Archive for the ‘San Franciso’ Category

Sometimes

May 30, 2018

It’s nice to get mail.

Sometimes it’s really, really, really nice to get mail.

Especially from the IRS.

Holy shit.

I got home today, as per usual, a little tense, a little upset, a little in bafflement, as I have been over the last few days since I was told that I needed to move out, to a few items of mail.

One was a very sweet and unexpected card from my grandmother with a $20 bill congratulating me on graduation.

So sweet.

The other from the aforementioned IRS.

And it looked like a check.

But.

I already got back my tax returns, both state and federal, and I filed electronically so the returns were sent directly to my bank.

What was this check looking thing?

Could it possibly be?

Could it really be?

I was almost afraid to open it.

I had a thought, but my thoughts are not always the nicest to me, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

Cue an earlier thought, that I sort of joked about, but not really to my boss that it was ok, me getting asked to move out, because I have a tent, and I can hang out on the beach.

My boss laughed, but she was horrified to hear my news and also very supportive, there will be no beach for me necessary.

I can stay in the spare room that is currently the kids play room if worst came to worst.

Such a kind offer.

And one I hopefully will not have to take up, but it’s always good to know that I can.

I did once before when I was in transition, stay with employers, actually, former employers, who were remarkably generous and let me stay in their attic room with private bathroom and yes, with both my cats, while I was waiting to get into my next place.

Nothing says worst nightmare to me than homeless with cats, but in a sense that was exactly what I was.

I used to say I was in transition, but it was a transition that was horrendously uncomfortable, especially at seven years of sobriety.

I used to beat myself up about that, homeless with that much sober time, but it was just God preparing me, winnowing down the unnecessary things in my life, so that when the time came a few months later when the opportunity to move to Paris was presented to me, I was able to go without much thought about stuff and things.

I didn’t have much.

I don’t now when I look around.

The only furnishing in my studio that is mine is my bed.

That’s it.

The chaise, end tables, chairs, kitchen table, bookshelf, all my landlady’s furniture.

She’s a realtor and I believe they were used for staging at some point.

Anyway.

I won’t have much to move when I move, just the bed and the things hanging on the wall, the clothes hanging in my closet, and my kitchen stuff.

I could very easily move and do it quite efficiently.

It’s just a matter of finding a place to move to.

I began slowly putting out more feelers today.

I got a tip on an in-law on Silver Terrace, but out of my price range at $2,000.

I figure I will be comfortable spending $1500.

And if I have to I could go as high as $1800.

But that would be super freaking tight.

And I know this sounds crazy, but whatever, I have a feeling it won’t be that expensive, I do have a feeling the right thing will come and it will be what I can afford.

I told my therapist today how scared I have been and upset and angry and how it’s been hard to fall asleep because my brain will attack me with horrifying scenarios about not finding a place to live or not being able to afford what I find.

So.

Last night I said, enough brain, knock it off.

I can’t live in a future where there is no God.

God is right here.

Right the fuck now.

I am being taken care of.

I have paid for June rent.

I only have to be concerned with today.

Stop with the future tripping.

And if you have to think about the future, think about it with faith.

Magic.

God.

Love.

Abundance.

Light.

Envision where you want to live.

Think about what it looks like, really get into the details.

Hard wood floors, light, oh man, give me some light, I have been living in my little cave for almost five years, I could use a god damn window.

High ceilings.

Or at least higher than they are now.

I have low ceilings.

A nice kitchen, a gas range, a washer and dryer on site.

A place to park.

A big closet or two.

I mean.

A bathtub!

Oh.

Fuck wouldn’t that be nice?

Ruminate on the nice things, not on the bad things, see it, visualize it.

It will come.

It will!

I don’t know what exactly will happen next, I have to go to the SF Tenants Union on Saturday and do the drop in counseling.

Until that point all that I can do is what I have been doing.

Reaching out quietly to friends, avoiding social media, but just texting a friend here and there and asking them to keep ears open.

