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.

 

Filed!

I did it.

I got my taxes done.

I am so happy to have that out-of-the-way.

Especially since I will be getting a return!

It’s not a ton, but it is $2500 and that’s nothing to sneeze at.

That’s a ticket to Paris and walk about money.

I’m still waiting to buy my ticket, I would like to get that out-of-the-way, but I am waiting for my friend in Paris to confirm some family times.

I have the whole month of July to travel so I can be flexible regarding when I go.

My friend’s family has a summer home on L’ile de Re, off the West Coast of France.

I am more than willing to wait a couple of days for my friend to confirm what dates will work best for her travel and for the two of us to go to her family’s summer home, without the rest of the family–it would be just so much fun to have her to myself.

I may have to pay more for the ticket, but considering that I will stay with my friend the entire time I am there, I am fine with paying anything extra to get the ticket.

I think it may be toward the middle or end of July, she’s checking in around July 20th for us to be on the island.

If that’s the case, I’m thinking the 11th of July through the 25th.

I’ll have to be back to work by the 30th and I will want a few days to get over the jet lag.

I always have it so bad on the way back.

A little on the way there, but not as bad as the way back, man, that shit is awful.

Nonetheless.

So, so, so worth it.

I have missed my friend so much and it will be really good to reconnect with her.

And I want to see her version of Paris.

A Parisian’s version of Paris is going to be much different from mine.

I am excited too to see some of the things I didn’t get to the last time I went there, I still very much want to see the Frank Gehry building-The Foundation Louis Vuitton– that I have wanted to see the last two times I was in Paris and just never made it there.

Granted.

I did lots of other things, I always do, but it would be lovely to see it.

And.

I think that in summer it would be exquisite.

It’s located just outside of the periphery in Paris, in the Bois (woods) de Bologne.

Which I haven’t been to either.

It’s supposed to be really pretty, the woods, and I would love to see it.

I like that every time I go to Paris I find something new to explore.

Then again.

I think that I find new things to explore where ever I am.

I can find new things in my neighborhood if I let myself.

I am a curious creature.

And I love having experiences.

I also love going back to a place, like Paris, that means so much to me, that I have lived in, that I have gotten to have amazing growth in, spiritual and emotional, in no ordinary way.

I have walked through a lot of fear there, I have learned how important it is to let myself enjoy and explore and to allow myself more and more of the experiences that beckon to me.

I also love shopping there.

My God.

So much.

Not that I often buy  a lot of things.

But I always get something there, mostly Clair Fontaine notebooks.

But.

I also have four pairs of earrings from there, a cabbie hat, a satin jacket, a lipstick bag, in which still have one lip gloss from my last trip there, although it will soon be gone, postcards galore, prints from the Jeu de Paume as well as one from the huge flea market, Clingangcourt, an antique clock from another flea market, and a ceramic of two bunnies kissing from the market in front of Pere La Chaise.

I’m sure there are other things too.

And of course.

The cafe culture.

Just to sit in a cafe and sip coffee, write in my notebook, observe people, oh god, it’s damn good.

And with my friend I can only expect that it will be amazing.

I want to go to some places I haven’t seen yet.

And of course, I will want to hit the Pompidou and the Jeu de Paume.

I’m not sure about the D’Orsay, it depends on what the exhibitions are, or the Louvre, truth be told, I’ve been to both a number of times.

I’d love to hit the Louis Vuitton, like I said, and I’m sure my friend is going to have many amazing suggestions.

I’m also looking forward to the food.

Hello steak tartar.

Bring me the raw meat please.

Plus.

Just going to the markets, especially in the summer, will be really nice, fresh produce, I’m sure I’ll cook at my friend’s house, I usually like to make breakfast wherever I am staying, they have a place in the Marais on Rue de Temple and I know the area decently, not great, but there’s a great outdoor market very close to them and a lot of bio’s, organic markets.

Give me a bio for some oatmeal in bulk and a market to buy some bananas and apples and strawberries, and man, I will be set.

Oh my goodness.

I need my friend to get ahold of me with dates.

I’m so excited!

It’s going to be my carrot for getting through graduation and applying for my registered Associate Marriage Family Therapist paperwork.

I will definitely be ready for a vacation by then.

And a vacation where I can go swimming, loads of pools in Paris, plus L’il de Re has tons of beaches and my friend’s family home has a pool (shit, I’m going to need a new swim suit), and wear summer dresses.

Oh.

I am so very ready for warm weather dressing.

Ah.

It’s going to be an amazing summer.

