Posts Tagged ‘bonfire’

Long, Strange Day

October 13, 2017

But I am finally feeling better.

I just ate some dinner.

Roasted chicken with a baked Japanese sweet potato.

I needed some homey comfort food.

The air today had me down.

Granted.

I do not like to complain.

I know people who have lost their homes to the fires, lost everything.

I have friends who have evacuated and are waiting to see if they are going to be able to go back to a home or a charred piece of land.

So much has been destroyed.

It’s utter devastation.

I can’t comprehend it.

Therefor to complain about the air quality in the city seems weak and pansy ass, but, fuck, it’s been bad and I’ve had trouble today.

At first when the fires were just beginning, Sunday night, I thought, wow, there must be some folks having a big old bonfire on the beach, and it smelled good, and the weather that night was warm and I felt really soothed by it.

I have a favorite childhood memory of a bonfire at the beach from when I was four years old.

The next day was odd though, finding out about the fires, and then finding ash residue on my scooter and in my basket.

And each day, it’s been the same, although I think I’m used to the smell and the smell, well, it’s changed, it doesn’t smell like bonfire anymore.

It smells tainted and bad and oily and plastic and chemical.

It smells like bad drugs and sickness and I’ve began to feel off today, I suspect I’ve been a little off all week, but today it really hit home.

Last night when I was riding my scooter home I thought for a moment it was snowing and thought, wow, it’s cold, but not that cold.

Then I realized what I was seeing was ash falling from the sky.

Ash like snow.

Ash on my shoes, ash in my hair, ash on my jacket, ash stuck to my scooter.

Spooky.

Every day riding my scooter up and over Diamond Heights I have looked downtown to gauge how bad the air is.

And it’s bad.

Downtown swathed in smoke.

The haze so thick I can’t see the Bay Bridge, even the top of the new gigantic Sales Force tower is smudged out by the smoke.

Supposedly it’s supposed to get worse tomorrow and Saturday.

The kids I nanny for had their school cancel tomorrow and every day this week they’ve been forced to stay inside and not been allowed out for recess.

My little lady charge has had croup on top of it.

She’s been inside all week.

I can feel it in my chest.

And today I started to sneeze.

Not because I think I’m coming down with a cold, no, it’s just breathing the air.

I’ve not been outside much, but I’ve inhaled some yuck, riding on my scooter for sure, walking to the market this evening.

By the time I got home from grocery shopping and running a couple of errands I felt really out of it.

My clients cancelled tonight so I was free to go home after work and I planned on doing homework and getting the rest of my reading wrapped up, tomorrow I’m in school again.

Aside.

Tomorrow marks the half way point of the semester!

Half way!

I am very happy about that.

But I could barely concentrate on my work and reading felt challenging.

I’ve had a head ache all day.

I’m a pussy.

I admit it.

Can you believe I used to be a smoker!

Anyway.

I just reeled it back in and got right with myself and stopped having gigantic expectations about what I could do and just settled for what’s the best thing for me to do instead.

I roasted the chicken up.

I made some spiced brown rice for meals the rest of the week.

I did some laundry, it’s in the dryer now, fresh warm towels.

I drank lots of water.

I cut myself some slack.

I look over my syllabi and packed my school bags and I’ll probably roll up on class tomorrow and just be ok with what I have not done.

One class I’m completely caught up with, no need to worry about that one at all, it has the biggest brunt of reading and I’ve completed that.

I’ve nearly every thing else done for another class, just have to whip out a little paper tomorrow.

I was going to do it tonight.

But.

Um.

Nope.

I’ll get out of class tomorrow and have a few hours before I see my clients.

I was tempted to get ahold of them and say stay the fuck put, don’t come out, but I’ll go to my office and see them.

And before I see them I’ll do what ever reading I need to do and I’ll write-up the small paper I have to turn in Saturday.

I’m not beating myself up for not being 100% ready.

I had a hard week with the family, not that they were bad, they are super, super sweet, but when a four-year old and a seven-year old are cooped up all week-long it’s hard to keep things balanced.

Add the sick little monkey into the mix and it was a long week.

I’m grateful that I was able to keep myself pretty on keel with them, but I was feeling it today, the worrisome smoke, the quality of the air, seeing little kids in face masks, it reminded me of Burning Man in a rather sinister way.

Sigh.

I’m done complaining.

I am.

I just want my head ache to go away.

And my heart breaks for all the loss in the North Bay, it’s unfathomable.

Just going to be sweet to myself for the rest of the night, take it easy, drink some tea, get some rest.

Wishing for all those near and dear that this passes soon and we will all draw a collective deep breath of fresh, sweet air.

Good night.

Sweet dreams.

 

 

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You Are Seasonal

September 22, 2017

Not just one season.

Not just the brightness of summer.

The thunderstorms.

The heat.

The lushness.

Yes.

You are all these things.

And.

You are also in the whisperings of fall.

The coolness of your cheekbones

How the falling light glances off

Their planes and there.

A light flares inside me.

A bonfire of longing.

I smell you in this season too.

I sense you in the softening sweetness

Of things ripe and full.

I ripen thinking about that.

