So Fresh and So

Clean.

Clean.

My house looks pretty fucking good, let me tell you.

All the laundry done, all the trash and recycling out and swept, swiffered, vacuumed, scrub the bathroom down, tidy the fuck up.

Which means one thing.

Mama had a lot of homework to do today.

My God.

There is no fucking end to it.

Yet.

Me thinks I see a glimmer of a light at the end of the tunnel.

Oh.

The light is far off, but I can sense it getting closer.

I did so, so, so much work today.

My god.

My brain hurt.

Still does, not as much, and hurt might not be the right word, but I was worn out with the material, as I was warned that I might be, but I toughed it out.

I finished all of my Elder, Spousal, and Child Abuse class.

Huzzah!

But man, it took the stuffing out of me, and I don’t eat stuffing.

Haha.

It was a lot of reading, and a lot of watching some intense videos.

I wrote out responses to five of the sections, I got three out-of-the-way previously.

And I wrote a clinical mock-up of an elder abuse situation and what I would do, from mandatory reporting to clinical interventions and everything in between.

It was a lot of work.

But.

Fuck.

It’s done.

So happy I got all of that out-of-the-way, it really was the big monster in my block of classes.

I also finished all my reading for Transpersonal, which means, drumroll please…

I have no more reading to do for the semester!!

My God.

That feels fabulous.

I am not, however, out of the woods yet.

Tomorrow I have to write two papers.

One will be fairly short, two pages, on a dream I had, it will be my last dream to tun into my Jungian Dreamwork class.

The other will be a bit longer, but not too bad, five pages.

That one will, however, be a bit more formal and honestly despite having finished all the reading for the class I’m not exactly sure where I am going to go with the paper.

I was also in contact with my group today working on our final project presentation that I will be doing the last Saturday of classes.

I’m hoping to knock out both the papers and the group work tomorrow.

And also, if I can swing it, the Psychopharmacology online portion of my Psychopharmacology and Human Sexuality class.

I have a paper in that class due at the end of the semester too and one for my Drugs and Alcohol Class.

Sigh.

That will be for next weekend.

I can get it done though, especially since the Elder, Spousal, and Child Abuse class is completed.

My God.

One more class done towards my degree.

Which reminds me, I have to register for classes in two days.

In two days I will register for my last semester!

I only have three classes.

It is going to feel miraculous after carrying six classes this semester.

I have only done four classes at once before, this semester was a stretch, and obviously, it’s not done.

OH.

And I still will have a final paper for Jungian DreamWork too, it’s just not due until after the last weekend of classes.

Which is always a conundrum.

Crush that bitch out of the park and get it done before my last weekend of classes, or finish that Sunday when I get out of classes.

Because the damn thing is due on the 15th of December and I’ll be working all that week and of course, seeing clients.

There’s no way I can do two big papers tomorrow and the small one and the online portion of my other class.

No.

I will be a wastrel of a person.

But.

Maybe I can do them next weekend.

Maybe.

If not, maybe I can get it started.

It would mean three papers next weekend.

Sigh.

I got invited out to the movies tonight.

I turned it down.

I got invited out to dinner.

I came home and made my own.

I am going to be over the moon when this semester is done, it will be nice to have a little more wiggle room for social outings and such.

Although I do have breakfast plans with my best friend in the morning.

Super excited for that, really happy to get to have some time before I get into the homework grind.

And if I’m good and grind hard and get a lot of it done, maybe I go to yoga.

Not the regular Vinyasa, nope.

My ankle is doing better, but not that much better, no, I was thinking maybe the Restorative yoga, my brain is going to need some restoring to normality by the time I crank out all the homework I have to do tomorrow.

Grateful I know how to write a paper and grateful for my ability to pull together my notes and book references and make it work.

I can do it.

I have my process and I’ve done the biggest work, which is the reading.

That’s the most important.

I’ll skim through my books, grab a stack of post-it notes and flip through my class notes, I will put together a skeleton of the paper in outline by looking through my materials and see what my common themes are.

Then.

I’ll write that bitch.

It’s five pages, so with prep time, reference time, write time, I am going to give it two and a half hours.

Actually.

That seems too long.

Two hours.

I’ll kick out the dream paper in twenty minutes, I don’t have to write it up with references, it’s just me doing what I do anyway, write what I see in my head, so two pages will be twenty minutes, thirty tops.