I just know it.

 

 

That Was A Session

I’m a therapist.

It was so clear.

It was so obvious.

It was like getting whacked over the head.

You are a therapist.

I was in it with my client and although it was just a second session I could feel it happening, I could feel the alliance happening and who knows where it will go, but it’s a start.

I have clients.

Two this week.

Three next week.

And so it builds.

I was also a space cadet today.

I left my bag with my nanny shoes at work.

And when I realized I had already been on my way to the internship to see my client and I did not want to risk losing time to turn around and go back.

When I finished with the session I couldn’t remember if I had actually carried out the bag with me, having then left it on the sidewalk outside of my job.

Or.

If I had left it inside the house.

I called and text my boss but got no response.

Then I had a horrible vision of my bag, with my very expensive Dansko walking shoes, on the sidewalk and it getting scooped up by an entrepreneurial type in the neighborhood.

I debated going home, but I needed the piece of mind more than the extra few minutes I would have gotten at home.

So I zipped over to work and sure enough it was at the house, inside, thank God.

I thanked the dad, hopped back on my scooter and zoomed home.

It was a fast ride, the rush traffic having dissipated and in the end I was only home five minutes, maybe seven, past when I had predicted I’d be walking in.

It’s nice to be home.

I love my little studio.

Yes.

I would love to have more space.

I surely would.

However.

In this time in my life I am willing to be in a little space that holds me so well and is pretty and full of color and things to look upon that make me happy.

Speaking of which.

I expect to hear back soon from Cheap Pete’s.

The framing shop I took my two Paris prints to.

One a Marilyn Monroe by Phillip Hausman I got at the Jeu de Paume in Paris and the other a vintage Scandal sheet cover from a vendor at Clingancourt.

I am looking forward to adding them to my collection.

Although, truth be told, I don’t have much wall space left at all.

I have an idea to rearrange a few things and move around a couple of pieces and I think they will fit just fine.

And.

In other news.

I got my financial aid disbursement.

Hurrah!

So very happy.

I put half of it in savings immediately.

I will be using that money for my therapy costs as I move through my school program.

I will also be purchasing some new clothes for the doing of therapy.

I have a small wardrobe, but I realized that I need to expand a little, a few more pieces of professional clothing that I can interchange with my current wardrobe.

I was talking to my therapist this morning.

Yes.

The therapist has a therapist.

Duh.

Anyway.

Just that it’s nice having a change-up in my wardrobe and it helps me to be in the mindset.

Which is how I forgot my nanny shoes at work.

I took them off to put on my “therapist” shoes.

My new Fluevogs.

They are funky, but not too crazy and I do feel like someone else when I wear them.

It feels important to switch gears from nanny to therapist.

Even if the client would probably be completely happy with whatever I am wearing, well, perhaps, but really, it feels right for me.

It’s like pushing a reset button.

I carry myself different and I put on a different hat.

Or pair of shoes.

If the shoe fits.

Fucking wear that shit.

And I have totally lost my train of thought.

I am tired and just did a Facetime chat with a friend who’s been trying to catch up with me for a couple of weeks.

I am just starting to take clients, I can’t imagine how things are going to look when I’m back in school.

I probably won’t know what hit me.

But.

My god.

I am so grateful that I have started my internship now.

If I had to handle the training and the clients and the newness of it and juggle a full load of fall semester.

Um.

No.

Super grateful to have this time to get adjusted.

I also know that I won’t have to work as many hours.

Right now I’m working 40-41 hours a week as a nanny.

When school is in I’ll go back down to 35 and that will help.

Shit.

That’s five clients right there.

Add the three I have now and I could reasonably be doing the same amount of work that I am carrying now.

Of course.

It will be different.

I will also have to carry a full-time grad school load.

With all the reading and writing that entails.

Shh.

I tell myself.

Hush for now.

Don’t spoil the moment.

I had a good day.

I was a good nanny.

My charges loved on me, I got to hold the baby for a few hours while it slept, I made a dinner that the entire family raved about (pancetta spaghetti carbonara with julienned sugar snap peas, pan sautéed asparagus with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, hearts of romaine salad with heirloom tomatoes, avocado, a soft-boiled wild hen egg and sprouted sunflower seeds), “Carmen, you are a REALLY good cook,” said the seven year old.

Thanks sugar.

I do love cooking for those I care about.

And.

I was a therapist.

A damned good one at that.

I think I have earned my cup of tea.

With that.

I call it a night.

Sleep well my friends.

