Topsy Turvy

I had a very crazy up and down day.

Although not much happened.

Just some crazy in my head due to some crazy time online.

Oof.

I am getting certification renewed through the American Red Cross for CPR/First Aid Adult, Children/Infants, and they don’t teach the class quite like they used to.

Part of the course is online and part is in the class room.

I had a lot of moments today when I really wished it was still all classroom time, despite not like spending four and a half hours at the Red Cross, it would have been faster than what I dealt with today.

The online course wasn’t difficult, but it was super time consuming and I’ve taken the course a number of times, this is either four or five, I get renewed every two to three years depending on how they are running the certification.

Anyway.

It took nearly four hours online.

Four hours online for me is crazy pants.

And I felt sucked out when I was done with it.

Not so much that the material was difficult, I mean, it’s a little bit like memorization, and it comes back, it’s just that the program took a long time to get through all the simulations.

It’s also weird to do it online.

I mean.

I’m not going to save anyone’s life by clicking down on the mouse pad to do CPR.

I think it’s a way for the organization to save time and or money and resources on teachers for the classes, but something is really lost in the translation.

And.

I still have to go to the Red Cross downtown tomorrow and finish up with a skills test.

Another two hours.

Sigh.

Ah well, it’s done after that and then I’ll be certified again.

This certification may be the last that I have to get, they last three years and I have high hopes to not be nannying in three years.

Although, it’s hard to tell, I’m not quite sure that I’ll be able to sustain cost of living in San Francisco on intern salary, I mean, I probably won’t but, ah, I get ahead of myself.

Which sometimes, all the time, happens.

Then again, sometimes I need to get a head of myself.

I realized that I am off to the school retreat a week from tomorrow and I have um, ha, not looked at all at the syllabus for the classes.

Oops.

Fuck me.

I was talking with a classmate tonight at a birthday party and realized that there was a book that I needed for one of the classes.

Shit.

I got home tonight after doing the deal and ordered it online right away.

Fingers crossed it will get to me before the retreat.

I hope to get it by mid-week and have time to read it before I head out to the retreat.

I read fast, thankfully, and this up coming week I’ll have a little bit of extra time off from work.

Although that time is quickly filling, I still have space for hanging out, doing the deal, going to the MOMA, which day, not quite sure yet, and coffee with folks here and there.

And yoga.

As much as I can get as once this week is up, it will be crazy town for Carmen.

But.

I am sort of into it.

Busy can be fun and it certainly makes the time go by quickly.

I do want to make sure that I am also enjoying quality time and friends and dating and all that jazz too.

A great big, balanced, full life.

It’s rather nice.

Life is rather nice.

Being alive that is.

Sometimes, just that, I remind myself is so very much.

But as I have been reminded so much this last week, sometimes life is fleeting.

And I must grab it and love it and hold on and run with it and be wild and free for I don’t know how much I have and it goes so fast.

I got a text message today that the podcast went up and it happens to be the anniversary of my best friend’s death nine years ago today and so much of what was brought up for me was regarding his influence on me and my life, especially when I was in early recovery.

All the things we confided in each other, all the phone calls and coffees and hanging out and going to do the deal and smoking when we both smoked, and not when we both quit, and that one time he got crazy with the kombucha, and the times he gave me shit, always in the most loving way, and the first time and only time we had a great big fight, because I was being too sensitive about something, and how he made up to me.

And.

Well.

So much.

But mostly that he believed in me and saw the best in me and he always thought I was going to be able to do anything and everything.

And.

How much he saw the things in me that I could not see for myself.

Especially how he saw the faith that I had in the moving forward, in the being taken care of, that I believed let him believe and vice versa.

He was and is still.

A gift.

So it was with great pleasure that I received that text today.

It’s his anniversary, what better way to say I love you then to share myself, my heart, my experience.

It’s not always pretty.

It certainly is not always tidy.

And.

Man.

Do I fall flat on my face sometimes.

But rather that then rolling over, not trying, not giving it my best shot.

I just get up and try again, maybe with a few tears, but I get up.

And now.

Listening to jazzy French music and thinking of white French tulips.

Thank you Shadrach.

I love you.

Oh.

And here.

If you’re interested, the link to The Creative High podcast that I was honored to be a part of.

There’s some back story and a poem at the end.

Enjoy.

And live.

Really live.

Don’t let your heart knock and not answer.

Tell him you love him.

Because you never know if you will see him again.

Sometimes the best things happen when we least expect, the things that fall out of my mouth when I stop guarding my heart.

“Shadrach,” I said, bashful and hot and a tremble with the terrible joy I felt seeing him (he was glowing, a flame, a fire, under the white harsh light of the church basement’s florescent lights–I could blame it on the running outside getting ready for the San Francisco marathon he fell one week short of running, or rather that he was just full of light, I think that more so than the former), “I just have to tell you that if I never see you again how very beautiful you are right now, I love you.”

He hugged me.

I still feel his arms around my shoulders.

And his imprint of love is still smashed on my heart.

Tell them you love them.

Oh.

Do.

Tell them.

Really.

Do.

Please.

 

 

Fluffy, Fluffier, Fluffiest!

Fluffer!

I sent out an e-mail to a friend who works at Burning Man.

I asked for some help in regards to my situation and I offered to be of service in return, which is really the only way to go, I don’t expect special treatment, but if I could get what I was asking for it was going to make my Burning Man experience.

In a big fucking way.

And.

I got a positive response.

They needed help and absolutely happy to help with an early arrival pass.

EARLY ARRIVAl.

The only way to arrive.

I may have to wait in a tad of a line at the Gate, that happens, since I’m not arriving super early, but early enough that I am going to be able to enjoy my burn in a way that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to do.

I asked to get a pass in for the 27th.

One day before the event opens, basically, but it’s going to give me a full day and a half to my time at the burn.

I am so happy.

And so happy to help out.

I am going to be a fluffer again for Media Mecca.

It is not what you think, get your mind out of the gutter.

A fluffer is a person who helps get ice and water for the specific team that is busy working their asses off being of service to a specific part of the community.

I have always had special ties to Media Mecca as that is where I was camped my second year on playa, nannying my first playa nanny gig.

Mom ran Media Mecca and I got to see these little bits and pieces of the back end of the event and frankly, it’s fascinating, but then, I was also very new in my experience with Burning Man and really focused on my charge.

I missed so much too.

I was busy working.

And I will work this event too.

But not like I was doing when I was a nanny.

I got asked to do a shift Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of the event.

