Posts Tagged ‘Holler Mountain’

When You Wish Upon A Star

January 7, 2015

A falling star at that.

I saw the glowing ember descending heavens above me as I rode my bicycle home through the cold air of the park, I immediately wished.

Love and sobriety.

I wish for love.

I wish to stay sober.

Those have pretty much been my wishes for over the last few years and as I sneak closer to a decade of time I am again overcome by a feeling of wonder and awe at where my life has taken me and the things that I have gotten to do.

I suspect that there is more to come.

I used to wish with obsessive habit on the first star of the evening.

Or the new moon, as seen over my left shoulder.

I almost always would look up, up, up, scanning the still glowing horizon after the sun had set over Twin Peaks, searching for that first evening star upon which I would wish.

I wish for sobriety.

It’s a wish that has been granted every day now for a little bit of time.

It’s not the wish I thought I would be making when I was a little girl and heard about wishing on the first star of the evening.

Star light.

Star bright.

First star I see tonight.

I wish I may.

I wish I might.

Make the wish.

I wish tonight.

I wish to stay sober.

The wish is a good wish to make.

For with it come all manner of good things.

I would not have the life that I live or the principles I live by without having been granted this wish.

I used to wish for money, fame, notoriety (I mean, perhaps not consciously, but I like the idea, even still of being notorious), love, but not the kind of love that I get in spades every day, I was fantasizing about a type of romantic love, someone who would sweep in and save me from myself and my crazy life.

I like my crazy life today.

It’s much more sane than one would think.

Jam packed with stuff too.

I was sitting in a room, listening to wisdom and experience and solution and my eyes closed and I could have just drifted right off.

Today was a full day.

Lots of cooking and laundry, parks, three different park outings, one run to Lucca Ravioli, two runs to the Whole Foods Market on Valencia Street (which is not a Whole Food Market at all, but a little mom and pop where the owner and the clerks know me and the boys by name), cooking for the house–today I made turkey meatballs and spaghetti, a big salad, and steamed cauliflower with olive oil and garlic, picking up some tailoring from the laundrette, a trip to the Eco Center on 17th, and the normal nap time, snack time, lunch time, dinner time, bath time routine of the boys.

Let’s add to my day an hour and a half bicycle commute.

Aka my urban gym routine.

I always get a good giggle when I see ladies at the park doing the boot camps.

Listen, I want to tell them, get a job that is a half hour to 45 minute commute on bicycle, there’s your cardio, then add hauling around a 2 and a half-year old for legs and upper arms, and finish with pushing a double stroller about the Mission with a four and a half-year old in tow for stamina and strength training.

You’ll tighten up real quick.

I promise.

In addition to the commute, I got up early and yes, I wrote.

I mean, I always write and I am writing now and I am happy to be making a concerted effort to be doing the writing, but I really am seeing how important it is to keep me balanced and in good harmony with the world about me.

How it lets me observe things that I would not necessarily see if I was buried in social media or surfing the internet all day.

I would miss out on observing the life about me.

Like the sun reflecting off the back windows of the house behind my in-law in the morning.

I don’t have much morning light, but the western facing windows of the neighbors at a certain time each morning, reflect into my studio a blaze of warm golden sunlight.

This morning I was sitting, eating my oatmeal with pink lady apple chopped up into it and wild blue berries, sipping my pour over Stumptown coffee (no Holler Mountain today, the store was sold out, but I tried a new blend that might make a run for the money shot–Indonesia Bies Penantan–clove, white pepper, cola, prune, and brown sugar accents) and the light blew up the spider plant I have hanging in the corner with the most beautiful light.

The plant was glowing and shimmering and almost transcendental with light.

That’s God, I thought.

I mean, everything is God, in my opinion, but that was a special God shot indeed.

Every home I have had, since I have had a home in which I have consciously chosen to decorate and nest in, since I was a sophomore in high school and took over the big room in the house in Windsor, has had a spider plant in it.

I have changed and I continue to change, but there is an epicenter of myself, a core being that has a lot of little tiny nuisances that have stayed with me down the years.

I still wish upon stars.

I still sing along to the lyrics on the radio.

And sometimes I actually know the lyrics to said songs.

I still dance like, mostly, no one is looking.

I still like to write.

Hopefully the writing has gotten better, but I do know that there is voice, a persona, a verbosity, or tendency toward, that I have always had, I can see it here and there and it speckles my writing like the stars in the warm summer sky over the orchard when I used to walk back there in the grass at night, longing for something that I knew not what it was.

Love.

And sobriety.

They are both the same thing.

I couldn’t have one without the other.

I’ve been wishing on stars for a very long time.

It was only recently, though, that I realized.

I have been given my wish from the very first time I wished upon a star.

