Posts Tagged ‘autumn’

Turn On The Heat

November 3, 2017

It’s cold out there.

The rains are coming.

It’s November.

Hello.

The chill in the air, with the almost full moon rising, was spooky and intense, bright and crisp, fall is here, winter is coming.

I hopefully will be getting a car soon, as I noted that there is rain in the near forecast.

I don’t have the time to do it before the rains start and I have some homework yet to do, but I’m pretty decided and as soon as I have the down time I will be getting my butt to a dealership in the East Bay.

Soon.

Not soon enough to save me from some more cold scooter rides home, or wet rides home.

I am still debating riding in to work tomorrow on my scooter, even though there is some rain in the forecast–it’s off and on and not 100% rain all day.

There are windows of time when it’s not raining and they both fall around when I would be going into work and when I’d be coming home.

I get to come home early tomorrow, both of my clients cancelled and instead of trying to squeeze in a consult, like I did tonight when my client cancelled, I decided to take the night off and just come home.

Take a hot shower.

Wash the week off of me.

Cook myself a nice dinner.

Be cozy.

Reflect on my life and the last six months.

My God.

The last six months.

So much love.

So much change.

Some quiet and private.

Some big and public.

Lots of internal change.

Loads.

And just extraordinary amounts of gratitude for where I am in my life and the people I get to spend time with.

I am so lucky.

If the rain stays away and the cloud cover is not to bad, it might be a great night to go down to the beach for the full moon.

It will be full at midnight tomorrow, but I suspect that it will look full when it rises, I thought it was full tonight as it was coming up.

I had to check online to see when it was complete.

Tomorrow.

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Magic.

Love.

The ocean.

Dancing on the beach.

Wrapping myself up in love.

The full moon reminding me of you.

Of promise.

Of joy.

Of laughter that falls from my mouth.

How sustained I am and how loved.

My life is extraordinary, even when I am tired, like I was today and a little bit in H.A.L.T.

Hungry.

Angry.

Lonely.

Tired.

I was hungry since I didn’t have the best lunch, not a bad lunch, no not at all, just not the lunch I’d planned, as the container that my chicken soup was in broke in my scooter basket and I had chicken soup all over my school books, shoes, and paperwork.

Sigh.

Tired.

As I went to bed late.

Not horribly late, just later than normal and up a little earlier to help the mom out at work by coming in a half hour early.

Lonely.

Well.

Sometimes a girl gets lonely.

I was listening to Coleman Hawkins today, late afternoon, at work, the mom had all the kids and I was at the house waiting for an important delivery and doing food prep and cleaning and household stuff.

The music moved me.

The view moved me.

I danced by myself.

Dreamy and slow, folding the laundry, looking out the window towards downtown San Francisco, dreaming of being in another’s arms.

Angry.

Well.

It passed.

But it was there for a little bit.

I got boonswoggled into a playdate/babysitting gig, without compensation.

I felt manipulated, annoyed, angry, pissed off, victimized and aware that, in the passive aggressive text, I had been played.

Or so it felt.

And I knew that I was tired and I knew that I was lonely and I knew that I was hungry, so I prayed and asked for it to be removed and I asked myself what my fear was, and I asked if I needed to manipulate through withholding my honest response, and I asked myself to see the situation with perspective and wait for clarification before getting more pissed off.

Which I’m very happy for.

I also had a snack.

Which fucking helped.

And I took some ibuprofen, too much carrying the baby this week in the carrier, which is how I started out my day, so I was a bit sore and tender all day too, which helped.

Then I had a talk with the mom and we divided and conquered and, yes, I will, in a way be baby sitting–I’m just going to call it an extended play date, but it is for a charge I have already had, who I love so dearly that I am more than happy to help and that the mom is taking two of her three kids, so that I will just have two to take care of, instead of the four I thought I was going to be saddled with, and it doesn’t happen til next Wednesday and fuck if I’m going to be upset about it and carry it forward.

Thank God for spot check inventory.

Also.

Thank God for getting home and making myself a nice hot meal, pan-fried Japanese sweet potato with garlic and pulled meat from a roasted chicken with melted butter.

