Back At It

Holy shit do I feel better.

Nothing like a little 24 hour bug to put my health in perspective.

I had no idea I was that under the weather.

Until I woke up this morning and felt so much better, so rested, so ready to conquer the world.

Which was a good thing since the family missed having me around.

I made so much food today.

Holy shit.

Triple batch broccoli soup.

Double batch turkey and black bean chili.

Oatmeal for the boys for the rest of the week.

Cut up raw veggies and fruit for lunch boxes and snacks.

And.

Cheese tortellini with pesto sauce.

Oh and a dozen hard boiled eggs.

Not that boiling eggs is such an ordeal, but yeah, I did the food up today.

Plus.

Getting back into the routine with the boys who seemed so much bigger and older and well, sassier.

Which is generally what happens when I go away for a long weekend or don’t see them for a little while, they are going to push my boundaries and see if I will hold them the same way I normally do.

And I did.

Little struggles here and there but after a tiny bit of acting out, a few time outs and quiet time moments, we got our groove on and had a really nice day.

I felt great.

Until I didn’t.

And that did, thankfully pass.

Although it did freak me out for a moment.

I got super dizzy and head rushed running up the stairs to grab a book for the six year old and suddenly found myself standing and wobbling back and forth in the boys room.

Hot and cold by turns and almost passed out.

Granted I ate almost nothing yesterday, but I ate well today, and I caught myself before I toppled and breathed and it passed.

But it was a spooky moment and I am grateful I had neither boy in my arms or anything in my hands had I fallen.

I was also absurdly grateful that I had taken yesterday off.

I would have not made it through the day.

No way.

No how.

It is nice to get back into my groove, though I adore the traveling, I am also a creature of my comforts, my tea, my music, my space, my transportation.

It was hella nice to be back on my scooter and not on a subway.

“You’re an above ground kind of girl,” he said to me–the gentleman I stayed with via Air BnB, “you’re not much on the trains are you?”

I do prefer to be above ground, I love trains, but sometimes subways and undergrounds I can do without, I like to look at things, I love to watch the landscape go by, I like to see the sky.

I also like to walk and that’s always a good way to experience a city.

Or any place I travel too.

It’s good to see things and smell things and take in the environment.

Today I was happy to smell the sea and drift wood smoke and a charcoal pit being lit up, the eucalyptus in the Pan Handle, so good.

I felt happy and free and alive.

And I also smell of fabulousness.

I got my new perfume!

It came into Tigerlily and I picked it up right before work.

Rose Flash.

Fuck me it’s so good.

Super sexy and lush and floral, tuber rose and spicy and a bit musky, but not too much, just a hot kiss of it and the dark rustle of angel wings on fire.

Oh.

I fucking love it.

I could just rub it all over my body.

The girl at the counter was so happy for my happiness that she threw in a body oil on the house also in Rose Flash.

I shall go about my days dipped in deliciousness.

And my nights drowned in the lovely of it.

I like to put on perfume before I go to bed, especially on my wrists and on my neck, behind my ears, so it floats in my hair.

I will crawl naked into bed, float down under the comforter, raise my arms over my head and bury my face in my hair or my shoulder and breath the perfume into myself, my heart, my spirit.

I don’t know when I started that.

But I think it may have been when I was sixteen or seventeen and had splurged on a bottle of Calvin Klein Eternity.

I wore it all the time.

In fact, I probably over wore it, not realizing that my nose got accustomed to the scent, I would put on a lot more than I needed because I wanted to smell it on my body.

“There goes Carmen, wafting again,” one of my mom’s friends snickered as I passed by.

I was horrified.

I had no clue.

I learned then to put it on at night as heavy as I wanted to, the scent washing me to sleep and curling me into dreams.

Feverdown.

Eiderdown.

Soft warm clouds.

Ambient lightness.

Like a lit globe of fairy dust and tales of adventures and wandering.

My sister told me after we had moved out of the house in Windsor, that there were times she would go hang out in my room and lay on my bed and that my sheets always smelled of my perfume.

I found that sweet.

I still find that sweet.

And I am so happy to have this new scent to waft me into sleep and dreams and reverie with.  I am a very lucky girl.

I’m happy and healthy and taken care of.

I paid my rent today.

That always feels good.

I get to go to yoga in the morning.

That will feel lovely.

And.

Cherries are in season.

Oh so sweet.

My life.

A bowl of cherries.

A wash of spiced perfume.

