Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-Two

1. Is it Friday? No, it’s Saturday. Thank goodness.

2. I am the source of time.

3. No plans. All the children are gone. A quiet house. Chores done.

4. He says we should get a hummingbird feeder for the ones hanging around.

5. I take a book out to the hammock and stare out over the trees. Five pages in, and I already feel my eyes start to close. Are those raindrops I feel?

6. “God doesn’t operate in confusion.”

7. It’s a small group of us in a little warehouse space. Shelves of clay and works-in-progress; sketches; a piano; a large structure made out of cardboard.

8. Purple mountains.

9. She says her great-grandparents are from St. Helena. Or, as she likes to say now, her grandparents displaced the Wappos from their ancestral lands. And this is not a phrase I thought I’d hear come from this woman’s mouth.

10. “Y’all don’t do background checks, bro?”

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty-One

1. TGIF.

2. I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t remember the last time I worked out.

3. Still need to problem-solve this hair issue.

4. The Coop is closed? Mini Model instead. Hot coffee, passersby, discovering connections. Realizing

5. Station Chopped Salad and that everything oatmeal cookie in the forest. Owl feathers everywhere.

6. I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited about a baseball game.

7. 5,800.

8. Why is St. Helena so dead and Calistoga so much more vibrant?

9. Bubbles and golden hour with a view. Part business, part pleasure.

10. I think I’ve dug as deep as I can without needing to dole out some money.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twenty

1. I miss my morning walks, and I’m no less sore.

2. Do I dare get up and put myself in the line of fire?

3. I am not surprised at the non-answer. It was kind of the point.

4. Email 4 of 16.

5. Why do they hate sunflowers so much?

6. Neighbors and other recognizable faces. Rosé of Syrah. Sauvignon Blanc. Figs, grapes, cheese, dolmas.

7. PERMA and HARP (Having awareness. Alignment. Repair. Pace.) “Grace as fuel.”

8. Kind, curious, and courageous.

9. I walk by her and sense something. I start to sit next to her, but continue on to the couch with who’s familiar. I open my eyes early in the meditation and see her sitting on the floor. She introduces herself at the end. When she starts talking about Akashic records, I know the neighbor is going to walk away. They do.

10. Oh no. I forgot about the real reason I was there.

11. “Red thread of fate.”

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Nineteen

1. Sore and I’ve just woken up.

2. Walking up this hill is still so hard. Why?

3. It looks like they made it in time.

4. Popcorn. It’s the real butter. And the salt. Can’t stop eating it.

5. I feel like I’ve worked a whole day in four hours. Is it Friday yet?

6. The freedom of freelance.

7. She says we’re a well-oiled machine; that it’s like watching choreography. I know he doesn’t really want to hear it, but the reality is that we do good work together.

8. But what do we want?

9. Goodbye-bottles of Schramsberg.

10. “She doesn’t have any feeling for art.”

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Eighteen

1. The shrinkage of morningtime.

2. I’m going to need a solution for this very, very soon.

3. Warnings about bad juju. No, not for me. But you can feel it in the air.

4. I question whether or not I should use all caps, but decide that I REALLY need to communicate the feeling. I needed to virtually yell.

5. We decide on a late-afternoon walk instead. It’s not too hot—in fact, there is a gentle breeze. We are undisturbed.

6. Can’t seem to find my focus.

7. What’s the saying? “Hell in a handbasket”?

8. What a difference a year can make.

9. I tell her that now, when I pull my hair to the top of my head, I look like Cindy Lou Who from “The Grinch”.

10. Don’t break promises to yourself.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seventeen.

1. Why did I think a 7 a.m. appointment was a good idea?

2. This has to be it until I can come up with another plan.

3. I tell him that the word that comes to mind is “stunted”.

4. “Conversations can happen in stages.”

5. It’s a little early for a bag of Gardetto’s.

6. Why do I feel like she’s not listening? She is focusing on one thing and adding in the other details. She must be a newer doctor.

7. I just have to ask.

8. I tell him that I just want to make some focaccia.

9. Well. I was going to come anyway.

10. Affirmations from the universe.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Sixteen

1. A much-needed stretch.

2. The pain is getting to a point where ignoring it is no longer an option.

3. Numbers are just facts. My interpretation of facts might lead to certain kinds of feelings.

4. But still not sure how to make it all work.

5. Well, if it were all gone, who would I be?

6. I think about the previous 24 hours, and it feels like I lived a whole lifetime in a day.

7. Do I need to take a day off?

8. Haves, Ams, Wills.

9. Heat or stress, maybe a combination of both?

10. How is the youngest now 15? There is no baby brother anymore.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fifteen

1. 3 a.m.

2. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman at the gas station trying to wave me down. It takes me a moment to realize what I’ve just seen, but it’s too late now. I’m gone, and I have to get to where I’m going.