So maybe I’ll have all the writing done with in that time.

And that should give me enough room and time to finish the rest of the online material I need, I suspect that will take an hour to two and also writing out an outline and making a worksheet for my final project for Transpersonal.

That will take forty-five minutes.

So.

What am I looking at?

Five hours?

I think I can do that.

Breakfast shenanigans are early so I’ll be in the mix by 10 a.m. like I was today, today I finished at 6 p.m. working pretty much straight through, yes, even when I was cleaning I was doing homework.

I had to watch a few videos, but I will admit, I was listening to some of them while I was cleaning, the material at times was graphic and I found it easier to integrate when I was cleaning and sweeping and washing.

So if all goes as planned I’ll be done by five or so.

I have an hour break at 1p.m. to do some work with a lovely lady and get right with God, a break after that for lunch, and then back in it.

It will get done.

It will.

I can do it.

I can.

Go team go!

Heh.

Boarding

Not that I will be boarding soon, I have about an hour and thirty minutes before my plane starts to board.

But.

I am in the boarding area to London.

Where I will have an hour layover and then.

Yes.

Paris.

I will arrive in Paris tomorrow at 5:15p.m.

About 24 hours from right now.

Of course, Paris is 12 hours ahead and the time traveling is not actually 24 hours.

There is some time travel happening.

In a manner of speaking.

My flight to London is 11 hours 45 minutes.

Yawn.

That’s a long time.

I hopefully will take a very big nap.

I am nervous about my ankle, it’s hard to travel with a sprain, the air pressure in the cabin, having it lower than it should be, I should have it elevated as much as I can, but that’s not going to happen.

I am also sitting in the boarding area early hoping to chat with the flight crew.

I want to see if I can switch seats.

I’m in the middle.

I have done a long flight in the middle before, but not with a bad ankle.

I am going to see if they have anything in first class, smile real big and bat my eyes.

Although, I’m not one to really use feminine wiles to get my way, a smile, and a please and a thank you generally go far.

I use my manners more than anything else.

I doubt it will happen, but I will ask.

Can’t hurt to ask.

And.

I will ask for getting on early so that I don’t have to hobble on with every one else.

I definitely needed extra time to get through security.

I kept my shoes on and my ankle brace on and the security did a pat down and a chemical swipe of my shoes.

It was rather funny, but I wasn’t in a hurry and I was glad that they let me keep my shoes on.

I have my ankle wrapped pretty well and my plain Jane sensible walking shoes on.

I do hope that I will be able to do the museums and to be able to get to some spots that I want to.

Fuck.

At this moment I have completely changed my thoughts and plans regarding my flight, I am sitting in the boarding area next to a very loud woman who is reciting a great deal of evangelical text at great volume.

Listen lady.

It’s too late to save me.

I’ve already saved myself.

Take your proselytizing and go elsewhere.

PS.

I can’t hear you anymore now that I put on my oversized Head Candy noise cancelling headphones.

All I can here is the playlist my French friend put together for me.

“Pour Carmen.”

Merci bein mon amie, je t’aime trop la musique.

I also have been doing the internet fall into a hole looking at all the fun stuff that is happening in Paris this upcoming weekend and week.

I almost got into to the pop up sauna that is at the Moulin Rouge, but it was fully booked.

Oh well.

There are plenty of things to do.

I have been popping around the Time Out Paris magazine.

It’s fun to pursue all the things.

I don’t actually have any agenda anymore.

I can’t do Paris the way that I have done in previous years, at a full tilt boogie.

Nope.

I will be going slow.

I will be soaking in the City of Lights.

I shall be walking slow.

Moving slow.

Seeing it all.

Taking it in.

I’ll still go to plenty of museums, how can I not, but I will be pretty strategic about it, I don’t think I will do the Louvre, I mean, I may, but only a few certain parts, I will have to pick maybe one wing and then one floor instead of trying to do two of the wings, it’s just miles of walking and I don’t have miles of walking in me.

I figure I will find my spot and sit and stare at some art and get my fill.

Fuck.

I don’t know what I am going to do.

I am just going.

I mean I really do have to toss out all the ideas I had about what I would be up to.

I have to scale way back.

But.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing for me.

