Posts Tagged ‘birthday party’

Not Quite So Dark

June 18, 2017

Oh.

For fuck sake.

So here I am trying to be all low-key and down low and not post anything via social media so I stay anonymous.

And.

Um.

hahahahahaha.

Oops.

Turns out I’m completely transparent and known on my own fucking blog.

My “About Me” page had, I say had since I just pulled it down, a photo of me and link, failed link, but still a link, with my gmail account linked to it.

My gmail account is my full name.

Rolls eyes at self.

Ugh.

Fortunately a friend caught it and gave me the heads up.

And the post has been updated to reflect that.

No more photographs of me, no more name on the page.

Just me and my thoughts listening to some Bill Withers.

When I wake up in the morning love and the sunlight hurts my eyes.

…..Just one look at you and I know it’s going to be a lovely day.

Up a little late.

Up a tiny bit wired.

I went to an anniversary party this evening after doing the deal over on Turk and Divisadero this evening and saw a swarm of folks that I hadn’t seen in a while, including one of my best friends who came into the city and my god, it was good.

I had my internship today and lots of errands that I wanted to do and some down time in the afternoon to do laundry and get myself caught up, and I realized that I hadn’t done a good bit of this kind of socializing in a while.

It took me a moment to catch my stride.

I can be charming and funny and outspoken and a character, but the truth is that sometimes I get a bit over my head with social stuff, which is hilarious and most folks have no idea.

I am not going to label myself an introvert or an extrovert, I’m not going to pigeonhole myself, but I will say I felt awkward and I realized it was going to pass and I had a minute to get settled and be in my skin and let it be ok that I was in a big social situation with a lot of people I am acquainted with but perhaps not that close to.

I also needed to be there and be seen and just let myself be not at work or at the internship.

I logged another two hours today at the internship, even went in a little early to do some paper work and get myself situated and eat a lunch quietly in the office before the other interns got there for our session.

I got some good info, gave some good feedback and was mightily pleased that I had clients to talk about.

I am just dipping my toe into the mix and it’s a lot to carry, but I’m starting to do it and I can see that I am doing the thing that I am supposed to do.

Granted when I logged into track my hours I realized that I had done five hours this week, two client hours and three training hours and that my supervisor at the internship wants me to carry a load of 15 hours.

Three times what I did this week.

Sigh.

Granted I may not get up to that speed for a while and there will be times when I’m able to do that and times when I won’t.

I can’t get too focused on it and I also told myself today that in the service of keeping a tiny semblance of sanity that maybe I don’t have to get as many hours as is possible for me to collect while I am in school.

I just need to get the hours required by my program to graduate.

Granted.

I say to myself.

Fuck that shit.

GET IT ALL.

But.

I don’t want to kill myself and I want to have some socializing.

I need face time with people.

I am thinking specifically of a few friends that are just too dear for me to let go of and I will squeeze them in where and when I can and I will be tired and I won’t give a fuck and you only live once and get it.

Get it girl.

Some things may feel overwhelming, but in the day-to-day of it, I’m doing it.

Slowly building up my client base, learning how to be a therapist, learning how to keep loving and taking care of myself and finding those odd hours and minutes in the hollowed spaces of golden sunned afternoon light when I can pause, catch my breath and get hella grateful.

I mean.

Hella.

Grateful.

That I have what I have.

“You look different,” my friend said to me tonight.

And she’s right.

Things in my life have altered in an amazing way and I am beyond myself with happiness and succumbing to all the feelings therein.

Without expectation or thought for future moments.

Ok.

Small white lie, I do have some plans for future travel, but I am trying to really keep it to this day, these scattering of moments, dipped in old school R&B, or Elvis ballads, old love songs and lyrical movements in time, the stars framed by the trees overhead, a snapshot of a moment.

Astounded with beauty.

Awake to every feeling in my body.

And that’s all I can wish for.

This moment.

Where I am alive.

Oh.

And I am so alive.

It is glorious.

Sure.

Might have something to do with the peer pressure cup of coffee I accepted gleefully at the party and perhaps I might have racing thoughts but I have had racing thoughts for weeks now and I am rather used to it and the heart beating in my chest going fast just lets me know how fully alive I am.

It is exquisite and I am unabashed by the feeling of it.

Love.

Love.

That’s where it’s at.

The word that flutters in my chest.

The ache and longing.

The aliveness.