Your euphoric smell.

The plushness of your mouth.

An apple cider song.

I suspect I shall see you in all seasons.

All hours.

All days.

How I wish to see what winter light looks like

Upon you.

A snowflake soft explosion such as one cannot imagine.

Bonny boy.

And.

Oh.

Burgeoning spring.

I see you there too.

But it is right now.

In.

This moment.

This cooling of air,

That calls to me.

I wish to hold your hand and kick through

Fallen leaves with you.

To tussle to the ground.

To see your smile, your eyes alight.

I imagine your face framed in golds,

Burnished reds.

Burnt oranges.

Flaming yellows.

Richest browns.

No beauty that surpasses

The handsomeness of your face.

Only a frame to outline its glory.

Another picture I shall hang.

In the gallery.

Of.

My.

Heart.

Flip A Bitch

July 23, 2017

I found myself doing a surprising and sudden u-turn on Folsom Street today.

Oh please.

Don’t worry.

My person arched his eyebrow at me when I said that to him tonight over some sumptuous red beans and rice with spicy Andouille sausage at Brenda’s.

“I was careful!” I exclaimed, “I looked both ways and there was no traffic anywhere, and there was a really good reason why I did it.”

And there was.

Tub Tim Siam Massage.

Oh yes.

I got a fucking massage.

I am so proud of myself.

It’s been on my mind for weeks if not months.

I have had on again off again pain in my left arm for a long time, its soft tissue pain and sometimes I get wheedle it out with a Lacrosse ball, those small hard rubber balls massage therapists and rehab therapists use for working through muscle knots.

But most of the time it comes back and harasses the shit out of me at some point and it was really bothering me yesterday.

I don’t know if it was the yoga class I took yesterday or what, I mean, I carry most of my stress in my shoulders anyway, so could be just a big build up, but it has been pretty discomforting now for, well, months.

It’s not so bad that I can’t deal and I do.

I carry the baby at work, I do my blogging and my writing and I show up for yoga.

But I could really feel it yesterday, I could feel it flaring up when I was riding my scooter, I could feel it when I went to bed, it was up and down my arm and into my neck and at one point I swear I felt it in the left side of my face.

I have been to a massage therapist years ago who specialized in pain management through massage and I have thought about going and seeing her, but she was expensive and I had been given a gift certificate from my employers, otherwise I would have never seen her at all.

Anyway.

I had been to Tub Tim one other time when it first opened and that was back in December.

And I hadn’t a massage prior to that in years.

So when I zipped by on my scooter heading out to grab a late lunch after going to my group supervision at my internship, I flipped a bitch and decided it was time to get that massage.

I grabbed a light lunch at Rainbow and went to Tub Tim Siam.

It’s a small spot and I wasn’t sure if they would have time for a walk in, but I was going to check and if they didn’t at least make myself an appointment to be seen and seen soon.

But.

Yes!

They had an opening.

I got a ten minute hot sauna to warm up my muscles and then I got an hour-long traditional Thai massage.

Which means that they manipulate you muscles using hands, feet, elbows, and knees.

It was amazing.

It also hurt like a bitch at times.

Inside my head the conversation went like this: “ow, ow, ow, Oh My God, OW! Oooh, oh that feels so nice, OW, ow ow, ow, ouch, shit, fuck what is that, OMG that feels so good don’t stop, ouch, ow, ow, OWOWWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW, i”m going to die.”

And then I would remind myself to breathe into the pain and to relax and to let it go.

She found spots that I knew where really bothering me, I had circled them on the sheet they asked me to fill out, and then some that I was expecting that were excruciating when they were being worked on, but after, amazing how much better I felt.

I mean, I felt lighter walking out of the shop.

I need to do that more often.

It’s not something I can do weekly, it’s a little too pricey for me, but maybe once a month, alternate between doing a Thai massage and then going and hitting the Imperial Day Spa, the Korean women’s only bath house on Geary.

The spa is only $25 a session.

I think that’s the kind of self-care I really need to let myself have as I continue moving forward with taking on clients and doing the psychotherapy work.

I’ll be back to school soon too.

Eek.

In about a month.

Shit will get really real.

But.

I’m not there yet and I’m not going  to live in the future.

Just today.

All I have to do is today.

I can get lost in the “there won’t be enough time” bullshit story my brain likes to spin me out with.

But the fact is, there is enough time, and all the things I need to do get done and I’m going to be ok.

Because I already am.

I had a beautiful day today.

I did some great self-care.

I went to yoga in the morning, had a super hot shower, washed my hair, I had a yummy breakfast and a big latte, I did laundry, I wrote a bunch, I did some e-mails for my internship and I took care of little household stuff that needed attending.

I dressed becomingly.

I wore a pretty dress and shoes.

I took my time on my scooter and didn’t get crazy trying to speed to my internship.

I had a great group supervision meeting and I got a massage.

Then I went and did the deal and it was fantastic.

Afterwards me and my person went to Brenda’s and had a good catch up.

It was perfect.

The scooter ride home was even perfect.

Not too cold, there was still a kiss of warmth left in the night and I could smell a bonfire down at Ocean Beach.

