Posts Tagged ‘Great Highway’

Happy New Year!

January 1, 2018

I really haven’t any resolutions to share with you.

I prefer to just treat each day like it’s a new day instead of having expectations that I need to change or get better or perfect something.

I need to grow a little everyday and not try to cram a bunch of resolutions into my day and think that I’m going to change over night.

Little bits by little bits.

Baby steps, baby.

And I took some nice ones today.

I got out of bed.

I know.

Crazy.

I really wanted to stay in bed and in fact, did sleep past the point I would normally get up.

My brain was trying to hijack my body though and convince me that I didn’t need to go to yoga.

I needed to go to yoga.

It, my brain, almost won out, but I have smart feet and I also have inborn knowledge from having done enough yoga that I always feel better after a class, even if it’s with not my favorite instructor at the studio.

Which is the excuse that I used the day before to not go, but really, I assure you I had gotten plenty of exercise the previous twelve hours to not feel upset about missing a class and I think that I needed the extra sleep yesterday.

Today, not so much, and I knew that I would not be happy with myself if I skipped yoga two days in a row during a time that I could be going to yoga.

I can’t typically make it to classes during the week, work and my internship conflict, so I’m a weekend warrior.

To not go on both Saturday and Sunday would have been sacrilege.

So I got my happy ass out of bed and into my yoga clothes and I stayed in them for a long time.

It was a great class, I was really surprised, maybe not having any expectations that I would enjoy the class I actually did.

I came home thinking that I wanted to go on a bike ride too, the bike ride had been running around in my head for a few days now that I think on it, and I figured I could actually make it a nice physical day for myself, maybe even go back to the late yoga class.

It’s a restorative yoga class, so it wouldn’t have been like a big effort, although I didn’t end up going, something else came up.

But.

I did go on the bike ride!

It was great and in fact, I might let myself go on another tomorrow.

I was supposed to meet with a ladybug today, but she had to cancel, so after a good check in via phone, I pulled my bike out and pumped air into the tires, grabbed my messenger bag, a water bottle and my bike locks, in case I wanted to stop anywhere I could lock up my bike.

I rode out from the house down 46th to Sloat, then up to Great Highway, up past the zoo a bit, and then stopped right before the hill to gaze at the ocean for a while and snap a quick photo of my bicycle, she is a pretty, pretty thing, before I headed back down Great Highway, riding past my turn off to Fulton Ave, the up to 47th and around the park for awhile, around the soccer fields and the back side of the Beach Chalet, I went past the archery fields and eventually popped back out onto Lincoln Ave at Chain of Lakes, back down to 46th, then two blocks back to the house.

IMG_E0126

It was smashing.

I am so glad I did it.

Aside from the exercise it also felt really meditative and I reflected over and over again how amazing it is that I live somewhere so beautiful, that I literally am blocks away from Ocean Beach, that I get to ride my bicycle around a world-renowned park, that I get to live here in San Francisco.

It is a huge gift.

After the bike ride I had a late lunch and then made some chicken soup.

I’ll be visiting my person tomorrow, he just had a hip replacement surgery, and I wanted to bring him some more chicken soup, he’s gone through the two big Mason jars I gave him right before the surgery.

I’ll be heading is way by 1 p.m. and we’ll go for an easy walk around the block.

Like literally.

Just around the block.

And maybe a few minutes of hang out time.

I don’t think he’s got the energy for big visits, but he wants to see my face and I, his.

It will be good to see him.

I’m also going to hit up another yoga class tomorrow.

It’s nice to have a Monday off and the studio is open.

That will make three yoga classes over the weekend and a bike ride.

Not bad.

Especially for someone who is  loath to exercise.

I generally like it once I’m doing it and I know how important it is to move my body, but my brain is a sabotaging machine.

Anyway.

I signed up for the 10 a.m. yoga class and I’ll see my person at 1p.m.

Other than that I have no New Year’s Day plans.

Doing the deal somewhere and chilling out with my new book.

NEW BOOK!

That’s not a psychology book.

I know.

Crazy.

I went up to Blackbird Books, the new book store in my hood next to Trouble Coffee, and splurged on the new Jennifer Eagen book, Manhattan Beach, I’m going to indulge my literary self and not read any psychology for at least a week.

So freaking sexy.