The moon riding over the wine dark seas.

My heart on my sleeve.

Exactly where it should be.

All is right in the world.

Love.

Love.

It’s all around me.

 

 

Holding Space

I have to give myself props.

I held my own this weekend.

It was hard.

Harder than I thought it would be and, easy, so easy, why have I not done this before?

I went to the Russian River for a three-day weekend.  The traffic coming and going was pretty fierce, it ended up feeling more like a two-day weekend with the travel time that was eaten up there and back, though.

I did not succeed at everything I set out to do.  My food was a little sloppy, I grazed a little more than I ever do.  But I did not have sugar or anything else that triggers my own special brand of crazy.  It was just freaking challenging to have a bowl of cherries or strawberries or slices of pineapple every where I went.

Or the ribs.

Good grief there was some meat at this house party.  In fact, when my people get together, they bring the food with.  There was funnel cake, there was German chocolate cake, carrot cake with cream cheese, ribs, peach stuffed sausages, fried egg sandwiches on toasted sourdough with sliced sweet one hundred cherry tomatoes and spicy arugula.

We had so many beverages I was in the bathroom every other minute it felt like.  I certainly got my sparkling water intake on, that’s for sure.

I also got my love on.

Self-love, self-care, and self-nurturing came for me first.  I got up at a pretty normal hour every day that I was there.  I ate a good breakfast each day–day one, kamut with cinnamon and nutmeg, sliced apple, and chopped walnuts accompanied by many cups of coffee.  Day two I had brown rice with warm banana and strawberries, almond milk and cinnamon.  Delicious.

I wrote each day I was there.

I blogged each day I was there.

Despite not having any internet connection, I still wrote my blog.  And I took loads of pictures, loads.

I also did my morning pages.

And I meditated.  I sat on the grassy hill above the house each morning and I gave myself twenty minutes to sit and be still in my body.

I went for walks.  I discovered an old tire swing in the woods.  I smelled the trees over head.  I listened to the birds chatter.  I saw deer, raccoon, vultures, hawks, wild turkeys, and Piglets.

Well, Ms. Piglet is not much of a wild animal, the sweetest pit bull ever, I got some nice snuggles with her, although she does snore a little.

I let myself go swimming.

I sat in the hot tub, not once, but twice.

I showered and did my make up.  Because even out in the country under the looming redwoods, I like my glitter.

There were times I could have gotten caught up in the deliberate manufacture of misery and instead, I breathed and kept to myself.

I shared about moving to Paris.

Sometimes I just sat quietly and watched.  It was fascinating to see how we all got along with one another.

I even got in the hammock.

Hammock Time

 

Yes, I lay in that hammock and listened to the babble of the stream, not once, but twice.

I also danced and sang and hot tubbed and laughed my self silly.

My favorite moments were the quiet ones though.  Mary and I talking about Paris today sitting on the back patio enjoying the last moments of sunshine before packing it in.

Bonne and I standing together in the river holding hands.

Joan and I sitting in the hot tub the first night before any one else got to the house, out under the stars.

Getting to know Deke better.

Hugging Rick.

Talking to Byron about traveling.

Some times I got over whelmed and when that happened I walked off.  Not too far, just down the road a few minutes, up the path outside and above the house, or I sat with a glass of sparkling water and just observed.

I am so glad I went.

I am so glad I have such good friends.

I am also glad that I am at ease in my own skin, that I have follow through, the I showed up for myself and held to what is important to me.

Some one once questioned why I wasn’t making more money and when they asked if they could give me an honest assessment of my financial situation they said, “you know, from what I see, you just don’t have much follow through.”

That stung.

But after taking a moment to actually access what I did this weekend, I saw, and quite clearly at that, I do have follow through.

I held my space.

I took my time.

I gave what I could give.

I did damn good.

I am not always great at autonomy or saying what I need for myself, but my God, I have done a lot of work.  Getting to see how much I have matured and seeing how far I have come gave me a glow that I can attribute to more than just laying about in the sun.

Although, that certainly did not hurt, laying out by the beach.

Breaking out the swim suit

 

I took the time off from work and now I have a busy week, six days ahead of me.

But I can do it.

I have follow through.

And the honest assessment of having grown the fuck up, despite not having the bank account of an adult.

I have the habits of a mature woman.

I took the space I needed.

I gave myself the gift of being in my own skin, gave it time and silence, and then more, ultimately, wonderfully, was revealed.