Note to self time to get in a fire at the beach, that too has been too long.

And now.

I’m home.

Cozy and relaxed.

I even signed up for a yoga class in the morning.

I am held and cared for and I deserve to have these nice things.

Yoga.

Massage.

My scooter.

My home.

I work so damn hard.

It’s nice to take a moment and appreciate my efforts once in a while.

So, yes, I may have made an illegal U-turn in the middle of Folsom Street today.

But it was for a really good reason.

I promise.

 

No One Is Reading

June 12, 2017

Two days in a row.

Not a single hit to the blog.

Wow.

Taking it off social media certainly did the trick and since I will be starting with two new clients this upcoming week I am grateful that I have cleaned things out.

I also winnowed out a lot of other “friends” on facecrack and my social media has come down to me checking into restaurants and yoga.

Yeah.

I did another day of yoga today.

I wasn’t planning on it, although I knew it was an option, I sort of played today by ear.

I didn’t want to stress myself out but I also wanted to make sure that I was prepped for the upcoming week since it will be long and busy and full.

I had a speaking engagement this morning so I got up early on my Sunday and did my morning routine and wrote a bunch and then headed to the Mission.

Sometimes I miss the Mission.

I will have nostalgia for it, especially when the Outer Sunset gets socked in with fog, but this morning I didn’t have that much nostalgia and by the time I was done with my engagement I was really quite happy to get out of the fray and head back out to the ocean.

I could actually feel it in my body when I crested the hill that starts the downward roll to the sea and I could see the ocean and it just soothed me and I felt calm and nurtured and happy to be heading home and not have a lot of responsibility to the day.

I met with a new lady I just started working with and we did some reading and talked, a lot, there was lots of talking and it was good.

It is so good to be able to pass on what I have been given so freely and for it to be accepted so open armed.

I just felt blessed and grateful and by the time she had left I was ready to do the first round of food prep.

I made a shredded chicken hash with Andouille sausage, corn, carmelized onions, and crimini mushrooms.

Instead of potatoes I used brown rice.

No peppers though, peppers give me indigestion.

Which always bums me out.

I have super fond memories of my mom’s stuffed bell peppers from when I was a kid and I crave them once in a while, but all peppers, especially the green ones, tend to give me acid indigestion.

Anyway, so I cooked and had a nice lunch.

And.

Well.

It’s my fathers birthday today and I decided to call him.

Except that the call didn’t go through and the phone isn’t set up to receive voicemail and I took that as a sign, it wasn’t time to talk to my father.

But I could wish him a happy birthday from my heart and remember the last time I saw him and how his skin felt so warm against my lips when I kissed his cheek goodbye.

I hope you’re well papa.

Always, I hope this for you.

I settled my heart and decided to get out of the house and do a little self-care and get a manicure.

I had already done a great big cleaning, sweeping, vacuuming and dusting as well as laundry and putting my kitchen back together once I knew for certain the paint had dried on the cupboards, so I wasn’t slacking in the doing things department.

But.

I figure I’m going to either need to take good nail care maintenance for myself or get a manicure once a week rather than the every other I have been doing.

I want to show up well-groomed for my clients.

I want to be a demonstration of good self-care.

So.

I went up to the Inner Sunset and got the nails did and then I scooted over to Noriega Produce on Noriega and 46th and picked up a few last-minute groceries to have at the house.

And then back home to unpack, fold laundry, and figure out if I was going to the restorative yoga class or not.

I decided to go.

And.

It was so good.

So stretchy and relaxing and I just felt held and coddled and like I was taking super good care of my body and I could feel where I had worked my muscles this past week with all the yoga I had done.

I wish I could go more often, but I’m always down to take advantage of the studio when I can get into a class.

Next week I’ll probably only be able to go on Saturday and Sunday.

Maybe only Sunday.

So getting it in this week was good for me.

It was also super dreamy.

I was in deep revery the majority of the time.

I felt wrapped up in golden sunshine and I went to the meadow.

There is a place, I don’t know how or where it comes from, but I get the image off and on when I am in a certain kind of open body space in yoga class.

I remember the first time I had it and it was with a specific teacher and it happened during a certain time in class and it was accompanied by a bit of music that I never did find out who the artist was, but it was bluesy folk and guitar and achy and melancholic and sweet and reminded me of high mountain meadows and tall grass and long-stemmed wild flowers and I just spun out tonight in the meadow and danced and I was accompanied.

I have never been met there before.

I remember once being in that same space and it was beautiful and I saw myself as myself now holding the hand of a younger woman who held the hand of a younger girl and we walked towards a woman, who was I also, long flowing grey hair and I saw myself.

Girl.

Maid.

Woman.

Crone.

And I was awed by the beauty and the image.

But.

Also sad.

There was no one but I in the meadow and it seemed that I was waiting.

There was a fire to be lit.

Enchantments and witchery and strawberry full moon light and warm night air and yes, bonfires.

Dancing.

And I was met and I saw a long line of faces and stories and I danced and was held and turned and it was extraordinary.

I won’t analyze for you what I saw.

I just had a dream.

