There is So Much

To write about.

And where to begin?

I almost titled this blog, One Hour, as an homage to something quite big.

I also thought about naming it, “Are you Here?” as I suspect my ex is back in town.

At least it feels that way.

More about that later.

Then I thought I should write about my awesome and amazing Mike Doughty experience and having gotten to see him on Wednesday of this week and how I played hooky from clients and went out on a school night.

I didn’t really play hooky, I just rescheduled them for later in the week, I had one tonight and I’ll see the other tomorrow after my regular Saturday clients.

Then I thought, oh yeah, I should call this, “Vive La France!”

As I bought a ticket to Paris last night!

Yeah.

So.

All the things.

All of them.

So much going on.

Plus, of course, the school thing that is happening and how I managed to get all my papers done and turned in on time and also how I got back some really amazing comments on my last couple of papers.

“Clarity, erudition, adept usage of third person, meticulous APA style,” I could go on, but then I think that’s just ego.

I”m right on schedule with school at the moment and extremely happy about that, despite feeling a little disconnected from school since I did not get much time this week at work to do homework.

The family had the flu.

Like seriously bad, fevers, aches, chills, super bad sore throat, coughing.

I do not know how I escaped, but I did.

I also got my flu shot this year so that might have helped and as soon as the family was diagnosed with the flu at the doctors they called me and said call my doctor and get Tamiflu, which is a preventative medicine that will work if taken within 72 hours of exposure.

So I’ve been taking that all week and seemed to have skated by the flu.

Thank fucking God.

I cannot afford to be sick.

And.

I don’t like being sick.

Even the small part of me that rather enjoys lying around all day in bed.

The rest of me drives itself crazy when I’m sick.

So I’m super happy I avoided it.

But man, work was a tough one this week.

Which made it easy to ask off for time to work with a client.

Yes.

It’s official.

This week I got my tenth client.

I took a leap of faith when the person reached out and offered expanded hours beyond what I have available.

Meaning.

Wednesdays I work from 9 a.m. to 5p.m. then see clients at 5:30p.m., 6:30p.m. and 7:30p.m.

I offered the client a 4:30p.m. slot.

Technically I’m working as a nanny, but I’ve been in conversation for months now that at some point I would slowly begin the transitioning down of nanny hours for therapy hours.

I hesitated for just a brief moment but knew, really knew, that I had to offer hours that would overlap into my nanny shifts.

And the client took the Wednesday slot.

Which means I have to be done at the nanny gig by 4p.m. now on Wednesdays.

One hour less of being a nanny.

One hour more of being a therapist.

Plus.

This new client found me on Psychology Today and was not a referral from my agency, meaning the client is full fee.

Yippee!

The more full fee clients I get the faster I will transition out of nannying.

I mean, I love the family, but $30/hour versus $140 an hour.

Well.

I know what works better for me.

Anyway.

That’s therapy business.

Then there’s Paris business which in a way segues into ex-boyfriend business.

Yesterday at work I was checking e-mails in a brief moment of time when I wasn’t picking up used Kleenex, hydrating some small child, washing dishes, drawing, cuddling, or making hot tea with honey and saw an interesting email from a friend.

It was an e-mail that he forwarded that there was a one day sale happening for round trip tickets to Paris.

Oooh.

I wasn’t planning on going to Paris this year, I’ve been planning on going to Hawaii in July,(but still haven’t done anything about it as I’m waiting on my employers to let me know when they’re going to be in Finland and if, probably not, but if they are also planning on taking me to Helsinki with them)  going to Maui and staying in Paia, where my grandmother was born in 1928.

But.

I was curious about the flights and a little bug got in my ear and so I searched and shit, the price was too good to pass by.

So I picked the best time for me to go, end of the fall semester, in December.

Yes.

That’s right.

I’ll be in Paris on my birthday and for Christmas.

I fly out of SFO on December 17th, landing the next day at Charles de Gaulle on December 18th, my birthday, in the early afternoon.  I’ll fly back on December 27th.

So I’ll be there from my birthday through Christmas.