The song on my lips.

The poem in my eyes seeking yours.

The smile that I cannot help but smile.

So fucking good.

This life.

My life.

Luckiest girl in the world.

 

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Carmen, Let’s Not

December 22, 2016

Talk about it.

“It makes me sad to think about it,” he sighed and leaned into me.

I had just chased him down from the kitchen to the dining room into the living room where we collapsed on the leather couch by the Christmas tree.

He was full of wiggles and silliness, but underneath was far more sorrowful than I had even realized.

“The Santa in the van bag,” he said looking at the back of the Christmas tree, “that’s from you, isn’t it.”

“Yes, doll, it is, but you have to wait until Christmas day, but yes you guessed right, there’s a present in that bag for you and one for your brother,” I said and stroked his hair.

“Are you really going to be done on Friday,” he asked me.

“Yes, my sweet boy, I am, that is my last day,” I answered him, my heart swelling up.

I have said many good byes over the years to my charges, but most of them, I think, I could be wrong, but I think, didn’t realize that I was saying goodbye for good. I have not had the experience of being with older kids, older, ha, 6.5 years old and 4.5 years old, still so sweet and young (although completely dastardly about the potty talk, my God, little boys like to talk about poo, I had an idea, but shit, hahahahaha, pun intended, they do!) and so tender, but so much more cognizant of what is happening to them and around them.

“Carmen, I don’t want to talk about it, it just makes me sad to think about it, I’m going to cry when you leave,” he said looking at the Christmas tree and holding my hand.

OH MY GOD.

Child, you are breaking my heart.

I seriously do not know how I wasn’t a slobbering mess on the couch.

I mean.

Oof.

So much love and bitter sweetness, this saying goodbye.

I won’t lie, there’s also a part of me that is ready for the next adventure, I am, but I am also having all the feels.

Every damn one of them.

I have gotten, with both boys, this past week, to have quiet moments with each of them that have just blown my heart to smithereens.

Reading and cuddle time with the littlest and though has officially phased out of the nap stage, he still gets awful cozy around quiet time and just wants to cuddle on my lap and read stories.

I am super grateful that I have had this last week with them, pretty uninterrupted with other jobs, school, or life stuff.

Oh.

Life stuff is still happening, but I have gotten to work full-time hours with the boys, breakfast to dinner the last three days and though occasionally a goofy handful, there’s not really been tempter tantrums or drama.

Knock on wood.

Tomorrow and Friday I will have short days with them.

Tomorrow I go in early and I’m just edging into up past my bed time with my early start, but I had to write, not having written last night.

My blog got laid.

Ahem.

And so I had to write tonight.

I don’t like taking too much time off from it, and though the lack of sleep my affect me a bit, I’ll be out early as well.

The mom is taking the boys to A Charlie Brown Christmas matinée at the San Francisco Symphony.

I”ll do breakfast, a dash out to the park, lunch, baths probably and then get the boys dressed up in their finest.

Their finest is pretty fucking cute too.

Little velvet blazers.

Ugh.

Adorable.

And, AND, bow ties.

I mean.

Seriously, the cute factor is off the hook.

So I’ll be out by 1:30 p.m.

I have a meeting with my person and then a bit of free time before doing the deal.

I’m thinking that once I finish up with my person I will head over to Folsom and 14th, right around the corner from Rintaro.

I’m not going to go eat high-end Japanese street food, although there’s always  a desire to eat good like that all the time, it’s pretty outside the box as far as what I want to drop money wise on food.

No.

I’m not going to be grabbing a bite.

Rather.

I discovered a new Thai Massage place that had just opened and it had a bunch of grand opening specials listed on the chalk board outside the store front.

Including a free ten minute hot/dry sauna.

Oh yes, I’d like that please and thank you.

I’m thinking that I’ll book myself a massage for Friday after my last day with the boys.

I’m getting out early on Friday as well.

I think by 1 p.m.

The boys and I will do breakfast, maybe go to the park, but secretly I think I will take them to Ritual Coffee and get a last latte with them and get them little steamed milks or hot chocolates and we’ll sit on the big carved ship bench parklet in front of the cafe and play pirates.

Then the house, one last lunch with my monkeys and then they, lucky boys, are going to a private showing of Star Wars at the Roxie Theater in the Mission with a friend and classmate whose mum rented the theater for his birthday.

Nice birthday party if you can get it.