A little restraint.

That can be a good thing.

I know I will have an amazing time and I know I will have adventures.

I will meet people, I will see old friends.

In fact, I have a date to go to Rue Madame with a friend on Sunday and catch up with him and some fellows and then off to stroll, hobble, around Les Jardins de Luxembourg.

That’s the Luxembourg Gardens, if you didn’t figure that out.

I will definitely be sitting still more than I have in the past and I am thinking I may use the buses a lot more than when I lived there, the stairs up and down the Metro are going to be hard.

I can’t dash.

So, maybe staying street level most the time.

And going places where I can really get a lot of bang for my buck, like the city center, the Marais, etc.

Ah.

It’s all good.

I’m ok.

I get to go, my ankle wasn’t so badly sprained that I can’t get out of bed.

I mean, had it been as severe as the one I sustained three years ago I would have been fucked.

I probably would have cancelled the trip.

So.

I am grateful, super grateful, for that and I will not bitch or complain.

I shall take the experience as it has been given to me with a great big smile and a very sincere Merci bien.

Trop merci.

Merci beaucoup.

Ooh.

The flight crew is coming in.

Got to jet.

Er.

Hobble off.

Into the sunset.

See you in Paris!

Trop bisoux pour toi.

xxxxxx

Ice, Ice Baby

And not the diamonds.

No.

Just the ice.

Actually, let me upgrade.

Ice, ice, peas.

Peas.

Tanks.

Fuck me man.

I am over this.

I am over it and than some.

I am just tired, is what it is.  Worn out.  Sacked out.  Beat down.

And it’s just Monday.

Eek.

I will get through, I am sure I will, but I was tired so quickly today and my ankle was much sorer than I thought it would be, is that grammatically correct, sorer?

What ever it is, it, said ankle was really tender today and all the muscles around it were in protest too, like hey, ankle, snap out of it, we be tired of carrying the brunt of the weight, get on some support.

By the end of the day I just felt like it had all been sucked right out.

And it was a lovely day with the boys, they were sweet as pie, it was great to see them, they were super lovey and I got lots of hugs and even a little down time with naps.

Not as much as I could have used, but I snatched thirty minutes of down time with a moment to put up the foot and chill.

I began to wonder if I was coming down with something, my energy just way low.

And a friend shared his experience around a broken leg and it was an aha moment for me.

He said that it was almost harder when it started to heal because he realized how weak he had become.

That is what I feel like, weak.

And I have felt weak and vulnerable for weeks now, and it just makes me tired.  I have been showing up for work and showing up for commitments and trying to go, go, go, and not like my normal pace, but just a little bit, and I can’t seem to muster it.

I know this will pass and in that there is the relief.

Today just felt interminable.

But it is a feeling and they pass, just like the days pass, time passes, the world moves on and before I can blink I will be onto something else, some other adventure to ruminate on, some other part of myself or my body or being to “improve” something to learn and grow around.

Part of the exhaustion, I must admit, seemed mental too.

I have been thinking about a story piece and working on it and the performance is tomorrow and I just could not wrap my head around practicing more for it, writing more on it, then going and doing it tomorrow after I got done with work, commuting on more public transportation down to the Mission/SOMA border, being there, then commuting back to the beach.

I really wanted to cry when I thought about it.

I had the piece on my mind all day long and wrote and rewrote it in my head and thought about re-visiting old blogs to get inspiration and it all just seemed like too much work.

I might be trying to go to fast here, the intuitive thought, perhaps next month, perhaps not tomorrow.

And.

Maybe just pause and wait until tomorrow and see how you feel.

Maybe I will feel amazing and excited and want to go perform and even if it’s just to be bad, since I have not had a lot of practice telling it, just mostly the writing of it, because bad is better than not at all.

I kept admonishing myself, just show up, that’s half the battle.

That’s where most of the work is for me.

Just showing up.

Sitting down in front of my laptop and opening up the blog page and just letting the words roll down the page like alphabet rain.

I know that part of this too is that I don’t want to disappoint someone who has made the suggestion to me to go and have this experience.  I take all her suggestions, or almost all, I am realizing, if there’s one or two I haven’t taken it’s rare.

This would be me not taking the suggestion, show up and be horrible and have fun with it.