Which means grabbing up water coolers and hopping in a golf cart and running over to the Commissary and flashing the ice and water pass to the monitor, you bet your ass you got to be credentialed to get ice, it’s gold out in the desert, hello, please.

Then washing out the coolers and getting the requested amount of ice for the area you are fluffing and hauling it back to camp and distributing it where it needs to go.

Done and fucking done.

I love doing it.

It’s pretty simple, it’s an easy way to be of service and it’s a nice little work out too.

Plus, I’m happy to be doing anything at Media Mecca, they are my people.

I’ll get to see people that I only see at Burning Man, from all corners of the world.

I was thinking about next year, actually, yeah I know, I haven’t left for this event yet, but, I won’t have a retreat for school and I will be able to take a full week of vacation time to go to Burning Man and fingers crossed, the start of third year will not be over the Labor Day weekend.

I’d be able to go for a longer stint.

I’d like to do a bigger volunteer effort and work with Media Mecca again.

It feels like home and I know a lot of the team members and the alumni.

Plus.

Well.

Anything to secure me going another year.

I want to help though and doing a service out there really is the way to go and so, I’m so grateful to get to go and help out, I’ll tote some water and haul some ice.

No fucking problem.

Besides, it’s amusing to no end to tell people I’m a fluffer.

The response is hilarious.

And.

And.

And.

This: Dear CARMEN MARTINES,

Thank you for booking your trip with Rentalcars.com!

Yup.

I did it.

I rented a car.

Not a big one, just a little one, I don’t need a truck or van to haul my shit and I realized that instead of trying to figure it out, to put on my big girl pants and just rent a car and drive myself.

In fact.

I’m hella excited to do the drive on my own for the first time ever.

Guess who gets to choose the music.

Me!

Guess who gets to stop where she wants for bevvies and snacks?

Me.

Not that I will be stopping much, aside from gas, for snacks and meals.

I’ll be bringing my own food with me and I may also stock up on the water too before I go.

My plan is a crazy one, but it will be the one to get me the most amount of time at the burn.

I’ll be coming from two weeks of work with my family in Glen Ellen.

They are going to rent me a car for the two weeks I’m with them, so I can come and go and as well as come back to San Francisco the weekend in between.

I’ll be returning the car the evening of the 26th, that is my last Friday with the family.

I’ll get done with work at 6p.m. and drive straight to SFO.

I will drop off that car and go pick up my car.

I will come back here to the house and pack all my things into the car and I will drive through the night to Burning Man.

Hopefully getting there early morning before the heat starts up.

I’ll be tired, but excited, I have already done the trip in one shot three times before, driving straight from San Francisco through the night to the event in Nevada.

It can be done and I will be happy to do it.

As it gives me one full extra day.

I’ll have the early arrival pass, I have a vehicle pass, I have a car (yes, I’ll be getting it cleaned and detailed before I return it, I know what vehicles coming off playa look like and I budgeted that into my travel costs), I have my own tent, a camp chair, a blow up mattress, a cooler, blankets and bedding and pillows, solar lights, and all the costumes and hair flowers a girl could possibly want and a couple of crinolines, goggles, utility belt, tools, harness, and boots.

And heart shaped sunglasses.

Oh.

Ha!

And my bunny slippers.

Adulting.

It’s fucking fun.

Who knew?

I’ll be able to leave the event on my own steam, knowing that I can get back in one straight shot.  I plan on leaving the event on Wednesday, the traffic out will be very, very, very light, which will be super helpful, and I’m hoping to get home late Wednesday night.

Sleep.

Shower.

Clean out the car.

Car wash it.

Return it.

And then go to Mike Doughty that night.

You know what’s funny?

The show is in Burlingame.

Which is, ahem, pretty much right by the airport.

Funny how it all works out when I act in faith.

And the next day?

My first official day of my second year of graduate school.

It’s pretty fucking awesome.

Here’s to be fully self-supporting.

With a little, oh, really, a lot, let’s be honest, help from my friends.

My dear.

Dear.

Dear.

Friends.

See you in the dust!

Faith

Lit up with flames on top of it.

Like.

A metal light sculpture– “LIVE” and “DREAM” and “MAGIC” that you see on playa.

Or.

LOVE.

Which is my cover photo on my facecrack page.

It’s a lovely sculpture and it’s the intention I set for myself today in yoga.

Day five in a row, bitches.

I mean.

Yeah.

I am sore, but I also can feel the change in my body and I’m not nearly as sore as I would have thought I would have been if you had told me last week I was going to hit five classes in a row.

Making yoga while the sun shines.

Or.

As may be more apropos.

As the fog, er, lurks?

Lingers?

Muddles across the streets in big billowy clouds of fine white mist that feels like soft snow on my face as I scootered down Lincoln tonight.

No wonder my housemate went to Hawaii.

It’s summer in San Francisco.

Ie, freezing.

Especially out here by the ocean, by the beach, where it just whips in off the ocean and slither slides along the streets on soft cat fog feet.

So yeah.

Yoga, as much as I can get in before I head off into the heart of August when all things get weird and wild.

The days are going to be full and hearty and fast and next thing you know I’ll be in school and so it goes, this life, so big, so fast, so full of well, life.

I’m lucky I know it.

And while I can get in the yoga, I’m going to get it.

I’ll have a few weeks with being out of town, one week retreat, two weeks at work in Glen Ellen, half week at Burning Man.

I do hope that in all those places I will take the time to do my own yoga, to keep myself in the flow, so to speak, and not get rusty, now that I can feel myself getting some momentum with my practice.

Especially after the Facetime call I had this afternoon.

So out of the blue.

So unexpected.

So, very, very, very sweet.

It was from a man I had dated briefly before I moved to Paris, I was quite smitten and had things happened sooner, well, who knows, Paris had to be Paris and it was meant to happen the way it did.

We briefly reconnected when I moved back.

But.

Ships in the night.

And I remember the last time I saw him.

I did not leave it so well, I was a little hurt and I think, no, I know, I had an expectation and I could not say what I wanted to save my life and when he leaned in to kiss me goodnight, I just opened the car door and got out.

There was some conversation before that, but not much, I was not the only person getting a ride home and I was being greedy, I wanted him all to myself.

I so often want it all, all or nothing.

And well.

Ha.

I got the nothing.

I went in my house and didn’t call again and didn’t say why I was hurt and just walked away.

Toward what I thought was the real open door.

Or toward whatever I was thinking I was walking toward.

Fact is.

I was not in the place to be in a relationship with anyone.

