Posts Tagged ‘birthday plans’

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.

 

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New Holiday Experiences

December 4, 2014

Happening here.

I am going to holiday parties with my beau.

We have been messaging back and forth and he put it really simple and succinct, basically, if you want me to come ask and I will, I’m your boyfriend, that’s what I do.

Oh goody.

I am a little nervous about this specific holiday party, there’s a lot of my friends that will be there.  The invite already has over 50 RSVPs responding to it, plus I know that there are more folks that have been sent e-mail invites as well.

I received two separate invites to the event, and so I jokingly asked on the RSVP list to one of them if I could bring my beau?

Last year I went with a darling friend who was unexpectedly in town for the evening and we danced so hard.

I also remember having a teary moment with her in the hallway when I expressed to her a romantic disappointment–something that happens when you sleep with friends–they become a romantic disappointment.

Though truth be told, I don’t think my heart was ever really there, it was more the idea of having a boyfriend and wanting to have an escort, a partner, a lover with me.

And one year later, voila, “Boyfriend By Christmas” has happened.

I really never suspected it would happen the way that it has and I am extraordinarily grateful for all the work I have done to get here.

And here is just beginning.

I suspect that this is just the augur of a brighter future than I can possibly imagine.

Suffice to say, I am excited for the holiday party season.

Not a sentence that would have fallen out of my mouth the last few years, despite loving the holidays quite a bit more than I might admit to under normal circumstances.

I love the way things smell–all holly and evergreen, spicy and rich and sweet and chocolate, and oh cinnamon and nutmeg and egg nog goodness.

The perfume of the holidays and Christmas is so satisfying to my soul.

Wood fire smoke, popcorn balls, mistletoe.

Oh!

I know who’s getting kissed under the mistletoe this year.

Ha.

“You sound happy,” my mom said to me as she asked after my Thanksgiving and how it was.

I am happy.

And well dressed.

Yes.

I found the jacket to go with my dress.

A vintage style cropped leopard print faux fur with a hot pink satin lining.

Uh, yeah.

It looks freaking smashing with the dress.

And I found the best clutch ever at Wonderland SF and for no apparent reason, other than perhaps she was feeling my vibe, the owner of the store took off 40% of the bag price–it had been $79.

Sweet.

Now I just need the shoes to come in the mail and I am set up.

I may even allow myself another Christmas frock for the holiday party I’m heading to on the 12th.

Although, I probably don’t have to, it’s fun to have a few pretty party dresses to wear out.

EEK!

And New Years.

Lord have mercy.

I am going to have a date for New Years.

And my birthday.

“Dinner reservations at 8p.m. too late for you?” He asked me this past week when we were discussing it.

I think I can hold off until then.

“What’s your favorite food?” He asked.

I could almost see him rolling through the menus of a number of restaurants, he’s well aware that I don’t eat sugar and flour, so a pasta dinner is probably out.

“Steak,” I said, “rare, blue-black, I love a really good filet.”

Or porterhouse or some tartare, or an aged rib eye, I’m not particular, as long as it is raw or damn close to it.

I could actually see him relax a little, “ah, then, I know exactly where I am going to take you.”

Then he said something about dry aged Kobe beef and my eyes may have glazed over and some drool may have pooled in the corner of my mouth.

Seriously.

I might be having the most fun a girl can have and I was so not expecting this experience.

I am still avoiding writing about a lot of the relationship, it’s mine and I am enjoying finding all the eccentricities of it and the ups and downs and the flow and while I do so, I don’t want to be airing it all out here.

I am just giddy with the holiday cheer and actually having someone to share the experience with.

I won’t be house sitting for anyone this Christmas.

I won’t be nannying this New Years Eve.

I am actually going to be an adult woman on the town in San Francisco with my boyfriend.

Delicious.

What else is delicious?

Not having to go to work until 1:30 p.m. tomorrow afternoon.

It’s the mom’s birthday and the dad is surprising her with a spa day for her and her three best girlfriends.

Dad is going to surprise mom at school, show up to pick up the oldest boy from preschool and two of his school friends and then the mom of said friends, who is in cahoots, will spirit the mom away to the spa.

Afterwards dad is taking mom to Michael Minna’s for dinner.

Go dad.

I’ll be staying late, doing dinner for the boys and bed time and working a little over time.

Which I am more than fine with.

I won’t be able to see my man until Friday, we both have had a really busy week, although time was made Monday evening for some shared canoodling, and I will want the extra money on hand.

It looks like I need to get another party dress.

Or two.


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