That along with turning up the heat in my studio and realizing it’s Friday tomorrow and I have wonderful plans for it and I’ll get a paycheck and my health insurance stipend and really, there are no problems.

None.

Just love.

Abundance.

Perspective.

Joy.

And the nearly, almost, not quite, but soon to be.

Full moon.

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Fleece Lined Tights

September 22, 2016

And falling into Fall.

It’s autumn.

Hello my favorite season.

Though it’s not the same as where I grew up in Wisconsin, the changing light does signal to me the season is upon us.

The crisp cutting of the wind, the smell of the few deciduous trees in the neighborhood turning their green to gold, red, yellow.

The smell of beach bonfires.

A shift, a tilt of the earth.

An owl overhead.

A barn owl.

A white barn owl hovering above me, my heart beat against my chest.

Was I really seeing this?

Its wings a blur of silent fluttering as it shifted in the blanket of air moving over the dune then it dropped.

So fast.

A blur.

I ducked my head.

I literally thought the bird was diving at my head.

I have had birds swoop me for my hair.

It is not the most pleasant experience, just let me tell you, although my best friend in Wisconsin thought it hilarious when we were walking in Olbrich Gardens and swallows kept swooping into pluck at my head.

The owl was coming for me, I know that, I can see it, it was a sign.

Yeah.

Like that.

I believe in signs.

Is it odd?

Or is it God?

I sent a message to a friend of mine that I had gotten to reconnect with out at Burning Man and I told him the story of what was happening in my life and the owl in the dunes last night.

He’s a shaman and his animal is, yes, an owl.

Although not a barn owl.

Here is a decent link to some of the spiritual significance of a barn owl.

And I mention that it was a barn owl, as I have seen a Great Horned once riding my bicycle through Golden Gate park, but never a barn owl, never so freaking close, never silent and there and hovering over me.

Whew.

It was intense.

I felt like a ghost had walked on my grave.

I instantly thought of death.

And death not of myself, but of another, then I realized, no, not death, change, extraordinary change, wild change, a deep knowing that the world is about to become something else, a gigantic shift in my perspective.

I came home and cried a lot last night.

I was cold in my feet.

My hands were cold.

I wrapped myself deeply in my blankets, my heart sore.

Tender.

Vulnerable.

In these moments.

A small knowing opening.

A change creeping in the open back door with the cold wind of fall.

What is working?

What is not working?

I wrote a lot of inventory last night, stashed the blog I had been working on, posted a part of it earlier today, it was incomplete, but complete at that.

I got up early, then went back to bed.

I fell asleep, as the cool morning grey light was sliding in the cracks between the bamboo blinds on the back door, silvery and shined with the coming of day.

I did not get up and go to yoga.

I got up, instead, and read some of my readers and knelt by my bed, I prayed.

Earnest and with longing and with a much lighter heart than when I went to bed.

I washed my sheets and made my bed a new.

I started fresh.

I showered.

I made breakfast, persimmons, another sign of fall, and apple in my oatmeal, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt.

Hot fresh coffee.

Writing, my morning pages.

Then.

A message to my friend, the one who has an owl on his business card.

I told him the situation.

I told him what was on my heart.

He told me the owl had come for me.

Yes.

I felt that.

That it was a deep knowing, to look inside.

He suggested some inventory and that I share it with the clearest person I knew in recovery.

I did that last night.

Guess who I talked to shortly thereafter on the phone?

Yeah.

Like that.

I got some great guidance and a wonderful suggestion.

And I took it.

Strong signatures of barn owl symbolism are abundant creativity as well as fantastic capacity to produce well beyond what others may do. This productivity will not always be visible either since the barn owl hunts primarily at night when others are sleeping. The barn owl is monogamous which speaks of a steady commitment to what you are producing in the world.

Oh yes, that too.

I am here to produce for the world.

Through my writing, through my connections to my community, through school, through love and how I just move through this life.

I feel really blessed to have the experience.

And I don’t have judgement or scepticism about what happened, there was so much happening, that it was what I needed to see.

I needed to see it, then look inside, see what was right with the experience and what was not.

