Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Thirteen
Here come the birds.
Shorts and a sweater and the Yosemite camping mug.
Like a layer of cotton packed on top of the trees.
We stop on the side of the road and stand in silence as we look out over the mountainside. You can hear the sounds of the cars as they whip around the curves.
I want this feeling to stretch through the day.
Wishing for one more piece of key lime pie.
Will this even work?
These are the things you learn only when people die.
Roasted chicken, fresh veggies, and garlic bread. In a hungry phase.
Two weeks.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Twelve
These foggy summer mornings are my favorite. Quiet and cool. Sweater weather. Hot coffee weather. Hands tucked beneath your armpits, kind of weather.
He’s going to be excited about this one in particular.
You live here long enough, and you can tell who’s a local and who’s a tourist. It’s the way they’re always looking around. And you remember how you were once them.
Birthday pastries and a balloon.
Two carnitas and an al pastor.
Wait. I thought the goats were gone?'
Stretching, but also realistic.
Knowing when too much of a thing is bad for you.
I was right. He can’t read my handwriting.
A key lime pie full of candles.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eleven
A Friday that really feels like a Friday.
If nothing else, there’s a sense of calm because there’s a plan.
Blue cup full of coffee.
What are working towards?
I am more happy about this piece of paper than I should be.
But our excitement can only take this so far.
To live with more awareness but less fear.
Sushi down by the river. It feels quiet all around. The late summer lull before school gets underway again.
Hot.
They’re turning into little adults. Look and sound and thought.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Ten
There’s enough time.
Sticky concrete. Hugged in fog. No one said it was a mow day. How do we turn off the music.
Much smoother. Much, much smoother.
She follows me as I roll the large stone tiles back to the upper lot. Thank goodness I skipped my workout today because there’s no way I would have made it up the hill.
One bottle of Frog’s Leap Chardonnay.
Choo-choo.
But at least we all like each other. And that, you can’t take for granted.
Driving up Silverado Trail at dusk with no traffic is still my favorite.
The way she and I look at each other at the dinner table sometimes before cracking up.
You just want to give him a hug.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Nine
Letting myself move more slowly today.
A still, foggy morning.
Rescheduling lunch is the right thing to do, even though it’s not what I want to do. And there’s Korean at the food truck.
I miss having more of these work-from-home Wednesdays.
I make a note to myself about how strange it is to be repeating words and phrases that I already used years and years ago.
My instincts are good.
It’s only Wednesday.
I almost wish we could do one more.
I try to do the right thing for myself and skip the milkshake and do the berry freeze. I really should have gotten a milkshake.
Spring Baking Championship.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Eight
A little slower.
Even fifteen more minutes in the morning to putter around.
More of the same.
It’s already 74 degrees in the office and it’s just barely past 9 a.m.
You think you want to start a side hustle or quit your job, I’ll be your hype girl.
Rules and dependencies and I think our lives are going to change.
If everyone is thinking the same thing but no one is willing to have the courage to say it out loud, then we’re complicit in the state of chaos that frustrates us. It also means that we haven’t done as great a job as we think in creating a culture that fosters transparent discourse, deep listening, and trust.
Seventy-nine degrees inside.
One square of a chocolate while looking through the trees and listening to the birds. A rush of gratitude.
At least these last few chapters are mostly commonsense. Three more weeks and two papers to go.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Seven
Season’s changing.
Worth it.
Thinking about the lifecycle of the vine and how so much of human life is mirrored in nature.
Confusion all around.
Looking at things from above and the perspective changes; the feelings around everything change. Awareness breeds compassion.
Plan Bs and Cs and Ds.
Know your boundaries.
Because no meeting is ever ending on time.
Gonna be a big milkshake bill.
This is how I want to feel at the end of every day.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Six
2:38 a.m.
Sunrise.
No, I do try to keep a clean home. I just need a little break now and then.
Sam’s General Store. A little bit of coffee and a flaky quiche. Random bits of information about ancient Romans. Yes, cinnamon rolls are always better warm.
I teach him how to get into the hammock again.
It feels quiet today. I like that—a slow, quiet day. I’m already imagining how I can manufacture a stay-at-home Monday.
Sometimes, it seems like there is no point.
Yellow butterflies.
Bad Poetry.
Cleaning to feel in control.
Bolognese and Chianti, garlic bread and college-talk.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Five
Can I? I definitely can’t.
He turns the key and it opens for him. I get so excited, I almost forget about the alarm.
Drip coffee
Day Zero.
The fog lifts and the sky opens up. Not thinking about emails today. Just beauty.
At the point where brain function is questionable.
Is rush hour on a Friday really the right time to teach her how to turn left onto Highway 29?
She says she likes eating at our house.
We’re at that age now.
But, I don’t think they got ice cream.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Five
Can I? No, I definitely can’t.
He turns the key, and it magically works for him. I get so excited that I almost forget about the alarm.
Drip coffee.
Day Zero.
She reminds me of another woman I know, and it makes me think that all of this is just a protective shell. But if it’s not, then I wish I had more of that.
There is really nothing this weekend?
If only we all truly believed we are on the same team.
Is this really the day and time we want to train her how to turn left into a turning lane onto Highway 29?