I may just spend most of tomorrow lazing on the chaise lounge after I get back from helping out my person and just read.

Such luxury.

And that’s it, that’s my New Year’s Day plans.

To chill the fuck out.

The year is going to be full and amazing, hello, I’ll be graduating, going to Paris, and starting  PhD program, traveling to D.C., and who knows what else will happen, seeing many clients and nanny’ing up a storm.

Wishing you and yours the Happiest of New Years!

Big love from the city by the Bay.

May the year bring you so much love and joy.

So much.

I Had A Day Off

April 11, 2017

And it was good.

I slept in.

I did not set my alarm.

I woke up a little before 10 a.m. and had a lovely, leisurely morning, couple cups of coffee, four pages of writing long hand, some quiet to connect with the day.

I had a few ideas of what I might do, but no specific agenda.

I really wanted to be open to whatever came up.

I knew I had to go grocery shopping and I had a little bit of an urge to go and get my nails done.

Groceries were gotten.

Nails were not done.

When I got back from grocery shopping I just decided to stay put, I wanted to be in the neighborhood, I wanted to chill out.

I also.

I realized.

Wanted to go for a bicycle ride.

The weather was perfect, 61 degrees, not too breezy, nice sunshine, scattering of clouds, no fog.

I pulled out my camera, my messenger bag, a bottle of water and pumped up the tires on my bike.

It had been a while.

I rode down 46th Avenue to Sloat Avenue, then on down to Great Highway.

I crossed Great Highway and pulled into the parking area at Sloat.

I haven’t been there in over a year.

There’s not much reason for me to get down to Sloat, I can just walk to the beach access point on Judah, but it was the perfect bicycle ride destination.

I was so glad to be on my bicycle again, so happy to be in the fresh sea air, in the sunshine, to see the stretch of the coast line.

How lucky am I to get to live here?

So lucky.

After hanging out at Sloat for a while on a big rock I hopped back on my bicycle and turned down Great Highway.

I realized after biking about a half mile or so that the other side of Great Highway was still closed off for sand removal.

But.

It looked really clear and clean.

And.

There where bicycles and skateboarders and joggers just cruising down the middle of the highway.

I crossed over at Lawton and rode my bike back down to Sloat again and then turned around once more for the thrill of riding in the middle of the highway, the wrong way, on my bicycle.

I stopped and took a few pictures with my camera and just was super happy to be out, to have a day off, to not be at work, to not be thinking about school.

I promised myself I would take today and not do homework, not stress about the internship, not get myself worked up.

I wanted to be relaxed and not rushed.

And I was.

And it was divine.

I rode down Great Highway towards Lincoln Ave and then on a whim, I passed my turn at 46th and headed up to 41st.

I wanted to check out Swell, the bicycle shop on Irving at 41st.

I had an idea about seeing if maybe they had beach cruisers, you know, since I’m going to Burning Man, I wanted to look for a playa bike.

They do not have cruisers, but they had some beautiful bikes.

And.

“Carmen?” I heard my name being said out loud as I ogled a Brooks cut out saddle in Navy Blue leather.

“Hey, it’s Yuri! From Pedal Revolution? Do you remember me, I’ve got long hair now,” he said with a laugh.

No shit.

His hair was super long.

“Oh my God, Yuri!” I said and we hugged.

Yuri sold me my first bicycle in San Francisco.

And saw me go through a lot of bicycle commuting, upgrades, and challenges.

Pedal Revolution is a non-profit bicycle shop in the Mission that teaches and trains underprivileged kids how to work on bicycles.

They also sell bikes and parts.

Swell is a swankier version of that shop.

We shot the shit, caught up, showed him my whip, I talked to him about thinking that I might actually get a new bike, not that I don’t love my one speed, but it’s a one speed and working in Glen Park (yes I know, I scooter there) but that I might want to at some point invest in a road bike again.

We also talked about the Pogliaghi I used to have.

And he showed me a gorgeous Bianchi touring bike that has a three-ring shifter on it, perfect for hill climbing, that was really super reasonable.

$1500.

I am seriously considering it.

Well.

I’m putting it on the back burner, but I have been thinking that I miss my bicycle commute.

And that was a big part of getting out today,  I also wanted and needed the exercise after spending three days of sitting on my ass at school.

Anyway.