Then to get some outside perspective and to really listen to my heart.

You know what happened today.

Nothing.

And.

Everything.

Clarity.

I wrote on a pink piece of paper and folded it into a small square.

I stood by my hot pink bunny bank from Paris.

I stroked his nose and whispered a prayer.

I looked up and saw the photograph of my mother and father one Christmas long, long ago, 1973? And saw in that dark hair and in those dark eyes a kind of sweet soft mystery and a deep love.

Good bye father.

Good bye to all those old fantasies held onto like a stubborn child.

I Shepard that small girl, daddy’s girl, along with a warm hand.

Not any more my dear.

Time to grow up.

Time to sit and let the sun branch out its warm fingers on your back, a strong hand, a warm guide, and let the wind lift the curls off the back of your neck.

And when you see that last leaf fall from the beech tree.

You will know.

The kiss on the back of your neck.

And the knowledge that all along.

You just had to come back home.

Sitting on this bench.

In the slanting autumnal sunlight.

Of the spirit.

Rich.

Golden.

Blessed.

Graced.

The beat of silent wings above your  heart.

Love.

Love.

It always comes.

Right.

Back.

Here.

To you.

To me.

Always.

This.

Profound.

Love.

 

Sunshine Day Dream

October 21, 2015

I woke up to daisies on my doorstep.

Not a bad way to rise and shine.

Happy.

That will be my principle today.

Not that I had any time,  not a single down moment or minute, to spare, to call my person and check in with her that my principle was such, but it was.

October is one of my favorite months in San Francisco.

It’s a gorgeous kind of Indian Summer that most out of towners are not aware of, the sun shines bright, there is a lick of cool in the wind if it’s windy, there’s not usually fog and there usually is sun and high, wide, blue, blue, robins egg blue, skies.

My kind of weather.

My outfit was inspired by the flowers.

I wore my bright yellow polka dot shirt and pig tails with a daisy, fake, but still, in my hair.

And gold on the eyelids.

I could have been a bumble bee if you had stuck some antennae on my head–I wore black tights as well–in fact, I had a moment when I thought, if I didn’t already have an idea for a costume for Halloween, I would go as a bumble bee.

It would be super easy.

Maybe for when I go trick or treating with the boys this year, they were in their police office costumes all day today and are definitely ready for the holiday.

Although, Halloween is on a Saturday this year, so I may not be trick or treating with the boys.

Still it’s nice to know I have a couple of costume ideas and options before the day sneaks up.

It always sneaks up.

And then it’s suddenly here and everyone is raiding Mission Community Thrift and Buffalo Exchange and all the stores in the Haight and no, really, I don’t want to spend money on an outfit, but I don’t also want to be left out.

I only have been invited to one Halloween event so far and I am not certain I want to head over to Berkeley on a Saturday night to play Halloween with the kids.

Maybe.

I also just checked and I do have another invite to the party at the Park Gym, that’s a possibility.

Although, I am not sure about heading into the Mission on a Saturday night Halloween.

The Mission on a Saturday night is enough of a horror show as it is.

I heard of another party in Glenn Park.

Who knows.

If I do go out

I will probably dress up like a pin-up girl.

I have all the stuff.

Polka dot dress with a flare out skirt and crinoline, high-heeled pumps, and I know how to draw on a pretty good cat eye.

What I would need, is someone to do my hair pin-up style.

I know a lady who does her’s in a victory roll and it’s hella cute, but I have never done one and I have neither a flat-iron or a curling iron and I can’t tell you when the last time was I owned hairspray.

Never?

But it would be fun.

I did have a couple of girl friends that wanted me to go to the Armory party, there’s great dance music going on there and there’s another good party at Public Works, but I am hesitating to commit to anything right now.

Committing the most now to getting as much reading done before school rolls around this weekend.

In fact, I set my alarm a little early for tomorrow so that I can get to the rest of it.

Halloween.

I may pass you by.

However.

I am interested in getting dressed up and going to the ARTumnal Burning Man event that rolls around in November.

I got word from the photographer/architect/artist that I am collaborating with for a project he wants to present there.

I would love to see my work out there in the public eye.