On a golden lit early Sunday evening in the Outer Sunset.

I drifted off, buoyant and aglow.

Wrapped in soft butter cream light and warmth.

So much warmth.

As though cocooned in a silk hammock on a summer day nestled into the strong arms of another.

Swaying in the wind.

A swooning melting and then.

Softly the bells chimed pulling back to earth and back to hearth and back home.

To the smell of dinner.

Chicken roasting in the oven and the warm embrace of my clean sweet space.

Happy Sunday.

Sweet dreams.

Good rest.

And.

Godspeed into this hazy night of dreams and revery.

Locked And Loaded

April 8, 2016

I made it through the work week.

Now to make it through the school weekend.

Three days of showing up and participating and being the best little student I can be.

Yeah.

I’m a teacher’s pet.

What of it?

I’m also ready.

Food is prepped, lunches and dinners.

I went to the grocery store after work, got a few extra things to have on hand so I don’t have to think about getting groceries or dealing with food stuff.

I also got myself a nice bouquet of flowers.

Because.

Hello.

Buy your own damn flowers.

And.

I’m done with my papers, my readings, and laundry–celebrate with something pretty just for me.

I am on point.

So that I don’t have to do anything but use my brain.

It does get a good work out when I’m in school.

And  have enough to think about then to worry about laundry or cleaning or groceries or bills or any of it.

Phone bill paid, rent paid, fuck, I paid it weeks ago, scooter insurance paid.

I just wish I was able to use it this weekend.

But the weather don’t look good.

So I gassed up my scooter and covered her up.

Fingers crossed I may be able to use it on Sunday, but tomorrow and Saturday, it’s looking like rain.

So.

I’ll take cars.

I was trying to talk myself into using MUNI but it’s doubtful.

I’ll want the extra time for sleeping.

I feel pretty rested, but it was a stressful day at work, hell it’s been a stressful couple of weeks, the family is doing a big spring break travel and there were a lot of extra things to juggle.

But.

As of today I won’t see the boys for a week.

I snuggled them both for a little while tonight before I left.

“I love you and I’m going to miss you and I just want you to know that even though I can’t see you, you are here, right here in my heart,” I told each of the boys.

I got kisses blown to me from the little guy, but the six year old and I had a longer conversation about the trip and the traveling and what was I going to be doing.

I told him that I would be in school and then I would be helping out the family and doing some things at the house to make sure it was prepared for them when they came home next week.

He also asked me to go down to the beach, he knows the whales are migrating, and try and see some whales and take some pictures for him.

“I will, and how about I bring you a souvenir?”  I asked him.  “What about a sand dollar?”

“Oh yes! I would love a sand dollar,” he hugged me and patted my hand and then scurried out of my lap to go play rescue helicopter pilot eskimo pirate santa t-rex trains.

Don’t ask.

Suffice to say, I felt my heart very tugged.

I won’t miss the stress of getting them ready for the trip, but I will miss the boys.

The oldest came running up to me before I headed down the stairs and out the door, and threw himself at me and clambered up into my arms and kissed my face.

My heart broke and then grew bigger and more love, more love, more love.

I squeezed him tight, “I love you bug, have fun.”

Now one ever told her to guard her heart.

I put him down and scurried down the stairs before I could get wrangled into any more last minute work projects or get caught up in saying any more good byes to the boys.

Free!

I rode off into the waning of the day and the encroaching fog and rain clouds.

I see you.

But I still may have time to enjoy a few moments of Doctor Seuss sky before the night falls complete.

The quiet crash of the night, the shimmer of neon on the 76 gas station sign at La Playa and Lincoln and I had a moment, a memory, a shimmering of tender nostalgia flare up inside my chest.

The sea side, the old gas station logo, the smell of wood burning at the fire pits on Ocean Beach.

Did I ever tell you how my favorite smell is woodsmoke?

Bonfires on the edge of the ocean, the dark water, somber and shiny, the smell of salt water drenched driftwood drenched and bleached under the sun, then gathered up in bundles to throw on the bundle of wood bought the market with the styrofoam cooler and the six packs of beer.

My mother and her boyfriend.

My sister, asleep in the back seat of the car.

I didn’t last much longer myself.

But I do remember the fire and the way it smelled and my mother, barefoot, jeans rolled, hair in her eyes, her gulping laugh of intoxication and joy, shimming around the fire.

Then.

I woke up and the sea was calm and I was alone in the morning air and fog and cool sand.

We ate breakfast at some sea side diner with red checked table cloths and booths, a long room with wood floors and un-ironic rope art and wooden ship steering wheels.

I had pancakes.

Thin, round, silver dollars.

They sat smeared with butter and soaked up the syrup that fell from the glass container, the sticky spot on the black handle where the syrup leaked out.

I remember watching the syrup soak into my pancakes.

My sister ate sausages dipped in the syrup and repeatedly stuck her finger in the pool of syrup.

Smart girl, she doused her pancakes and waited until all the syrup had soaked through and then poured even more on top, the crumbs of pancake so super saturated with sweetness they crumbled into balls and stuck to the tines of the thin silver fork.