I took the other suggestions she gave me over the weekend about getting a little notebook to jot down creative ideas, I usually carry something with me anyhow, but I picked up a special little guy just for more writing down of the stuffs.

I like the idea of being bad, well, sort of, I really want to show up and be perfect, but I know that’s not possible and the stress of being perfect is not worth the effort, I am too tired for it.

I like the idea of being of service.

“That’s what creatives are, they are being of service by putting their art into the world,” she told me Saturday.  “You are of service to the audience, it’s not about you.  What can you bring to the performance?”

My tired ass self.

I did give her a call today after I got done with work and just expressed how I was struggling with it, not so much the writing, I got that down, at least the bones and musculature, it needs a little fleshing out, but I could extemporarize it quite well, I believe; but the idea of just getting there.

That’s what was exhausting.

And it made me long for my bicycle and that bums me out, not being on my bike, really just bums me the fuck out.

I miss it so bad.

I miss the feeling of being free on the road and the wind on my face and my legs moving underneath me without pain, just moving, like pistons, clocking the distance down Lincoln or through the park.

Exercise is important to me too because it helps stave off that low-level depression that can sneak up on me when I am not as active and that could be some of this too, tiny bit of depression, woven in with a smidgen of self-pity, some physical discomfort and pain, and voila.

Perfect cocktail of “tired the fuck out.”

I will wait for tomorrow to make my final verdict.

Tomorrow is another day.

Tonight is for tea and rest.

And iced peas.

Silver Lining

“Look on the sunny side of life,” Mister Chet Baker crooned as I grumped back into my studio this afternoon.

I really wasn’t interested in looking on the sunny side of life or seeing the silver lining, but it sure was funny timing, that song coming on just as I was battling the self-pity tears.

I never even got to get a good self-pity party on, hadn’t even donned my little hat with the upside down frowning faces in yellow and the sad pom-pom sitting askew on the pointed tip.

Nope.

I pretty much got perspective immediately.

And information that I was grateful for.

Though upset when I first had gotten it.

I just wanted to go to the grocery store.

Not the one that is a block and a half away from my house either, the one that is four blocks away from the house.

I had decided this morning after getting up and feeling pretty good with my ankle, did the alphabet in my bed with my toes (this is a rehabilitation exercise, you’re supposed to imagine that you are holding a pencil in between your toes and write the alphabet with it-helps to work the ankle and rebuild the muscle) and stretched and it felt good.

Good enough to seriously entertain riding my bicycle.

I was nervous about it, I realized after eating breakfast and having coffee while I was writing my morning pages, but I figured, you know, time to get back on the bike, and four blocks was going to be easy.

I turned over the load of laundry in the dryer and proceeded to stare with longing at my bike.

Give it a shot.

You can do this.

I feel good.

I feel strong.

I got this.

I feel nervous and maybe I don’t got this but maybe I am going to try anyhow.

My bicycle needed a touch of maintenance, I haven’t ridden her since the night of the accident, June 5th, so seven and a half weeks, no bicycle riding for me, that is a length of time.

I haven’t gone that long without being in the saddle since I started riding in the city eight years ago.

I have missed my sparkling speedy whip, I had fantasies about riding it to work this week, I am really over MUNI, but I thought, start slow, go to the market at Noriega and 46th and see how you feel, if you feel ok, then maybe a ride along the Great Highway.

All flat, all easy, nothing that I would have thought twice about riding in the past.

I went to my bike, “hello friend, I’ve missed you,” I patted the saddle and lifted my two u-locks off the handle bars and pulled her away from the wall.

Both tires needed air, I pumped them up and felt scared again, maybe this is too soon.

Maybe I should just forget this.

Maybe I should just chill out and stick my foot on the pedal and shut it.

I swung my right leg over and slipped my foot into the Hold Fast strap (foot retention device on the pedal similar to a cage, but adjustable and much cooler looking, if I do say so), I adjusted it to fit my Saucony.

I was uncomfortable with how my foot felt in my shoe and how it fit in the Hold Fast, so I adjusted it a little and fantasized about wearing my Converse, which I know better, but I am just going for a little bike ride.

I could hear the story in my head as I told the doctor in the ER.

Ok.

So, no Converse, just stay with your good shoe, and open up the strap.

Hmm.

Now.

On to the left foot, the injured foot.