It was nice to be recognized and to talk bicycles and get a little geeked out about a possible new ride.

I love my whip, but the knees get older and I am not as up to doing the hills on it that I used to.

The flats, no problem, but hills are hurt and I don’t want my knees to hurt.

I was also thinking that it would be nice to do rides again over the bridge.

I do miss those long rides to Marin when I was training for the Aids LifeCycle ride.

After my chat at Swell I rode home and signed up for a yoga class.

I had some time to kill before the class so I walked over to Trouble and treated myself to a cafe au lait and some neighborhood people watching.

I haven’t done that in a while either.

45 minutes of sitting in the sunshine and watching the world go by.

Then off to yoga.

A great class.

And when I got home I had a message on my phone about joining some friends for dinner in the Haight to celebrate an anniversary.

I said yes, I didn’t even shower, I jumped out of my yoga clothes, into my bib overalls, and hopped on my scooter.

Dinner and hang out with friends at the Citrus Club in the Haight with one of my all time favorite bowls of hot and sour soup that the city has.

Making this a fantastic day off.

Really.

So good.

Grateful beyond words for my sweet, full, happy life.

Seriously.

Luckiest girl in the world.

 

The Ball Was

April 19, 2015

Well.

A ball.

I mean.

Really.

It was just smashing.

Lots of fire.

The Serpent Mother was amazing, thank you Flaming Lotus Girls, thank you so much, and it was such a nice treat to be outside underneath fire sculpture, the flames leaping and hissing, the steel tig welded just so, the soft, warm embrace of the air rushing over my skin, it was luscious.

To be outside in a dress with my hair up and flowers and birds in it, well, that is a good night.

Add two wonderful girl friends and some really good music (huge props to CPTN JAY of Airpusher–hella tight, catch it on soundcloud.com/cptn-jay for an amazing set of deep house), and just lit my heart right up.

“This is God,” I mouthed to my friend.

This is God.

Thank you God.

For music and fire and dancing and art.

For joy in my body.

For feeling connected and right with my world.

Really right in my world.

I got to hang with girl friends and download the recent adventures and misadventures in dating.

I got to listen to them and share about life, love, recovery, moving on, graduate school, Burning Man, babies (friends who have just had them), and travel plans for Atlanta in July.

My life feels good and full and I feel a part of my community again.

Rather like I am coming out of a shell.

“You do the work,” she told me today over coffee at Tart to Tart.  “Since you and I have been working together over the last two years, the amount of work you have done is formidable, you really show up and do it.”

“Being humble is also acknowledging that, not just the defects, but the assets, you have changed and it’s pretty amazing to witness.”

Thank God.

I will admit I was nervous.

I can isolate and get disconnected to easily.

I can live in my little space, with my laptop and pretend to know what’s going on and feel content being connected via social media, but it is not a tangible experience, I’m not touching real people, hearing the timbre of their voices, the emotions and the longing to live and love and learn.

I got a good healthy dose of my people today and it was just what I needed.

From a number of different communities and fellowships I get to be a part of.

“You really get into that, don’t you,” a fellow asked me today as we were folding up metal chairs and stacking them in a corner of the room.

“Burning Man?” I asked, “yeah, I love it, it’s hard not to and I am really excited to get to go again this year.”

Super excited.

And my little cache of Burning Man supplies is slowly growing.

Each week I am buying one or two small things, spreading out the spending over the next couple of weeks so I don’t take the hit all at one, and I picked up a couple of little things at the grocery store.

I was able to sneak in a run on Safeway and one to Other Avenues and placed my first order with Instacart to be delivered tomorrow.

I was too tight on time to do all the grocery shopping today I needed to do and since the first delivery is free, well, sign me up.

The fewer things I have to haul on my bicycle the better.

Not that it felt like too much of an issue today, I felt really good in my body, strong and light and quick on my bike.

Up to the Inner Sunset for a while, back to the Outer Sunset over to Safeway on the Richmond side, a quick jaunt on Great Highway, passed by the beach and back, and then home.

I did some cooking and had a really nice meal at home.

Red butter lettuce wraps with sautéed ground turkey with onions, garlic, ginger, zucchini, mushrooms, and brown rice, topped with diced English cucumber.

So good.

I filled my belly, ate an apple for dessert, drank some tea and hopped in the shower.