My egg yolk ran into the syrup and I watched the yellow river snake over the plate.

My mom dipped her toast in the yolk and ate it, she smiled and she was so beautiful.

I forget that sometimes how beautiful my mother, bohemian and wild, was, is really, her white cotton button shirt rolled up at the sleeves, her long neck a gazelle, her green eyes grey and soft with the overhead clouds.

All this.

In just a moment.

The acceleration of my scooter from the stop sign at 45th to the turn at La Playa to get gas in my scooter.

“You’re a native!” he said in the message.

I am and I forget that sometimes in the ellipses of time that happened from years five to twenty-nine when I moved back here, but it will be those moments, the red neon sign, the wind on my face, the smell of bonfires on the beach.

And I am home.

In my heart.

In my person.

In this world.

I belong.

Here.

Now.

Always.

 

 

You’re A Natural

July 24, 2015

“That’s great mothering!” The woman exclaimed as I ushered the two boys out of the bathroom stall at Mission Playground.

I smiled, reached for the soap dispenser and looked at her in the mirror, “thanks!  But I’m not the mom.”

“Oh, well, you are a natural at nurturing, you should really now that,” she smiled, waved at the boys and left the bathroom.

“What did she say to you?” The oldest boy asked washing his hands and then playing the favorite, which also happens to be one of the most annoying games he plays, hand dryer roulette, in and out of the automatic hand dryer, which makes the three-year old clap his hands over his years and squinch his eyes shut until the noise has stopped racketing about the ceramic tiles in the bathroom.

“She said I was doing a good job,” I told the five-year old and then we headed back out into the world.

I don’t think about it much, maybe after 8 1/2 years of doing it, it really just does come naturally.

But.

I suspect that I am a natural at care taking.

I can take it too far and not take care of myself, but over the years I have developed better and better self-care.

I still have to practice a lot.

I had to do so this afternoon.

I was invited over to a sleep over snuggle fest at my friend’s house.

Oh.

How.

I.

Wanted.

To.

Damn it man.

He’s got one of those California King beds that you could just sink into and float away.

Except.

Well, I know that I would drift off and never come back.

There are things to do.

Places to be.

Dance parties to go to.

Yes.

I am going dancing tomorrow night and I am looking forward to it, I got a sweet little thumbs up from a friend I haven’t seen in a few weeks about seeing her there and my lady, the luscious Bon Bon will be hitting the floor sans walking boot from when she hurt her ankle.

Ah walking boots, love to hate you.

But yes, dancing, and I even know what I’m going to wear and that was part of it, the turning down the request for the sleep over, I need to be here, in my space, in my home, using my shower and doing my deal.

It’s a part of my self-care that I can and have neglected over the past weeks and days, I get carried away in the experience and then I’m not present or tired at work and that is no good.

I get frustrated and often when I am telling the littlest guy to use his words and take a deep breath, I am really talking to myself.

I am often at the emotional level of a three-year old.

I just have to take myself in hand and say, hey little girl, you’re going to be alright.

It’s all going to be just alright.

I’m not always a natural at self-soothing, but at least I don’t obsessively wring my hands any longer or rub my feet back and forth–classic self-soothing actions.

I will still catch myself twirling my hair, which I used to do as a child and would give myself bald spots on my head.

I’m not sure how or when I stopped.

I suspect there was a shard of violence behind the lesson and today I strive, really strive to be the best nanny I can, and to explain and express and take time and be tender and love the boys.

I really do love them.

Awful hard.

Even when I get tired and don’t think I can do it another day.

I do it.

I show up.

That’s natural too.

I show up for a lot of people and though I know I need to create that space that allows me to be there for another, I can only do it if I’m taking care of numero uno.

I used to think that was the ultimate selfishness.

Of course.

I was taught that.

How dare I take care of myself or my needs when others are reliant upon me, my money, my skills, my abilities to provide comfort.

I like those characteristics about me, I love them in fact, but as it’s been said before, I do have to make sure that oxygen mask is on me before I go assist another.

I can spend the night tomorrow or Saturday at my friends.

Or not.

Time will tell.

I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.

I hardly know what’s going to happen the rest of today.

I am going to finish my blog.

I will fold my laundry.

Maybe I will have a bowl of cherries.

Life is all about the sitting in the space and seeing the beauty inherent in the right now and the right here.

“You’re always going to taste like cherries to me and cinnamon spice tea, you’re going to smell like wood fires burning in my back yard, no matter what happens, I have this sense memory and association,” I told my friend and laughed, looking up at the stars.

Paris was painful, hard, egregious at times and so raw and beautiful it scoured my soul and set me on a different path.

But no matter how much it hurt, it was always smothering me with gorgeous sense memory.

Paris will always taste like apples to me.

Specifically the apples from the market around Square D’Anvers on Friday afternoons.

I wish I could remember the name of the apple, it is just there on the tip of my tongue.

I remember the flesh though, crisp and tart and sweet, white snowy flesh with marbles of red through out and a sort of yellow cream mottled skin that was also burnished with red.