I was too unsettled in my life, in my home, in my person, I was still grieving my move back from Paris and I was a wounded little cat that needed to hole up and lick her wounds for a while.

Wounds licked.

Healed.

And forgotten.

Mostly forgotten.

A brief wave from the other side of the window at the Starbucks in Noe Valley a year or so ago.

I remember thinking who is that, why does he look familiar and why is he waving at me.

Oh.

Oh!

I watched him walk across the street with another woman and felt a pang and thought of the dinners we’d had, the kiss under the light at Graceland the ride to the airport, it was he that took me to SFO when I flew to Paris.

The last goodbye.

The heartache.

I remember I wrote a blog about it while I was on the plane somewhere over the Atlantic, my heart on fire and my words slipping on the keyboard like tears sliding down my cheeks.

All those things in a flash.

Standing on the corner of Valencia and 24th.

I had pulled out my phone and saw that I had missed a facetime call.

I didn’t recognize the name.

I mean.

I did.

It tugged at me, but I couldn’t place it.

It was also an abbreviated name, first initial and last name smashed together and I just had this moment.

Call it back now.

I did.

And whoa.

Hello.

I was so surprised.

In a very good way.

We caught up and made plans to see each other Tuesday.

I have off Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday next week.

“I’ll be in yoga in the morning, but I’ll be free by noon,” I said.

“What kind of yoga,” he asked.

“Vinyasa,” I replied.

“Me too!” He exclaimed, “before you know it we’ll be doing yoga together.”

You know what?

That sounds pretty freaking fantastic.

I say this after watching a few couples now at the studio over the last few weeks, a boyfriend/girlfriend couple and a few couples that were married and it was really intriguing to see the dynamic and the play of the relationship in the studio, I found myself thinking, wow, I’d love to do yoga with a boyfriend.

Who am I?

Who the fuck am I becoming?!

I don’t know.

But you know what?

I kind of like it.

Ha.

You know what else I like?

Putting on my big girl pants and researching renting a car to go to Burning Man.

Because I am over the anxiety of trying to figure out how to get there and back.

I priced it out and sure, yes, it’s more than I want to spend, can’t I just get in for free, fuck, just fly me out in a private helicopter, but there’s this idea of being radically self-sufficient really running a line in my heart right now, and I thought, fuck, I have gone to the event 9 times now, this is number ten, what would it look like if I just drove up and back on my own?

I wouldn’t be stressed.

I could leave when I wanted to.

I can go when I want to.

I could.

I can.

I will.

I get paid tomorrow and after I pay rent, yes, I think I will be renting a car for the event.

But before all that.

Yes.

Yoga.

Because.

Hashtag.

Yoga.

 

 

Have You Hugged Your

Tent today?

I have.

OMG.

It was hilarious.

I mean.

I should really be video taping myself unboxing my things for Burning Man.

Right now.

I am rocking out my new bunny slippers.

Oh yes.

Giant white fluffy bunny slippers with little black eyes and pink ears and pink noses and yes, little whiskers.

Totes adorbs.

I know I’m a 43 year old woman.

Fuck off.

Hahahahahaha.

Besides, having slippers in the morning is so very nice, a trip to the port-o-potties in slippers is so much nicer and there’s just something so je ne c’est quoi about wearing fluffy animal slippers on playa.

It’s just the thing to do.

And in the mean time, my toes are cozy.

Because it’s July and it’s fucking cold ass fuck out here.

Cold.

Foggy.

Did I mention it’s cold?

I mean.

REALLY.

Cold.

Turn on the heat as soon as I walk in the door cold.

Fog city baby.

So.

It’s something grand to have new slippers on my toes.

Oh, and heh, the bunny slippers have little cotton tail too.

I’m going to barf with joy.

Bwahahahaaha.

If I can’t laugh at myself than I don’t what to do.

Life is full and funny and awesome and has a few bunnies in it.

The way it should be, you know.

And.

A new tent.

That’s right, got off track with glee over my bunny clad tootsies, my new tent, my first brand new tent for the event.

I have had a tent before, bought it off a sidewalk sale in the Mission my second burn, way before the Mission was too gentrified to get a good deal at a junk sale.

Now it feels like things are very much geared to the tourists and the guided walks and the junk sales have gone the way of many, many small treasures and experiences that I used to have in the Mission.

Oh.

There is still magic, it’s just gone a bit underground.

Anyway.

I digress.

I got my tent in the post last night, but did not open it as I had other things on my plate to deal with, but I did today before work.

I also yoga’d it up today.

Four days in a row.

I’m making yoga while the sunshines.

Er.

While the fog lasts?

Hmmm.

Yeah.

I’ve got this week and next week with a very open work schedule and I have been able to get myself to class every morning this week before work.

Granted I’m sore as fuck.

But I can see some benefits, I’m moving better, I feel stronger, my head is not as loud, and it’s nice to feel stretchy.

Plus the next month will get crazy after the first week of August and I’ll be out of town a lot with work and school and Burning Man, so might as well get it now while I can.

When I got back to the house after yoga I had a nice hot shower, ate some breakfast, and made some coffee and wrote for awhile.

Then.

I ran up to Other Avenues and bought a few groceries, re-upped the coffee supply and hit the nectarines.

God damn I love a good nectarine, but crunchy like, I like them crisp.

The market had some nice ones and I chatted with my mom while I was picking through the fruit.

I updated her on the rest of my comings and goings and the eminent start to my second year of graduate school, then got back to the house.

And.

I was ready.

I had the time.

I am good at delaying for some gratification.

Ahem.

But.

I could only wait so long.

I opened the box and pulled it out.

It has an awesome carrying case and it’s exactly what I was hoping for.

I smiled and yes, I totally hugged it to my chest.

I was very happy.

Granted.

Yes.

I will have to supplement the posts for rebar, regular tent stakes do not hold up in the winds of Burning Man.

You got to have rebar if you’re going to tent it.

And I am tenting it this year.

But, I got my tent!

I am also back to square one looking for a ride.

The ride I had tentatively found on Saturday is not certain when he will be going up, plans seem to be changing and he may not go up until the Wednesday of the event.

And well.

Fuck.

That’s not going to work for me.

I need to come back that Wednesday.

Granted I don’t have to leave right away Wednesday, but I really want to be back in the city by Wednesday night so that I have a day to decompress and shower off the dust and get my shit together for school and since I have the tickets to go see Mike Doughty play.

Which I’m not going to miss.

Too many friends going, and one of them, well, it’s her birthday, I sort of really have to be there.

And, you know, I want to see Doughty play.

