Posts Tagged ‘Casper mattress’

Take The Day Off

October 1, 2015

How the fuck does one do that?

I have things to do.

I have places to go.

I have blogs to write.

Don’t you know that?

Haven’t you encouraged me to do just this, write, live my life, do my thing?

I thought so.

So.

Here I am showing up one more time at this keyboard.

But typing rather fast, if I do say so myself.

I do have places to go other than this small laptop.

I have a beautiful new bed to crawl into.

That’s right.

The mattress has arrived and I wish I had actually video taped the unboxing.

It was hella fun.

And fast.

It took perhaps two minutes, three, tops, to let out of the box, unseal the plastic and arrange it on the wooden slats of my Ikea frame.

Then I laid down and made the “sushi face.”

“Uh, haha, I guess I know what you look like when you have sex,” my friend said to me years ago when we were in We Be Sushi and I was having a Dragon Roll.

I can’t help myself.

I make a face.

And apparently it is a tad sexual in nature.

Or I could just say that I am expressive.

I was a touch expressive when I lay down on the mattress.

“Oh my God.”

Then I giggled madly.

I am looking forward much to getting into that bed and making all sorts of “sushi faces.”

Heh.

Especially since I have finished and sent in the paper for my Therapeutic Communications class and I also realized that I was caught up on the reading.  I mean that makes two classes that I am caught up with all the reading and all the assignments.

I have two other classes of course where I am not.

However.

I am much further than I was the last time I had class.

And I feel that this will become a trend with me.

Getting it done.

I can’t help it.

I don’t have the time to let things slide.

Although.

Occasionally.

I do have time to.

Let my love light shine.

And breathe.

And ride my bicycle in the rain.

It rained today!

I was not happy about it, I don’t like commuting on my bicycle in the rain, but I was also grateful for it and the rich smell of it heralded me all the way up Lincoln Avenue and through the Pan Handle and on into work.

Today in work stories.

I managed to not let myself freak out too much.

I stayed focused on my job and being of service to the family and putting into my job rather than taking out of it.

And.

I made a new dish for dinner that I have never made before.

The mom and I renamed it since it was mushroom casserole and ain’t no five-year old boy anywhere going to chow down on mushroom casserole, so we called it quinoa risotto with mushrooms and cheese.

Heavy emphasis, mine, on the cheese.

The three-year old will sometimes ask me to just put shredded cheese in his little outstretched hand so he can just eat as quick as possible.

Once.

When the parents were not around I actually tipped the plastic bag directly into his mouth, he just begged and I couldn’t help it, I didn’t drown him in cheese, thank you very much, but I did pour a good amount into his happy little face.

So.

Mushroom risotto with CHEESE.

Really, it was casserole, made with quinoa.

I remember when I had no idea what the hell quinoa was.

You may not know what quinoa is either.

I don’t think I did until I moved to San Francisco and despite having had it a few times I have never made it until today.

It was easy and the casserole, er, I mean, risotto, was lovely.

I may end up making it for myself one of these days.

You know.

When I have a bunch of free time.

Hahahaha.

Ah.

Fuck.

Sorry friends.

Sorry if I don’t go running out to the clubs to cut a rug or to the cafe to hang out or to that dinner party, house-warming, baby shower, birthday party, fellowship dealio.

Sorry.

I’m busy.

“You’re just going to have to put your head down and say, hey, I’ll see you in three years,” my person said to me over a tea the last time I sat down and did some work with her.  “Some of your friends aren’t going to be happy about that, but they will all understand it, and when you can and where you can, you will find the time to make to hang out with friends.”

It just won’t be what you want it to look like.

And.

It won’t be how they want it to look like.

And I want to date.

Who the fuck am I kidding.

Although there does seem to be space between the space to sneak things in, there is still the schedule and the routine and the doing that I do to take care of the things that I need to.

“Don’t stop writing on my account,” he said and went back to checking something on his phone.

He sat and watched me write my blog from the chaise lounge across the room.

Demands change.

Friends and lovers.

Graduate school and work.

Recovery.

Let me not forget that.

I can’t really take too much time off from that, at all.

I have to do these things and I make no excuses for that.

I am this woman.

And.

Should you want me to come out and play, I will, I just need to take care of a few things first.

Really.

Just a few.

I promise.

Just Got The Message

September 30, 2015

My new mattress arrives tomorrow!

Last night on this cruddy one I have had for the last two years.

I am not complaining, it’s done it’s job and I have slept on worse.

