.
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Remember boundaries.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Six
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Almost time.
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I remove the dried flowers from my desk, stick them into the compost bin. Cool yet humid air. Quiet.
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Too much.
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All of a sudden I am questioning everything.
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What I want to do is not equal to what I should do.
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In the shade, it is incredibly comfortable. I sip slowly from the cup while we chat. I am overdressed for the current moment. I watch him catch a touchdown. I laugh a little. I am sad I have to go.
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Beautiful breeze.
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I hold the waxy candles against my sweater and then realize that’s a mistake.
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“What’s with the water today?”
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“Murder on the Orient Express” I wish I had these kind of sets when I was in high school.
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I needed this today.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Five
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Cold.
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Coffee, emails, cleaning.
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The time is slipping through my fingers.
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I talk to him while I wait for her to come to the office. We’re both excited for the season, the kids, the potential of everything.
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They jump out of the door and scare her. We let the girls play hooky to celebrate.
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Boundary setting.
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It always looks like you’re driving straight into the mountains, these blue-grey shadows on the horizon. It never gets old.
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My least favorite football field.
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Firey sunset.
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Two losses make for a long night.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Four
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This time of year when the sunrise slips through the little v of the valley.
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Not quite as early as I’d like to be.
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She asks me if I’m still not drinking coffee. I tell her no. I tell her that I’m trying to get better at managing my intake: more oat milk, start later, eat a better breakfast first.
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I ask who’s going to do the work. January isn’t that far away.
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Like a thousand cuts.
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I keep thinking I’m really clear about the task at hand but the questions persist.
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I pace in the parking lot, kicking up dust as my feet push the gravel around. I am honest with my thoughts. Clear and direct. I just want clarity. “I don’t care what it is, I just need to know what it is.”
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Somehow, we’ll have to manifest a path forward.
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The loudest game I’ve been to in quite some time. Cross-town rivalry at its finest.
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A later night than usual. Gott’s. Parents with salads and burgers and wine. Girls with fries and milkshakes.
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Gratitudes.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Three
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I keep trying to work myself back into the dream.
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I know what it means.
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These quiet morning drives into town as the sun rises. I do love a winter sky.
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Too hot for pants. t
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Sometimes I over-communicate.
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Feeling a little trapped.
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If she’s on vacation, who am I going to talk to every day?
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Oh, boy. We’re in trouble.
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Exactly an hour.
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“It’s gone a bit wayward.”
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-Two
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I welcome back the dark mornings.
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Today does feel like a coffee kind of day. I grab the white ceramic tumbler and set it on the counter.
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This morning the sky is clear. Just soft blue and hot pink streaks.
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He asks me when he can start practicing driving. I remind him that he will be starting in a parking lot first. Always a parking lot first.
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How do I have a kid almost old enough to drive?
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Superbloom.
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The balance between not caring but also doing what needs to be done.
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I walk into the line to get my order and the girl starts giggling. “Haven’t seen you open gyms. Where have you been?” I say with a smile. She giggles again and promises she will be there on Thursday. The benefit of being in a small town is that you can never hide. The downside of being in a small town is that you can never hide.
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I will never get the answer I want.
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Nevertheless, we plug along as best we can. Keep asking the right questions to get the job done.
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I tell him that I don’t want to be angry anymore.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty-One
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Too cold. Too tired.
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Raisin bran, hot water with lemon.
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On time again.
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This football stuff really stinks. Really, really, really stinks.
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Oh yes. Today is the day.
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No more privacy.
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I read it and then can’t focus. But I should probably just be moving more slowly anyway.
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I start daydreaming about laying on the floor underneath my desk and taking a nap like George Constanza.
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Oh boy. Emotions.
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The reason this works is because we both have the same philosophies and I couldn’t be happier.
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Eighty
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Forgot to turn off the alarm.
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I close my eyes again and remember all the things I forgot yesterday.
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Do I really want to drive to Santa Rosa?
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Hours spent today for minutes saved tomorrow.
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The little one offers to bring my lunch up to me. He even remembers that I like barbeque sauce.
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Sounds like something is knocking on the window. I think whatever was above the bedroom is now back to living above the bathroom.
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On pace.
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One more month.
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I look out over the hillside and watch the squirrels scurry across the ground. There are shoots of green and yellow leaves and that stack of old hay bales from when he used to practice with the bow.
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Ice cream?
Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Seventy-Nine
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I knew the morning was going to come too quickly.
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Another solo session in the soft light on this foggy morning.
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What is for me is for me.
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I know that it’s really not about me.
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Ok. Here we go.
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“I’m a socialist stockbroker.”
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Something about these big ribbons does make you feel good.
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“I asked the last guy if I only had one more wine to taste, what should it be and he said to come here.”
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Wine and pizza and beer and being up way past my bedtime.
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Winter is coming.