It’s going to be hella intimate, and small and that is just the experience I want to have.

And then it’s school the next day.

Oh all the things.

But.

At least I’m prepared.

I just have to get from here to there and back again.

I have a ride to and from my school retreat.

I confirmed with the family that they will be renting me a car for the two weeks that I’m working for them in Glen Ellen, so I will be able to get out and do the deal in Sonoma or Petaluma if I need to, and I’ll be able to come back to SF the weekend in between the two weeks.

That’s going to be a nice little perk.

Having a car for a weekend.

Not that I will have to do any more Burning Man prep at that point, but you never know.

I’ll be coming back into the city the night of the 26th and returning the rental car and all fingers, toes and other body parts crossed, I will be leaving the next morning for the playa.

Again.

No clue how I am getting there and back.

But.

It really is all falling into place.

I mean.

Hello.

A new tent.

And.

Bunny slippers?

Please.

I got my ticket.

I am so ready to burn.

Bring it the fuck on.

Seriously.

It’s An Inside Job

In more ways than one.

Ah.

Life, just keeps showing up and saying hey, here’s something else to experience.

I didn’t get outside today at work and I was wondering why I felt wonky by mid-shift, oh yeah, I haven’t left the house.

Once.

It’s a really challenging thing for me to not get outside during my work day.

Especially when it’s beautiful out and the skies are blue and the sun is shining.

I actually felt a little physical pang as I realized that I was’t going to be able to leave the house today, it was so pretty out.

Not so much out here in the wilderness of fog and chilly air.

It was foggy when I left for work.

It was foggy and dreary and cold coming home.

At least there was yoga before work and I knew, I had a feeling, that I might be getting stuck inside and to let it happen and roll with it.

I’m going to have some spare time from work next week and if this is how it’s playing out this week, fine.

Summers are strange.

Not just weather wise.

I love it when folks on social media are all like, global warning, gah!

Yes.

There is undoubtedly global warming, I’m no rocket scientist, but I can see that weather has changed a lot even since I was a kid, but hey, folks, this is San Francisco, it’s July, it’s foggy.

Stop acting all shocked and layer up.

Nothing says “local” like layers.

Today I had on a tank top, a blouse, a cardigan, and a hoodie.

Most of the day I was in the cardigan, but the hoodie came in handy and I could have worn something even heavier for the ride home as it was so cold, damp, foggy, and dreary.

I did have a motorcycle jacket on over all of that.

Thank God.

I love this jacket.

It’s padded, like armor padded, in the back, shoulders, and elbows, it’s a little stiff, but I don’t need it to be flexible.

It’s also a serious wind breaker and water proof.

I rarely ride without it on and I have it with me at all times on the scooter.

Because even if it is hot enough during the day to ride without it, which it rarely is, it will get cold at night and I will want it for the long ride home.

Speaking of the long road home.

A dear friend offered me her place over the weekend in the Mission.

I’m contemplating it, if only to get out of the fog and have some sunshine on me all weekend, that and they have a big clawfoot bathtub.

However.

I have a lot going on this weekend, doing the deal with a couple of ladies, going to do the deal with my person, going to a 40th birthday party, in 50s housewife drag, taking the American Red Cross class to get re-certified in child/infant CPR and first aid, going to Oakland for a housewarming party…

If  I didn’t have life responsibilities right now it would probably happen.

But.

I think I’m probably going to stay out here in the fog belt.

Yoga.

It’s just down the block and having all my things in one spot is a nice thing.

Plus.

Well.

I am a creature of habit and of comfort.

I have all my creature comforts right here.

Though it is tempting.

It would be a little like being off the grid.

Well.

Not really.

But it would be different and sometimes a change of scenery is good for me.

Hmmm.

I’ll be sleeping on this, my friend said I didn’t need to get back to her right away, so I can ponder a bit longer.

I’m sure I’ll have more time to think about things tomorrow.

It’s most likely going to be a repeat of today and so forth through the week.

On one hand it is a challenge.

On the other hand.

I do get to go to yoga before work.

The boys are in summer camp this week and I am not at work until 1 p.m.

So I have been getting up and going to yoga before work.

Which is the nice part.

If I was working the 10a.m.-6p.m. shift that is the “normal” for the summer, I’d be unable to get to the morning yoga class before work.

Of course, I just reflected, after this week, nothing will be normal for the next month.

The family being out of town next week.

Then I will have my retreat for school.

Then the family will be in Sonoma, at Glen Ellen for two weeks and I’ll be working overnights there until I go to Burning Man.

Then school that next weekend.

Then the boys are in school and my schedule will be 1-8p.m. again.

I’m just going to easy does it through this week.

Get out and see my people after work and do yoga before work and it will all fall into place without me fretting.

And hopefully there will be outside time for me, even if it’s just a run to Lucca’s to pick up cold cuts or to the cleaners to drop off mending.

My life is pretty full and wonderful.

All the things they be happening.

And!

I got my tent in the post today.

It was leaned up against my door when I got home.

I’m thinking I’ll set it up in the back yard sometime next week when I’m not working.

I can do a dry run and see how it works and figure out how many rebar stakes I will need to get from the hardware store.

It’s going to be fun coming home from work every night to the packages of camping gear and Burning Man supplies.

Which reminds me.

Time to check in on that possible ride.

The ride share board via Burning Man hasn’t yielded results.

Yet.

I have faith.

I have hope.

I know it will happen.

It always does.

It really.

Really.

Does.

Just one little action at a time.

They will add up.

And the results?

Well.

They’re not mine.

Never have been.

Never will.

And always.

I mean.

Always.

Better than anything I could have planned for myself.

Seriously.

 

Fuck It’s Cold

Put some clothes on your children!

I wanted to holler across the street at the parent of the two tiny shivering denizens of the Outer Sunset fog belt who were scampering down the street in tank tops and shorts with their arms covered in goosebumps.

It’s July in San Francisco.

Break out your scarves.

Fuck.

It just dropped like a thick, spooky shroud.

Of course.

I may be just too far into Stranger Things.

Fuck it’s good.

But it’s not the prettiest out here, right now.

Yesterday I never saw the sun.

Today, I did, but only because I went into work.

The nice thing about yoga, I realized today when I was in the studio, is that it’s always a nice warm 80 degrees and my body needs that warmth.

I don’t like super hot, I can stand it, but sometimes the fog wears on a girl.

Never the less.

I did have a good day.

I got up early and did the writing and the coffee and a nice little breakfast.

Then off to yoga.