All prepped and fed and polished and shined up and then I got to play some dress up and put on my outfit for the evening’s merriment.

I wore my new dress, fishnets, my fascinator I made last year for Burning Man but never wore out on the playa, put my goggles around my thigh as a garter belt, and piled my hair in a messy up do with more feathers and black glittered roses, a bit of makeup, a pink glitter lip, and a mask.

Voila!

Masquerade Ball preview

Masquerade Ball preview

Fascinator

Fascinator

I love playing dress up.

Don’t tell.

I had a few mis-fires putting it all together.

But when it happened.

It happened.

“You look amazing!” A woman said to me as we passed by heading into the will call line at NIMBY for our tickets.

“So do you!” We stopped and swapped smart phones and took some photos of each other then went in and got silly dancing.

And in the crush of people heading out from one room to the outdoor area where Serpent Mother was lit up and spitting hot pink neon fire agains the crisp midnight blue sheet of a sky, I heard my name hollered out and was crushed in a gigantic hug.

Friends.

They are so good to have.

I hadn’t seen him since the night I went out to dance my tears away after my ex had broken our relationship off.

I was celebrating a milestone, ten years in the intensive care unit, with some friends at Public Works.

I was not really in the spirit that night, still crushed by the wall of emotions I was trying to keep at bay, to be present and celebrate the ten-year anniversary and to let my friends love me while I grieved the short, but intense relationship I had just been relieved of being in.

Tonight.

Well.

It felt like celebration.

It tasted like red velvet fire cake and smelled of playa, soft, sweet, dusty, and popcorn, and just a touch on the nostalgia side of town, with a nice big dash of anticipation for this years event.

“Take the hugging to another area!” A loud bark of a voice jovially ushered us out into the courtyard.

Unexpected Reunion

Reuniting with playa friends is the best

We paused, caught up, swapped photos and then meandered off into the night.

He caught up with his friends.

I went with mine.

Dancing happened.

Then more dancing.

Then some wandering into the fire effects of The Serpent Mother where I ran into another friend and he lit up his portion of the Serpent and sent flames shooting into the sky.

Fire!

Fire!

All in all it was the most successful of adventures.

And although this last photo is blurry, this was what it felt like.

Happy

Happy

In my element.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

The Art Of Being

April 13, 2015

Still.

Staying put.

Not going anywhere.

Well, maybe for a walk on the beach.

But not with a blind date, I cancelled the date.

Just me.

The sea.

My white dress blowing in the wind, my red-painted toenails awash in the tide flowing up onto the beach.

“You look like an angel,” she said, giving me a hug.

I ran into a lady from the Outer Mission who had done the long, hour-long, probably longer, commute via MUNI to come out to the beach today.

I recognized her from a way off, standing facing out to the sea, the sunlight playing over the planes of her proud face.

Beautiful.

We chatted for a moment, then she went her way and I went mine, walking further down the beach toward Sloat.

I reflected on the day, the weekend, the dating over the weekend and the decision to delete my OkCupid account.

“You’re gorgeous! I’m sure you’re going to be drowning in dates, you’re totally going to be taken care of!”  She exclaimed in my little kitchenette as I was plying her with experiences I have had recently over the past few months of online dating and the like, while she was sharing some inventory.

“It’s not about being gorgeous,” he said, “it’s not about that, you and I know that, that’s an ego feeding proposition and it does nothing for you.”

“I agree,” I replied.

It’s, cliché, but it’s what’s inside that counts.

I realize that I get a distorted idea of who a person is online, just as I assume, they do of me.

I want to be seen.

“Oh you’re noticed,” my ex-boyfriend said, “I feel like I need to constantly mark my territory.”

Interesting.

Not that I notice.

I only seem to notice when it’s not appropriate to what I want.

Which is also telling.

“It’s about acceptance,” my friend said as the date from yesterday disappeared down Judah toward the Starbucks on the corner.

“You know you can always reach out to me,” she continued, “now that I am retired, I really like seeing women in the fellowship and talking recovery, you know I’m on Facebook, just reach out.”

We hugged and I got on the N-Judah.

Sometimes I tend toward creating drama when there is no need for drama.

I don’t need to be dating.