He was quite happy to receive them.

I was happy that he was happy.

I really quite adore them.

In fact.

I am thinking of submitting them to The Bastille–the publication in Paris that published one of my stories when I was living in Paris.

They reached out to me today and said they were looking for submissions.

It’s not paid, but it’s a chance to have my work in another publication and I would get a copy of the publication and an invitation, haha, to read from my work in Paris at Shakespeare and Company.

Not that they would pay to fly me over.

I was thrilled when they picked my story The Button Boy to publish and invited me to speak at the event and read the story at Shakespeare and Company.  But by the time the publication came out I was already living back in the states.

I do want to have a reading one day at Shakespeare and Company.

I mean.

Really.

What writer doesn’t?

So in lieu of going to Paris, not that I won’t hey, you want to go to Paris?

Let’s go!

I speak some French and know a few folks over there.

But realistically.

I think the ARTumnal is more likely for me to get into than Paris at this time.

I do want to go back to Paris, especially since one of my fellows in the program at CIIS is from Paris and it would be tres cool to hang out with her there–ma poulette across the Atlantic.

I will too.

I can tell.

I keep digressing on the Paris track.

Ah, the Bastille e-mail is doing it to me.

Anyway.

I would like to go to the ARTumnal.

The tickets are pretty steep.

But I am thinking that I want to be there.

I know I will see people I love and care about.

I know I will see some art and I might even see my own poems somewhere in the big mix of spectacle and carnival, music and mayhem.

If I don’t go out for Halloween, I definitely want to go and get dressed up for this.

Oh.

Shoot.

I just looked up my school syllabus.

I am in freaking class that weekend.

Damn it.

Ugh.

I don’t know that I can get out to it.

FROGS.

Oh well.

At least the poems are done.

And I am happy I wrote them.

They make me happy.

That’s what important anyhow.

Happiness.

Sunshine.

Daisies.

Love.

I got it all today.

Who needs more?

You Still Writing Your Blog?

October 7, 2015

He asked as we pedaled our bicycles up the hill past the Rose Garden in Golden Gate Park.

I was riding home on my whip thinking about all the things that need to be done and the grocery shopping that I was about to embark on, so, so, so grateful to be meeting a friend after work who gave me a lift to SafeWay.

I got all the things I need to get through the week and then some.

It would have been two, probably three trips on my bicycle had I loaded up my messenger bag real full and rode my bicycle real slow.

I don’t ride my bicycle real slow.

In case you were wondering.

Although.

I don’t ride as fast as some.

If I was on a geared bicycle I would actually be faster.

I am on a one speed and it only goes so fast before I am just needlessly spinning my crank.

I coast down hill pretty damn fast though, and that is often where I will catch up to those who have passed me on the uphill climb.

Which is what happened as I sped through the park, thinking about autumn in Wisconsin.

There are parts of my ride home, specifically the Pan Handle, where there are some old growth oak trees, when I am reminded of fall in the Midwest.

The smell in the air.

The leaves scattered on the ground, the shadows falling from the trees and the old sodium lamp posts lighting the way.

I am reminded always of the CS Lewis book, “The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.”

The lamp-post always get that reference for me.

And.

There is a kind of magic about the park, especially at night, when the shadows are long and the stars hang low overhead, when it’s past the last of the day’s commute and the runners have done their runs and the bicycle traffic is light to none existent, and I feel as though the entire way is mine.

The soaring on my bicycle through the air, the whick of wind against my neck and pulling through my hair.

I passed by the DeYoung and started the slight descent to the Rose Garden that heralds the last big hill climb on my ride and then, literally, it is all down hill from there, down towards the sea, the salt wind, the bonfires kissing the dunes, and the shaded night heralding my heart home.

I usually holler out, “passing on your left,” but I actually thought I might startle the rider I was coming up on, so I just gave him a wide berth and whipped past.

“Carmen?!”

“Yup, that’s me, who’s that, you better pedal harder to catch up!”  I laughed as I hit the down slope on the hill, bottomed out and began the climb.

“Use your momentum coming down the hill to push you up the next one,” my friend taught me on training rides for the AidsLifeCycle.