Sleep well.

 

Museums A GoGo

Today I hit the Jeu de Paume and the Musee D’Orsay.

I am not museum’ed out.

Yet.

But I will be pacing myself.

The crowds were pretty thick at the Musee D’Orsay, and thank God for the Paris Museum Pass, so nice to just pop to the front of the line and not have to be herded through the main gate.

They had a beautiful exhibition with “Etoiles” as the thematic, “stars” lots of Van Gough, Monet, even Georgia O’Keefe, there were artists I had never seen and pieces that resonated so deeply with me, my breath caught in my throat and tears welled in my eyes.

Or every hair stood on end.

One of the Van Gough’s so blew me away, deep and visceral in my body, I caught my breath.

It was deeply surrounded by viewers and I got as close as I could withstand the crowds and breathed in the beauty of it.

I tried to look for postcards later in the museum shops that were of the same piece and I was disappointed, the flatness of the card did the painting no justice and I could not bring myself to buy one.

I did, however, get my museum shop on.

I do love a good museum shop.

I bought a book for one of my charges and postcards and a cloth sack for myself and a magnet of a Klimt piece that I saw in the Etoile ensemble that did translate from the painting to the magnet.

I took lots of photographs and I stopped and sat and periodically rested.

I went all the way to the top of the museum and caught the perspective from the interior, and from the exterior.

I got some pretty pictures.

I am quite happy.

I am a bit of a shutterbug.

I am not sure if I am going to post them up to my other blog or not, I’m thinking, as I continue further with my schooling and career goals that I do have to change-up some things with my blog.

I still haven’t quite figured it out and while I’m in Paris I’m not going to worry about it.

I really just want to enjoy my leisure time here, I am slowed down quite a bit, even with my ankle feeling better.

Tomorrow I will return to the Marais, I have a tattoo appointment at 3:30 p.m. and I will hit the Pompidou either before or after the tattoo.

I also may pop around the shops and do a little more window shopping.

It’s awful fun to do.

I am doing well with my finances and there’s a few things I still haven’t gotten to get, but then again, I have really done so well with what I wanted to get that I am alright if I don’t score a bunch of souvenirs.

I have to be careful, I only have so much room in my luggage.

I bought a poster today that I’m not real sure how the hell I’m going to get back.

But.

I had to get it.

When I was at the Jeu de Paume they were having a sale in the library and one of the prints that was on sale was from the Marilyn Monroe, Phillip Hausmann exhibition that I went to Christmas of 2015.

I had to buy it.

When I had seen the original print it was 25 Euro.

Today it was 2 Euro.

Um.

Yeah.

I’ll risk transporting that.

Especially since the bag that I had gotten with the same image was destroyed soon after I got back from the trip with pink hair dye.

Oops.

I have a magnet of the same image, Monroe barefoot in a black cocktail dress leaping up in front of a cerulean blue backdrop.

Her face and the bare feet really got me.

The blue background is brilliantly done as well too, it highlights the blonde blond of her hair and the cream of her skin and the bare feet, something so tender and vulnerable and real.

I love the photograph.

I’ll see if I can scare up a cardboard poster shipping container.

I’m sure I can pick one up at the post office.

But what with the numerous notebooks, the gifts for the children I work for and the new dress I don’t have much space left for stuff in my carry on.

I put back a Diane Arbus book that I was sorely tempted to get and resolved that I would get something else.

I have always loved getting earrings, so I’ll grab a pair and I do want to get a hat.

Hats from Paris are the bees knees.

Just saying.

I also will be bringing home a tan.

I have been out in the sunshine all day and it was glorious.

A bit hot, but so good.

Tomorrow it is supposed to be 83 degrees, today was the same.

Then rain is forecast for the rest of the time that I am here and the temperature is going to drastically drop.

So.

Tomorrow.

Sundress time.

Lots of pictures while the light is good and a new tattoo, a visit to one of my favorite museums and of course.

Cafe creme.

I mean.

When in Paris.

Do what the Parisians do.

Right?

Number One

It’s official.

I have logged my first hour of supervision towards my MFT License for the state of California.

Only 2,999 to go!

Heh.

I’m so happy it’s hard to believe that I could be this excited about having to work so many more hours, free, mind you, or not free if you consider how much I have taken out in student loans to pay for the Master’s in Psychology degree that I am working on, but excited I am.

I also just set up my Track My Hours account, which is a BBS (Board of Behavioral Sciences) approved way of tracking the hours needed to get the license.

It’s happening.