I will sit in cafes, go to museums (the Louvre, the D’Orsay, the Jeu de Paume, the Pompidou–which is open on Christmas, I know where I will be, wandering the galleries there for sure on Christmas day, the Orangerie, the Palais de Tokyo, the Grand Palais, the Petit Palais, the Musee de l’Art Moderne), walk everywhere, read books, go do the deal with the Paris fellowship, hang out with my best girlfriend from my Masters degree cohort…we’ve already made plans to go to the ballet (I messaged her right after I bought the ticket).

I got the ticket from Air France round trip, direct flights there and back for $579.32!

I still can’t believe that!

My girlfriend asked me why December after exclaiming at the cost of the ticket.

I told her that my birthday and Christmas have been really tied up with my ex the last two years and maybe its better for me to be in Paris then in San Francisco and really just do something for myself.

I always wanted him to come to Paris with me and I had even brought it up in the days before we broke up that I wanted to plan a trip with him there.

It is such a screamingly romantic city.

And he’s such a foodie, he would have loved it.

I’m still sad we didn’t get to experience that together.

She understood.

Plus, I told her that it makes sense with my school schedule and it’s the slowest time of year for therapy clients….the last two holiday seasons were really slow and I hear that it’s that way for most therapist.

So.

Yeah.

Booked that ticket.

I don’t think I’ll stay with my girlfriend, despite knowing she’d let me, I think I want a little more autonomy and she’s got young twins, who are super sweet and adorable, but the house isn’t huge and as much as I loved staying with them, I don’t want to stress them out at Christmas.

I figure I’ll Air BnB in the Marais where they live, it’s super central and I know it well enough, and just be an independent lady at Christmas time in the City of Lights.

God.

There’s more to say.

The feeling of my ex being in town, and wanting him to reach out or to somehow bump into him, it’s big, but I’ve not got time to write more.

I need to get up early, lots of clients tomorrow.

So.

I bid you adieu and I’ll see you on the flip.

 

It’s Late

But not really.

It just feels like it is.

I had a half lazy day, half busy day, and a “I was half way out of it day,” at one point from going to bed so late last night.

2:30 a.m.

I cannot remember the last time I went to bed at that hour.

I had gone out dancing with a dear girlfriend.

We met up in the city at Brenda’s Meat and Three where I had wrapped up a delicious dinner with my person, cheese grits with shrimp, bacon and tomato.

My God.

It was so good, I could have licked the bowl.

The server laughed when I said that, and added, “I’ve seen it happen.”

I do not doubt it.

I once licked a plate at a meal out with friends, but I suspect I was a little tipsy when I did it.

The grits were just that good.

I will be having them again.

And I got a lot of compliments on my costume

I went as a sugar skull from Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead).

It was my first time trying to do the makeup.

I think I did pretty good, all things considered.

The place that I stop at, Ulta Beauty over by the Nordstrom Rack and Trader Joes shopping area, was out of Halloween face paint.

I was like.

Seriously?

You guys are a freaking makeup store!

It’s three days before Halloween and you’re already sold out?

What the heck!

But.

I’m a clever girl.

First I asked what the lightest foundation that they had in the store was.

I’m brown-skinned enough that a very light foundation is going to look close to white on my skin.

Then I got a finishing powder that was tinted with green to pull any redness from my face and then another that was a translucent white powder.

Then I pillage the NYX cheap makeup.

Big white eyeliner, big black eyeliner, a pink one, a turquoise one, and a liquid eyeliner in lilac with glitter.

And I found a really cool blue lip gloss that was matte and had glitter in it.

I have no idea when I’m ever going to use this make up again.

But the end result, though not professional caliber, well, I thought, was pretty damn good.

I actually got a lot of compliments last night, both at Brenda’s and at the dance.

My friend also had a great costume, she was a Hip Hop Zombie.

Which was apropos as we were going to the Time Travelers Ball in Oakland.

Great music, lots of old hip hop, lots of funk, so early electronic, old 80s and late 70s movies playing on the wall, great light system, a small fire in the courtyard, in a portable fire pit.

I ran into a few folks, from, yes, of all places, Burning Man.

I didn’t recognize the woman at all who came up and squealed at me, and how she recognized me with all that makeup on, I have no idea, but she did.

It was a good time.

And.

Heh.

Although I did not make the top three prizes in the costume contest, I did win an honorable mention and was given back my entrance fee and an open bar tab.