Heh.

I was, at first, a little upset that our last day was going to be cut short.

Then.

I had a change in perspective and got really grateful.

What better way to leave?

On a happy note, saying goodbye may make the boys a little sad, but hey, they’ll be heading shortly thereafter to Star Wars on the big screen.

That should provide a little distraction.

And.

It’s not a final goodbye, they will be in my lives, probably more so than many of my past charges, as the new family I work for attends their school.

I will get to see them and hug them and watch them grow bigger.

“You’ll visit us though, right?”  He asked, worriedly taking my hand, “please visit us, as much as you can.”

Oh bunny.

“Yes, as much as I can, I won’t be leaving your life, I promise,” I hugged him and though I teared up, I did not cry.

Saved that up for right now.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

That I shall say goodnight.

Till it be morrow.

Sing To Me

November 16, 2016

Sure thing pumpkin.

“Alexa, play Mike Doughty, Sunshine,” I said, holding my sick, feverish little monkey in my lap.

Alexa complied, “now playing MIKE DOUTY, Sunshine.”

I always correct her, “Doughty, Alexa, get it right.”

And he sings.

And I sing.

And my charge burrows into my arms and snuggles in my lap and is warm and feverish and sweet and a total cuddle puddle.

I told Alexa to play Doughty on shuffle and the next thing you know, “Sad Girl, Walking in the Rain.”

Um.

Oh my God.

New music.

Yes.

I had forgotten that his new album was released in October.

I hopped onto my phone, tapped my Spotify, and yes, there it was.

The Heart Watches While The Mind Burns.

I am listening to it now.

It’s good.

But I’m partial.

I am partial because I am a wordsmith and I have a tiny crush, always have, probably always will, sorry not sorry.

And because I can carry the octave he sings in pretty well.

I don’t sing all that well, but I can get out a little husky phrasing.

It was a good day for the singing.

My nose has cleared up and though I still have a cold it’s not as bad.

I also made myself get up and go to yoga and about half way through class I could tell I was working through it.

The cold is lessening its grip.

I am hopeful that by the time I get to school this Friday it will be completely out of my system.

Not that I would skip school if I was sick, I haven’t missed a day yet.

I will miss a half day on Saturday, December 10th, a dear friend is getting married that afternoon, so I’ll be missing the last class of my Child Therapy class, but I think that should be ok, I’ll miss the final project presentation of a few of my classmates, but I will have all of my own work done.

It will be the first time I have missed a class.

I firmly believe that most of the battle is won by showing up.

Show up to the screen.

I blog.

Show up to work.

I get a paycheck.

Show up to my notebook in the morning.

I get relief and direction for my day.

Show up to the yoga mat, again.

I get some anxiety out of my body, I feel better and I stand straighter.

I’ll fucking take it.

Show up to a church basement after work, in the dark, sit and get some relief, get some connection, get some not so lonely anymore feeling in my heart.

I ran into an old acquaintance, I’ve known him since the beginning of my recovery and I asked if he had gotten my invite to my birthday party.

I told him to come out.

We suffer from the same loneliness that so many of us suffer from.

I realized today though, as I was lying on the yoga mat, that I’m just used to that pain.

I was born in that pain.

I know that pain so well and how to navigate the dark swell of it as the waves build and peak, that the black silk heavy weight of those waters can pull me down in it’s comforting embrace.

But.

What if.

What if I choose differently?

Maybe I will be uncomfortable.

But I won’t be lonely and when I get used to being happier, which I am getting better at all the time, maybe I won’t sink into that drowned ship of isolation.

“When’s your birthday?”  He asked.

“Sunday, December 18th, pinball at Free Gold Watch in the Haight, I sent you an invite on facecrack,” I told him.  “Please come, and come again on Saturday, it’s good to see you there, and we usually fellowship after the meeting.”

I’m pretty fucking proud of myself for throwing myself a birthday party.

Sunday, December 18th, I’ll be 44.

I’m going to have brunch at Zazie’s in Cole Valley around 2p.m.

Then pinball at Free Gold Watch on Waller Street from 4-7p.m.

If you’re in town, come play!

I made a facecrack invite and invited about 200 people and 20 people are coming!

That’s actually pretty fucking good for facecrack invites.

Folks are pretty busy during the holidays and my birthday is the week before Christmas, I am always at odds with any number of holiday parties and galas and events.