I back pedaled, took my right foot out of the Hold Fast strap and set it down, steadying myself, I placed my left foot into the strap on the pedal.

I felt wildly unbalanced.

I never set down my right foot when I am at a stop.

I am left footed.

Right handed, but left footed, don’t ask me why, but I kick better from my left foot, and I have always planted my left foot down on the pavement when on my bicycle and at a stop.

I sighed, it feels weird, but I can go slow and maybe I will just turn the pedal over and not wear the strap at all.

I got off the bike and went inside to grab my messenger bag.

I said a prayer and went to it.

I took my bike out into the world.

I opened the garage door and swung my leg over the top bar.

I put my right foot in the strap, squared my shoulders, looked for traffic, and pushed off.

I put my left foot on the top of the pedal and pushed down.

PAIN.

Oh ouch.

I pedaled one more revolution.

More pain.

Ok.

Stop.

I had gone five feet.

I got off my bicycle and walked it back to the garage.

Ok, God, I got it.

I am not supposed to be on my bicycle.

Ugh.

My heart hurt, I really wanted my freedom, I really wanted my wheels underneath me, I really wanted to go grocery shopping at Noriega Produce Market.

I shut the bike up in the garage and went inside to take a minute to collect myself.

I turned on the stereo cube and the song that randomly comes on, Chet Baker, there’s a silver lining, just look on the sunny side of life.

I couldn’t help to break a chagrined smile.

Really?

Ok.

I can do that.

I am not on crutches.

I am not hobbling about in a walking boot.

I can walk to Other Avenues, it’s just a block and a half away.

I have money to buy groceries.

I paid rent for August already.

I have a job to go to tomorrow.

I turned off the stereo, walked outside and headed to the closer market.

I turned the corner from 46th to Judah and saw a man in a motorized wheelchair climb up the little hill between 46th and 45th.

Ok.

I get it.

There’s nothing wrong.

And I will get back on my bicycle.

Just not this week.

And until then.

I am able to walk and I get to ride MUNI and I get to go to work.

Silver lining.

Another way of saying perspective.

I got mine today.

Lover, Why Don’t You Come Over

Just not that night.

It’s a school night.

Or that night, that’s too late.

Or.

Well fuck me.

And yes, that’s the direction this blog is going, so if your shy, or my mom, stop reading.

Ok.

So, I have sort of kept this under my hat since I have been pretty focused on healing and finances and Burning Man and being out of work and getting back into work, but yes, I have taken on a lover.

One who I have not written about until tonight because it felt like have a special secret sauce weapon.

You got to love a man who will take care of business while you recline on the bed with a leg propped up on a heap of pillows and your ankle covered in frozen peas.

The first time it happened I must have giggled madly at one point as he admonished me to hold still, trying! trying! While inveigling the perfect position to not disturb the peas, the leg, the ankle.

I will be the first to admit there were a few uncomfortable moments and one that was flat-out painful and the first time was cut short for a while, before the hormones and the ibuprofen took over and we tried again.

Success.

We had plans for our first date to be the Saturday evening after my ankle injury.

Of course I had to cancel.

I called him up and said, hey you remember that thing that we all were discussing about taking pain medication in early sobriety?  That night that you gave me your business card.

“Hey girl with the purple hair!”

He hollered at me as I was about to get on my bike and ride off into the sunset.

Literally.

That’s where I live, in the Sunset.

Aside–I miss riding my bike!  I miss it so much. I miss not having to rely on MUNI, which was so packed tonight it was unbearable and was running late and ugh.

I miss not having to budget forty-five minutes to an hour to my morning commute when it took me fifteen to twenty minutes to ride my bike to work.

That being said, I am beyond grateful that I have a relatively easy commute to MUNI, I walk a block and there’s the stop.  I get off in Cole Valley and then walk a block and I am at work.  Granted, tomorrow’s commute rather sucks, N-Judah to Cole and Carl, 43 to Masonic and Fulton, the 5 to McCallister and Divisadero.

Commute last week took full hour.

Bike ride?

25 minutes.

Sigh.

Soon, soon, I shall be back again upon my trusty whip.

So, having just thrown my leg over my sparkly steed, I paused and turned, and there he was, the guy I had thought earlier, you know, maybe you should give him your number, you have a lot of the same views on things and I liked what I was hearing.