“Oh, I get it,” he said today on the phone as I was walking up the dune at the end of Judah and Great Highway, “you want to be coupled up.”

“Yes,” I said, sheepish, embarrassed, “but,” I added, “I don’t need to be, I get that, I’m not looking for something to complete me or someone to fix me, or…”  I drifted off, the view of the ocean taking my breath once again.

“I know you understand that, it’s natural, we’re experience junkies, being in a relationship, being a couple, is an experience and you want to have as many experiences as possible in your life time.”

He paused as I caught my breath, I almost started to cry with relief, “every relationship is God’s, every one of them, what ever one you are in, friend, sister, daughter, employee, it’s God’s.”

Of course.

I know this.

Yet I needed to be reminded.

And.

Good gravy man.

It was a comfort to hear that it’s natural to want to be in a relationship with a lover, to be a couple, to be dating someone, committed to a person.

I have this idea, which I realized only while talking to my person, that I have shame around this desire.

That I somehow don’t deserve this very basic human experience.

Well.

Damn it.

Let’s change that right now.

What action can I take?

Let me fucking do it.

Oh.

Wait.

Pause.

Breathe.

Be still.

Know that there is a God.

And I am not it and be quiet.

Let the moment seep into your skin.

Let the smell of the ocean wash over you and carry your salty tears off onto the wind.

Turn your face to the sun like a flower, float down the beach like an angel, gorgeous in forgiveness.

For therein lies the true beauty.

Forgive myself.

Grieve and let go.

That of course, is the hardest thing for me, the letting go, the soft, yielding surrender.

I don’t have to be forced to it.

I don’t have to be beaten into it.

I can accept, kind and gracious the gift of not being ashamed of my life, my experiences, my heart, the way it beats when a Jim Croce song comes on the stereo and I am transported to a soft summer night rife with the smell of chicken on the grill, the barbecue searing the air with smoke and charcoal, the smell of cut grass, being a little girl in a sundress and running around the yard.

Or I can struggle some more.

I choose not to struggle.

The yielding to the better life, the actual goodness that I know and have in my life is so abundant and prosperous with love and sunshine and oh, god, glory.

I live a glorious life.

I do not need to create drama.

I do not have to do anything.

I can be still.

Thus I sat when I got back from the Ocean Beach walk.

I meditated.

I sat in the sun in the Adirondack chair in the back yard.

Then I ate some dinner on the back porch sitting at my housemates wrought iron table and chairs, curled up basking in the sunshine falling from the sky and lighting every crooked passage of my heart.

Sear out the shame in sunshine.

It’s ok to be human, child, girl, woman, this is how you get to live.

Not how you have to live.

But get.

This graced gift, my life.

Listen to some music that fills your heart, sit in some sunshine, sip some spicy ginger tea, read a book, watch the raven’s fly over the back yard, delete the things in your life that don’t work and surrender to the breath that draws your beating heart forward into the golden land of the sunset.

Or

At least the Outer Sunset.

Whistling in the Dark

February 1, 2015

That was the thought I had when I suddenly food myself crying into a bowl of beans.

Nice beans, mind you.

Slow cooked pinto beans with onions and garlic and chicken breast, carrots, turmeric, sweet corn, simmered down tender and paired with some organic brown rice and the smallest, most perfect Haas avocado I have ever seen.

Adorable.

So cute I almost could not cut it up to eat it.

But I did.

And then I watered it with my tears.

I saw my ex today on his motorcycle.

In fact, I did something rather inane, or so I thought as soon as I did it, I waved in traffic from my scooter.

I then blushed with mortification as I killed my scooter.

Then flooded my scooter.

Then killed it again.

Yeah.

That was me, on the side of the turn by Great Highway and the gas station, praying and trying to breathe and not sprain an ankle getting the thing started again whilst all the traffic in the Western world streamed by after a day of sunshine, high 60s temperatures, and beach action.

No fog today, despite the horns blaring melancholic last night around midnight.

“What are you doing up?”  The message, almost indignant, read, this morning when I checked my phone.

I was up late last night, slight insomnia, trolling the internet for hotels and bed and breakfast’s and AirBnb’s and the like for Atlanta, then I just had a hard time going to sleep.

Social fucking media time stamps.

Yes.

I was up late.

I heard those fog horns, but they were not to be heard today, today was all about that California sunshine.