I never forgot that advice and it’s really the only way to get up hills on a one speed in San Francisco.

I heard the bicyclist behind me drop it into gear and push up the hill.

“Hey!” He said, “it’s Max! How are you?”

“Hello!”  I said, “doing good, just got out of work, heading home, you?”

“Just left 7th and Geary,” he said, “heading home too, hey, did you start grad school, how’s that going?”

“I did!”  I said.

“I just had my second big weekend of classes, it’s kicking my ass, trying to balance all the things, working 35 hours a week, carrying 12 credits in grad school, doing the deal, you know, trying to not get too far into the future or I’ll freak out.”

“Yeah, I feel you, that’s a lot, but you can do it,” he said.

“Yup, I just keep focusing on what’s exactly in front of me,” I said and spun the crank.

Just keep my eye on the next foot fall, don’t get carried away thinking about how I just got my schedule “figured” out and the mom asked me today to totally switch my hours from a 1p.m. start to a 10 a.m. start next Monday and Tuesday–the boys have two days off from school.

And.

If I get too consumed with my schedule and I am not flexible with myself I will freak out.

“Hey, you still writing your blog?” He asked me next.

“Yeah, I’m sort of in awe that I am doing it, but it’s so helpful, it lets me get all the stuff out of my head, it’s like a nightly inventory [sic] I need it, I don’t think I can drop doing it, although I’m still not sure how I am able to find the time, I do.”

“It pops up in my Facebook feed every once in a while,” he continued, and we crested the hill and began the descent home.

“Nice to run into you!” I shouted as he slowed down to take the turn and I sped, yes, right through the stop sign and rolled on into the velvet night laying splayed out before me.

It does leave me with a sense of wonder, this little blog does, I am still finding words for my experience, still aching to share those experiences with you, the reader, lovely reader, hello, you do fill me with regard and wonder too.

I wrote last night about being mindful that I was writing for myself and frankly if I think about the people reading, or not reading, my blog, I will get weird about it, but that doesn’t mean that I am not aware of you, sweet reader, in fact, I regard you with respect and no small sense of honor.

Thank you for stopping to read the words.

Oh the words.

They do mean so very much to me.

Speaking of words.

I am knocking out the sonnets for the Burning Man poetry project I have had on the back burner for the last couple of weeks.

I was supposed to have some things ready for my collaborator, and I did, I do have some sonnets I wrote, but I did not like the way they read and there was something missing.

I found the missing ingredient.

And.

I have been flying.

I wrote out the supporting framework for ten sonnets and then fleshed out one completely yesterday.

Today.

Well.

I was on a roll.

I wrote two sonnets back to back and I probably could have written a third, but I did want to make sure that I addressed some reading for my Human Development class or I would be falling behind for the paper that I must have written in this upcoming week for the class.

I love when the words come and the images and the song of the world seems to croon to my ear and I am connected to that elixir of light and poetry.

I feel blessed.

Graced.

Lightened.

Enlightened.

And.

Loved.

I am such a lucky girl.

Full of words.

And wonder.

I am.

I Choose Happy

October 22, 2014

It’s such a nicer choice than entitled.

I reflected as I listened to someone rant about not being in a relationship and how God, the Universe, the powers that be, etc, owes the person a fucking partner.

Not I, said the fly, on the wall, my head pressed back into the chair, clam and serene as fuck.

I was happy.

Happy that my day went well, long, tiring, but really fulfilling.

I got up and did my deal this morning and had a great breakfast and even had time for a second cup of coffee while I was doing my writing and then off into the great wide world that is the glory of San Francisco in October.

I think October in San Francisco might just be my favorite time of year.

Fall is always a favorite–the air, the coolness, the sun still shines bright, but that lick of chill that makes one pause and stuff a sweatshirt in the messenger bag for the ride home–the smell of burning fires on my ride home, the smell of clover that has just been cut in Kezar Triangle as I rode my bike to work, the stacks of pumpkins, the orange lights making the Conservatory of Flowers look like the Giant Pumpkin from Charlie Brown.

Granted the orange lights on the Conservatory of Flowers may have something to go with the Giants being in the Worlds Series.