I was not always happy to engage with the woman who ran that stall at the market, but as the weeks came and went and I always went back with my cloth canvas bag from Le Merle Moquer bookstore in the 20th, she grew if not friendly, at least not curt and once even threw in a pretty extra apple for me.

I have a tendency to always dwell on the positive.

Paris tastes like apples.

My friend like cherries, wood smoke, and cinnamon.

My heart is a deep well of many flavored things and smells and love.

Love.

All the things.

And I am.

Indeed.

A natural at that.

The Consensus

June 12, 2015

Is in.

Spa day.

That is the best suggestion I have gotten from the majority of folks that I have asked.

That and playing with kittens.

Sounds purrfect.

I’d like one day at the spa with intermittent breaks to snuggle with kittens.

Spa day to celebrate the scholarship.

I may not.

I may not (wo)man up and go to the spa, it is a big deal, in my brain at least, and I’m not sure I want to spend the money, but I do like the thought of hot baths and hot tubs and hot saunas and water.

I mean, I don’t have a bath tub at my house, it would be a nice way to celebrate.

Now where to go?

And when?

I already know that Saturday is out, I’ll be up and out of the house by 10:30a.m. doing the deal, then meeting a few folks at Tart to Tart for a couple of hours, squish in lunch, probably at Crepevine, then down town to the SOMA to meet my friend at the Scooter Centre and check out scooters.

Admission.

I am not sure about the scooter.

I am loath to finance anything, I have been realizing, my bicycle works fine and maybe I just want to save those pennies a little longer.

Although my knees could probably use the break from the bicycle.

I’m probably just in fear of getting burned again on a scooter.

I’ll show up and see what there is to be seen and leave it at that.  No use fretting until I know what I am dealing with.  I am also just as afraid to walk into a deal where I am suddenly buying something vintage and I get screwed there too.

Just going to play it by ear and not worry.

This is also about fun.

Having fun.

I’ll definitely have fun later Saturday too.

Once I get back from the scootering I’ll be getting ready for the first date with the gentleman who asked me out last night, who, I must say, without saying much more I want to keep this on the down low with my blog, said one of the best things to me ever as we parted ways last night.

“Let’s not chat until Saturday, that way we’ll have things to say to each other,” he declared before rolling on down the hill.

Yes.

I love that.

I don’t want to have a texting flirtation.

I want the real thing, right in front of me.

I am also enjoying the anticipation of this date.

There is something here that I am excited to explore.

Enough said there.

But I don’t see squeezing in a spa date on Saturday, unless said date has sauna, hot tub, and massage table at his house (and then, well, all bets off) and maybe someone to wash my hair as that is the ultimate luxury.

Ooh.

Now there’s an idea.

I could get a blow out.

That is definitely not something I ever splurge on.

I get my hair blown out once, maybe twice a year.

I don’t wear it straight and I love my curls, but that’s a thought.

Anyway.

I don’t think I’ll be asking my date to provide me spa services.

At least not on the first date.

I keep going back to Kabuki and I keep balking.

Maybe I just go buy a dress.

Or some flowers.

I don’t have to get crazy.

I don’t always know how to do these things, it’s like the manual was left in the dashboard and the vehicle’s been sent to the dump for scrap.

I’m sure the thing will come to me and I will happily celebrate.

I am happy.

That is to be sure.

My life doesn’t look that much different from it did before I got the e-mail with the news, but it’s been radically altered and I know it, the gift is huge and accepting it is a big deal.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I keep saying it when it strikes me, all these things, all this love, I am so lucky, I get stand here with my arms open and receive and allow myself to be seen and this is who I am, pink hair and tattoos and all.

And it’s all good.

About a month ago a dear friend of mine took me out to tea and we talked about graduate school and whether this was really the program that I wanted to be in and what was I going to do when I got out, would I be able to turn around and find gainful employment, would I be able to handle the debt load of my student loans.

$90,000 is nothing to sneeze at.

But I knew I was on the right track and here is the confirmation.

Two years of tuition being paid for.

Thank you.

I still have lots of work to do, but it seems unfathomable and I will allow myself to feel all the feels around this, it’s a big deal, I deserve to acknowledge it, I deserve to be happy about it, and ah.

Heh.

I just had a thought.

I’m going Burning Man shopping.

That is what I want to do to celebrate.

There are always a few things that I lust after each year and why not indulge one of those items.

A new dress.

A fun pair of tights.

Perhaps a shoulder holster.

A trip to Haight Street and some hat shopping at Goorin Brothers for a new fedora perhaps.

I keep trying to think of something that I have always wanted to do and haven’t yet done, but the fact is, I do a lot of things, so it doesn’t have to be extra outside the box.

Maybe I just go down to the beach and sit and watch the sunset this weekend and let the waves wash away the sounds in m brain, ah, that is a good idea.

I could go down to the beach and do a bon fire.

That is celebratory and I have not done a beach bonfire since I moved out here to the Outer Sunset, I should rectify that.

And what better reason than this?

I think I have a winner.

Bonfire, Ocean Beach.

Let the celebration begin.

Now, if I can only arrange to have some kittens there to snuggle with.

Birthday

December 19, 2013

Yes.

It was a day.