He has a big God and I am a size queen.

“My name’s Carmen,” I said, as he approached and we exchanged pleasantries.

“What are you doing next Monday?” He asked and I was about to say hanging out with you when I recalled a date to go on a motorcycle ride with a close friend who would soon be leaving town on said motorcycle.

“I’m not available,” I smiled, the pause just hanging in the air.

“Well, call me if you ever are,” he said and handed me his business card.

I texted him when I got home.

I said let’s grab coffee.

He said yes.

We made a date.

Date fell through.

Ankle got hurt.

No more date.

Or so I thought.

“How are you doing mija?”

I got a text.

We bantered back and forth and it was cute and flirty and he asked if I needed some frozen peas and I said yes.

He didn’t bring me any frozen peas.

But I did get served.

Ahem.

May I just say that it’s so nice when a guy takes the reins.  It really is, it just clears things right up, there’s not questioning, is he attracted, how can I tell, how should I act, I’m attracted, what do I do next.

I offered him a beverage, “standing” in my kitchen on my crutches with my foot resting lightly in the walking boot, tea, water, bubbly water?

He strode toward me, took my face in his hands and kissed the daylights out of me.

Oh.

My.

How nice.

I mean, nice.

Right to the point.

“Water.”

Ok.

“And let me get it, sit down, ice your ankle, prop it up,” he kissed me again and I just about swooned.

“I’m just going to sit on the bed,” I waived at the bed, the stack of pillows already waiting, the bag of frozen peas sitting on top (just like the princess and the pea except the other way around, I am getting vast comfort from the peas, even now as I blog, there’s a bag on my ankle.  It was a long day at work.), I nestled down and took off the walking boot, pulled my leg up, placed it gingerly atop the three high stack, and dropped the peas into place.

They fell off a few times, but that’s probably more details then you need to know.

My friend joked, “pulling the old damsel in distress move, eh?”

Apparently.

I had no idea that worked, fuck I might have been doing it long ago.

What I heard better though, was something that was said to a neighboring friend that very same evening, just before I had gotten home.

“Be the rock and the let the butterflies settle on you,” he said to my friend.

Oh.

I am usually a moving target, and a fast one at that, on my bicycle, on my scooter, on the run, run, run.

It’s hard to be intimate with someone going 90 mph all the time.

I got real still.

I am trying to connect with that again.

As now, being back to work, it’s hard to co-ordinate a musician/waiter nighttime schedule to my day time nanny hours.

I have you on my brain, I texted earlier today, do you have anytime this weekend that we can get together and be noisy?

He likes that I am noisy.

I am no librarian in the sack.

He shot back a time and night.

Shoot.

I told him my schedule.

Fuck.

How’s this going to work out?

I don’t know, but I am willing to go a night or two with little sleep, we haven’t negotiated that yet.

It’s a challenge dating a musician, I have never done this before, or for that matter, one this much younger than I, but as a friend said, “you would rock a twenty year old’s world.”

And he’s not twenty.

He’s twenty-eight, so there.

Giggle.

It’s fun and I don’t have any attachments to it and it’s nice to have good sex and sex is healing as far as I am concerned and it’s nice to have had the experience of going slow in the beginning when I could not really, um, perform, to the best of my abilities.

The abilities are coming back.

There’s time.

I just wish it was earlier in the day.

I am getting older.

But I am not dead yet.

 

 

 

 

 

“Fun”ded

A friend told me today that it’s called “Funemployment.”

Jesus.

I don’t know who you are talking to, but help me get some of that, please.

Now that my rent, thank you God, and my phone, thank you friends, and my utilities, thank you family, and my groceries are taken care of, thank you Universe, what indeed do I have to be afraid of?

“Easy does it,” she told me yesterday, and “we absolutely insist on enjoying life, so go have fun.”

I am not quite sure how to do that.

I suspect that going to Wisconsin is going to be fun, you could put me in a paper bag like a cat and I’ll be happy to nestle in it for days, hanging out with my best friend, is the best.

I suppose that’s why she’s my best friend.

That and she’s damn pretty and damn smart and funny, and well, yeah, I am biased, but she’s all that and more.

So, in like 9 days, I’ll be having some fun.

But what can I do now?