Falling or otherwise.

My wish has always been heard.

I am loved.

 

God Is A Three Hour Nap

October 18, 2013

And that is some serious shit.

I wore that little monkey out.

I worked a full day with my new charge today.

We did lots of walking, lots of singing, and lots of stair climbing.

Folks may wonder how I haven’t had a membership in a gym in sometime and have muscles like I do.  The bicycle is the way to a smaller jean size that is for sure and so is having a nanny gig in a place where there are lots of stairs.

Or lots of hills.

San Francisco has both.

My new family in the NOPA neighborhood lives at the top of a three-story walk up.

The ride from door to door is 30 minutes, then add a hike up those stairs not once, but three times today, and I am feeling the work out.

So was she.

I had her walk up the stairs twice.

The third time I carried her.

We first went out to music class over at Masonic and Waller, that in and of itself, just pushing the stroller to and fro was a good walk.

One I was loving today with the beautiful weather, but I did have a moment to ponder what the walk would be like when it gets colder and the rains come.

That could be interesting.

But it’s just one day a week and the rest of the time I will be over in Cole Valley or up  in the Castro (more hills and steps).

The music class was fun and the teacher thanked me for engaging as much as I did.

It’s easy.

Sometimes I find it far easier to interact with a child then I do with an adult.

Smile and they smile back at you.

Read a story, snuggle a bear, sing a lullaby, feed them some apple or cheese, chase them around in a circle.

Easy.

Adults.

Not so much.

After the class we came back to the neighborhood via the Pan Handle and then over to Divisadero, which is shaping up in a lovely kind of way since the last time I was over in that neck of the woods.

Why, there’s a new Bi-Rite there.

Where I promptly dropped $35 on a 1/2 full messenger bag of groceries.

Not my first option to shop, but damn it, when you get me in there I get stuff.

And I was happy to pick up a bag of may favorite coffee, Stumptown, Holler Mountain.

Coffee I have only seen sold at Rainbow and Rainbow is harder and harder for me to get to.  It feels so far away on my bicycle.  It’s a haul to get back a full bag on my bike.

I have done it twice now and it’s not a fun trip.

I have been shopping more at Whole Foods and occasionally at the Other Avenues (which is more expensive than either, but close by in my ‘hood) for food, but neither carry Stumptown coffee.

So, a splurge at Bi-Rite.

I had hand rolled brown rice California rolls with crab and avocado and cucumber, also bought at the store, so lunch figures in that price and add the pristine persimmons and the luscious apples I got, money well spent.

My girl had her lunch and then with nary a peep went down for her nap.

Turned on the lullaby genre on her Ipod player, read a story to her, snuggled with Mister Bear, and sang a song softly to her, put her down into the crib and three hours later, three, she chirped out that she was up.

I had a three-hour free afternoon.

It was glorious.

I did some writing.

I balanced my check book, which is far easier than it sounds, I did some configurations about my finances and made some allowance for myself to get some new clothes, at least a new dress, and saw that I am amply covered for shifts for the rest of this month and probably through the year.

I won’t have to look into working for anyone else.

Which is nice.

I really don’t like having to look.

I made some tea.

I perused their book shelves, seeing that their tastes were quite similar to mine.

I chose a Tom Robbins book, Still Life with Wood Pecker, that I read aeons ago, it seems, and immensely enjoyed kicking through about 70 pages of the book before my girl woke up.

She was happy and giggling and playing with a doll and her bear and having a chatty little conversation with the two.

We got changed out, put on shoes and socks and headed out the door, first to Four Barrel, another happy discovery, there’s a Four Barrel two blocks away from their house, then to Alamo Square for a stroll around the park in the grass with the bright autumn sun flashing down.

“What does a cow say,” I asked her.

“Mooo!”

“What does a duck say?”

“Quack, quack, quack!”

“What does a kitty say?”

“Meoooow!”

“What does a nanny say?”

“?”

“I need a coffee!”

“Cawfee!”

“Exactly,” I said to her and swung her sunshine face, haloed by blonde pigtails up into the air at the coffee-house as I waited for my elixir to arrive.

She giggled.

I giggled.

It was great.

She’s an awesome addition to the mix.

I love having a little girl in the mix.

And the three-hour nap, well, that does not hurt either.

By the time we got back to the house though, she was pooped.

I was too, after hauling her up and down and a stroller and my bicycle at various times with my messenger bag of groceries.

We both collapsed on the top step.

Tired

Tired little monkey

Although quite serious in this photo, soon thereafter I was chasing her down the hallway to her door.

“Home!”

“Home!”

“Home!”

Indeed

Nice to meet your acquaintance, lovey, I look forward to more snuggles and songs with you.

And naps.

Oh yes, nice long naps.


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