It was a day that I am still processing and it was full and wonderful and it started off a little on the lopsided side, but once I did a little writing and talked to my dearest friend on the phone, things, well, they perked right back up into birthday land.

I had a very mellow day.

Super grateful for friends who stopped by, texted, called, facebooked, etc.

Grateful I actually did something that I have thought about doing for years.

I mean years.

Sometimes it takes me a minute to be kind to myself.

To do what I want to do.

And despite feeling some discomfort at times, no one is going to show up!

It all passed and my dear, sweet friends did show up.

Not everyone who said they would, and one who said he wouldn’t–yet swung by in his cab to hug me and wish me well– but that is to be expected.  As I have had this experience before, the week before Christmas is a tough time to get anyone together for some birthday celebration.

I feel honored and loved to have had the company I had today and to know that so many people took time from their day to spend time with me on mine.

I loved getting out to the stables, no one else was out there.

Just three girls on an adventure, the hawks soaring in the wind above the canyons leading down to the ocean, and the hang gliders over our heads.

I felt like I was coming home in a very surreal sense of the word.

“Let me tell you something,” I said to my girlfriends as we were driving up to the stables, the air full of gliders, “I have a weird sort of connection to all of this,” I said gesturing the swooping hang gliders swirling in the air.

“My mom used to date the guy that invented and then patented the hang glider,” I said with a smile, suddenly remembering the smell of fiberglass in the warehouse in Oakland where Chuck did so much of his work.

I remember sitting in his Volkswagen Beetle while my mom smoked cigarettes in the shadow of the warehouse door in blue jean cutoffs and a white mens v-neck tshirt, the air always seemed to have glitter in it from the pieces of fiberglass that were drifting in the air.

Now, like a good little internet person I just Wikipedia hang gliders and of course they have been around much longer than when I was four years old, so Chuck must have patented something in regards to the flight of the glider.

Obviously.

But the romantic notion of is stays in my head.

The photograph of my mom on the beach running around a glider while my sister and I sat in the dunes.

The day I nearly talked them into letting me go up.

I was four, but apparently quite persuasive.

“Hey Carm,” my dear friend Joan said to me, “you know this is a much better idea then the trampoline one!”

I just about fell off my horse.

Of course!

One year I had decided to go trampolining at House of Air in the Presidio and Joan gamely came with me.

It was hard work.

“I like this kind of exercise,” Jennifer piped up, her horse nuzzling along behind mine on the trail, “anytime I can work out when I am sitting down is a bonus.”

I had to agree.

It was glorious too.

The God light falling through the thicket of grey clouds out over the sea, shafts of rich light bouncing off the grey waves.

Grey

Grey

Trails

Trails

Beach

Beach

Joan

Joan

Risk

At Your Own Risk

Joan trotting ahead of me, her posture so straight and her ease of being on the horse, made me by turns jealous and awed.

I had a horse that was sweet, Lily, and hungry, stopping frequently to snack on tress, shrubs, and sea grass, then stopping to, well do that thing we all do, poop, then heading off on her own, then running, whoa, where you going, lady.

I talked to her while admiring the gentle yet steady way Joan was sitting and I tried my best to emulate her riding style.

I lost my breath, the view, the hang gliders, the ocean surf, the wet sound of the waves slapping the beach, the only sound the roar of water and wind, I felt so open to where I was and happy to be sharing it with women who mean so much to me and my life.

Huge gifts.

After an hour, I will admit, I was ready to get off, the horse was eager too, and her gait picked up dramatically as soon as it was obvious that we were headed back.

“I want to gallop,” Joan the brave heart said with a grin.

Yeah, she was a natural-born equestrian.

“How do I do it?” She asked our sweet guide who stopped and took photos for us and twice recovered Iphones for us.

My bounced out of my pocket when Lilly decided that she wanted, out of the blue to run too.

Oh holy shit.

Relax, breathe, and follow the lead, bend the knees, lean forward, rise out of the saddle, which had warmed to my sit bones and I felt much more comfortable in then when we had started, let the horse carry you.

It’s not its first time at the rodeo.

Just mine.

I don’t know where the idea came from, some romantic fantasy that did not smell like horse stables and did not include a blustery grey day or a cold wind, did not include the stiffness of getting out of the saddle after being in it for an hour.

Nor the joy, the sweet simple joy of letting go, eventually I did surrender completely to the riding, trusting the horse to carry me.

It was a great gift.

As was the time I made to see my friends and they in turn, me.

A coconut at Trouble Coffee with Joan.

Then dinner with Jennifer and Joan at Thai Cottage–pumpkin curry, Tom Yum Gai soup, Pad Thai (not for me, but tasty to smell!), brown rice, chicken satay and then over to the house for tea.

And yes, we did have a fire in the back yard, surrounded by friends I have met from all walks of life, from 2900 24th Street to the mean streets of Aidslife Cycle training.

I still smell like wood smoke.

Tomorrow I get up early, go to work, go do the deal, then go housesit.

Thanking all those that showed up for me.

Realizing that I have to include myself in that equation.

It has been many years of work to gift myself the things that I like and the courage to explore what I may like or not like.

