Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Fifty-Three
Morning light.
Water. Lots more water.
Tacos and sun and silence.
“Say ‘Bye tio’.”
Rehearsing my explanation for the next email thread.
Girls just want to have fun.
17 going on 13.
Funny how when the power goes out it’s like a snow day and suddenly, none of the rules apply.
I leave the two of them downstairs with their small TV and makeshift beds on the sofa, then light a few candles and take them upstairs to add a glow to the bathroom.
He thinks of it as a way of holding him.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Fifty-Two
Just the right amount of chill in the air.
Tea and mat. Trying not to stare at the cobwebs on the chandelier.
There is still morning dew on the tall grasses and low bushes along the trail. The sky is bright blue. From here, I can still see the fog lifting down valley.
Hammock time.
Finally, a nice warm night for a baseball game.
I listen to him talk about regenerative agriculture, polyculture, and books, and I think about how much he has to look forward to.
I understand it now.
Smells like hair.
Chicken tinga.
Tomorrow. Back to regular Mondays.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Fifty-One
She comes back today.
I take my coffee outside, feel the cool morning air. All the colors are bright.
Typing out quiz answers while we drive to the airport.
I see an old four-square tucked behind large oaks, far off in the distance. A few cows dot the hills. I wonder what family homesteaded this part of the valley, and at what point that family saw the highway cut through their sprawling ranch.
“Allez,” she says to her small children as they exit the elevator. I wonder how five people fit all of their clothes into that one suitcase—though I’ve done it before.
Sweating while stuffing the cushions back into their cases.
Yeah, that’s never happening.
So much sun.
Maybe this could become my new napping space.
Back together again.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Fifty
Walking until I see the sunrise. Blue-gray sky with splashes of orange and pink pushing through.
The greenness of everything.
She asks me questions, I give her answers. I ask myself more questions—questions I already know the answer to. “There is no place for me here.” “Really, I just need to commit.” We draft a plan for the next step.
Two of everything.
I forgot to blur the background so she can see the trees and the tall windows.
No time to clean today.
Outsider.
I remember that this field gets cold, but we just got here and I’m already afraid I didn’t bring enough layers. I can feel the cool breeze curling around my bare ankles. I try to talk myself into being warm.
Big white full moon and sepia-toned field lights.
She comes back tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Nine
These weights are heavy. My breathing is loud.
Deep sigh.
Several cups of decaf coffee and probably not enough water.
A campus tour is never as good as it could be when it’s cloudy. But still, not a bad place. Lots of trees. A rock-climbing wall.
We let the two of them walk ahead, side-by-side. They’re talking. Who knows what it’s about, but it doesn’t really matter.
They tell us that our order isn’t ready, and I turn around and say I’m sure it’s not when one car orders 50 nuggets.
Who is not saying the thing?
It’s always about managing up.
He brings it up again, and my feelings about it all resurface once more.
Carrot cake and a cup of decaf.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Eight
Pre-dawn gym drop-off.
On the way to the bathroom, I notice several courtyards between the buildings. I notice all the windows. I think of how good a thing it is that we’ve connected design with health, and that hospitals can be built with so much natural light.
I find my bench in the sun, close my eyes, and lean back.
I needed this day.
I end the meal with a rhubarb pavlova and decaf coffee.
No, I know exactly why.
“We look for people who can earn trust, be adaptable, and have a growth mindset.”
“Spend the first 100 days building trust.”
“Now he’s got to play with two maniacs.”
Nothing works without trust—earned and given.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Seven
Another day to hit the snooze.
Stronger than yesterday.
I zoom in with my camera phone to realize that it’s just an orange cat, a tabby, grooming itself in the morning sun.
I forgot my bag again…this time, the one with the food.
Time is creeping by in this agenda-less meeting. Folding my hands behind my head. Eating cut pineapple because I can’t get more angry. Trying to fix my energy.
I remember that I have tomorrow off, and that brings a little bit of peace.
I wish I were better at faking it. Or do I?