I will be tracking solo supervision with my off site supervisor, once a week.

I met with him today and we talked about being in service to the client, tracking my hours, figuring out what my record keeping was going to be like, confidentiality, my time off for the week I’m in Paris (I can only miss two supervision dates for the semester, Paris will be one of them and Burning Man the other, at least for this semester), and what I want to think about or questions I may have for our next session.

I’ll meet with him two more times before I start taking clients at my internship.

There I will be accruing the majority of my hours for practicum, solo one on one client hours, child hours, couple hours, group hours.

I will also be tracking my own therapy hours, since my program requires I do 50 hours of personal therapy with a licensed MFT as well.

Tomorrow will be my fifth time meeting with her.

I am actually excited to share about getting my first hour of supervision today and what that feels like.

Exciting.

Exhilarating.

Happy.

There’s a very long way to go but I know that I need to acknowledge this milestone, it is a big one, my first hour.

It’s like the first dollar of a new business.

Especially as this is going to be my career, this is what I am doing, this is what I am, a psychotherapist.

I will be licensed and I will have a private practice.

I will also go for my PhD, because, well, I can be of more service in my community, I might as well, as my supervisor at my internship is supporting me in that endeavor.

And.

Ha.

Dr. Martines has a really fucking nice ring to it.

Don’t you think?

I’m really thrilled right now and happy.

I still have loads to do this week, two more papers to write, some more work to get out-of-the-way, but it’s happening, this is happening, one little hour at a time.

One day at a time.

Showing up and suiting up and learning.

God damn.

All the learning.

I also received a verification e-mail from my Couples Therapy teacher, my final paper made it to him.

Grateful that’s out-of-the-way.

And I got a small present, from me, to me, in the mail.

My perfume in a small travel size that I can take with me when I go to Paris.

I ordered it because I knew I would want to smell good when I’m there and it’s another little carrot for me to get the work done so I can go.

I am going to need every single second of that ten days in Paris because life is going to get really full once I get back.

I start my internship the day after I return from Paris.

I will be jet lagged as fuck, but I will be there.

I will also be in supervision that day as well, and a full day of work, and all those things.

I however will be fine.

Ten days in Paris.

So close I can taste it.

I can hear it.

I was talking to my supervisor today about it, he asked where I’m staying, how much French do I speak, what will I do.

I mean.

What won’t I do?

But first.

Here and now.

Therapy in the morning and work and having a conversation with the mom about hours for summer, the kids will not be in school and she wants me to start earlier.

And work more hours.

40 instead of 35.

I’ll be able to do it since won’t be in school.

Neither here nor there, yet.

Just on the horizon.

Day to-day I have my marching orders to get through what needs to be taken care of.

Travel perfume.

Check.

Passport.

Check.

Cute sandals for walking around Paris?

Check.

Place to stay?

Check.

I’ll be grabbing a museum pass at the airport when I fly in and I’ll be off and running, well, walking, one strolls through Paris, not runs, unless one is there to run the marathon, which I am not.

The only marathon I am going to be doing is how many museums can I get to in one day.

If done well, I can get the Jeu de Paume, the Orangerie, and the D’Orsay in one day, they’re all rather close together and accessible.

I can do the Louvre, or not, although if I have the pass I probably will, in one day, and there’s so much that to do anything else except drink coffee, is probably too much.

I’ll do the Pompidou on its own.

I’ll hit the Musee Moderne and the Palais de Tokyo on the same day, they’re right next to each other.

I might go to the Rodin museum.

I will absolutely get myself out to the LVMH that Frank Gehry designed.

And I think I may hit the Musee Marmottan Monet.

Aside from that, walks in the Marais, markets, and Claire Fontaine notebooks.

Oh.

Heh.

And a tattoo.

I will want to do that too.

Perhaps something to commemorate my first hour of supervision.

Yes.

I rather like that idea.

Anyway.

Off to have some tea and get a little rest.

I have much to do.

And do it I shall.

HOUR ONE LOGGED!

Heh.

Sorry.

Just had to say it one more time before I turn in.

It’s kind of a big deal.

 

Sweet Heart

That’s what I was called today.

Not by a lover.

Nor a friend.

Not a cat call.

Not someone trying to get something from me.

Nope.

MY BOSS.

That was in response to a message I had sent.

For offereing to make dinner and sending the mom and dad fun pictures of the charges at the park on the slide.

“You’re such a sweetheart!”

I’ll take that.

It feels really quite nice to be in my job right now, it’s been just a touch over two months and I really feel a part of.