So I decided to do what I really want to do.

Brunch with some of my dearest friends and then pinball.

I love me some pinball.

I’m happy to have gotten such a nice response to the invite too, of course who doesn’t like an arcade for Pete’s sake.

I’m very happy to be doing something fun on my birthday.

Last year was so hard.

Sad girl walking in the rain.

That was me.

I had to work that day and it down poured all day long.

Buckets of rain.

I had made plans to go to do the deal and then get a late dinner with friends and a man I was pseudo dating, for lack of a better adjective or descriptor and on my way to doing the deal, getting soaked, it was coming down so fiercely, he sent me a text and cancelled.

My birthday.

He cancelled on my birthday dinner.

I wanted, just then to get all upset and irate and have a resentment and take some one else’s inventory.

But.

I am reminded.

I don’t want to take his inventory as I don’t want to make his amends.

I cried.

It rained.

On my birthday.

Sad girl walking in the rain/wide brown eyes seek the sunrise/dryer in the morning light.

I wore a sky blue dress and a white crinoline underneath it.

The flippant edge of my dress buoyed up by the fluff of fabric underneath could do nothing against the sorrowful pound of my heart as I walked alone up Church Street.

Solace for me later in the laughter of my friends.

The relationship rapidly unraveled and it did not matter that I loved him very much.

It did not matter that he loved me very much.

It was working, couldn’t work, wasn’t going to work.

Then today, I thought of my birthday prior and the Christmas alone, as my boyfriend at that time of year decided to spend Christmas day with his ex-wife.

Don’t worry about breaking my heart, I’m doing it just fine on my own.

There’s a picture of me that day, Christmas day three years ago now, sitting in the sand dunes in that I got so many compliments on, so many.

I found it sad and sweet and funny too.

Alone.

On Christmas day, taking selfie’s in the sand.

Sad girl sitting in the sand.

Ha.

So.

This year.

Something different.

First.

There’s no man in my life to not live up to my stupid expectations around my birthday or Christmas.

I made my own damn plans.

I’ll buy my own damn flowers.

And.

I’ll take my own damn self out.

Thank you very much.

I also have plans to be with friends over both Thanksgiving and Christmas.

And let’s not forget.

Pinball, bitches.

I’m super stoked to be doing all these good things for myself.

Just because I’m used to being lonely doesn’t mean I’m alone.

And.

Just because there’s comfort in the familiarity of pain.

Doesn’t mean I have to continue to nurture it.

I choose happy.

Damn it.

I choose joy.

 

Information

July 23, 2016

Good information to have.

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

Like.

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

We cut a rug.

But I was pretty tuckered out.

And that was a clear sign to me.

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

Fact is.

My knees were sore and my feet were in agony.

I have fallen arches.

I were arch supports in my shoes.

It sucks.

It is what it is.

However.

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

So.

My feet hurt.

Like awful.

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

I left at 1:30 a.m.

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

Of course there wasn’t chemistry.

I was in pain.

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

That being said, no yoga tomorrow.

At least not the early morning classes.

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

They are low and I noticed it last night.

My scooter seems real bouncy on the road.

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

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

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

No wonder my knees are crappy.

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

My knees are shot.

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

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

I’m ok with that.

I am an old lady.

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

Old.

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

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

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

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

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

And.

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

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

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

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

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

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

However.

There is an easier way.

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

He pulled it out.

He handed it to me.

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

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

FYI.

I have never done that before.

And it was real easy.

Good information to know.

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

To scoot on down the road.

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

I am so lucky to have such a full life.

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

Oh!

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

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

And my bike has a ride up.

Things are starting to fall into place.

They always do.

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

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

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

That’s called faith.

And I do have that.

I do.

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

I don’t need to figure it out.

I just need to have faith.

And I have it in spades.

Seriously.

And Then

December 17, 2015

It all just came together.

I am uncertain how, but just like that.

I have a little birthday party happening with friends.

Nothing big, just a small group of us going to Chow on Church and Market after a little getting right with God sesh at Our Lady of Safeway.

I haven’t been to Chow in a long time and it felt like just the coziest place to be with some friends that are super hard to wrangle and then poof.

It all sort of fell into place.

Just like my outfit for the ballet in Paris.

Which is not at all what I thought I would be wearing.

Not at all.

The dress I ordered finally showed up, and again, the wrong size!

Ugh.