A good class, my favorite instructor, who, woe is me, is leaving in two weeks!

Damn it.

Oh well.

The studio has other teachers I like, but I shall miss her classes.

I can see how I have gotten better whenever I go to her class.

And.

They are sneaky classes, I’m doing well, think I got it all under control, then hours later I’m like, why the fuck am I sore?

Oh.

I had Martina’s class today.

Tomorrow I will be sore as well.

That being said, I do plan on going to class in the morning before work.

I’ve got a 1p.m. start all week as the boys are in summer camp.

1-8p.m. means that I can get in a yoga class before work as well as my writing and a shower.

I always need a shower after yoga.

It usually is a lovely thing too, that shower.

So very grateful that there is a yoga studio in my neighborhood, on my freaking block, for Pete’s sake, it couldn’t be more convenient, and it’s super helpful for me time wise, I can get in a shower and sometimes a few other things too.

Like.

I scootered over to Rainbow before work and got a couple of “luxury” items for my Burning Man efforts.

A nice hand salve.

I gift hand massage on playa.

It’s what I do.

It’s a nice way to connect with someone and most folks have such dried, beat up hands from the playa and doing all the work that needs to be done to set up their camp or their art piece or whatever it is they’re doing.

I also picked up some boxes of unsweetened vanilla almond milk, a pair of heart shaped sunglasses, and some of my favorite body lotion.

What with what I got yesterday on Amazon, all I need is to get the rebar for my tent and some work gloves.

I’ll hit up a hardware store this weekend and get it wrapped up.

This weekend so far looks like some “homework” for the American Red Cross CPR child/infant/adult class I’m taking on Sunday.

It used to be that you would have to devote nearly a half day to the cause, the class was four and a half hours long, now you take part of it online then go in for an hour and a half.

The class portion is Sunday.

I hope to have the online stuff taken care of on Saturday, I haven’t really looked at it yet.

And Saturday, aside from doing the deal with my person at Tart to Tart at noon, I’ve got another friend’s 40th birthday party extravaganza to go to in the afternoon and my commitment that night at 7pm.

Sunday, after the class I’ll be heading over to Oakland for another housewarming party.

I wish my friends would all stop moving over to Oakland/Berkley/et al.

I miss you guys.

I totally get it though.

I do.

I just, well, I’m holding tight here as long as I can.

I really feel like I’m more San Franciscan than anything, and I try to represent best I can, that San Francisco weirdo.

I don’t always succeed, but I certainly don’t fade into the background.

Even here.

I do, however, miss the sunshine, and I am constantly grateful that I work in the Mission, at least I get to experience sun there.

Not that I made it much outside today.

Today was all things cooking.

Pot of sushi rice.

Beef stew with vegetables.

Fish for the boys.

A vat of broccoli soup.

Roasted cauliflower.

There will be a bit of cooking for me this week as the boys are at camp for a part of the day that I’m at the house.

Laundry, cooking, errands, marketing, running to Walgreens for prescriptions, going to the dry cleaners.

All sorts of things.

Especially as the family prepares to go on a little trip next week.

FYI.

My people.

I have to work that Monday at the house, let in the housekeeper, this is August 1st, but I’ll be off early, and, and, and.

I will get Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday off from work.

I’ll go back to the house on Friday to cook and prepare for the family to return and make sure the house and everything is in order.

But yo.

I got some free time next week.

Coffee?

MOMA?

I just got my new membership, I can take up to two people with me.

I should definitely go next week, even if no one goes with me, I’m a good solitary museum goer, shit, so many museums have I gotten to visit, such a gift, that.

The Louvre (Paris), The Metropolitan (New York), The MOMA SF, The MOMA New York, The Whitney (New York), the new Whitney, the Brooklyn Museum, The Palace of Fine Art (San Francisco), Le Petite Palais, L’Orangerie (Paris) The Rodin Museum (Paris) The Pompidou, Palais de Tokyo, the Asian Museum of Art (Paris), the LACMA, The Chicago Museum of Art, The New Orleans Museum of Art, The Dali Museum(Paris), the DaVinci Museum (in Rome), The DeYoung (San Francisco), The Tate (London), Galleria  Nazionale d’Arte Moderna (Rome), The National Gallery in London, The Jeu de Paume (Paris).

I’m sure I’m forgetting some, in fact, I know I am.

But man.

I am lucky to get to have had so many of those experiences, and most, truth be told, on my own.

Although once in a while with a friend, or a lover, although never a boyfriend.

It’s been twenty years since I have been to a museum with a boyfriend.

My ex-boyfriend back in Madison was way into art and we hit up the ones in Chicago, Milwaukee and Madison.

I remember when I introduced him to Dali.

And to Klimt.

And Kandinsky.

Twenty years.

That’s a long time.

Grateful I haven’t sat around waiting for a boyfriend to go out and live my life.

Not to say I wouldn’t eschew one.

Just that I don’t need a man to complete me.

A compliment, that I could handle, some one to walk by my side.

Until then.

Well.

Friends.

Masturbation and Stranger Things.

Heh.

Fully Self-Supporting

AKA.

Motherfucking adulting.

I did it.

I just bit the bullet, had some faith, looked over the facts and decided it was time to put on my big girl pants and grow the fuck up.

I bought my shit for Burning Man.

Enough with the asking all my friends who aren’t going or who might not go if they have spare gear.

It’s about time I had the essentials.

I know I will be going to Burning Man again after this year, sort of in my blood you know, and I might as well have my own solar shower and blow up mattress.

And.

A tent.

Camp pillows, since I’m not sacrificing the ones on my bed.

No way, no how.

An extra storage bin since I think I had one go kaput last burn.

A small cutting board.

A folding camp chair.

Tennis balls (Hello Kitty pink tennis balls!) for capping rebar stakes on my tent–a four man tipi canvas tent.  Rebar I didn’t order online, I’ll go to a hard ware store or Home Depot and get six maybe eight lengths of 12″ rebar to stake my tent to.  Then I’ll slice open the tennis balls and cap the ends of the rebar, one walking into rebar in the middle of the night on the way to the potty scar on my leg is enough.

Some more bike lights.

Because one really can’t have enough of the blinky blink on your bike, it’s nice to be seen and they’re also handy for when you’ve parked the bike and wandered off to explore and holy shit there’s a hundred bikes here, where’s mine?

Which is also why I have a pennant flag on the back of my bike as well.

A head lamp.

Yeah.

I finally have succumbed.  I have never had a head lamp and inevitably at some point I think to myself, why didn’t I get a head lamp, it would so come in handy at this moment while I’m looking for something in the dark and second guessing what bin I put what in.