Sometimes that can be challenging as I am navigating waters I haven’t had much experience with, English as a second language for the kids, but I’m figuring it out and it’s been an adventure.

Most times I don’t have a problem when my family speaks in their mother tongue.

In fact, it’s kind of nice to not know what someone is saying.

Their language is not a romance language.

I know I’m being vague, but I have a signed confidentiality agreement and I feel like if I go into too many details it would not be cool.

I’ll leave it at I’m happy to be with them and I feel very appreciated.

Which just makes me want to do a better job.

I am grateful for them.

I have been grateful for every job that I have had, regardless of conflict or challenge, because they have led here and here is pretty fucking awesome.

I feel good.

I feel serene.

I feel easy in my skin.

I have my school work ready for this upcoming weekend of classes.

I was able to run some personal errands today at work, while running errands for the family, and I was able to grab some toiletries and household things I’ll need for over the weekend.

I was able to run to the grocery store after work before doing the deal and get some fruit and veggies and almond milk to have in the house to supplement the food I made over the weekend for class.

I even got to sneak in a visit with a friend who I have not seen in a little while who I have been trying to hang out with.

Totally serendipitous and partially because I had a cancellation tonight.

My person and I were supposed to meet, but he got the flu and I ended up having a tiny chunk of time that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

I connected with my friend, got to get my “I’m going to Paris in May,” dork on, and then when the clock was getting late, scoot on out the door, hop on my scooter and zoom zip across town.

And now I’m home.

Cozy.

Sipping hot tea and blogging.

Listening to St. Germaine and dreaming about my trip.

I am so excited to get to go again.

I am remiss that my friend, with whom I had planned the trip won’t be able to go, but hey, she’s got a great reason, she’s close to term with twins and can’t fly.

So.

Yeah.

She’ll be staying here.

I’m sad that I won’t get to experience Paris with her, but I’m cool on my own in Paris, I get along just fine.

And I will have friends there.

Because I have friends that live there and folks I know in the fellowship.

And a friend of mine will be visiting there with his mom.

He was supposed to come and visit me when I was living there but we missed each other.

I’ll get to be his tour guide for him and his mom for a few days, I think they overlap and are either going to London or Rome part of the time I’m in Paris.

I will be there ten days.

Ten days.

Dreamy sigh.

In May.

Another big dreamy sigh.

I’m so happy I’ll be going in spring, especially since the last two times I was there was during winter and it was cold.

And dark.

And grey.

I remember a dear friend of mine saying to me when I moved back how happy she was that I was back in San Francisco, in California, in the sun, that all the pictures I had taken in Paris when I lived there were lovely, but so grey and dark and depressing.

Paris is dark, grey, cold and depressing in the winter.

It is true.

Romantic, gothic, gorgeous.

But.

Cold, dark, and depressing for sure.

So to get to go in May, when the nights are shorter, the days are longer, and the weather is warmer.

Yes.

And more yes please.

Walks along the Seine.

Trips to the Jeu de Paume–the modern art photography museum.

Walks through the Tuilleries.

Walks in the Luxembourg Gardens.

Walks in Bois de Bologne.

Walks in the Marais.

Walks, and walks, and more walks.

And then.

Sitting in cafes.

Drinking cafe creme and people watching.

Then.

More walking.

The marches, the markets, the brocantes, the flea markets, the book stalls, the vintage clothes and jewelry.

Oh yes, that too.

And.

I have friends who are musicians.

I need to go to some nightclubs.

I didn’t do that too much when I lived there, although I did go to one big underground show that blew my lid off.

I knew the dj who was spinning and had no clue the venue was going to be so big and so packed.

It was amazing.

I also know a jazz saxophonist, a blues singer and a jazz singer.

I could get some late night jazz on in Paris.

Yes.

Oh, yes, I could.

I will also get myself a couple of things that I didn’t get to when I was there last.

I need another hat.

I want a market basket purse from either Marche des Rouge Enfants in the Marais or another canvas sack from Le Merle Moquer, my favorite bookstore in Paris.

And something small and whimsical from Fleux, a store in the Marais that has amazing household items, reminds me a tiny bit of Ikea, but super cool, chic, fun, unusual things.

I got my hot pink bunny Pylon bank there when I was living in Paris.

And.

When I was last there I scored a pickle jar lamp that has a miniature Eiffel Tower on the bottom of it.

It is just so quaint and sweet and I adore it.

I turn it on and it always makes me smile.

Ah.

So much to smile about.