Which for me was hilarious to contemplate.

I had a La Croix.

It was tasty.

Heh.

And.

I had fun and I danced a lot, so much so that I was afraid I was going to break a sweat and my make up was going to slide off my face.

It stuck though.

It stuck really well, it took a lot of make up removing wipes and washing my face to get it off, in fact, I didn’t get all the white eyeliner off, man I tried, but I gave up the ghost at some point.

I was also up late as it was 9 hours a head in Paris and my best girl friend from school sent me a message on What’s App about having a Face Time session and I just said, fuck it, it is super hard for us to co-ordinate our time, so screw it, yes, I had a Face Time session this morning around 1:45 a.m.

It was so good to see her face and hear her voice.

Oh, how I miss her.

We got caught up and talked about all the things and made some tentative plans to see each other in the new year.

She may be coming back for a training and I’m pretty sure I’ll be in Europe in July and I’m going to make sure I go up to Paris and spend time with her.

I was in tears when I got off the call, it was super hard to hang up.

But man, it was late.

And I had lunch date that I wanted to be ready for.

I was going to sleep 8 hours, I was.

I set my alarm for 10:30 a.m., which is unheard of for me, but I figured, I can skip yoga, I got a workout dancing, and I want a full nights sleep.

of course.

I was up at 8:30 a.m.

Which is why it feels late right now when it’s not really.

I’m glad for it though, I did a ton of writing and I had a leisurely breakfast and a quick phone call with my best friend and plans to connect later.

Which was sweet.

So sweet.

And then off across town to Mario’s on Columbus and Union.

I hadn’t been there before, but it was classic, pure North Beach Italian Cafe and bar.

It was so good to see my friend and we chatted about all things art and kindness and words and poetry and talked about Burning Man, since that’s where we met three years ago, and projects, and life.

I am enthralled with that aspect of my life, that sometimes, out of nowhere, because I am moved to connect with someone, a new relationship happens.

It startles me every time.

It was like that with my best girl in Paris, we were sitting next to each other, an empty seat between us, at the first year retreat for our school.

And we turned to each other and we’ve never turned away.

The loveliness of it still astounds.

The people in my life who I love, who I consider my family, my loves, my friends, I am so, so lucky to know.

Beyond lucky.

Graced.

I am graced.

And tired.

Just saying.

I got a lot of other stuff done today too, grocery shopping, lots of cooking, lots of homework.

But really.

It was the connecting with my friends, with my people, with my loves, that made the most impact on my today.

An hour-long phone conversation sitting on a bench in the sunlight (the only sunlight that I got to see, man was it cold and foggy today) at Washington Square Park.

The confirmation of love.

The power of poetry.

The great gifts of kindness.

The art of being human.

It gets me every time.

Every time.

Deactivate Account

Finally.

I finally figured out how to get rid of my Twitter account.

Officially deactivated.

I saw tonight when I went to check my blog stats, oh such sorry little stats, my readership has super shrunk, but oh well, that there were still hits coming in from Twitter.

Even though I haven’t linked any of my recent blogs to Twitter.

And I deleted a bunch of blogs off the Twitter feed then I started poking around and I finally found the deactivate button.

Voila.

No more Twitter.

Fine with me.

I barely had time for any social media today anyway.

I really was up and out early and going all over the place.

My landlady had her crew in working on my kitchen in my studio–sanded all the cupboards and repainted them and they regrouted a bunch of tiles in my bathroom that were pulling up.

Which meant.

I was up hella early so that I could prep the space and get out-of-the-way.

They were scheduled to come in at 8a.m.

So much for sleeping in.

I hung out at my landlady’s for a bit and had a cup of English Breakfast then headed to a 9a.m. yoga class.

I said goodbye to my favorite teacher, he’s moving out of the city, and then ran into a friend who was coming in for the 10:30 a.m. class.

I said fuck it and decided to hit the 10:30 a.m. as well.

I did two yoga classes back to back.

Half way through the second yoga class I was like, what the fuck was I thinking.

But.

I got through and I feel pretty good about that.

I couldn’t access my kitchen to cook breakfast, or even get to stuff that I could just grab and eat, so I headed over to Sea Breeze on Judah and 45th and had some brunch.