And practicing staying in the moment.

Where there is nothing wrong.

And.

There is only a little envelope to open from the IRS.

So open it.

I had put away all my stuff from my day out and about and put away my groceries, and I was heating up my dinner when I opened the card from my grandmother.

I left the envelope from the IRS alone.

But I really wondered.

If.

Well.

Could it possibly be?

And.

OH.

OH.

OH!

It was!

It was!

It was!

It was my refund from 2014!

2014!

In January of 2015 I did my taxes early and I did not have all my paperwork, I didn’t realize this until after I had filed.

I received some paperwork a month later and realized that I had fucked up my taxes and that I actually was due a bigger return than what I had filed for.

So.

I filed an amendment with the paperwork that I had left out and sent it in.

I never heard anything back.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

But.

Well.

I was hoping for something.

I sort of forgot about it after a while.

Although it would peek up above the surface of my unconsciousness every year after when I was filing and I would remember to make sure that I had all my necessary paperwork available to me before filing.

Certainly didn’t want to make that mistake again.

And there it was.

My fucking amendment refund check from 2014!

I laughed out loud with joy.

I’m going to be ok!

I mean.

I know I’m going to be ok.

But now I can stop stressing about the money I wanted to have for my traveling this summer.

I was afraid that I would find a place and have to use up my travel savings to put down a deposit to move into a new place and then have nothing left to travel with.

Maybe I would have to break out that credit card I got months ago but have never used.

Maybe not!

Not when I got a check from out of the blue for.

Wait for it.

Like you haven’t this entire blog.

Heh.

$2,126.34!

Boom.

Can you say happy?

I can!

Happy.

Joyous.

Motherfucking free to travel about the country.

Luckiest girl in the world.

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Not What I Wanted

December 23, 2017

And beyond generous.

I was disappointed, let me get it out-of-the-way, the sounding like an asshole, today when I got my Christmas present from my employers.

Gah.

I sound like such an ass.

I’m not disappointed any more, fyi, I got over it pretty fast, but for about an hour I was miffed and a little let down.

I had hoped for a bonus.

Ah.

Who the hell am I kidding?

I had expected a bonus.

I had expected a weeks pay.

That’s typically what I have gotten from my employers whom I have nannied for, with the exception of one set of families that gave me a half weeks salary.

I was rather counting on getting the money to make my first car payment on my car.

Not that I don’t have it to pay, my dear and sweet and generous friend who went with me to help me get the car told me don’t put too much down, rather, keep it in prudent reserve, a years worth of payments, just in case something happens.

That way I’m not screwed if something comes up and it felt really good to do that.

I still was hoping to get a nice bonus and throw a big payment on my first month of the car payment.

Not happening.

Of course, I’ll still make the payment, and it will be larger than what I need to, I have it, and I want to pay off a little extra every month.

I felt a bit chagrined to have gotten my hopes up so high.

I do know better, expectation leads to resentment and all that.

But I had gone ahead and had some expectation.

I think I surprised myself.

I think I thought I was maybe, just maybe going to get more than a week’s salary.

The huge gift of an Iphone 8 for my birthday.

Then, there’s that, the HUGE gift of the Iphone 8.

Which retails at $799.

And the family also did give me two other gifts tonight as I was wrapping up the week with them before the holiday–a set of AirPods, which retail at $159 and six paid sessions at my chiropractor, at $85 a pop that’s $510.

In toto this week the family has given me $1,468 worth of stuff.

I need to shut the fuck about not getting what I want.

Yes.

It’s true, I would not have spent the money on a new Iphone or the Airpods, not at all, last thing really I would have bought, nor would I have spent the money on the chiropractor, although, yes, eventually I would.

But I wonder, have been wondering for a few moments now, what if these are exactly the things that I need in my life.

My current phone is old and probably won’t last much longer.

I have been pondering buying a new one soon anyhow.