3. The whole exit row to myself.

4. From up here, the fog looks like little lakes sitting between the hilltops. We really do live in a beautiful place.

5. In the twelve-minute Uber ride, I learn that the nails on her pinky toes are black from wearing too-small shoes for too long; her sister has five kids, and she has six, but her sister has two that have already been to juvie and she doesn’t really want them hanging around; she was handcuffed at the border te last time she crossed over with her sister and she told her sister never again — “I’m not a criminal” — she will walk, but she will never drive again; the morning before was a good morning for her and so she split her tips between her two oldest kids; tomorrow she is going to the beach, but I gather that it’s not for something joyous — someone has died and this is more of a memorial, not a party. I tip her to keep my 5-star rating, but also because I chose to have only women drivers and, if I can, I will put as much money in a woman’s hand as possible.

6. These facilities are sick.

7. It just so happens she is also from Northern California, in a town not too far away, so, after the clinic, we eat lunch together outside of the dining hall. She is where I was just a few short years ago — no numbers, limited talent, a young team fighting through a challenging, loss-heavy season. I tell her it will come because she cares, and they just need someone who can be consistent.

8. 6-20. 4-21. 11-13. 18-7 + playoffs. Next year….

9. I find a quieter spot on the beach. Billie Eilish in one ear. I thought I would read, but all I do is stare out at the ocean and watch the rhythm of the waves. Gratitude for the beauty. Gratitude for being allowed the space away to do this. Remembering how much I need moments of solitude and how few of them I have these days.

10. The aching rush of feeling every emotion all at once.

11. I hope she turns on the air conditioning in the car. It’s a 24-minute ride back to the airport.

12. You win by being yourself.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Fourteen

1. A thin layer of fog.

2. Two feathers, one big and one small.

3. Thinking about the weight of the day before and remembering that there are only so many problems I can solve.

4. Small cups of coffee but not enough time for morning pages.

5. Someone tries to walk through the front door, but it’s locked, so they have to knock. I wonder who is at the door who knows that it’s usually open.

6. We share an almond madeline and a ham suisse and short updates on life. She asks me about my book. What book? I tell her I’m still trying to get last summer’s Ten Things printed before my classes resume in two weeks.

7. Heavy sighs.

8. So much laundry.

9. He asks if someone can take him to the store to get batteries and snacks. Do I want to? No. Will I? Yes. There will come a time when I will miss these kinds of requests.

10. Okay. If I go to sleep now, I can get 4.5 hours.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Thirteen

1. He’s still here.

2. PGE says the power will be restored by 6:15 a.m. It’s 6:08, and I am dubious. It’s 6:13, and I am still not a believer. By 6:30, we decide to turn on the generator so we can shower.

3. Now I can paint the rest of my nails.

4. She says that I don’t look like someone who had to get ready without power. I tell her that I’ve been doing this for almost six years now; we’ve got a system.

5. The warlock has sent his report.

6. But now we need an energy clearing.

7. It’s just because we’re Scorpios.

8. The audacity.

9. I tell her that it’s because we had our meeting, which was like not working, and then we rolled right into lunch, which is also not working.

10. One more day.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Twelve

1. But the vibes today. I even meditated.

2. Large blue flying beetle.

3. It’s like that feeling you get when you're waiting in line to get on the roller coaster.

4. There’s a large table of tiny children. Their mouths are open, wide, like they’re screaming, but no sound is coming out. They are hungry and you want to feed them, but your hands are empty.

5. I wanna swim deeper.

6. But there's a part of me that recognizes you.

7. It’s hard to make good decisions from a place of anger.

8. Wanting it more thanyou’re afraid of it.

9. I decide to paint one hand at a time. The room goes dark and quiet. The power is out. Of course, this now means I have only one hand painted.

10. I pick up The Copenhagen Trilogy and my book light.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Eleven

1. Rest day.

2. Bright, clear, cool morning.

3. Let’s just keep it peaceful.

4. Maybe, yes, this makes the most sense.

5. “Then he’s a warlock.”

6. The Langoliers.

7. If we can add a little joy by eating a few blackberries from the bush, then let’s do it.

8. On the walk back, I realize that what we’ve done is rebelled in the face of what is supposedly “right”, refusing to bend into the appropriate shape of compliance. None of this is real, anyway.

9. Hot.

10. Big beautiful moon floating above the Vacas. Phone pics just won’t do it justice.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Ten

1. Dusky sunrise.

2. No weighted vest, and yet I don’t feel any faster.

3. Five minutes of meditation.

4. Sitting in the dark for the first several minutes.

5. Dark, slick-backed hair. White polo and tight white pants. Black velvet loafers. A green blazer and a coordinating Goyard. He’s eating “pasta italiano” from a large glass bowl. I nickname him “Mr. Italiano”. I can smell his cologne before I even come down the stairs.