In the next nine days, now that I don’t have the anxiety of what is going to happen to me since I can’t work for over a month? I have to incorporate some fun into my existence.

I have a lady coming over to do some work tomorrow, which is its own kind of fun.

And the gentleman who helped organize the whole crowd funding thing himself, is going to stop by for tea, he wants to see what all the fuss is about.

How it is that I know so many people from so many places.

I get around, dontcha know.

I know a lot of folks because I like to live life, I like to say yes, I am not upset at myself any longer for the scooter, I was just trying to cram more into the stream of life and I got ahead of myself.

There’s got to be a balance for me.

A little fast.

A little slow.

“It’s going to whiz right by you,” a friend told me tonight over a cup of tea up at the Starbux in Noe Valley, “before you know it, you’ll be right back in the mix.”

I know that’s true.

The days loom long, but if I keep it small, they are manageable.

Today I got up and was already having a hard time with what I was going to do.

I did my morning routine and asked that I be guided to just take the next action in front of me instead of having anxiety about how the entire day was going, that I “didn’t have anything to do” was actually a lie.

I could begin to break my day down into small, bite sized pieces and go from there.

I had breakfast, which is not quite the ordeal it’s been since I am able to now walk well enough in the boot to not need the crutches inside.

So, breakfast, made the bed, made the coffee, iced the ankle while I was eating, made a second cup of coffee, iced the ankle some more, wrote four pages long hand, sat and did a meditation, and got myself into the shower.

I will admit, that despite the shower stool in my bathroom, I am still not showering quite as much as I would prefer, it’s still a big ordeal to do it.

But it went easier than the last time and I was able to get in and out without doing irreparable damage to myself.

Then a load of laundry.

A few phone calls.

My ankle is singing, so sit down.

Have a cup of tea.

Elevate it.

Ice it.

I have to say, I probably ice it more than it needs, but my god, it feels so good that I enjoy it.

The best part is when the cold is just a tiny bit wet, the condensation soaking my sock, the frozen peas somehow get colder, and it numbs it all out.

It is lovely.

I also reminded myself to continue with the ibuprofen, the pain is not too bad and I can manage it without, but I also know that it’s an anti-inflammatory drug and when I walk for a bit in the boot or don’t have my ankle elevated, there is still swelling happening.

It doesn’t look dead dog leg bad.

But it don’t look real purty yet either.

So, ibuprofen is still happening.

But the fun.

How do I get some fun up in this bitch?

I will say I have been writing more, that’s a kind of fun, low-key, you know.

I have been listening to a lot of music.

That’s great.

Doing a little chair dancing with my foot on a pillow.

Sitting outside when the weather abides it, the sun on my face is fun.

I’ve gone through an old photo album and found some photographs I had completely forgotten about.

That could be a little fun for me.

Now that I am a bit more dexterous with the walking boot and the crutch–down to one crutch when I go outside, I could go for a little walk in the neighborhood, like a block, maybe two, and just take some photographs.

Get really into the tiny details of the block I live on.

I’m sort of movied out, tell the truth, not too interested in watching videos.

I do need another book.

The Jonathan Lethem book was so not doing it for me, I had it dropped off at the library by a friend yesterday.   And today I ate the entire book “Slam” by Nick Hornby, not bad, not great, but easy and light and a quick ass read, so I have nothing new in the house to read.

I think what that leaves me with, aside from the no fun data entry I agreed to do (half way done!), is the crafty bit of making some hair pieces.

I found out another friend is going, (I actually typed right over that, assuming that you know where I am going. “You can still go to Burning Man?” A friend asked, and when affirmed that indeed I would be, he concluded, “then everything’s fine.”) to that man who burns in that place over there in Nevada, and I thought, I should make her a fancy little hair piece to give to her on playa.

Now that sounds like fun.

Make some things for people, not think about myself.

Get crafty, girl.

Now that I am not having financial nightmares about rent, et al, I can perhaps enjoy the rest of my down time.

Aw.

Hell.

I will enjoy the rest of my down time.

Maybe I’ll even glitter my boot.

I Do NOT Like This Feeling

Sam I am green eggs and ham noise in my head shut up.

I am not good at being in my house for the entire day.

I am not fond of not making money.

I am not fond of pain, either.

Or inconvenience.

Or discomfort.

Or asking for help.