Life.

Well.

Life is fucking good.

That’s what.

Seriously.

Life.

Is.

So.

Damn.

Good.

Do It Anyway

Afraid?

Do it anyway.

Not sure how it’s going to play out?

Do it anyway.

Freaked out by the possibility of upsetting a boss you don’t even know?

Do it anyway.

Guess what?

I FUCKING DID IT!

I bought a ticket to Paris for May.

OMG.

I am going back to Paris, my heart is so full and so happy and yeah, all that stuff.

Happy! Happy!

Joy! Joy!

Oh wait, excuse me while I go put on some French music.

Giggles gleefully.

And I get to be there with my friend, my dear, darling, amazing, awesome French friend.

Who I will not actually spend every day with and every minute with, she has to study for her exams.

But when she needs a break, I’ll be there.

Walking through the streets of Paris in the May sunshine.

I adore Paris in Spring.

It is so pretty.

It’s a bit disgusting.

Heh.

When my friend approached me this past weekend at school about going over I knew to say yes, and here it is just a few days later and walking through some fear, and I booked the ticket.

I will be leaving here Thursday evening May 11th and flying back Sunday morning May 21st at 10:40am.  What with time change I will get into SFO in the early afternoon.

I will have all day Sunday to recuperate before going back to work.

Bahahaha.

I don’t have a job for May.

But.

I do have faith and when my faith is a little wobbly, I call my people and talk it out.

It wasn’t so much the money, but the thought of having to negotiate with an imaginary boss about the trip.

I called a friend who made plans to go to India when she was in the middle of a job hunt.

I remember how I encouraged her, I had absolutely no qualms about it, she should go, the job would happen, it would be just fine.  And it was, she got the ticket and got a job soon thereafter that had no problems with her scheduled trip.

I knew I could do the leap, I just had to have a little bolstering to get me to jump.

But jump I did.

Originally I was going to just go for a week, but my friend convinced me to do ten days, that way we could pop over to Provence if the weather in Paris wasn’t great–sometimes May can still be cold and a bit rainy.

Or to a spot on Ile de Rey.

Yeah.

That’s right.

Just an island off the West coast of France.

Oh my freaking God.

I’m going where?

Ok, yes please.

I was terrified though, for a bit of the day, anxious, overwrought, trying to figure out the work deal and I was just like, this is nuts.  

Also I had a found a super cheap ticket but the travel time there and back was crazy making, like 29 hours there and 33 the way back.

Huge lay overs in Istanbul.

Which could have been super cool, but I know myself well enough that even though I like to save a dollar or two, that kind of length is too much.

My friend said as much when I told her the ticket I had found.

She convinced me pretty quick to buy a different ticket.

I thought about it and said, let me sit on it today and I’ll probably buy when I get home.

I went and called around to my people and I got the much-needed perspective from my friend while I was sitting on a bench at Kid Power Park with the boys.

I realized a few things.

First, I could afford to pay a few extra dollars to get a flight that didn’t have a layover that was so long.

Second, that there will always be a job for me.

I don’t have to know what the job is, but there is a demand for someone with my skills and the right family is going to be just fine with me taking a vacation.

In fact.

I must have vacation time and sick time and paid holidays.

It’s part of the package and it’s to be expected with the level of skill I bring to a job.

I have a huge list of assets and I’m an asshole if I don’t or won’t acknowledge that.

I have a phone interview tomorrow with a potential family and I’m pretty sure they won’t want to pay my costs.

But.

I don’t know that for sure.

And.

Some one will.

I mean.

Hell, the family that I worked for Monday wants me a second day and the mom has people at her kid’s school reaching out to her and I have not even posted to Craigslist or contacted any of the agencies yet.

Suffice to say.

Even should a job say, nope can’t accommodate you.

I can find another job.

I’ve got options.

And.

I’m going to Paris again.

I repeat.

IN SPRING.

The last two times I was there it was winter.

I am so ready for warm weather in France.

I’m going back to France.

I am so over the moon.

And I get to do it with a Parisian.

With a chic, sexy, smart, stunning, big-hearted genuine amazing friend.

I mean.

I could have fun with my friend hanging out in a box.

But.

Oh.

The thought of walking through the Marais with her, going down Rue Temple, hanging out at cafes, walking through Marche des Enfants Rouge, eating out in the warm night air, maybe going to a show, just sitting and talking.

I want to go to Ile des Cygnes and just walk it back and forth.

Then hop up to the Metro and go.

Well.

Anywhere I want.