A flash light.

A Hello Kitty flashlight.

Because.

Hello Kitty.

Duh.

And last but not least.

A pair of bunny slippers.

Because.

Bunny slippers.

Hello.

There was this moment today when I was doing my morning writing, after having done my morning yoga and hot shower, and now here’s breakfast and coffee.

When I realized.

You know, Martines, you could do this thing without having to beg, borrow, or steal your friends stuff.

You could oh, say, have faith that you have enough.

I have begun having nightmares about my financial aid package from school and not being able to afford my next year of grad school.

Which is just baloney.

And the $500 I dropped on supplies will be only a teeny tiny drop in the bucket should  I not get the aid package I’m counting on.

Anyway.

It’s all fucking fear and fear ends up driving too many of my decisions and I realized that I had to let go to get moving on and allow myself to take care of myself.

I can do this.

I know what to get, I know what to bring, I know what I need to have and what is nice to have.

I also sat down and actually read the survival guide.

I haven’t done that in years.

In fact, I have not been given a survival guide in years, as I have worked and usually what I get is the ticket handed to me, which is a gift, but I have’t had a survival guide in the last five years or a What, Where, When.

I’m getting all the goodies this year.

I’m a tourist yo.

That’s not to say I won’t be of service.

I will.

I will do all the things and bring my best self and not have expectations about what I can get from the event, but what can I bring, what can I contribute?

If I go into it with that mental attitude I know I will have a great experience.

And being beholden to no one for their gear, not responsible for making sure I don’t wreck it or break it or give it back so dusty they sneeze for the next year.

Nope.

All my own stuff.

All my own responsibility.

Oh.

That’s not to say I don’t still need help.

I do.

I do.

I need to find out if the possible ride offer up is an actual thing that could happen.

I need to find a ride back as well.

To that end I posted on the Burning Man ride board this evening after dinner before I went out to do the deal.

Taking action.

Letting go of the results.

I mean.

I’m going.

Even if I don’t have a secured ride back.

I’m going.

I’ll get back.

Just like I will get there.

I also figured out my food plan for the event and actually prepped and froze half of my meals.

I am going pretty basic and simple and I can eat it cold or heat it up if I want to.

I’m having the same thing all four days, makes it simple for me, I don’t bore easily and I make tasty food, I’m also a creature of habit with my food and that helps to no end.

Breakfast will be a serving of Uncle Sam Flax cereal–which is basically just toasted unground golden flax–as well as some raw almonds, and a cut up apple with sea salt, nutmeg, and cinnamon, as well as some unsweetened vanilla almond milk.

Lunch and dinner will be the same thing: Italian vegetable and ground chicken stew with turmeric and Italian herbed brown rice.  The stew is made from sauteed onions, garlic, ground chicken meat, sliced black olives, mushrooms, zucchini, roasted white corn with sun dried tomatoes, and a large can of crushed organic tomatoes, sea salt, pepper, oregano, basil.  I mixed in the herbed brown rice with the stew and put it up in single serving containers in my freezer.

I’ll pull one out of the cooler in the morning to thaw and that will be lunch, and then leave one out for dinner.  They’ll also act as ice for any bevvies I want to keep cool.

This meal will be accompanied by raw carrots and sea salt and an apple for dessert.

My evening snack: raw almonds, 1/2 an oz, and 1 apple.

Done, done, done, and super freaking easy.

I also ordered some cold brewed organic coffee concentrate.

Iced coffees with unsweetened vanilla almond milk.

All day long bitches.

Aside from that.

I need a pair of aviator sunglasses.

I’m not taking my retarded expensive prescription sunglasses to Burning Man.

No fucking way.

A $20 pair or two of aviator’s and the rebar and maybe some work gloves.

Actually.

Definitely some work gloves.

So what I have left is a run to Cole Valley Hardware for rebar and work gloves.

Sunglasses I can get anywhere.

Message my friend who has my old quilt, that’s my bedding, plus the set of cheap sheets I got for the air mattress and a couple of fuzzy throws I have.

And maybe my hot pink bunny pillow.

Because.

Pink bunny.

Ah, Burning Man.

Where I can be tough and capable and fully self-supporting.

And.

Also wear hot pink glitter lipgloss and have bunny slippers.

Something for all the parts of me that need to be expressed.

Self-reliance.

And.

Sparkle pony.

The man burns in 40 days!

Not that I’ll be there for the burn.

But whatever.

I’m set.

Seriously.

Luckiest girl in the world.

 

I’m Not Tech Savvy

But.

I am listening to music that my dearest friend put together as a playlist for me.

French music.

From a Parisian.

I feel so special.

Seriously.

I love me some French music.

Perhaps because it is an easier way for me to understand the language, lyrics tend to be repetitive, simpler than every day conversation and lyrical, which makes it easier for me to access.

And there is just something to it.

I want to couples dance with someone in a cafe with ceramic black and white tiles.

The smell of tobacco smoke drifting in as the door opens.

The smell of coffee in the air.

The low light, the ambiance, maybe I need a French cafe in my home, whenever I get it.

Either that or just frequent trips back to Paris and this time to also experience the night life a bit more, the cafe music life, I got into the spoken word a tiny bit with my excursions to Le Chat Noir for Paris Spoken Word events and had a tiny taste.

But to be there with a Parisian and be let into that exclusive view.

Delicious.

It’s sexy and sensual and worldly.

All things I aspire to.

I got to record with Adriana Marchione today for a podcast she’ll be posting along side  her ongoing project “The Creative High” .

I was really honored to be thought of and it was a great experience, and I have to say, I felt my voice, I was in my voice and it felt really powerful.

And.

There’s something to be said to having an artist, an auteur, and a teacher, interested in my work.

Also.

How she described me.

Well.

I’ll leave you in a little suspense, but it was quite flattering.

The podcast will go up in about a week and will be on her website.

I got to share a part of my story, a bit about my process, my experience with writing, blogging, poetry, the little bit of spoken word I have done, my best friend passing nine years ago and how that prompted me to Burning Man, my other best friend and how she was the person to whom I went to for help when things all came crashing down.

It was a great experience and I didn’t prep for it other than run through a small set list of poetry pieces of my own that are memorized.

Three.

That’s it.

I have three of my works memorized.

But they please me and it’s nice to share them once in a while with someone.

I shared about the patron last year from Burning Man and doing the collaboration with him.