Go Giants!

Ahem.

I love fall and this city does know how to do it so deliciously well.

Persimmons are in season.

Halloween is just around the corner.

I’m thinking about going as a jackalope.

Ha.

Or a bunny if I can’t wrangle up some horns.

The season is bright and clean and I have to say it is the one time of year that also reminds me of Wisconsin at certain moments.

Winter in San Francisco certainly does not remind me of Wisconsin, but there are certain nooks in the city when I turn the corner on my bicycle and suddenly, the light, the clear air, the flaming sugar maple on the corner, and I could be in Madison, a patch of grass, bright, shimmering, green and lush and I could be heading out to the East side or Vilas Park or Monroe Street.

It’s not always like this for me, but this is the one time of year that does make me a touch nostalgic for Wisconsin.

Apples.

Oh, the apples are in season now too and so divine.

Actually, that may be something to investigate, a field trip, and adventure, a sojourn to an apple orchard would be lovely.

I’m not sure there are any around this neck of the woods, but perhaps some research would bear fruit.

Literally.

It would make a good date for me.

And I go on dates with me too, a suggestion I made to the friend who was pitching a fit about being single.

Of course, I could feel a little bristle when I made the suggestion, but honey, I have been down that bitter road and there’s nothing at the end of the entitlement journey.

Certainly not a boyfriend.

I like taking myself on dates.

In fact, I just thought of one, something akin to the apple orchard thing, I think maybe a cruise down to Pacifica or nearby environs on my scooter might be in order.

I think there are a few farm stands along the way.

Or even a little further down the One.

I have been as North as I could go on my scooter–any further and I would have to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and I’m not certain about doing the bridge on my scooter.

I was also happy when I told my date for this Friday that I would not mind grabbing a bite before the show and that the principle I was practicing was just that, happiness.

So what ever restaurant that looks like.

Although there may not be enough time between getting done with work and the show starting.

I’m not too concerned.

I’ll happily eat at work as well.

The happy started hitting me when I hopped on my bicycle this morning, the high clear blue skies, the scuttle of clouds, the sun-bright, the traffic light, the friend waiting at a bus stop that I waved to as I pedaled my way up Lincoln toward the Pan Handle.

The aforementioned smell of fresh-cut clover in Kezar Triangle the rush of cool air, exhilarating and refreshing, delicious with bright eucalyptus scent as I rolled toward the park, and the traffic, past rush hour, light on Oak Street, so I skipped the Pan Handle and hit the lights all the way to the Wiggle, then up and over to 17th street and then as I was stopped at 17th and Church a dear one of mine rolled by driving a MUNI train.

I waved to her and blew her kisses and grinned like a fool.

Happy.

Then on down 17th, hitting all the lights and a pitch perfect right turn onto Valencia, getting into the stride and rolling through all the intersections with the 13 mph wave for bicycles making my transit smooth as silk.

I wound up at work fifteen minutes early and stretched, drank some water, mellowed out a little from the ride.

Then I put some Pharrel Williams in my headphones and I did a little dance underneath the tree in front of my job while the sun dappled through the Japanese Maples on the block.

I was so happy, I replayed the song and danced my bike across the street, into the garage, and pranced my way right up the stairs to work.

I’m sure I amused the hell out of at least one of the neighbors if not a few of the construction workers on the house next door, but I did not care.

I was happy.

I still am.

It was a great principle to practice today and I am ever so grateful for these suggestions on how to better live my life.

Just the getting to live life can be enough, but I will often forget that it’s not a grind, it’s a gift.

And I like getting present(s).

Gifts make me, well, you may have already figured that out.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

 

 

That Moment When

September 12, 2014

I stepped off the train and fall smacked me in the face.

Wait.

Hey.

Isn’t it still summer?

I mean, San Francisco does have a summer, though often times it feels a tad on the Indian Summer side of town, it does happen.

But there was something about the air and the sudden dark and the chill when I hopped off the MUNI tonight, it shouted fall.

I would prefer a few more days, like the rest of September please, and yes, even on into October.

That’s usually what happens.

