I’m Going, Going




To Cali.



I just said a bunch of yes to the Universe and from a corner I had no idea even existed.

I am also following the advice that my friend Joan suggested, “go where the water is warm”.

Granted, that was advice regarding dating, but I believe that it still applies.

I got a message from a Burning Man friend tonight as I was doing some work, ie worrying, about what to do next–it is not looking at apartments on Craigslist in San Francisco, man, that is just a way to make a girl throw up in her mouth–and bing!

A message from the Universe.

Hey, we need a nanny and we want YOU.

Now, let me say, before my head has anything negative to say, before my ego decides to get huffed up and over inflated, ‘cuz it is trying desperately and I already spent some time crying in the shower today, how fucking flattering.


That people want me to do something, that I am acknowledged as being good at it, that is really nice to hear.

So what if I am 40?

So what if I said I am done being a nanny?

I can change my mind.

I have changed my mind.

Paris did that to me.

Paris, you beat me with your beauty.

You drug my good intentions through the dog shit stuffed gutters and deflated my ego to the size of a pinprick.

If someone made the offer to me that I just received, to work in Oakland, but hey, you know I had two people offer me places in Oakland–one a possible room, the other a couch–as well this last week, here in Paris, I would have fallen down in grateful shock.

Getting work here without papers is demoralizing.

People that are French, of which I had lunch with two amazing ladies today, actually three, two of them were French, are having a horrendous time finding work.  I just thought I was special and the French would bend to me and my wiles.

Not so much.

You know what I am when I think I am “special and different”?



Fucking sad.

I am not special and I am not unique and I am well situated to doing the nanny job.

I will do any job at this point, living in Paris has made it very clear to me that the struggle to find work where there is none is not worth the struggle.

My pride does not want it to be that way.

However, there it is.

I am good with kids.

Hell, I am great with kids, I love kids, they love me.

Why not?

And they are Burning Man people.


I can walk around without covering up my tattoos, I can be around art, I can go on field trips, I can work with creatively inclined parents.

This is not the end of my writing, either, it is just money to put dinner on the table while I write.  To be offered a job without having really looked for one yet is a blessing.

I don’t have to do it for life either.

I can do it until it does not make sense to do it.

I have said again and again, since struggling with the financial realities of living and working in a country where I am not legal, that I was willing to do whatever work needed to be done to allow me to write.

Being a nanny allows me to write.

It also provides a nice frame-work for a schedule–most kids nap.  I can continue to work on the book, getting agency, or getting it self-published.  Or doing what ever comes next with the writing.

The proffered job is not full-time, I would need to supplement, but it’s a start, it’s a start without having done anything except say yes to what is being handed to me.

Yeah, so I cried a little in the shower.

Yeah, so I came to Paris to make it as a writer and I am going back to California to be a nanny, which is what I was when I left.  Who cares?

How many people even do what I did?

I want to know, hands up!

Eh, I don’t see too many paws out there waving around the air.

I leapt and I came here and I got to have my Paris experience and god damn have I had it.

I have met amazing people, I know whom I will be able to reconnect with again and again, this is not my last dance with Paris, oh no, and with whom I have a common bond that cannot be broken.  A family, an extended family that I have here, that goes to Paris and London, New York and San Francisco, Oakland and Burning Man.

Man, I have gotten to do some traveling and go places and see things and dance and walk and ride my bike and sing and walk in the rain and live.

I am so alive it’s almost unbearable.

It is uncomfortable, this living, being present, being humble, but it is also wonderful.

I know that I need very few things.

I know I will be able to sustain a life being a nanny, in Oakland, in San Francisco, where ever I am supposed to be of service.

I need a room, a room with sunshine that comes into it, a place to sit and meditate, a chair with a table and a notebook and pen.

Having my computer is also handy, I like this thing called blogging.

To be wanted, to be sought after, to be asked to be of service is a gift.

I was not always a welcome presence at my job.

I say yes.

You want me to be your nanny?

Ok then.

Do I still get to go to Burning Man?

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4 Responses to “I’m Going, Going”

  1. Secondhand Surfer Says:

    Do you cuss like that all of the time? just curious…

    • auntiebubba Says:

      Yup, it is part and parcel of my personality. I do not in front of the kids I take care of, ever. I’ll say “frogs” or “zoot” or something silly, but in daily life, I swear like a sailor.

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