I talked about my memoir(s) and how I still don’t know what to do with them, or how to go about getting them together, but also, how much that striving has pushed me towards places and experiences that I was just not expecting.

At all.

It also gave me another taste of recording.

And I have to say, I liked it.

“Are you going to do something for the talent show,” I was asked by the amazing MC last night before it was about to start, “you sing right?”

I told her I didn’t.

“You look like a singer,” she said.

Now there’s a compliment.

I admitted that I do some spoken word.

But frankly, it didn’t feel appropriate to recite one of my pieces to the fabulous birthday girl, they weren’t quite in the spirit of what was happening, and they also weren’t pieces that would have been celebratory of her and her experience.

And that was important to acknowledge.

There was a moment, I thought, well, there’s that one piece that might be fun, but really, it would have been to garner my own attention and I wanted to just sit back a little and be a wall flower and watch the main act and really enjoy that I got to have the privilege of being asked and then showing up to celebrate someone’s life and the gifts that she brings into her circle of friends.

It was a great honor.

And fun.

Although I had to bail “early.”

Heh.

Though I was slightly shorted on my sleep, I came home and unwound and blogged and watched part of Stranger Things.

Which.

Side fucking bar.

FUCKING AMAZING.

So good.

I mean, I really can’t recommend it enough, except.

Well.

Ha.

I’m susceptible to the scary.

And I did have a moment last night when I was curled up in my bed with my hands literally over my ears, because I did not want to hear the soundtrack and I was preparing myself for the scary, that I thought.

Hmm.

Maybe I should’t watch this right before I go to bed.

Oof.

It’s good.

Seriously.

Check it out.

End side bar.

I can’t just get right into bed, even on a late night, so, not so much sleep was gotten.

But.

Oh.

I took a nap today.

I am so proud of myself.

I never nap.

And it was just begging to happen.

I mean, only getting five hours of sleep will catch up with me, sometimes it’s not so bad and I can have an extra cup of coffee, but I didn’t want to blow my vocal cords out and be dehydrated from drinking coffee today, so I skipped my usual Saturday morning large coffee with my person today at Tart to Tart.

Then went straight to the podcast, after that to Scooter Centre, then to Scuderia, since Scooter Centre was unexpectedly closed, aired up the tires, scooted home, ate a late lunch, caught up with a girl friend on the phone, and then I looked at the time.

I can nap for one hour before going to my new Saturday night commitment.

I folded up my laundry, nothing says sexy like knowing I’ll get to slip into fresh washed sheets tonight, and grabbed a pillow.

I lay down at an angle on the bed, on my back, head propped up on a small throw pillow and closed my eyes.

It was just a touch chilly.

Afghan, the one I got in the mail from my grandmother.

I reached for it.

It had been sitting folded on the end of my chaise lounge in the sun.

Extraordinary.

It was like being wrapped up in warm soft sunshine.

Best nap ever.

Covered in the love of my grandmother.

Warmed by the sun.

After getting to do some art and be available to my friend.

It was glorious.

I almost didn’t get up.

In fact.

Had I not had that commitment, I would have gone back to sleep.

Grateful I didn’t, I don’t need to muck with my sleep schedule.

But.

Boy howdy.

That might have been one of the best naps I have ever had.

Plus.

It was good to connect with my people.

To see and be seen.

To not let myself be isolated.

A sweet, simple, glorious little day.

Full of light and warmth and art.

Poetry.

Narrative.

Recovery.

I mean.

Really?

My life is fucking awesome.

Seriously.

It is.

Happy.

Joyous.

Motherfucking.

Free.

 

Information

Good information to have.

No judgements on myself or others, it’s all just information.

Like.

Second swing through date with guy from Tinder and no, there’s not chemistry, but, nice guy, and I’m glad the he was in town with friends, he’s an Oakland guy, and at a club near the surprise birthday party that I was at and he came by for a little while.

We cut a rug.

But I was pretty tuckered out.

And that was a clear sign to me.

When the allure of coming home was more than the allure of staying on the dance floor shaking it to a good dj with a guy who wants to dance with me.

Fact is.

My knees were sore and my feet were in agony.

I have fallen arches.

I were arch supports in my shoes.

It sucks.

It is what it is.

However.

The party I was at, the hosts asked that we all remove our shoes, which is great, hey, sure, no problem, except, that I realized I was standing and talking and dancing and walking around and exploring the house, it was awesome and cool and made me have hope of there still being bastions of interesting things in the Mission versus the white washing of condos that seems to be in heavy proliferation there.

So.

My feet hurt.

Like awful.

I go to the party at 9:15p.m.

I left at 1:30 a.m.

That’s four hours of being on my bare feet.

Of course there wasn’t chemistry.

I was in pain.

I’m in pain right now, but it’s not as bad.

That being said, no yoga tomorrow.

At least not the early morning classes.

I am going to let myself get a few hours of sleep, get up shower, meet my person at noon, do the podcast at one thirty, have coffee with a friend in the Castro then run over to Scooter Centre and have them show me how to inflate my scooter tires.

They are low and I noticed it last night.

My scooter seems real bouncy on the road.

I am sure that I could figure it out, but there’s a weird little bit of fear in me the first time I go to do something and I have never done it before, I just want to be shown how to do it and I figure I should also make an appointment for a tune up.

I haven’t done so since I go it in November and I have already put on 1,900 miles on it.

That’s what happens when you live 6.5 miles from work.

No wonder my knees are crappy.

Ten years of riding a bicycle in and around the city and the last five of it on a once speed that I had in fixed gear for three years before I flipped over my hub and went to free.

My knees are shot.

Let me not think about the years and years of being in the service industry and all that wear and tear and just the general bad way I took care of myself for so long.

It takes time to heal from some of that and some of that damage may be too far gone.

I’m ok with that.

I am an old lady.

Yeah, I know, I don’t act like that, although I am very old school about certain things, I am wearing bifocals, call them progressives all you want, I’m wearing bifocals and bitching about my fallen arches and sore knees.

Old.

My brain’s wide awake though and here I sit, decompressing from the day, the night, the drive by date.

I do think I’ll be canceling our coffee date on Sunday.

He’s nice, but I was just not feeling it and my time is precious.

I’ll sleep on it, but yeah, I think there’s not much there.

Friend though, I can tell that, definitely a nice guy and we discovered that we do in fact have a few friends in common.

And.

That leads to an interesting conversation I had with a gentleman tonight at the party, the who do you know game, the six degrees of separation from the birthday girl, and we ended up having quite the fun chat before the date showed up.

I even confided that indeed, a date was on the way.