I did break though and I have coffee being brought to me tomorrow.

When I run out of coffee that’s a bad thing.

I got loads of sweet messages and texts but ultimately a text or a chat message is not a human being.  Fortunately I also got some phone calls and talked to real voices today, besides the ones in my head.

It was not as horrid as I am making it out, but I can see it becoming wildly uncomfortable should I let it.

I have big thick books to read, that I bought last week at Dog Eared Books and even as I was paying for them wondered when exactly I would get to read them.

Apparently right now.

I called Kaiser Podiatry and made the follow-up appointment with the specialist that the ER doctor wanted me to go and see.  I go in on Tuesday to get cleared from work.

I never got a phone call from the radiologists at Kaiser, which I was told I would get should anything else odd show up on the x-rays, which is good.

I got lots of admonitions to stay off the ankle, that sprains can be worse than breaks, and I did not put any weight on it at all today.

It really is not fun.

My tough lady veneer is wearing a tiny bit thin, but I do have friends that I get to see tomorrow, who are bringing coffee and plenty of folks that offered to help should I need it.

I’ll be asking one of them to take me to the Kaiser appointment on Tuesday.

I am hoping that really being gentle to myself and kind and slow, slow, like I have no choice, it’s really challenging accomplishing anything on crutches, and that I rest, the ankle will heal quickly.

I obviously won’t be able to work Monday and Tuesday, but I am hoping that perhaps I can get in a few days next week.

Then again, I don’t want to injure myself worse.

I am just going to have to sit and wait it out and see what happens.

I do need to go to the ATM and deposit a check from yesterday.

Work yesterday seems eight thousand years ago.

And, duh, I was supposed to get paid for this week from my regular family, who I was supposed to work a full eight hour shift and a part of this evening for.  Shoot.  I have to send them a tally.

Argh.

When I think about the money I am not making and the money I won’t be able to make next week I can start to freak out and I need to remind myself that this is temporary and that there will be money and should shit hit the fan, the computer die, well, so be it.

I wanted to have some things to go back to Wisconsin with, like money in my pocket, now I just want to cover costs and make sure that I can pay all my bills this month.

I got to face facts.

I have to do better with my job.

Not having full-time benefits and health insurance is a challenge.

Maybe I need to explore something outside of nannying again.

I was offered a job last week, but I was not interested after doing some research about the company, not really a good fit for me.

I know this road though, I have been down it too many times, and I always end up being a nanny again, so the solution and the problem are not the same, and I just have to have faith that I am going to be ok.

There is no lack right now.

There is just the fear that there will be.

Rent’s paid.

I have a small check from yesterday that will cover my phone bill.

I still have monies coming from the half week I worked for my family in the Castro and I have enough money in the bank to get me through the week.

I am going to be ok.

Hell.

I am ok.

And I do believe that there is great learning and good and acceptance to be had, humility too.

I am going to have to ask someone to take out the compost, to help me in and out of  a shower.

I can make it one more day without bathing, but after that I might lose it.

I can do my nails.

I am spending lots of time sitting still.

I will also be getting out of the house on a speaking engagement tomorrow night, no avoiding it and I have a sweet friend coming into the city who will be giving me a lift.

Plenty of sweet friends.

Plenty of people who have asked how they can help.

I just need to say yes.

It’s hard to ask for help, but I don’t have much choice.

The groceries will run out tomorrow and unless I want to eat oatmeal three times a day, I will have to have a hand for a bit.

Grateful for my small space too, it’s just small enough for me to handle getting about.

I am sure I will get used to crutching about, but it’s tiring.

I did take a nap today.

That’s a good thing.

I slept last night, but it was hard, and as my friend the nurse intimated, sleeping was indeed a challenge, the night-time was profoundly uncomfortable, and I woke up in pain a few times.

Not pain that I can’t bear, however.

Just pain that’s annoying and I wish would pass.

Nothing to do but wait for it.

Heal and let the body do it’s thing.

Watch a few movies, I downloaded a bunch and watched The Grand Budapest Hotel today.  Plus, Orange is the New Black just came out and So You Think You Can Dance (yes, I am a fan) just aired.

There’s stuff to occupy me.

I will be alright.

I am alright.

Everything is alright.

I believe that I am completely taken care of.

I always have been.

Why would now be any different?