That in and of itself is a reason to celebrate.

Not just the birthday, but just that, the joy of being around people I love.

Heck, man, my awesome house mate and her family brought me down a plate of sweet oranges with candles for me to blow out.

No birthday cake for this lady.

But I still got to blow out candles.

I am loved.

Thank you to all my friends.

I love you so much.

You make my life rich beyond measure.

Thank you for the best birthday yet.

Next year let’s hang glide!

 

 

 

Time For A Space Heater

February 1, 2012

Yikes.  It is cold in here!  I need to get myself a space heater ASAP.

Which will patiently wait until pay-day.  I have spent just about what I can afford to spend on my little home.  I also made the mistake of believing the my eye is a good measuring instrument.

It is not.

My perceptions are often not true to form.  And when you go flying into Bed, Bath, and Beyond on a mission for a curtain rod as you forgot it when you were buying your new curtains, and don’t have the exact dimensions of your new window, well, oops, it does not always fit.

I thought I could sneak in a trip yesterday to the store and I was quite proud of myself when I was in and out of Bed/Bath/Beyond (to the moon and back!) and Trader Joes in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen.

But, unfortunately, the rapidity of my trip was negated by the fact that I purchased the incorrect curtain rod size.  I need curtains.  You can see right into my room from the back patio area and yesterday Mama Aurora was talking to someone right out side my window and thank God I had a towel wrapped around me or they both would have gotten an after shower show. I will be returning to the scene of the crime, and although I will slow down enough to correctly purchase the right size!

Not going to let that happen again.  Yikes.  I do have some very sweet window treatments up.  I got a couple of nice little rigs for the windows (valances–I did not even know that I knew that was the item I was purchasing, but I bought two and they look right smart!).  One for the bathroom and one for the main room.  I also got a shower curtain, a spring rod to hang it from, a couple of bath mats and two nice new pillows.

They, the pillows, are so nice and new and squishy and wonderful that I may now need two more to replace the others I kept.  My bed, by the way, if I can just say it again, is so divine.  It is just the best thing coming and going.  Nothing, nothing, I say, gives a person more gratitude around having their own bed then sleeping on a red vinyl couch that is slippery for a month.

Granted, I was blessed to have that couch to stay on and I am forever grateful to all the people who put me up over the last eight weeks and change.  I have slept in attics, on couches, and in other people’s beds.  I have been fortunate to have slept on each and every one of them.  I have been like Goldilocks.

And now I have “just right”.

It is so alluring I want to go crawl into it right now.  It is also quite cold in here, as I stated at the beginning of this post, so the draw is really big.  I have a quilt and a comforter and a big huge stack of cozy pillows to pile around me.

Last night I heaved such a sigh of abandon upon crawling into my bed and pulling up the covers, if I were a person on the other side of the wall, well, I might have been tempted to believe there was a little somethin’ somethin’ happening in my room.

That is not the case.  Although, the freedom for that to happen is tempting.  But I am sticking to my guns on that.  No sexy sexy until I am in a relationship.

I have rather given up on that ever happening.  Although, I was pleased to run into a gentleman tonight that I have not seen in a few years and I feel like there were some sparks there.  Perhaps.

Hard to say.  I do know that it was really good to see him.  We have some mutual friends and even though we swim in the same school, his group of fish is in the Sunset and mine, well, mine is now in the Mission.  Funny how that happens, just a few neighborhoods away is like another universe.

The Sunset feels like galaxies away.  In reality, on my bike, the Inner Sunset is maybe a twenty-minute bike ride, the outer a half hour or so, depending on weather and traffic.  Yet, it feel so much longer and further away than that.

It has been a little while since I rode my bike out to the beach.  That would be a lovely thing to do.  Or I could also get a City Car share and drive out over the Golden Gate and go to Stinson Beach or Muir and do a little bonfire action.  I haven’t been to the either of those beaches in a while. Oh!  I could also go to Point Reyes and get oysters!  I feel a beach picnic coming on.

One of my most favorite things in the world is a bonfire on the beach.  I will manifest this soon.  I have a three-day weekend coming up, I will be helping out on a Saturday to allow a fellow co-worker a much need weekend off.  I am not doing back flips about it, but I like that I can help out.

It means I will work two weeks with odd days off.  One week I will have a three-day weekend as I will have the Monday off the week I work the Saturday.  But that means that the week that I go back to normal I will only have one day off.

Oh well, such is life.  I really am not complaining.  I think I will take one of those days in that three-day weekend and plan a car share and do a little day trip and possible night-time bonfire beach action.

I get  a head of myself.  For the moment I am focusing on getting the rest of the accoutrement for my new home–the proper curtain rod for the bedroom window, a throw rug for the by the bed, a space heater, and I need to pick up the shelving unit from Harrington’s.

I also want to get a microwave and a mini fridge.  I am going to make my space as self-sufficient as possible.

I think the space heater may need to be at the top of the list, however, my fingers are really cold from writing.  I am going to wrap this up, put on the kettle and heat up a big cup of tea and nestle into my cozy bed.

My bed.  Oh how I love thee, let me count the ways….

 


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