We had fun chit chatting and flirting, there was definitely flirting and though I separated myself off to meet with the other guy who came by, I did happen to bump back into the gentleman who I had conversed with more.

He was in line waiting for the bathroom, which I had just used.

I told him I was going and he asked about finding me on facecrack.

I said, yes, absolutely find me on all things social media.

However.

There is an easier way.

“Do you have your phone on you?” I asked.

He pulled it out.

He handed it to me.

I put my phone number in it, called my phone, and then plugged my name into the contact field.

“Now you’ll know how to find me,” I said.

FYI.

I have never done that before.

And it was real easy.

Good information to know.

I think there was a quick hug, then I was gathering up all my things and scooting out the door.

To scoot on down the road.

To get home to my sweet, humble, cozy little abode.

I am so lucky to have such a full life.

Even if I miss yoga in the morning and don’t have quite the amount of sleep I’d prefer.

Oh!

And I may have procured a ride up to Burning Man.

Not back, which is what I figured would happen, one person up and another back, but hey, that’s half the battle, we’re going to talk next week and iron out details.

And my bike has a ride up.

Things are starting to fall into place.

They always do.

“Have you figured out Burning Man yet?” A friend asked me this evening on the sidewalk outside of Our Lady of SafeWay.

“Nope, but it’ll all fall together, it usually does,” I said and smiled, completely in faith that what I was saying was true, because, well it is.

“That’s what I like about you Carmen, you buy a ticket and you just go!” He smiled in wonder.

That’s called faith.

And I do have that.

I do.

And that is probably why I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I don’t need to figure it out.

I just need to have faith.

And I have it in spades.

Seriously.

Unboxing

I hear it’s this thing.

This weird little things, where people post videos of themselves unboxing packages, iphones, laptops, Disney tchotchkes, etc.

Although, I think it’s meant specifically for technology gadgets.

I had an official unboxing moment just now.

Except.

Perhaps I should call it an “unenveloping.”

I GOT MY BURNING MAN TICKET!

I AM NOT EXCITED AT ALL.

AT ALL!

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

I’M GOING TO BURNING MAN!

Heh.

Sorry.

Couldn’t help myself.

I knew that the ticket had arrived as I got a message via e-mail that it had been delivered earlier this afternoon while I was at work.

That put a big old smile on my face.

Great big smile.

And there it was, just outside my door, sitting patiently waiting for me, in a brown envelope from UPS in the shared hallway of my spot.

I got it.

I put it on my table.

I hung up my coat.

I returned a few texts.

I lit some candles.

I mean.

Hello.

Ambiance.

Burning Man is sexy, no?

Then.

I delayed gratification.

I ate a sweet, ripe, black plum.

Which, though you may not know is very apropos.

“My favorite fruit is a black plum,” Shadrach told me, biting into a luscious black plum he’d gotten at the Civic Center Farmer’s Market.

Then he told me a story about this little girl in kindergarten who had a very sad lunch and he shared what he had all the while thinking, she can have anything she wants, just not the plum, plums are my favorite.

“Oh!  I just love plums,” she said and smiled.

I can see it.

I can see the sweet inner turmoil of six year old Shadrach.

Then.

He smiles and hands it to her.

I love plums.

Mostly because of that story.

And though it was not meant to be a serendipitous thing, it was, I now realize, the absolutely right thing to do, to stop and eat a plum before I opened my Burning Man tickets.

Shadrach died years ago.

His death is the reason I went to Burning Man in the first place.

He used to host Decompression parties at his loft in the Dogpatch.

“You are so Burning Man!” He would tell me. “You so need to go!”

He was right, he usually was.

But I never quite got it together.

I always was a little behind the ball.

Shadrach was in a coma for a week in the ICU at General Hospital, the details don’t bear repeating, suffice to say, it was an excruciating week and also one filled with so much love and tenderness and family and fellowship and community.

I still feel the ripple affects of that week in my life and in my heart.

He officially died the 30th of July.

One month later I was at Burning Man with a packet of his ashes.

“Do you think it’s too late to go?” I asked a friend at the hospital, “Burning Man, that is, I should go, I should take his ashes there, do you think that would be appropriate?”

The response was a resounding yes, a quiet yes, but a yes nonetheless that allowed the seed that Shadrach had planted years before in my heart to finally crack open.

“Sometimes God breaks your heart open so that you can know more love,” she said to me, quietly in passing as I bawled in a church somewhere in the Mission.

And out of that broken wide open heart grew this wilding wilderness of flowers and fire and magic and danger and excitement and glory and friends and more friends and extraordinary, beyond belief experiences.

This year marks number 10 for me.

Ten burns.

In a row.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Each its own challenge.

Each its own experience.

Each having its own heartbreaks, awakenings, striped raw emotional catharsis.

Always the same.

And yet.

Always different.

Dusty.

Hot.

Cold.

Windy.

Extreme fluctuations in weather, rainbows, rain storms, fucking hail one year, double rainbows, warm nights, freezing cold oh my god I’m going to die of exposure nights.

The year that I had a severe allergic reaction to wood smoke from a forest fire that was so big the smoke was drifting in from hundreds of miles away and I ended up in the med tents getting my nasal cavity washed out and crying like a helpless baby.

All the dancing.

Every year.

On top of cars, art cars, ships broke down in the sea of playa, on my bicycle, in the dust, at the trash fence, at the burn, riding around in sailing sloops, getting a hold of golf carts and riding out into deep playa on art tours.

Going out and taking photographs.

Sunsets.

Sunrises.

Home.

Oh, it’s home.

And I know I sound like a kid, a happy, crazy, woo-woo kid, but I sort of don’t care.

Especially since I went through the heart break of thinking I wasn’t going to get to go.

And now.

Well.

Over the moon might actually be a bit of an understatement.

I was thinking about things today as well, prep and all the stuff and things.

And I realized that I am going to have to really just let it all happen exactly how it’s suppose to happen, to not force things, manipulate things, to go light and bright, easy breezy carefree.

Maybe I don’t co-ordinate with my OG playa family and get my bike back up and running.

Maybe I walk like I did my first event.

Maybe I stop worrying about a tent and just go with the two man that was offered to me.

It’s not like I’m going to be there very long.

The ride, again, will happen, there and back.

I know it.

Things just work out the way they are supposed to.

My heart is wide open and the flower planted there so long ago continues to bloom and unfurl.

The love has not faded.

Only grown deeper, stronger, more entrenched in me.

Grateful beyond words for this experience.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

I’ll see you in the dust.