And the joy I had taken in riding my scooter earlier today up to Tart to Tart to make my usual Saturday appointment to get right with God and do some reading about humility, oh, humility, we meet again; all that joy was gone.

I was miserable.

On the side of the road with two half gallons of unsweetened vanilla almond milk and bottle fizzy water in my messenger bag, trying to start my scooter and just get home.

I didn’t realize I was sad.

I didn’t realize that I was missing my ex-boyfriend.

Then I did.

And cue waterworks, adding that finishing touch of salt to my meal.

Tears are so tasty with avocado.

Ugh.

I knew the sad had to come out and I was a little taken aback, I really thought I was done with the grieving of the relationship and ready to move the fuck on.

MOVING ON.

It’s a huge bulletin board in my brain.

Let’s go, lady.

MOVE ON.

As though there isn’t merit in acknowledging that for a little while I had a passionate relationship with someone who meant something to me.

Yeah.

We needed to break up.

That was the right thing to do, the relationship was not working for either one of us, but to deny the experiences that did work is not fair either.

There was something there and it was delirious fun for a little while.

Then it wasn’t.

Then it was uncomfortable.

Then it was out right painful.

And, well, my pain tolerance is nowhere near as high as it used to be.

Anyway, I belabor the point, which is that I am allowed to have sadness for the passing relationship.

Thankfully I also have some smarts and intuition that I have worked hard on developing and I knew, knew deep in my heart and body, that I was done with the scooter for the day.  I was not going to ride her up to Noe Valley for my evening commitment.

Do not pass go.

Do not collect $200.

Do not ride up and over 17th street and kill yourself to make a point.

Get on the MUNI and let yourself be carried where you need to go.

This also allowed me time to check in with a dear friend and just let it out and then see how she was doing and commiserate on the wonkiness that happens with our emotions and brains and thank God for girl friends and perspective.

The actual ride on MUNI was quick and the transfers easy, and I was to my destination much faster, and quite safer, than if I had taken my scooter and did something silly.

The fact was I was not in a place to be riding around the city at night with my heart on my sleeve.

That’s a way for me to really cause some havoc.

When emotional do not operate moving machinery.

Especially not touchy, vintage, 50 year old scooters that need a little babying.

“Do you still have your Vespa?” A dear friend asked me last night.

“I do!”

We talked and it turns out he just got a vintage, BRG (British Racing Green) 150, 2 stroke Stella.

We’re going out next Sunday.

And he’s going to help me adjust the idle so that it’s not so jumpy and I feel like I just need a little someone by my side for a few minutes and I will work out all the kinks.

And if the kinks don’t get worked out, well, I sell her, I’m not super mechanically inclined and I love how sweet she is and how sexy and cute, but I also don’t want to be constantly killing it and stalling out in traffic.

Tonight I am just going to give myself gentle props for having the soundness of mind to know that it wasn’t safe to ride it out at night and that I don’t have to be a hero about it.

I had some feelings.

They reminded me of what a great experience I had dating my ex, even when it went south it was a fantastic learning curve for me.

I learned so much about myself, and I learned that I get to continue to speak up for myself, to be myself, to step further into my personality and really embrace all that is me.

The sweet, the sad, the joyful, the glitter, the me of it all.

With no reservations and with complete faith that I am right exactly where I am supposed to be.

Even when I stall out on the side of the road.

I am still being perfectly held.

Cared for.

Loved.

My scooter always starts up again.

So shall I.

All The Pretty Sunsets

January 26, 2015

In the Sunset.

I live in the Outer Sunset of San Francisco and today was the kind of day that everybody comes out to the beach for.

Clear skies.

Sunny.

Great waves breaking.

Warm.

Not hot.

But warm enough for flip-flops and grilling out and playing Ultimate frisbee in the sand, for tall cans and high jinks, to go cups of coffee from Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club, sandwiches wrapped up in white deli paper from Java Beach Cafe, and the ubiquitous joint or three from a kid on the MUNI who “lives” in the park.

It was as if the entire hipster nation came in from the Mission.

Not that I mind sharing the beach with the rest of the city, the Mission shares its burritos with me, but that I am not always used to it being so crowded.

I did want to be down at the beach, though, it was too pretty to stay at home for the sunset.

I had myself a really lovely, low-key, mellow day.