I want to walk the Left Bank and Rue des Ecoles.

Or.

My favorite books store-Le Merle Moqueur in the 20th arrondisement.

I want to see all the street art.

Oh.

Fuck me.

I will finally get to see the LVMH Foundation which had opened when I was last there, but I did not get to.

It’s the Frank Gehry building in the Bois de Bolougne that Louis Vuitton founded.

It is astounding.

I will make my traditional pilgrimage to The American Cathedral on George V and The American Church on Quai d’Orsay.

I will go to the Jeu de Paume again, I really liked it and would love another visit, loads of really good modern art photography.

And I cannot go to Paris without going to Centre Pompidou–very possibly my favorite museum in the world.

And ahem.

Probably popping into Abraxas for another tattoo.

I mean.

When in Paris.

Am I right?

Mwhaahahahaha.

I’m going back to France baby.

So excited.

Talk about having some incentive to get through the school year!

Luckiest fucking girl in the world.

Seriously.

 

 

 

Fuck It’s Cold

Put some clothes on your children!

I wanted to holler across the street at the parent of the two tiny shivering denizens of the Outer Sunset fog belt who were scampering down the street in tank tops and shorts with their arms covered in goosebumps.

It’s July in San Francisco.

Break out your scarves.

Fuck.

It just dropped like a thick, spooky shroud.

Of course.

I may be just too far into Stranger Things.

Fuck it’s good.

But it’s not the prettiest out here, right now.

Yesterday I never saw the sun.

Today, I did, but only because I went into work.

The nice thing about yoga, I realized today when I was in the studio, is that it’s always a nice warm 80 degrees and my body needs that warmth.

I don’t like super hot, I can stand it, but sometimes the fog wears on a girl.

Never the less.

I did have a good day.

I got up early and did the writing and the coffee and a nice little breakfast.

Then off to yoga.

A good class, my favorite instructor, who, woe is me, is leaving in two weeks!

Damn it.

Oh well.

The studio has other teachers I like, but I shall miss her classes.

I can see how I have gotten better whenever I go to her class.

And.

They are sneaky classes, I’m doing well, think I got it all under control, then hours later I’m like, why the fuck am I sore?

Oh.

I had Martina’s class today.

Tomorrow I will be sore as well.

That being said, I do plan on going to class in the morning before work.

I’ve got a 1p.m. start all week as the boys are in summer camp.

1-8p.m. means that I can get in a yoga class before work as well as my writing and a shower.

I always need a shower after yoga.

It usually is a lovely thing too, that shower.

So very grateful that there is a yoga studio in my neighborhood, on my freaking block, for Pete’s sake, it couldn’t be more convenient, and it’s super helpful for me time wise, I can get in a shower and sometimes a few other things too.

Like.

I scootered over to Rainbow before work and got a couple of “luxury” items for my Burning Man efforts.

A nice hand salve.

I gift hand massage on playa.

It’s what I do.

It’s a nice way to connect with someone and most folks have such dried, beat up hands from the playa and doing all the work that needs to be done to set up their camp or their art piece or whatever it is they’re doing.

I also picked up some boxes of unsweetened vanilla almond milk, a pair of heart shaped sunglasses, and some of my favorite body lotion.

What with what I got yesterday on Amazon, all I need is to get the rebar for my tent and some work gloves.

I’ll hit up a hardware store this weekend and get it wrapped up.

This weekend so far looks like some “homework” for the American Red Cross CPR child/infant/adult class I’m taking on Sunday.

It used to be that you would have to devote nearly a half day to the cause, the class was four and a half hours long, now you take part of it online then go in for an hour and a half.

The class portion is Sunday.

I hope to have the online stuff taken care of on Saturday, I haven’t really looked at it yet.

And Saturday, aside from doing the deal with my person at Tart to Tart at noon, I’ve got another friend’s 40th birthday party extravaganza to go to in the afternoon and my commitment that night at 7pm.

Sunday, after the class I’ll be heading over to Oakland for another housewarming party.

I wish my friends would all stop moving over to Oakland/Berkley/et al.

I miss you guys.

I totally get it though.

I do.

I just, well, I’m holding tight here as long as I can.

I really feel like I’m more San Franciscan than anything, and I try to represent best I can, that San Francisco weirdo.

I don’t always succeed, but I certainly don’t fade into the background.

Even here.

I do, however, miss the sunshine, and I am constantly grateful that I work in the Mission, at least I get to experience sun there.

Not that I made it much outside today.

Today was all things cooking.