If you can’t laugh, what are you even doing?
What does unreasonable hospitality look like in this situation?
So many ideas and never enough time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Six
Spring Break = slow start to a Monday.
The pitter-patter of rain.
I stop to take pictures of the budding vines before I walk toward the office door. Oh, wait. I don’t have my computer. The drive back home seems longer than usual.
Daydreaming of 20-minute walks.
Ironic.
Make your own magic.
There are no real relationships here.
Like volcanoes erupting.
“We all learned something today,” I say. “You can’t trust a 12-year-old to make plans.”
He swings. Contact. I watch the ball go over the fence—left field, his sweet spot. I watch as he flips the bat. But it’s not about the home runs. It’s about building confidence in this almost-adult-child.
The read aloud the Urban Dictionary definitions of our names and then the real versions. An honorable summer. A summer valley. A summer sky. I’m noble and he’s a gift from God. We are quite a crew.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Five
Steely Dan and windy roads.
Looking up, all I see is sunlight and cobwebs and dirty windows.
But the whole point of this is to breathe.
But a blowout? I didn’t think it would be a blowout.
Man, I miss basketball.
Writing morning pages in the afternoon. Wrapped in sunshine. Hummingbird fluttering in front of my face. Butterfly floating by the trees.
Pray for peace and ease. Insight and courage and discipline. Trust and surrender.
Too much seaweed.
Well. When you don’t practice for a week…
Burnt in the center, but just enough around the edges of the pan for the three of us to make a meal.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Four
Better today than yesterday.
Alternating hot water with lemon and small cups of decaf while I finish the work.
Seeing the possibility of what it could be.
Coffee on the deck. No sweater needed. Loud birds. Tall trees. Wishing I could have taken the entire week off to be home with them. Maybe there’s another way to make the most of it.
A rebirth.
There is something oddly ironic about them having a copy of “Unreasonable Hospitality” on the hostess stand when there is no hostess.
Trays full of espresso martinis, and it’s just barely noon.
Books and a chair outside in the sun. Thank goodness.
The schedule is almost done. It will be here before I know it. But I can’t wait.
Make a list, or else you’ll forget.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Three
Up before the alarm.
That feeling you get when you curl back up under the sheets and concentrate all your warmth.
First, coaching.
What is within your control? Right. Those words sound familiar.
Then, therapy. “You need a break,” she says. “Can you get out in nature?” “I live in nature.”
Two down, two to go.
Assume the best intentions anyway.
The gift of walking around in a quiet, clean house.
Just don’t look in the refrigerator.
Maybe next year.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-Two
What’s changed?
Watching the color of the sky change from deep blue to watery orange and pink and the lush green of the hillsides and the trees.
I promise myself that I will get outside during the workday and will not eat my lunch at my desk.
Sunlight.
Little fires everywhere keeping me from the actual work. And actual work keeping me from being great.
Best laid plans.
Autonomy.
I look down at my ankles and realize they have doubled in size. I think I need to sit more often now.
More and more articles about internal tremors of long-haulers. No one seems to understand what I mean by the random full-body vibrations. Shaking on the inside, but steady on the outside.
There are three kinds of self-talk: positive, negative, and neutral. “… is often instructional…movements, strategies, or tactics.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-One
4:45 a.m.
That whirring sound. Must be vineyard fans blowing. It’s that time of year again.
The day feels so spacious with only one drop off and all the sun spilling into the room.
The day is full of sidequests.
The usual. Chicken Tikka Masala — mild.
It does feel way longer than a year.
A squirrel sitting on its hind legs, nibbling on something, while staring out at the street.
Do fewer things.
What’s in a name?
Is it true?
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty
Everything is so wet.
The sound of water gushing from beneath the sink.
I really don’t like April Fool’s.
Belly-shirt guy.
“Intention means every decision, from the most obviously significant to the seemingly mundane, matters.” - Will Guidar, Unreasonable Hospitality
Trying not to care is almost impossible.
Assuming a lot of things these days, and it’s leading to a lot of confusion.