6. Let’s just rip the Band-Aid off today.

7. Afternoon walk. We make it all the way to the end of the drive. On the way back, we sample a few blackberries.

8. We’re all tired. But maybe we’re just all out of shape.

9. Standing in the parking lot talking in the parking lot, just like the old days…last month. Ha!

10. Back to the book.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Nine

1. In the dream, I’m whipping my head around in anger, like I’m biting something. I feel my head jerk and wake myself up.

2. Watching the light slip through the slats.

3. Voices floating up from the trail.

4. The zine is so long that I’m going to have to rethink the paper size in order to squeeze it all into a reasonable page length — and price.

5. I accidentally turn into the wrong driveway and see the exact type of farm table I want. Alas, that would be stealing, and this car is too small to hold it anyway.

6. A camera box made to look like an owl.

7. Well, this is a view.

8. We’re the loud table in the restaurant that you either hate or envy. Maybe both.

9. It ends up being just the four of us in the little studio. I love being in an artist’s space. I could do this every day, dirty hands, apron, and all.

10. Numbers are just facts.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Eight

1. In the dream, I keep losing track of this little kid. He is tiny and full of energy, carrying a large, shiny red circle in each hand.

2. I’m convinced I’m losing hair faster than before.

3. Morning breezes on the deck.

4. All I want is another table. Why is this so hard to find?

5. A hummingbird floating in front of my face. Maybe I should make a feeder.

6. Air drying the hammock.

7. I decide on The Copenhagen Trilogy.

8. “‘People turn strange from reading. Everything written in books is a lie.’” - The Copenhagen Trilogy

9. Fingertips on temples. Trying to process what’s happening. Where was the misunderstanding about what was supposed to happen with the chicken parm?

10. “‘I know that you sometimes have to lie in order to bring out the truth.” - The Copenhagen Trilogy

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Seven

1. TGIF.

2. Where’s the car?

3. She says she wants to chat, and I think it means what I think it means.

4. On the podcast, the doctor explains that we actually spend one-third of our lives dreaming. That we have the ability to dream on the edges of REM as well.

5. Some are more talkative than others, but the insights are critical. And special. And it makes me even more hopeful than I was before.

6. It’s still just a plate of brown food.

7. Why is it so hard to find a table?

8. Incense and quiet. Deciding which book to read next: An Alphabet for Dreamers or The Copenhagen Trilogy?

9. Contingency plans.

10. I tell that I think I really outdid myself with the creamed kale this evening.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Six

1. Somehow the morning moments have slipped away.

2. The fact that these umbrellas are still here is a symptom of a bigger problem.

3. A can of dog food.

4. It’s happening. Is it happening?

5. Today feels like soup.

6. “Supposedly in France.” “Yeah, the catacombs.” “$195?!”

7. No one likes the mandatory onsite policy, but instead of rethinking the requirement, you interpret it as people not wanting to be close to the work. I’m not sure that’s what it means.

8. I start to feel myself slip into silent agreement and then remind myself not to ignore the red flags.

9. And now, definitely not going to make her art show.

10. Wait, do we even have anything to do this weekend?

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Five

1. Slow and steady.

2. Our last appointment. She says she sent me something. Curious.

3. It will be hard, but it won’t be impossible.

4. In this instance, I think I ought to protect my own team instead of playing nice.

5. I want to ask, but I don’t think I want to know the answer.

6. Tea. Piping hot.

7. Only one month of summer left.

8. I want to ask her about Ethan Hawk, but keep the thought inside.

9. Gnocchetti Di Patate - potato gnocchi, tiger prawns, crayfish sauce, Calabrian chili

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Four

1. Stretch.

2. The tiniest little hawk feather.

3. Anniversary flowers. Nineteen years. Half of my life.

4. Morning pages and coffee on the deck. Gratitude for paper moths giving me an extra day at home this week.

5. Bonus: being able to speak candidly and openly.

6. “Did you pierce your ears?”

7. A glass of Schramsberg and a cobb salad. I can’t hear everything, but it sounds like the older woman beside us is newly widowed. She’s eating a pizza and rosé alone.

8. On her way out, she wishes us a happy anniversary. She says her husband died from cancer in May. They have been coming to Auberge for years and years, and this is where they would come for lunch every Tuesday. Thirty-five years they had together. The man of her dreams. With a broken voice, she encourages us to cherish these little moments.

9. Passenger Princess.

10. I like to ride because it gives me time to daydream. I think about everything. But mostly I think about how beautiful the landscape is and how lucky we are that we get to call this place home.

Ten.Two Thousand, Seven Hundred & Three

1. Something has got the dogs on alert tonight. They sound like they’re right outside the windows.

2. Finally, a cool morning.

3. The comfort of routine.

4. Two packets of applesauce and a scoop of creatine with my plate of gummy vitamins. If only there had been time to make bacon, too.

5. Oh, but I remember this about the morning workouts. Never feels like enough time.

6. Claude tells me that the first sentence of my email sounds passive-aggressive.

7. Gluten-free pretzels.

8. The first things he pulls out of the back are slices of cake.

9. We do the math: 7.41 years.

10. I will finish this.