I was a bit mortified to be eating brunch in my yoga clothes.

I really don’t like hanging out in my work out gear, I usually head straight home after doing a yoga class and hop in the shower and put myself together properly and you know, look presentable.

But.

Nope.

Not today, messy bun, yoga clothes, flip-flops, sigh, no makeup.

Brunch.

Gah.

I am a stereotype.

Oh well.

It’s not like I do it often.

Like ever.

And it was funny to see myself doing something that I have quietly, and sometimes not so quietly, judged people for doing.

Maybe they were getting their kitchen’s repainted and their bathroom floor regrouted too.

I mean.

You never know.

I came back and managed to get a few minutes in my house without three working guys bustling about, they had a lunch break, and I threw on some clothes and packed up a travel toilette bag and headed out the door.

I had a girl date with a friend to go to the Imperial Day Spa after I got out of my group supervision meeting for my internship.

OH!

Note to self go track your hours.

Excuse me, I need to take care of some paperwork.

There.

That’s done.

Sigh.

All the paperwork.

So, since I was going to the spa, I figured I’d just shower and shave and primp it up at the spa.

The day went quick and supervision was good and I got two more client files and listened and learned a few things and yes, got a little overwhelmed when a couple of the interns told me about more paperwork and I just kind of felt like, whoa man, slow down.

I am not there yet.

I need to take things in very manageable little chunks, moment to moment.

I asked them to stop and waved them off and my supervisor actually stepped in, when one of the interns was trying to explain to me something after I had said, please, stop, I’ve got what I need right now, and guided us back as things were getting too far off track and I thanked her, and I laughed, and said, yeah, my brain just got super full and I can’t assimilate more information yet.

Sometimes that happens.

My brain just gets super full and it takes a minute to process and organize all the information.

I got the paperwork I needed my supervisor to sign and when the time to go was up I dashed out the door and headed to the spa.

I didn’t get any massage or spa treatment, I just got the access pass to the spa, which was surprisingly nicer than I had thought, the neighborhood its in is a touch sketchy and it’s sort of tucked into a kind of mini-strip mall sort of shop row on Geary Street.

But.

Wow.

It was a little slice of heaven.

Hot tub.

Dry sauna, a good hot one at that.

And.

OH.

A red clay and pink Himalayan crystal rock salt sauna.

It was heaven.

I got super good and hot in the dry sauna then went into the salt sauna, super low red light and the entire floor was covered in pink sea salt crystals and hot.

Not as hot as the dry sauna, but hot enough that you wouldn’t want bare skin on the salt bed.

There was a large tatami mat that covered the majority of it and a little walk way into the room and then you just spread your towel on the floor and lay down.

Heaven.

Warmth baking into my back.

And little pillows for your head.

I have no idea how long I was in it, all dreamy and warm and sweating and blissed out, but it was well worth the price of admission.

Then back to the hot sauna and then.

Oh.

The cold plunge.

Fuck a cold plunge pool is intense.

And the first time is definitely the worst and I yelped a little getting in and said fuck under my breath.

But.

I did it and oooh, God, the sauna was even better after that.

I did that a couple of times, another cold plunge and then a good soak in the hot tub and then a sit down shower and personal grooming session.

Slow shave of the legs, every bit and angle and curve.

Super deep conditioned my hair.

Untangled it and went through it with a brush for quite some time.

It’s getting pretty long.

It’s hard to tell how long it is when it’s curly, but when it’s wet and brushed out, it’s long.

I’m quietly debating going in and getting a touch up on the hair, the dark has faded and the blonde highlights are showing again.

It’s pretty, but maybe not so professional looking.

Then again, my hair may never be professional looking.

It has a mind of its own.

Anyway.

I got my spa on and it was good and I think I will be going back.

It was so good to soak and sweat and steam and rest and let my body and, well, my brain really, take a break from work and thinking about my internship and all the other things that like to occupy my thoughts.

My thoughts are definitely occupied.

So it was good.

A surprise urban retreat in the middle of my day.

I was happy to find it and I will definitely add this to some self-care practices that I think will keep me balanced as I navigate life as an intern, a nanny, and you know, everything else I get myself into.

Life is good.

I’m not complaining.

Just happy to have found a respite space for myself in this day.