The fold out futon shenanigans that I slept on in Paris for six months was by far the worst thing I have slept on.

Well.

Not true!

I just realized.

I have slept on worse, and really, when I compare and contrast, even on a shitty mattress, it was a shitty mattress in Paris.

I had a friend once who said it didn’t matter how bad things were, if you just tacked on the end of the sentence, “in Paris.”

I was caught in a sudden rainstorm, “in Paris.”

I got lost, “in Paris.”

I overslept, “in Paris.”

I have to do my laundry, “in Paris.”

So.

Yeah.

That futon mattress, in Paris, sucked, but it was in Paris.

I have slept on far worse in Homestead, Florida.

Yes.

There.

On a piece of cardboard box that was slid underneath the thin tent floor of the two-man tent I was sharing with a friend, the cardboard scant protection from the sharp coral rock that our tent was set up on.

Even with the cardboard and a sleeping bag, I could still feel that rock underneath my back.

Imagine, I am imagining now, that for months I slept on cardboard boxes.

I have slept on plywood set up on top of milk crates.

I have slept in cars.

I have slept in the back of Grey Hound buses.

I have slept, on the ground.

I have slept on other people’s lumpy couches.

I have slept on the thin, worn out cushions in my ex-brother in-laws fathers’ camper truck bed.

That sucked.

I have slept in far worse places and on many a baggy couch with broken springs.

I have slept in dangerous neighborhoods were gunshots woke me up in the middle of the night.

I have slept on beaches.

I have slept in the woods, “camping” aka “homeless” in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

I have slept in the moldering basement of a duplex on a mattress on the floor.

I have slept cramped against my sister’s small body on a mattress on a floor.

I have slept in the bottom well of an old beater Dodge with a thin pillow braced against the door.

I have slept in far worse places on far worse beds, some which really had no right to be called a bed at all.

I am so grateful.

I have so much.

Do you see how much I have?

I have a full plate.

I have a job.

I have a bicycle.

I have this laptop.

I have graduate school.

(I have a lot to still read, but I’m getting caught up!)

I have stories.

(“Writers would kill to have some of the life material you have, Carmen,” Alan Kauffman said to me with an incredulous shake of his head, “you have had so many experiences!”)

I have love.

My God.

Do I have love.

I found myself pulled up 18th street tonight after work, my feet just knew the way and despite my brain saying, “go home, go read, go study,” I knew that I needed to be somewhere else tonight before I could do just that, go home, go read, go study.

And I found myself at Most Holy Redeemer in the Castro.

And I found myself at home.

I shared my piece.

I don’t remember what I said.

I got my God on.

I got on my bicycle and I got on the way back to the Outer Sunset.

And mysterious coincidence?

Is it odd?

Or.

Is it God?

I ran into a very dear, most welcome, super amazing and loving person on my way home.

“That’s H____________!”

I almost shouted his name.

I could see he was working with someone.

I almost kept riding.

But when you see your person, or I should say, when I see my person, I had to stop, flip a bitch on my whip, and pedal back to where he was sitting with one of my mates.

Oh.

Was it good to see him!

I got the best damn hug.

From him and from my contemporary and we just had us a great big love fest right there on the corner of Sanchez and Noe.

Thank you God for always knowing when I need to see my people.

We made plans to see each other soon and I got a brief, intense, full of love check in.

Then.

Merrily on my way.

Through the autumn turning Pan Handle, through the quiet dark of the park lit only with speculative sodium lamps and the bright white flare of tents being erected in the meadows.

There must be a concert happening this weekend.

I am out of touch.

I have been so busy in my own little world of school and work that I am not paying a lot of attention to other things.

Outside Lands has already happened, so it must be Hardly, Strictly, Bluegrass.

Translation.

Hardly, strictly, ain’t gonna be anywhere near it.

I’ll be in school this weekend.

I made good for the family already, getting them prepped by making not one but two homemade chicken pot pies for them–one to freeze and one to eat Friday when I am not there to make dinner.  Plus I made ginger chicken with hoisin sauce, soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, garlic, onions, and water chestnuts to wrap up in lettuce for dinner this evening.

I’ll do more prep for them too.

And.

A little for me too.

Although, I am pretty set as far as groceries go since my dear friend helped me out with the pick up and lift back to my place last weekend from SafeWay when I was having my near panic attack.

I do have to do a little more reading.

(A lot, but who’s counting)

But I’m kicking through it.

Every morning before I leave for work I have been reading.

Every evening when I get home I have been reading.