She says she likes eating dinner at our house.
We’re at that age now.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Three
These cool mornings.
The sound of a goat bleeting somewhere in the distance.
Hawk feather.
It always takes me longer to get here than I remember.
Is the risk worth the reward.
She asks me if there is decaf. Nope. We’re raw dogging it today.
This combination should work, but it doesn't.
I hit a half court shot. Maybe my first ever in my life. I think it is the first.
Curious. Passionate. Purposeful.
The wrong goal in the wrong situation hinders performance.
Remember: he said it would take time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Two
Darkness.
But then I hear the turkey, which means the sun is about to come up.
What is the right formula?
One foot in front of the other. I think of all the women who support what I’m doing. The ones who see the bigger picture.
Widowed art gallery owner.
But I don’t want it anyway.
I wanna walk and not run / I wanna skip and not fall / I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall / I wanna be the only one for miles and miles
Maybe it’s time to get off the coffee again.
Just me and him and a whole lot of chicken and zucchini.
“Motivation is what gets you into this game; learning is what helps you continue to play; creativity is how you steer; and flow is how you turbo-boost the results beyond all rational standards and reasonable expectations.”
― The Art of Impossible: A Peak Performance Primer
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & One
Eighteen years.
Still too dark to make my way out. Staring out the window waiting for the light.
I turn the corner and see something sticking up out of the ground. I jump because at first, I think it’s a snake. But it is actually just a big stick. I should wear my contacts on these walks.
These hurt.
First cup in the dark office.
One of those rare days when I am actually crossing things off the to-do list.
Really? It was the cheese that sent him over the edge?
Jab, jab, right, hook, uppercut.
I miss her.
All you can do is remember why you’re here in the first place. It’s always about the why.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred
Stretch.
A little bit of coffee to start the day.
I can love two things at one time. I can. Right?
I keep trying to convince myself that it’s no big deal, but I can’t seem to push it out of my mind.
Bubbles at lunch.
But not all at the same time. I should have known when she brought out fries and shrimp cocktail at the same time.
2027.
A wish.
Toasted nuts on a sundae really take it to the next level.
The layers of landscape: a valley floor covered in vines, oak trees pinned into the hillsides, mountain tops blanketed with evergreens, a hazy blue sky with a setting sun.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Nine
The first thing on my mind.
It should be a short day, though I wish it would last a little longer.
One cup of concession-stand coffee under a soupy sky.
A nap.
Rosemary Cakebread and Chris Howell.
“Beauty makes me dream.”
They make you remember one of the reasons you’re here in the first place. Because, like them, you believe that there could be and should be a future for anyone and everyone who wants to live and work here.
He tells me that I need to experience what I am experiencing now, but now I should go back to the people. He lists a few names—names I already know—and that’s where I can begin.
Margarita, salad, and steak frites with her at the bar.
Dreams.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Eight
Wait, what time is it?
Fastest paces to date.
Late, late, late. But, at least we showed up?
I tell her that it’s the passive-aggressive comments that really get to me.
You can begin the thing now and refine along the way. There is still value here, at the beginning.
Clouds parting.
I can live with the B, but I’d rather have the A.
Down to three of us. That means steak for dinner.
She’s already got t-shirt ideas. We’ll get this done right.
Grateful for a Friday that feels like a Saturday.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Seven
Just can't do it.
Another hour slips by.
A innocent mistake..
What are these cars in the parking lot? Why are the lights on? What day is today?
I finish the rest of my call with her outside. “Tell old girl I said ‘hello’” she says from across the sidewalk. I chuckle.
Run. Down.
Craving time with pen and paper and nothing else.
Not enough dreaming time.
We’re all a little less cranky today.
This quiet. This clear blue sky. This evening breeze and golden light. The rolling hills. Dried grass blowing in the wind. All you can do is stare at the horizon in awe.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Six
Tom the turkey is so loud. So, so loud.
I startle him, and he startles me as I walk around the curve. The turkey trots away into the front yard.
The art of impossible.
Maybe it’s the coffee.
Was hoping for a morning glory muffin, but will settle for the morning bun.
Nothing feels true because there is no trust.
I think these parents are taking it way more seriously than I am.
A good preview of what’s to come.
A box full of vegetables and flowers.
“The limits of my language are the limits of my world.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Five
Eleven hours of sleep and I still don’t want to get out of bed.
Loud turkey. Fresh, cool air.
Enjoying the quiet while it lasts.
Meetings and meetings and meetings and meetings.
Why is it that the default response is to blame a character flaw in the other person? An unwillingness to look at the root cause.
That text is a bright spot in the day. This is what matters to me more.
The things people say.
A windows-down kind of evening. Though the one thing I miss about humidity is how much softer it makes your skin feel.
She wants to drive everywhere now.
Still no groceries. Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Four
Should have put my contacts in.
Humidity = extra sweaty.
The breeze blowing through the trees.
There are things you only see in the south.
So, what’s happened in the last 30 years?
She asks me how I could have children that old. I remind her that we are indeed just old now.
Strike.
Give me all the mozzarella sticks.
Did he say “snake?”
Trying to find yourself in words and pictures from a distant past.