It was well deserved.

And the paint on my cupboards is almost dry!

I’ll be able to use the kitchen tomorrow.

Roast me a Sunday chicken and make soup for the week.

And like that.

It’s Sunday.

My how time, sometimes, flies.

 

Do A Little Shimmy

In front of the mirror.

Um.

Yes.

But before that I have a lot of moving and shaking to do.

Holy shit do I have a lot of stuff to do.

I preempted it by doing some of the work today.

I mean I got busy already.

I brought reading in with me to work and for the second day I was able to do reading while the boys were on their quiet time I kicked out some reading.

I also just finished doing another hour of reading.

That’s right.

Because this is how I have to roll to get it all in.

Actually.

I did an hour of reading then I took another twenty minutes or so and organized the material that I will be using for my big Psychopathology paper.

It has to be 12-15 pages long, in APA style and it will be an in-depth analysis of two different diagnosis with emphasis on using the DSM V and as well as a psychoanalytic approach.

I will be addressing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

And.

Alcohol Use Disorder.

Ahem.

I may have a little experience with the two.

Hahahaha.

Fuck I amuse myself.

But.

Hey when writing I have found that the best things to write about are things that I have experience with.

I have experience with both in spades.

Thank you very much.

So after I did another two chapters of reading for my Family Therapy class (this is after working a full day at work, and yes, it was full, though lovely, so lovely especially, getting out to the park in the sunshine) after I got back from doing the deal tonight, I sat down and organized the reading and the materials.

I did not start the writing.

But I have started the thinking.

It sits and stews a little up there in my head.

I don’t know exactly how that works, but I do know from a great deal of experience that it does.

I have done the reading, which is a huge part of the battle.

I have the beginnings of where I need to go in my mind.

I have reviewed the directions for the paper a number of times.

I have started sticking post it notes in the places I need to go back to and integrate into the paper.

I will devote seven pages to each diagnosis.

I will break them down, do an assessment, how it presents in the client, what the diagnosis looks like in the DSM V, what it could be, and how to address it psychodynamically.

I have FIVE books I am working with.

One of them is the full size DSM V and the other is the desk reference.

One book on psychodynamic psychiatry and another on psychoanalytic case formulation.

Plus one book of personal experiences.

I actually won’t be using that one so much, I have, ahem, plenty of my own first person accounts to draw from.

I really won’t have any problem sketching out what the presenting problem looks like in the client.

Anyway.

So yeah.

That.

That will be taking up a big part of my weekend.

But it won’t be all my weekend.

I meet with my person tomorrow.

I plan on getting up and doing yoga, I need some exercise, before I meet her as well.

I need a mani/pedi and some eyebrow waxing and I need to do grocery shopping and cooking for the next work week.

I will also do the deal tomorrow.

And I will meet with two ladies on Sunday.

I plan on doing the bulk of the writing tomorrow after I get back from doing my errands in the Inner Sunset.

I am not sure how long this paper is going to take, it’s a big fucking paper, but having started to delve into it and having organized my materials is a big step forward.

I estimate three to four hours.

That sounds like not that much, but for me three hours of straight writing is a fuck of a lot.

I wrote my Family Therapy paper last weekend in two hours, but that was not with as much referencing and was seven pages.

This paper will be double that.

So I figure four hours of writing.

My hope is to get the majority of it written tomorrow before I head out to my 7 p.m. commitment.

And I will work on it more after ward.

I had originally planned on doing the bulk of the writing on Sunday.

But.

Um.

Ha.

Something came up.

I have a date.

What?

Totally out of the blue.

Once it was all set up I messaged my friend, what do I wear?

I laughed to myself, the quintessential question.

Not whether I can appropriately show differential diagnosis in a co-morbid presenting psychological disease, but what dress to wear, and heels, should I wear heels?

I mean he is 6’4″.

6’4″!

Yes.

Thank you God.

And doesn’t drink.

Yes.

Lives in Oakland.

And happens to be a friend of a friend.

This was not the message I was expecting to get today as I was reading my text books at work while the boys were down in their rooms.

A message pops up.

A friend doing some match making!

OMG.

Blush.

Flattered.

So, so unexpected.

Would I be interested in?

Check out…

And yes?

