On my bike.
Whipping along 46th avenue.
In my body.
Fog cool on my face.
Getting the ya yas the fuck out of my head.
I came home a little crazy.
A good girlfriend, thank you God for girl friends, talked me down off the ledge.
“Go eat some dinner, watch a movie, chill out, enjoy your Friday.”
I had gotten out of work early and the weather turned a bit toward the intense, heavy fog, so heavy it’s basically rain, and the visibility was decreasing rapidly.
I made the executive decision to scooter home instead of hitting the Church and Market scene to do grocery shopping, the nails, or the Our Lady of SafeWay crowd.
I was headed that way all day in my mind.
Some times the things I have in my head are completely fantasy.
When reality snuck up on me it was after a long day of cake making and crazy birthday party preparations.
One of my charges turns six tomorrow.
We made a birthday cake together.
Watching him and his younger brother lick icing off a spoon and run their fingers along the edge of the batter in the bowl, so sweet.
I also didn’t mind that they were having some sugar, I wasn’t going to have to put them to bed and I wasn’t responsible for dinner, and well, it’s a birthday and hey, you got to bend the rules some times.
I made a two layer banana vanilla spice cake with banana custard filling in between the layers, frosted with homemade buttercream icing and topped with a heavy hand of sprinkles, courtesy of the liberal shakes from the birthday boy.
I was very surprised that the mom wanted me to make a cake.
Last year they got a big chocolate six layer cake from Tartine.
It was a fun project to do and though it’s been a while since I have made a cake from scratch it was just like riding a bike.
It was a blast teaching the six year old how to separate egg whites from yolks, squeeze lemon juice, cream butter and sugar, and whip egg whites into peaks.
“Carmen, can you mix it for awhile, I’m tired,” he said leaning his sweet head against my hip.
“Of course,” I took the whisk and whipped the egg whites into peaks.
“Oof, this is hard,” I said, as my shoulder began to chatter with me, “I am going to need some love to keep going.”
He hugged my arm.
He hugged me a lot today.
He’s been such a sweet snuggle bunny with me.
Oh.
God.
Speaking of snuggle bunnies.
Fucking Rainbow and the barrel of overflowing Jelly Cat bunny rabbits.
(HA! I just re-read that sentence above as I was editing and I thought, only someone who live in San Francisco knows that Rainbow is a high end hippie grocery store and Jelly Cat is a brand of stuffed animals that they sell in the kids aisle, but it makes a great visual if you don’t know the context!)
I almost threw myself in the vat of them while I was busy spending my paycheck on toiletries.
There was one mint one, like dinner mint green, those soft pastel melting mints that you get at the steak house after a big filet and sizzling plate of hash browns, the ones in a glass carafe at the hostess desk, yeah like that.
That bunny there, mint green with the softest little pink nose.
Dude.
I don’t know how the hell I restrained myself.
Give me all the bunnies.
I stood in the aisle for a good minute or so thinking about it, stroking the candy colored rabbit’s ears and then, with a last squeeze, I walked over to the produce area and got the apples I had come for.
Yeah.
So I got some good love on today with the boys.
“Carmen, I’m putting all my love in your heart,” the three year old told me as the mom was passing by, and then threw himself into my arms.
I just about burst into tears.
Yeah.
Still got the sads.
Slightly tempered by the pissed offs.
Why do I do the things that I do to myself?
Haven’t you learned yet?
Fuck.
I was beating myself up pretty bad.
Then the family left for a dinner at Rintaro as I finished up the laundry and tidied up the house for the weekend, birthday celebration.
I left my boy a small stack of presents and a hand made card on the kitchen counter and put his paper birthday crown from school on top of the domed cake in the kitchen.
I got him a bunch of model planes to fold out of paper and cardboard as well as a self-propelled rocket launcher that works on green energy.
It’ll shoot the rocket up to thirty feet.
Dude.
He’s going to be over the moon.
“Carmen, I used up all my love, I gave it all to you,” he said after licking the whisk reverently with half lidded eyes–banana custard, I mean really, I don’t eat sugar, but this was intoxicating to make and the smell, oh my, heaven.
“You know, I accept all your love, I always will, I love you heaps and bunches and to the moon and back infinity times infinity,” I said and stroked his soft face.
“That’s a lot!”
“Yes, it is, but you know the amazing thing about love?” I asked him.
“What’s that?”
“It’s an infinite resource, there is always more love to give, you can’t run out of it, whenever you breathe in the air, you breathe out love, it’s just natural, it’s just always there, I promise, you’ll never run out.”
“That’s a good thing,” he said and continued dreamily licking off the spoon.
“I agree.”
And I remind myself of the same thing.
Love.
Infinite love.
I have it always, deep down inside me where that small quiet voice presides.
So.
I locked down the scooter, ordered some take out from Thai Cottage, I ate an awesome pumpkin curry and then pumped up my bike tires and got my bicycle ready for a sprint over to Vicente and 41st, hang with the hoodlums in the Outer Sunset.
It was the best thing to do.
I heard everything I needed.
And I got my God on good.
Then.
The ride back, the soft fog still thick and wet, I was pretty soaked by the time I wheeled my whip into the garage, the air on my face, the smell of the sea, the crash of the waves on the beach, soul sluiced with sweetness.
Sometimes when you’re dreaming I see a light.
I walked into my safe, warm, glow globe room and said, “thank you,” and “hello house,” and “I love you.”
Because.
That’s how I roll.
Infinite love.
All the way deep down in my starlight soul.
All the way to the heavens and back.
A thousand times.
Giving myself the allowance.
The band width to be human.
With just a tiny bit.
Of.
(Infinite)
REVERENCE.
And.
God in the mix.
Not a bad way to start the weekend.
Hello you.
Let’s be friends.
Auntiebubba 