The season runs late, which is nice for the folks that live in San Francisco, and perhaps not so nice to the tourists who tend to leave right after Labor Day bemoaning the cold and fog of June and July, even August.

I like that secret Indian Summer season, I relish it.

There are seasons to San Francisco and I usually notice two of them.

Dark and light.

When its winter/fall it gets darker earlier.

There is also good chance for rain and it does tend to be chillier.

When it’s spring/summer it get dark later.

Tonight it was just dark later.

It could have been the fog, which hey, man, you aren’t supposed to be kicking it around these parts right now.

I don’t care if the Outer Sunset is synonymous with fog, this ain’t your season, get thee behind me.

Please.

Especially since I am going to have some time next week to play and I would appreciate a little nice weather to accompany it.

I don’t know yet what I am going to do.

Most of my friends will be working.

I may have one friend that can kick it with me for a day and I am waiting to hear back from him.

Otherwise I was told to go look up that list of things I like to do and do some of them.

Shoot.

I had forgotten about that discussion and those subsequent suggestions.

I suppose I will have to do something fun.

Sigh.

Fun and cheap.

Sort of like when I took my own bag lunch down to the Ferry Building on Wednesday.

I can probably do the Botanical Gardens, free to San Francisco residents.

I can walk the beach.

I live just a few blocks away from it.

I can work on some writing.

Although I have been subsumed with memorizing the pieces I am going to perform on Saturday–almost there–so not certain I have any new words in the brain pan.

I could go on a date.

I don’t know who I would ask.

But I could.

I could go to Kabuki and sit in the spa.

That doesn’t cost too much, twenty, twenty-five dollars.

I have a friend who said drop into the Mission and we’ll do lunch.

I will probably do that.

I will be working in the Mission soon, may as well re-acquaint myself with the neighborhood.

Ah.

One thing I have been thinking about too, that I should definitely do, although it falls more under the category taking care of business rather than fun, but it could be fun now that I a thinking about.

I want to go to some scooter/motorcycle stores and see if I could trade in my Vespa for a newer model scooter.

Say, one that I don’t have to kickstart.

I am gun-shy.

I have to say it.

And I am still recuperating.

I am serious, as I write, the ankle is elevated and I have my favorite sack of peas on it.

I mean, I didn’t walk a whole lot today, just over to Alamo Square park and around the NOPA neighborhood, up a few flights of steps, three separate times, and swollen.

Like that.

Swollen.

Still managing with occasional ibuprofen and still icing.

It’s still healing.

So.

Yeah.

Definitely shy about trying to kick-start the scooter and re-injure myself.

Plus with the brief kiss of autumn in the air to remind me, the scooter takes longer to start when it’s cold.  I don’t want to be trying to start it and hurt myself because it’s chilly out.

It gets chilly here.

Not cold.

Not freezing.

But the damp and the cold, they are real and I really don’t know that I want to be negotiating a cold starting scooter.

I love the Vespa, it is so cute and fun, but I don’t love having a sprained ankle and I still have two and a half months to go before the doctor said it would be healed.

I don’t want to wait that long to hop on my ride.

So my thinking has run along the lines of maybe take some of the time I have next week and go talk with some scooter places and see if I can trade it in for something that works better for my needs.

Hmm.

I could even do that tomorrow.

Tucked in between the NOPA gig, helping out with a pre-school transition with my little girl Thursday, today was our last Thursday together, sad face–but not our last time together I am sure–but tomorrow I am helping the parents as she has one more day of transition.

Meaning she has a half day at pre-school.

So I’ll be over there between 1p.m. and 5 p.m.

Then over to the Mission to sign some paperwork for the new family and later I have a speaking engagement at 8:30p.m. in the Castro.

But in between the paperwork and the Castro I may have time to sneak over to Scuderia and see what the haps are in regards to a possible trade in with my Vespa.

And if it’s not possible, a trade in, that is, I may consider selling the Vespa and then putting the money down on a different vehicle.

Things to think about.

There is time and there is time.

And I am sure the time will fill itself with comings and goings.

But should you be free next week Monday through Thursday, let me know.

I have some time on my hands.

It’d be fun to share it with you.


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