Ok?

What’s your schedule look like?

How about these days?

And this time.

And.

BOOM.

Date with guy set up for this Sunday at Samovar Tea Lounge.

Holy shit.

I mean.

My friend did all the leg work, said to both parties, hey go check out so and so on my page and if you like I arrange.

She did it all.

Professional like.

Damn Gina.

I feel hella looked out for.

By the time guy had checked me out and I had checked guy out she’d verified times and dates for both of us and had gone ahead and made a freaking reservation for us!

Holy Toledo.

And like that.

I have a date for a cuppa tea and a new friend on Sunday.

So.

Yeah.

Um.

Writing that fucking paper tomorrow like a house a fire.

Heh.

Oh.

And side note.

I GOT THE ASK FOR MY NEW JOB!

I got it.

I got the money I asked for.

They responded today and said, absolutely, totally reasonable, no problem, we can do that and we can’t wait to start working with you.

Quote, “can’t wait’ end quote.

Fuck yes.

I was so freaking busy after lunch with the boys, then doing the deal, then homework that I totally forget to check my e-mail.

The response had sat for seven hours in my box.

Hahahahaha.

“I’m sure you’re going to be taken care of,” a friend of mine told me when I bumped into her after my get right with God.

“I always am,” I said, “I’m sure they’re just figuring out the contract.”

And they were.

The family will have the contract to me by next week to sign.

Huge sigh of relief.

So what am I wearing to my date on Sunday?

When I jokingly asked my friend.

She was like, girl you don’t have to worry about that!

And I liked her rule of thumb.

Wear whatever makes you stand in front of the mirror and do a little shimmy.

Yes.

I know exactly what to wear.

Hello weekend.

Let’s get cracking.

I got places to go and things to do.

So.

I get to get my shimmy on.

Shimmy, shimmy.

Coco pop.

Shimmy, shimmy.

Pow!

Oh.

Yes.

Yes, please.

Soft, Sweet, Wet Kisses

For me.

All for me.

Drenched with them.

Saturated with them.

Slowed down with lush.

Face full of mist, warm, enveloping, deft, dewy, succulent.

Safe.

I felt cocooned in the rain and mist and fog as I cycled, slowly, through the park.

I knew about one-third through the Wiggle (San Francisco’s bicycle route to get around all those hills from the Church and Market area to the Haight and all points West) that I was not going to ride my bicycle in the weather down Lincoln Avenue.

Nor was I going to take Irving with the train running and the parking and the commuters who suddenly get weird when the weather changes on a dime, like it can here.

I was not suspecting rain at all today, no fender on my bicycle, no thought in my head of wet weather.

After the nap time extravaganza of two hours that my little girl Thursday took, however, I began to suspect something was up.

It got humid in the afternoon.

And heavy overcast, thick, dark clouds, the smell of rain just wafting through Alamo Square park presaging the mist and fog and light Spring rain that was to marshal me home.

So, yes to the park, yes to light to none existent for blocks, traffic.

Just me, the bicycle, the wet, which was not the kind of wet that drenches you quickly, but soaks you in a quiet, seductive way.

It was not overpowering or cold.

It sprinkled down about me in the way that reminded me of soft warm rain in the late Spring in Wisconsin or even early summer, the rich smells not being the heavy drowsy perfume of lilacs, but rather the pungent spice of eucalyptus, searing sweet jasmine, and succulent honeysuckle, wet grass, and then, as I turned down Chain of Lakes, the seminal smell of the ocean.

It is the kind of weather that I wished, for a moment, that I did have a lover to walk through the park with, hold hands with, and yes, find a canopy of mimosa to shelter under and kiss wet and dark and long.

Spring has indeed sprung.

And summer is coming.

Summer.

I am going to experience it.

I am.

Not just the fog in the city.

But summer in California, in Bradley California, in just two weeks.

I am going to Lighting in a Bottle!

I got asked to go a couple of weeks ago but after just purchasing a ticket to fly back to Wisconsin I didn’t think I could swing it.

My friend shot me a text today, she’d gotten the weekend off, let me help subsidize your trip, will you please come?

How in the world can I say no to that?

A weekend with one of my best girlfriends, camping, a road trip–small one, Bradley’s only about three hours away from San Francisco–music, dancing under the stars, an opening salvo to the summer.