The Airpods will help with me taking client calls, I did a phone session tonight and I thought about half way through of the pods and, huh, they are going to come in handy.

Plus.

Going to the chiropractor is expensive and I know myself well enough that maybe I wouldn’t keep paying $85 a week to go to it.

Shit.

I pay $120 a week for therapy.

So maybe the gift certificate was exactly how I should be spending the money.

Really.

I got more than I was expecting.

It was just in a different form.

I also got to have some amazingly sweet time with the oldest boy today.

We had a solo day out.

We took the train downtown, went and visited the Christmas tree in Union Square, watched the ice skaters slipping all over the place on the temporary holiday ice rink that always goes up, went and looked at the Christmas windows in Macy’s and watched the kittens and puppies play, then off to the Metreon to watch Ferdinand the Bull, the new cartoon movie, quite sweet.

Afterward we went back to Macy’s as there was a food truck party happening and he and I got rotisserie chicken and brussels sprouts and sat on the astro turf and had a picnic lunch.

Then.

Yes, I can’t believe I let him talk me into it, we went into the Disney store, then to the Westfield Mall.

It was intense and probably not an experience I would enjoy on my own, but getting to see it through his eyes was super sweet and special.

I helped him pick out a Christmas present for his sister and I picked out a present for his sister to give to him.

So adorable.

He ate all sorts of the good junk food its super fun to have when you’re seven going on eight, popcorn and a slushy at the movie theater and Twizzlers, the chicken for lunch, eaten with his fingers, and, yes, unbelievable that he even had room for it, a pretzel hotdog from Annie’s Pretzels in the mall.

“What is that good smell!?” He asked as we came back from getting his toy.

Annie’s Pretzels.

He basically passed out in my lap on the MUNI train ride home.

Such a sugar pie.

When we got back to the house and settled in and all the parents and siblings were present I gave them the presents I had gotten them: the Dogman comic book for the oldest boy and another comic from the same author (he LOVED them); a rainbow unicorn pencil bag and unicorn dress pin for the little lady, and for the baby, one of my all time favorite children’s books, “I Am A Bunny.”

Too adorable.

It was good times.

And it was so nice to get all the appreciations from the family.

Even with not getting what I wanted.

I got so, so, so much.

The mom and dad and I also renewed my contract and did an evaluation.

The dad basically told me how they do it where he works and that they judge on three categories and each category is measured by: needs improvement, met expectations, exceeds expectations.

The dad said the I had exceed far away all of their expectations and as such they wanted to give me a bigger raise than the cost of living wage I was expecting.

See?

Hahahaha.

Expectations, bite me right in the ass, but this time in a really good way.

The cost of living raise is 3%.

The family gave me a 5% raise.

AND.

The father explained that I will receive as well, a 5% raise every year that I am with them.

It will be a 5% increase on each years salary, so each year the raise will be bigger.

I am down with that.

So fuck my expectations.

And Merry Christmas to me.

I’ve been given so very much this week.

I am so grateful for my life.

And all the love I get to have.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

 

Movement

May 6, 2015

Yes.

After a lot of internal struggle and a lot of writing.

A lot.

I am finally fixing my scooter.

I can’t tell you exactly what, fear, has taken me so long, but there it is.

It just has.

I prayed for acceptance, I’ve been in awareness now for sometime–it don’t work for me, it needs to be checked out, I don’t know how to fix it, maybe I’ll ask for help–to actual action.

And in the end.

It was easy.

I’ll be taking my Vespa over to Scooter Center this Saturday to have Barry Gwinn take a look at her, I told him who referred me and he just laughed, “you know a bunch of characters,” he said.

I do.

This was after he exhaustively grilled me on whether or not my Vespa had ever been in Vietnam or any part of Asia.

I didn’t understand at first, but after he continued with the questioning I realized that there was a faint ring of a bell somewhere in my head and I recalled that the market in the United States had been flooded with scooters from Vietnam and no scooter shop worth it’s chops will work on a scooter from there.