Seriously.

I have to return it yet again.

I was not happy and I will have to return it now for the third time.

Actually, this particular dress I am returning for the second time, but it’s the third go around with ModCloth.

The first dress was a horrible pattern, the screen color was no where near the actual dress and I rarely think about when a dress pattern or color clashes with my tattoos, because it so rarely happens.

But wow.

When it does.

It really does.

And the original dress was an awful clash.

So.

Returned for a different dress, this all in black.

And the first size, too small.

Returned.

And this size too small again.

Damn it man.

The instructions said size up, but two sizes up?

Ugh.

It’s not that I can’t get into the dress, it’s just that my rib cage, nothing else, is too big.

If I had the time I would take it out.

But I don’t, I leave for Paris in four days!

Four.

Holy crow.

After struggling in and out the dress I resigned myself to the fact, that I am just going to have to return it again and hope for a better fit.

I may just have to go with a different style, because I run the risk of the dress not fitting correctly if I size up further.

It fits everywhere else perfectly so if I size up it will probably fit in the ribcage but not elsewhere, it will be too baggy.

So.

Another dress return.

Oh well.

I was flustered when I left the house, thinking I may have to do some last minute dress shopping to get my outfit together.

I am dressing up, damn it, for the ballet, I just am.

I mean have you seen my new shoes?

But I had places to go tonight that were more important than my outfit and commitments to cover as well as a few groceries to buy for the rest of the week.

I came back to the house elated to have actually confirmed a dinner party with four, possibly five of my friends on Friday, this Friday, in the middle of holiday party season, for a birthday dinner.

Then I thought.

Well.

Shoot.

What am I going to wear?

Not that I have to get dressed up, but it might be fun.

The other consideration is that I will be nannying all day and so what ever I choose to wear will have some wear and tear on it.

I manage my clothes fairly well, but I do work with little boys, the dirt, it does happen.

So.

I was looking in my closet and then.

Oh.

Hey.

What if I do that and this and that and this.

And voi-fucking-la!

I have my outfit for the ballet.

Halter dress in black with white polka dots with white crinoline underneath and my Helmut Lang black cashmere sweater over the top, black tights, the new Fluevog’s in “Dots” and my hair up in a bun.

Perfect.

Chic.

Eclectic.

Retro pinup girl with class.

I tried on my new coat, the swing coat I got at Tatyana’s to match my shoes.

And.

Fuck me.

Swoon.

It’s a great freaking outfit.

I was so happy.

I will NOT be wearing it to work on Friday for my birthday.

I will wear something fun and sassy.

But this look.

Oh.

I’m saving it for the ballet.

I don’t know how I’m going to stuff my crinoline in my carry on to Paris, but that bitch is coming with.

Over the top.

I have my outfit.

And I have my birthday party with some of my nearest and dearest.

It’s such a pleasant surprise.

I really hadn’t much planned.

And when it all fell together I was so pleased.

I am so pleased.

And I’m doing pretty much exactly what I want to do on a Friday night in San Francisco, do the deal, and hang out with my favorite people in the city over a bite to eat in a cozy restaurant.

Some of whom aren’t in the city proper and I feel super grateful that they are going to come in from Berkeley and Castro Valley.

Drop on by if you like, always room for another smiling face at the table.

And like that.

It’s Wednesday.

I’m halfway through the week.

I have birthday plans.

I have a mighty fine ballet outfit.

I have my Therapeutic Communications paper three quarters done!

I have been working on it everyday before work.

I should actually have it completed either tomorrow or possibly I will be wrapping it up Friday morning before I go into work.

Work, some doing the deal, some fellowship.

Saturday, I’ll meet with my person, get my nails done and my eyebrows waxed, pack, and if I can manage to not break my brain, I’m going to write my Psychoanalytic paper Saturday as well.

Now that I don’t have to worry about buying another dress at the last minute, I’ve got plenty of time to kick it out of the way.

Then I’ll be free and clear for take off to Paris.

The cafes call, the museums beckon, there’s a steak tartar or three that have my name on them, I suspect there’s some oysters in my future, a trip to Sacre Coeur, possibly for Christmas Eve Mass, walking the streets with my girlfriend from school, buying notebooks and postcards, walking everywhere.

What a lovely holiday season this is.

I really am.

The luckiest girl in the world.

Hello Friday

February 28, 2015

Nice to meet you.