Oh my.

I had to say yes.

She bought the tickets and I am going.

My friend said I’ll sport you $100 off the ticket, take care of all the food, and get you there and back.

How could I say no?

I didn’t of course.

And of course, pride, ego, lack of humility, wanted to say, no really, that’s too much, but  I also know better than to look a gift in the mouth.

I said yes.

I am still going to give her $180 for my ticket (the ticket is $280–just a basic general admission ticket and we will be tent camping by the car) but that is a steal to see the line up, which is kookoo crazy good.

MOBY.

Beats Antique.

Amon Tobin.

Kraak and Smaak.

Claude Von Stroke.

And a whole lot more.

Plus, camping, yoga, art, pretty festival people, DANCING, dancing, dancing, and yes, more dancing.

I have not gotten my butt to Coachella yet, maybe next year, but I am going to this.

It’s a nice, sweet, unexpected surprise.

I feel that there is more of that to come.

Scooter riding as a part of that surprise.

Glad again to not be on my scooter today, riding in the rain is one thing on my bicycle, I have 8 plus years of riding around this city in the rain on my bike and zero days of being on the scooter in the wet, I have no idea how it will respond and am not yet prepared to ride it and find out.

That being said, fingers crossed, I will be able to venture forth tomorrow to work at 19th and Noe, ie all places hilly, as I got it started, the scooter, last night.

My friend came over and I wheeled it out, showed him what I was doing, then stepped back while he asked, “have you been priming it before starting it?”

Uh.

What?

Um.

No.

Turns out, I probably was, accidentally, but not with real intent, that is giving the throttle a little gas to go through the system and get some fuel to the engine.

Oh.

Well, now I know.

My friend stepped up, gave the throttle a little twist, stepped on the kickstart, and kicked it over on the first try.

D’oh!

I knew it was me and not the scooter.

Yay!

I will give myself a little time to make sure I can replicate it all tomorrow, although, I feel quite certain I will be able to start it, I still want to make sure.

Because I don’t want to repeat the manic bicycle ride that I endured on Monday tomorrow.

I would rather go, sweet, soft, slow, and mellow, zooming up and over the hills on the Vespa.

I shall see what the morrow brings.

Nothing to worry myself with tonight.

Just the enjoyment of knowing that in two weeks from tomorrow I will be heading out and having a new adventure, seeing something new, having new experiences, and hanging out with one of my best girls.

Summer.

I think this may be my best one yet.

I am ready for it.

The warm soft rainy mist bestowing its kisses upon me has primed my engine.

I am ready to kick it off.

 

 

Put Your Hair Up

It’s time to write.

I have the same routine when I get home.

I say, “hello house,” and set my messenger bag down on the table.

I turn on the heater, which is off all day and my little space it pretty cold, although after the conversation I just had with my best friend back in Wisconsin I feel that I have absolutely no right to complain.

Wisconsin has been experiencing the coldest winter in record for quite some time, tomorrow’s high?

-5 Fahrenheit, with the windchill making it feel like -21 Fahrenheit.

That’s the high.

And I am worried about whether or not it’s going to rain.

This is a legitimate concern, I feel, especially, since I commute on a bicycle and rain slick streets in the morning are no fun.

No fun at all.

After the heat goes on I turn on the little lamp by my bedside and the Ipod cube with its little color faded.

Tonight, jazz.

Some Chet Baker to get me going and in the mood.

Then, I light candles.

I like candles.

I buy them all the time and yes my house probably smells like a potpourri shop, but fuck off, I like it.

Actually it smells like this currently: dark Mexican chocolate and coconut.

I would hazard that I have the best smelling room on the block.

I like to have a cozy environment.

Then I strip down out of the jeans and put on some yoga pants, the watch comes off, as I don’t need to look at what time it is for naps anymore.

Not that it mattered today, oh lord, no afternoon naps at all and the morning naps were staggered so I had no down time again today.

I was pretty beaten by the end of the day.

Plus, both boys are in a transitional period, one of them is entering the twos and is experimenting with temper tantrums, the dramatic, throwing of self on the floor and banging it with hands and feet.