I had two ladies over, back to back, for tea and writing and reading.

I did my laundry and changed my sheets and took a nice shower and ate a good breakfast, wrote lots long hand, went grocery shopping on my bicycle.

It was the grocery shopping on my bicycle that both confirmed for me that the entire city was ocean side, and also sealed the deal that I would, despite the crowds, go down too.

It was just dreamy.

Riding my bicycle on the Great Highway and the sun warm on my face, the breeze, yes cool, I didn’t want to be in the shade today, which in San Francisco is its own mircro climate, but gorgeous, truly.

January 25th and the temperature was in the mid sixties.

I’ll take it.

Although my preference was to take it easy.

I haven’t had an easy Sunday for a while.

I have been coming and going and doing and being and breaking up and having feelings and you know, stuff.

Today.

Well.

It all fell away, like a dream, I woke up and there was the beach beckoning and my back yard beckoning and I could not but heed the call.

I had lunch on my patio and sat with my feet in a chair listening to Coleman Hawkins on the stereo and dining al fresco in the sun.

It is just protected enough by the houses surrounding it that it tends to be just a bit warmer than if I was outside in front of the house.

It soaks up the sunshine and reflects it back.

When it’s hot, it’s not too pleasant, but it is infrequently hot.

I read a magazine.

I closed my eyes and drifted in and out.

I read more of my Stephen King novel, Doctor Sleep.

I drank some tea.

I listened to the birds.

Ravens.

Finches.

Gulls.

I heard the scream of a hunting hawk.

I heard the faint shush of the sea.

During the day it’s a lot harder to hear, too much back ground noise, but in between the birdsong and the N-Judah train running, occasionally I would catch just the barest hint of surf crashing.

Muffled.

Yet joyful.

When I first moved out here and it was suggested that I take Sundays and allow myself to have some down time and to not make plans, I got really freaked out.

Spend time with myself?

No way man.

I might have feelings.

I have places to be, things to do.

I have to get ahead, man.

However, I am a suggestion monster, and so I did.

I sat.

I got still.

I listened to the sea.

I listened to my heart.

I did cry.

And then something happened.

The stillness sunk in and I started to need it.

I started to crave it.

And then I forgot, sort of, all about it, when I got into the relationship.

I do recall having thoughts about going down for a walk on the beach with the ex-boyfriend, but he wasn’t much for walking on the beach.

I don’t believe I ever asked either, I’m sure he would have been game, but we never did.

Add to ideal.

Ugh.

Yes.

I would like to go for walks by the sea.

I mean, yeah, it’s a stupid cliché.

But it’s also my back yard and I like walking and really, when I live so close, it seems silly to not enjoy it.

I mean.

Come on.

It’s gorgeous.

Sunset Ocean Beach

Sunset Ocean Beach

I had made a few resolutions about today.

Deal with my taxes, meaning, contact my families from 2014 and find out what they are claiming for child care, if they are claiming, and request that information by the 31st of the month.

Done and done.

I sent out the e-mail earlier.

Order a pair of jeans online.

I know my size, I know what kind I like to wear, so order them.

Thanks Ebay!

I found a pair of the normally $175 jeans for $19.99 plus shipping.

$25.88 and I have a new pair of jeans coming to me in the mail.

Next.

Walk to the beach and watch the sunset.

Allow myself to enjoy my neighborhood and not be wary of running into my ex.

Then it happened.

I realized I wasn’t afraid to run into my ex.

It wasn’t like I wanted to.

It was more that, as I was walking down Judah toward the beach, that I suddenly knew that whenever we saw each other next, it would be alright.

The thought of seeing him didn’t make me want to cross the street to avoid him.

Which is a good thing since he lives four and a half blocks away.

I didn’t run into him, in case you were wondering.

But I’m not afraid to.

And that felt nice.

Like.

Oh.

The world.

It has moved on.

And so have I.

I am back into my groove.

I have my jazz on the stereo, my face full of sunshine, my belly replete with tea and good food, the weekend was restful, I got to read, I accomplished the basic household stuff that needs to be done, grocery shopped, and did the deal.

And I got to go for a romantic walk on the beach with the best girl in the neighborhood.

Me.

 

“To love oneself is the begging of a life-long romance.”

-Oscar Wilde

 

 


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