I had no idea, but I know the person who I bought it from and he had never mentioned it and out of the blue, I said I know what the problem is but the person who was working on it is no longer available.

I was getting the impression that Barry was thinking I’m a girl and don’t know what I’m dealing with.

And it’s true.

I don’t know how to fix my scooter, but I have friends who are scooter fan boys and they know their stuff.

I also told Barry that it had a new engine.

“Who put the new engine in it?” He asked.

“Christopher Ward,” I replied, “he’s done maintenance work on it, but isn’t available anymore and he recommended you.”

“Oh! Chris Ward, well then it’s definitely not from Vietnam,” he stated.

Glad to know.

I didn’t think it was.

Barry had wanted me to send him photographs to assure him it was not a Vietnam Vespa, but when he heard that Chris had done the engine he didn’t need more convincing.

Thank goodness.

We chatted a little more and he’s going to take a look at it on Saturday.

Then I walked through some more fear and called the scooter tow guy and what do you know, it’s not so bad, he quoted me $45 for anywhere in San Francisco.

The last quote I had gotten was $75, so that was a nice surprise.

The tow guy is going to come out to my house at 2p.m. on Saturday and take me and my Vespa to the Scooter Centre and I am finally going to get it dealt with.

Maybe it’s been all the soreness in my knees and the stretching and strengthening exercises I do every night when I get home from my bike ride (and may I say, they freaking hurt, my knees hurt, my hips hurt, my hamstrings hurt, but I can tell that the hip muscles are getting stronger and just a tiny bit more flexible) or the thought of graduate school looming on the horizon, but I finally got fed up with myself for being in financial fear.

I paid $2650 for the scooter.

And it’s just been collecting dust.

The scooter is actually worth more than the $2650 I paid for it, especially considering that my friend who sold it to me dropped a brand new engine into it, so I could be selling it for $3,000 or possibly more.

I think originally he spent close to $4,000 on it.

He cut me a deal.

He’s got a car and another Vespa and he’s a friend, so I got a break.

Then, of course, I almost broke my ankle on it.

And I’m sure that has something to do with it.

But I want to get back on the horse.

And if not on this Vespa, then at least fix her up, it’s a small issue to remedy, and pop the little dent out of the front fender and if I don’t ride her, sell her.

I’ve been thinking about a car.

Gasp.

Which I haven’t had in over 12 years.

I am jumping ahead of myself.

I think once the Vespa gets cleaned up and fixed I’ll be fine with it and I can have some get about with her on the weekends, take more of a break with my bicycle and see about riding it in to work occasionally.

My employers have enough room in their garage to fit a scooter.

And with Yoga Beach opening up a half block away from my house in a couple of weeks I could do some yoga in the time I would be doing my bicycle commute–keep stretching out my hips and strengthening them.

It certainly can’t hurt.

Restorative.

Anyway.

Jumping ahead.

Suffice to say.

I am just happy that I finally took some action, funny how small it really is, just a few phone calls, and now I am moving forward and getting it dealt with.

I don’t always understand my process and why it is the way it is, but I can see when I am balking and I didn’t want to be balking anymore.

Especially when I went out to the grocery store this past Sunday and saw a spider web on it–normally I come in through the garage and my scooter is parked in the foyer of the front of the house so I don’t see it every day.

That was it.

Last straw!

I wiped the dust of the seat and vowed I was going to take care of it.

I contacted my friend on Monday and asked for Chris Ward’s number and the guy that he recommends for tows and got both numbers today via text.

First up was Chris.

Who, as it turns out, has retired from hobbyist Vespa repairs.

He is too busy with his current job and referred me to Barry.

A call to Barry.

A call to Dave.

And voila!

It’s being taken care of.

And I have the resources to care for it.

There’s a little money left over in savings from after I bought my new laptop and I can afford to do this.

I’m excited at the prospect of getting back in the saddle and scooting around the city.

My legs could use a break.


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