Add to that I have managed, don’t ask me how, to continue with my morning writing routine and my evening blog.

I don’t have to know how it works.

I just know that it does.

And it’s going to work even better.

Even sooner.

I’ll be sleeping on a brand new bed as of tomorrow night.

My life.

It rocks.

And it’s not because I’m sleeping on any.

Rocks that is.

And Drumroll Please

September 26, 2015

It was a good day.

I have a brand new Casper mattress coming in the mail.

What?!

I received a text today asking for my address.

I thought someone was sending me flowers.

Nope.

Holy shit batman.

The Universe really was listening.

I am just a little stunned.

(just a little fucking stunned, just a little)

And.

Relieved too.

I had actually decided earlier today that I was probably not going to get the mattress until next semester’s disbursement.

I wanted to make sure that I could make it through the next few months.

I received my first financial aid disbursement and it was about $1300 less than I thought I was going to get.

Oh yeah.

That’s right.

The “retreat”.

AKA graduate school boot camp.

I had forgotten that was going to be taken out of my tuition bill as a fee.

So what I received was $1555.00

Basically one months rent and utilities with a couple of weeks of groceries thrown in.

I was not going to get a new mattress with that tiny bit of wiggle room.

I decided I would pay rent right away and I waffled on actually paying for November as well, but I want to see how October plays out and if I can keep the $1500 in my savings and collect a little interest on it before I use it to pay rent.  I want to see how long I can go without using the money.

Granted.

If I need to.

I absolutely will.

But it feels really nice to have a little cushion behind me.

I let go the idea of getting a new bed and wrote my pages this morning and expressed a great amount of gratitude for my life, and I won’t lie, I did actually write another affirmation about the mattress–along with about fifteen other ones–as well as a gratitude list before I hopped on my bicycle and headed in to beard the lion.

Otherwise known as.

Doing my year review with the family.

And it went well.

They balked at giving me a raise.

I got to let them have their experience and I said what I needed to say, I came into the job under my ask, at the same amount as the outgoing nanny, I expressed how they themselves have stated I was the best nanny they have ever had, and that I only expected to get better at my job.

I also said how grateful I was for their flexibility with me.

They have agreed to keep me at 35 hours a week and continue to pay my health insurance, which is huge, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be getting that.

We also agreed that we would see how everything plays out and stay at 35 hours a week until the end of the year.

I won’t have to look for supplemental work and I won’t have to look for another family.

They will deal with me being unavailable every third Friday while I am in school.

We tied it up with them saying they would think about a raise.

And.

I am good with that.

The fact is.

I am going to be taken care of and I will be fine even without the raise, though it’s nice to get and I don’t recall having had a single job where I didn’t get some sort of raise after a year.

The flexibility with my schedule is the coup and the still getting my health insurance covered is huge.

And.

When the boys are on school break, I will work more for them, I will work my 40 hours like I was all last year and be of service to the family.

Win.

WIn.

Win.

Then I had myself a busy day.

I earned my keep.

I made homemade pizza for the family and for the family that came over for a play date.

Four boys.

Two three-year old boys and two five-year old boys and one delicious 8 month old baby girl.

So much deliciousness.

The baby let me cuddle and snuggle her and the three-year olds let me read them stories and the five-year olds helped me “prep” dinner, and the parents had a visit and the dog kept me company and I did the laundry and marketed too and set them up.

I did my job.

I did it well.

And I felt really good about how the conversation went and grateful that I asked.

Now I get to let go of the results and know implicitly in my heart that all is taken care of.

I mean.

Hello.

I really thought I was getting some flowers delivered, I did not expect that the message was, the Universe reads your blog and wants you to get some good sleep for graduate school studies.

Fuck.

Can’t come soon enough.

I have so much work to do this weekend.

I was trying to not be hyperventilating on my bicycle ride home.

I had taken the time to do the deal and popped into Our Lady of Safeway right at 8p.m.

So grateful I got my God on.

That hour reset me, refreshed me, and despite having anxious thoughts plague my ride home, I knew that I was going to get it all done and it was going to be ok.

I asked for a raise.

I asked for a review.

I got a great review, by the way.

I got tons of thank you’s and I love you’s and sweet little boy hugs.

I got a beautiful ride home through the park on a Friday night.

I got a gift coming in the mail.

SERIOUSLY?

Seriously.

I also have the gift of getting to go to school.

That is a gift too.

I am graced.

I am loved.

Don’t let me ever tell you different.

Loved I say.


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