Posts Tagged ‘cinnamon’

Busy Girl

July 15, 2016

Getting into all the fun things.

Nice to know that I have opportunity and options and fun.

That there is fun in the air.

“I would like to take you out on a date,” he said in the message.

Yeah?

Nice.

I would like to go on a date.

Thanks for telling me I’m sexy.

I like that, I won’t lie.

I have a coffee date this weekend, Saturday afternoon.

A dancing date, although, truly, the dancing was not the real ask, I was invited, but he’ll have friends there and I’ll have friends there, tomorrow night.

But.

Maybe a little bump into the other person on the dance floor.

And who cares?

Because.

I got options.

I am also going dancing with three dear friends.

Which is awesome sauce.

And.

I got an invite to a bachelorette party that happens to coincide with my family that I nanny for being out of town.

The bachelorette party is also out of town.

I haven’t been to a bachelorette party in a hella long time.

Sober.

All the ladies be that way too so it’s going to be stupid fun.

Plus, I pretty much confirmed that I will have the camping gear and what not for the burn from my friend, who’s party I would be attending.

All the things.

I got lots of stuff to still work on and get organized.

But having gear and knowing the people I’m going to camp with and having a ticket make it a lot less strenuous in my brain.

The getting there and back will happen.

I have made a few more inquiries and nothing yet, but that doesn’t mean that there won’t be.

Just like when I stop being concerned about dating, what the heck, I’m dating, I’m going out, I’m having fun.

“I got you something,” I got a text today at the end of the work day.

Perfect timing.

You know you have a lover in San Francisco when you get gifted an adorable pink leather choker and  fresh produce from the farmer’s market.

Hello.

l love it.

I got to sneak in a little nooky and then scooter home happy as a clam with my goody pack and a song in my heart, happy too, to be this much closer to Friday.

And yup.

It’s going to be a big, fun, busy weekend.

It feels like it has already started.

It helped that I got up early and went to yoga and got all stretchy and zen before going into work.

It helps that tomorrow is Friday.

It helps that I got to see my fellows tonight and do the deal and see some ladies that mean the world to me.

It helps that I got friends that want to go dancing with me.

You want to come?

Come!

I’ll be at Public Works tomorrow for Desert Hearts, deep house and techno, around 9:30/10p.m.

It’ll be good times.

Saturday I have my person then a coffee date.

Depending on how the date goes I will either continue to lunch with him or head off to yoga.

That evening do some deal and see what there is to be seen.

Sunday a couple of ladies over and a trip to the MOMA with a friend to finally get into the new space and see it before the shows all change over.

We’re going to go in on a membership together.

God damn it’s good to have friends.

And fun.

Glad I’m letting myself have a fucking fun summer.

Oh.

I’ve still got the crazy in my head and I have to constantly do work around it, I’m like a bit like a shark, constantly having to swim or else they sink and drown, like that.

I’m not interested in sinking.

I’m having too much fun living.

It also helped that I got a big fat eight hours of sleep last night.

Grateful for all the richness and variety and spice of life.

The sexy juiciness of it all.

So much of it when I let myself see it.

Reflecting earlier on how much I have grown over this last year.

And, of course, that there is still so much more growth to go, which is good, when I stop thinking I have room to grow, that’s when I’m in trouble.

I’m also grateful for graduate school, for giving me this taste of summer vacation, for this desire, a grass fire drinking gasoline, to taste and have and live summer.

I haven’t had this powerful a desire to live as full as I can in a while, it seems.

Or perhaps.

It is just that I know there is a time limit on it.

I’ll have my “Mardi Gras” of fun at Burning Man.

Then return, one last kiss to the summer, one last night of song, Mike Doughty, September 1st, some dude’s living room in Burlingame, then the next day.

School.

And work.

And school work.

And that’s it.

And so it makes sense.

Pack it all in.

Get your sexy on.

Date the fuck out of the summer.

Get your dance on.

Get your play on.

Get your travel on.

Get your Burning Man on.

Get your friends together and hug them fiercely.

Fierce as fuck.

Make new friends.

Make out.

Dance.

Dance.

Dance.

Sing out of key, just a little, don’t take yourself so seriously.

Wear too many flowers in your hair.

No such thing.

Wear glitter.

Seriously.

And crinolines.

And red lipstick.

Go to the drive in.

Go to the beach.

Burn baby.

Burn it down.

Eat it like a fat juicy white nectarine.

Sweet and sultry and salted with desire.

And.

Cinnamon.

Drink a little coffee.

I mean.

A LOT.

And love.

Also.

A LOT.

Get your summer.

Get all the things.

They are there to be gotten.

Seriously.

So.

Many.

Many.

Many.

Amazing.

Things.

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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