Made it through the week.

Now to deal with the weekend.

I mean, my weekend may be just as busy, if not busier than the week.

That’s how it goes sometimes.

To keep myself mellow and serene at work I often times have to cram a certain amount of activity into my weekends.

I’m used to it, but I have an extra thing I am doing this weekend and I am feeling a little out of control of my time and how I am managing it.

I am reminded that if I am trying to manage it, I have no control.

Ain’t that the truth.

I almost picked up an extra gig this weekend taking care of a little guy that I used to nanny and I really had to think about it.

I also really had to eat dinner before making any decision, which for me is phenomenal progress.

Pause.

Feed myself.

Then make decision.

Don’t react.

RESPOND.

Ah.

That.

That’s good.

I didn’t have dinner with the boys tonight, it was the five-year old’s birthday today and there was much mayhem.

Cookies at school, trips to Coit Tower and the stair ways around Telegraph Hill looking for the wild parrots.

We actually saw a few, but the winds were so high today that I didn’t think there was any hope to see the parrots.  That we actually saw four of them was awesome.

I think the parents were more excited than the boys were.

It was lovely to climb the stairs though, and to go to the top of Coit Tower, which in my 12 years of being in San Francisco, I have never done.

In fact, I realized it’s been at least ten years since I had been up to Coit Tower.

The view was spectacular and I would recommend it to any tourist that was traveling to the city.

Coit Tower View

View from top Coit Tower

The five-year old birthday boy even got to press the elevator button going down from the 14th floor to the bottom.

It was a sweet little adventure.

I am ever so grateful to get to work for this family, who was all ears about my interview from yesterday and so supportive of my continuing goals.

I am still in awe that I applied, let alone got this far in, on one hand it’s no big deal, they want my money, right?

On the other, I had to apply, I had to do some writing, I had to inventory, I had to pray, I had to get the fuck out-of-the-way.

“Congratulations!” A friend said to me tonight upon hearing my news.

“I haven’t gotten in yet,” I smiled, “I won’t know until next week, but I will know by this time Friday, I’ll keep you posted.”

He smiled at me and repeated, “congratulations, I know you got in.”

It’s nice to have folks cheering for me.

And there’s years of work yet to do.

But I know that I can.

I can keep showing up and doing it.

Although I have to watch it, be balanced, not get too sucked into work, I ate my dinner tonight after leaving the pizza party, cupcake, chocolate extravaganza of birthday dinners, and sat quietly for a minute as my mind roved through the various ways I might be able to help out and do a little three-hour gig for my previous employers.

I just couldn’t fathom it.

And so I responded.

I am busy.

I have things to do and places to go and a workshop to run in Noe Valley.

I also know I have to take some down time this weekend or I will not be a good nanny next week, and I need to relax as well as deal with grocery shopping and cooking if I can.

I will be away from my normal routine tomorrow and I am not sure how I am going to do what I need to do, just as far as grocery shopping goes.

My scooter is not a viable option since I discovered what the issue is with it, so I’ll be taking public transit into Noe Valley early tomorrow and I thought, am I going to be stuck up in the Valley all day?

I may be.

I might have to spend the down time I do have away from the house, it makes no sense for me to do the work shop tomorrow then leave and come back to the Outer Sunset to go back to Noe Valley in the evening.

I suspect I will be spending some extra time at Starbucks with a book.

Which is not a bad way to spend some down time.

I’ll pick up a few groceries at Whole Foods.

And perhaps I will swing into Elsa’s Spa and take a hot tub over for an hour in the afternoon.

It’s been years since I have been to Elsa’s.

It’s not really a spa in the sense of the word that I imagine spa, it’s more like 70s athletic hot tubs, but they’re outside and you can get one for an hour for a pretty decent rate, plus there’s a shower and it’s nice to relax in the space.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen.

I know what I have to show up for and I know I will be taking public transit.

I thought about bicycling, but after a day of climbing the stairs up and down Telegraph Hill, a week of chasing small boys all over the parks, and a windy bicycle commute after a week of bicycle commutes, I figure I could use a break.

Besides.

It might also rain.

No thanks.

I just feel like being cozy.

I am glad I was able to clear a little time for myself tomorrow.

I might not have a date this weekend, but I can still be nice to myself and part of that is balancing work with down time.

I have to do both.

And with that.

Hello weekend.

Let’s be friends.


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