Moving the Post-its from the purse to the downstairs desk to the upstairs desk.
In the video, he (Adam Grant) says that a contribution journal is more effective than a gratitude journal. A gratitude journal is a reflection of what’s been given to you; when you think about what you’ve given to others, it’s a more motivating and more rewarding feeling.
In the end, I decide to stay home, skip the cold, wet game, and eat popcorn while I do homework.
87 days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Nine
You can do it.
“…how to sustainably create valuable things…”
Do you have enough autonomy to experiment with slowing down time?
Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And then waiting some more.
An unexpected wash of sunshine.
When you’re here in real time, you can see the gaps.
What is required is discipline.
I really wish he would tell them that it’s called the elbow. It’s not the corner.
Honey chipotle tacos with black beans, cotija, cilantro, and pickled onions.
87 days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Eight
Rain on the roof. Slow moving.
Burning the last of the logs. Toes wiggling closer to the fire for warmth. Hot tea to keep the hands warm.
Another 600 words written in addition to yesterday’s 800. Strengths and areas of improvement. It feels like only one thing holding me back; but surely it’s not just the one thing.
A bowl of popcorn and some sparkling water before a nap. “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” playing quietly in the background.
She followed through.
Constricted.
Waiting for the cancellation.
He says something about the Christmas on the back deck. The important thing is just that it’s out of the house. I just needed to get it out of the house.
Only three of us for dinner on a Sunday night. “Low key” being used to start every other story.
I didn’t get around to the Post-its.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Seven
Heading toward the city in the dark.
He tells us they will not give a companion pass for us to escort her through security. She seems a bit shocked at first, but says she’ll be just fine. I explain that it’s her first time alone. Still, no. A quick verbal list of instructions as she gets in line.
Sunrise over the bay waters as we travel back to the valley.
There’s this moment when the landscape shifts, just after you pass Don Giovanni and Ashes & Diamonds, where you feel you’re about to enter another realm. That’s the magic of the upper valley.
Avocado, olive oil. a sprinkle of sea salt.
Morning pages in the chair overlooking trees, tips golden from the morning sun.
I’d rather not guess.
These refs clearly don’t want to be in this gym.
He shows me the fish he caught—one very small, one rather large. He’s clearly very proud of himself.
I hear his coach call his name. He runs in from the outfield to take the mound. “Oh, boy,” we say in unison.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Six
Granting grace.
But the laundry.
I give her the cliff notes version. There is still so much to say.
The most Monday kind of Friday.
Besides the high blood pressure, this is the other reason why I had stopped the caffeine.
It’s not whay you're giving up, but what you’re gaining in return.
Progress.
A little bit of sun peeking through the clouds.
I understand enough that he’s telling her he will buy her carne asada if she hits the ball.
A clean bathroom. Fresh sheets. A vacuumed floor.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Five
The sound of the rain.
Will I really miss two days in a row?
The mind and body are in opposition.
More voices than usual in the room, but it adds another kind of energy, a liveliness that is welcome on a day like today.
Nothing but gray skies.
When you get what you wanted, but not exactly.
One degree of separation.
Bourbon Maple Walnut fudge.
Maple-miso glazed chicken and Brussels sprouts. Some baby potatoes added to bulk it up.
“The highest form of freedom is based on want, not need. Choosing what yo want takes radical honesty, commitment, and courage.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Thirty-Five
Cold creeping in through the windows.
It’s okay to take a day off. But is it?
Realizing that 2.434 days is almost seven years. Seven years' worth of memories, phrases, bottles of wine, and meals.
A floss pick sitting in the middle of the mulch.
Thank goodness I remembered my nails.
There are twenty other things that need to be done, but I’d rather be here, doing this.
But doing this, I feel the distance between myself and my creativity. I miss picking up my camera. I miss freewriting. I miss co-creation. I miss the unencumbered pursuit of random and strange ideas.
I just can’t remember anything these days.
Autonomy. Mastery. Purpose.
Type I.