The other, is realizing at the ripe age of one, that he is an independent creature and wants to do whatever he wants to do.

Like navigate up and down the stairs.

I am all for learning, but hey kid, you’re giving me a heart attack.

You can’t walk yet, please don’t climb that.

I watched him push a toy fire truck up to an ottoman and climb up onto the fire truck, then onto the ottoman, then onto the chair and then attempt to scale it like Everest.

What do you think you can do up there, fly?

Please don’t try.

His mom told me today that they are calling him Evil Knevil.

He really has no fear.

Which is awesome and scary for me.

Oh well.

It’s just part of the territory.

So, the watch comes off, and the earrings come off and then I grab the foam back roller and while the room is warming up I roll out the kinks in the back and sigh with deep pleasure whenever there is a little popping noise that I can feel my spine getting re-aligned.

“Up, up,” he pleaded with me all day.

“Lap, lap, up, up,” he repeated all day.

All day.

Normally my little nearly two-year old boy is independent and all about doing it on his own and he is amazing with it, climbing stairs, coming down the stairs, opening and shutting things and he’s a great little helper, likes to help sweep and pick up and it’s great.

Today.

Nothing doing.

It was all about being held and all about me holding him.

Which made sense too, he’s just getting back from a vacation and getting back to being in the groove, and he’s also getting used to sharing his people again.

I almost feel like I could use another rolling of the foam roller just from writing that.

After the back gets rolled out, the kettle goes on and I get my tea-cup ready and then I do the last bit before I do this, the writing, the getting down and getting serious.

I always put up my hair.

I never do this with anything else.

I don’t always eve wear my hair up at work.

This can be fun or not fun, depending on how much the one year old wants to tug at my hair, less and less these days, but it still does happen.

Nope.

The hair goes up.

I wonder if it’s because I am all business when I sit down to blog or if it’s that I have this idea of what a writer looks like, hair in messy bun, glasses perched on end of nose.

Which would bug the fuck out of me if my glasses were perched at the tip of my nose.

I believe that it’s more the former than the latter, but that the latter does have a little weight behind it.

Yeah, that’s right, somewhere in the convoluted mechanism that I call my brain, I have an idea that I will be a better writer if I look like a writer.

Then again, it’s nice to have it out of my way, it’s become its own creature.

I can’t remember the last time I wore it this long.

I rather like it, but it is something else to contend with.

Then, with my tea made, my hair up, and my laptop open, I set out on the hunt for what I am going to write my blog about.

I drink my tea, after it’s had a chance to cool off, right around 450/500 words, then I proof it lightly, mainly for spelling errors, read it once, change anything that’s glaring, and send it out to the world.

That’s it.

That’s my night.

After which an apple, some yogurt, a cup of tea and a down loaded video.

I have some Walking Dead cued up, but you know, I am just not in the mood for the zombie apocalypse.

I have to tell you sometimes I put off watching the show because I want to enjoy my snack and I can’t when listening to the sound of zombies getting thwacked.

It just doesn’t do it for my appetite.

Tonight I will probably watch Glee instead.

That routine was thrown of a tiny bit, as I was sitting down my best friend from Wisconsin called.

And I don’t care what routine or how important the blog, I answer her calls.

We talked and it was like getting love blown straight into my heart.

I owe this woman my life, sometime I will tell you about it, suffice to say I made a really important phone call to her January 12th of 2005 that changed my life.

And the debt of gratitude is almost as big as the debt of friendship.

There are those in your life that won’t let you go, whether or not you have seen them in the last year or five, and you won’t let them go.

She is always going to be one of my keepers.

We talked and made plans.

I really am going to go see her and her family this summer.

I am.

I probably will wear my hair up then too.

Nothing says Wisconsin like extreme temperatures.

July is hot, humid, saturatingly warm.

The average temp is in the mid-to high 80s with humidity bringing the heat index up over 100 degrees.

Sexy.

But oh, the nights, the warm, delicious nights without having to wear layers, to have that for a weekend is well worth the heat of the day.

And that’s a wrap on my day.

Hair up and ready to decompress so I gets to do it all over again tomorrow.

Hair will be wearing itself in weather appropriate braids.

Yes, and shut up.

I know I just wrote an entire blog about my hair.

It’s fabulous.

You would too.