Pot of sushi rice.

Beef stew with vegetables.

Fish for the boys.

A vat of broccoli soup.

Roasted cauliflower.

There will be a bit of cooking for me this week as the boys are at camp for a part of the day that I’m at the house.

Laundry, cooking, errands, marketing, running to Walgreens for prescriptions, going to the dry cleaners.

All sorts of things.

Especially as the family prepares to go on a little trip next week.

FYI.

My people.

I have to work that Monday at the house, let in the housekeeper, this is August 1st, but I’ll be off early, and, and, and.

I will get Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday off from work.

I’ll go back to the house on Friday to cook and prepare for the family to return and make sure the house and everything is in order.

But yo.

I got some free time next week.

Coffee?

MOMA?

I just got my new membership, I can take up to two people with me.

I should definitely go next week, even if no one goes with me, I’m a good solitary museum goer, shit, so many museums have I gotten to visit, such a gift, that.

The Louvre (Paris), The Metropolitan (New York), The MOMA SF, The MOMA New York, The Whitney (New York), the new Whitney, the Brooklyn Museum, The Palace of Fine Art (San Francisco), Le Petite Palais, L’Orangerie (Paris) The Rodin Museum (Paris) The Pompidou, Palais de Tokyo, the Asian Museum of Art (Paris), the LACMA, The Chicago Museum of Art, The New Orleans Museum of Art, The Dali Museum(Paris), the DaVinci Museum (in Rome), The DeYoung (San Francisco), The Tate (London), Galleria  Nazionale d’Arte Moderna (Rome), The National Gallery in London, The Jeu de Paume (Paris).

I’m sure I’m forgetting some, in fact, I know I am.

But man.

I am lucky to get to have had so many of those experiences, and most, truth be told, on my own.

Although once in a while with a friend, or a lover, although never a boyfriend.

It’s been twenty years since I have been to a museum with a boyfriend.

My ex-boyfriend back in Madison was way into art and we hit up the ones in Chicago, Milwaukee and Madison.

I remember when I introduced him to Dali.

And to Klimt.

And Kandinsky.

Twenty years.

That’s a long time.

Grateful I haven’t sat around waiting for a boyfriend to go out and live my life.

Not to say I wouldn’t eschew one.

Just that I don’t need a man to complete me.

A compliment, that I could handle, some one to walk by my side.

Until then.

Well.

Friends.

Masturbation and Stranger Things.

Heh.

Home Free

Happy.

And.

Alone.

But.

Oh.

So not lonely.

No.

I am not at all.

I had a wonderful day, despite there being some unexpected hiccups and some tears at the start of the day.

Sometimes I wake up sad.

Makes sense.

I was sad when I went to bed last night.

The nice thing.

I noted this morning as I was writing and it overcame me again, a wave of it, that if I let it happen, not stifle it, not restrain it, just let it happen, it passes rather fast.

I had my cry.

I wrote my heart out.

Then I got on my day.

Important thing to get on in my day.

A scarf.

I texted my friend who had stashed my scarf in his carry on and then I totally forgot it.

“Oh shit, I’m going to need my scarf today,” I said, out loud, because yes, I do talk to myself.

I randomly shot out a text, figured I would have to make a special trip, only to receive, in short notice, a message that he was in the hood on the way to the store, five minutes.

Perfection.

And that might have been the only perfect thing in my day.

At least this morning.

Really.

It all was perfection.

Even down to this, quietly sitting in my in-law while the neighbors pop champagne and holler and the horns are blowing.

Hello 2016.

Nice to meet you.

Let’s be friends.

I am not ashamed, upset, or annoyed.

I am at perfect calm and ease.

Again.

The far cry from where I was when I got up.

I think part of my issue was, not that I admitted it right away, that I was planning on doing homework all weekend and I was feeling that I was isolating myself before it had even begun.

Turns out God had different plans for me.

After I had my cry, my oatmeal, my coffee, and lots of writing and getting right with God.

I had some perspective and some honest gratitude.

Then.

I got online and got annoyed.

The syllabi for my classes were incomplete, the readers were confusing me, what books do I need to buy, how much is that going to cost me, why isn’t there an easier way to do this?

I commiserated via text with one of my cohort and between the two of us, we made some good leeway.

Enough so that I was able to order all, I believe, although I am not entirely sure, my texts for the semester at a nice tidy sum of $198 on Amazon.

It would have been double, perhaps triple that had I ordered new texts, but I got all used, so that was helpful.

Then I got myself bundled up.

I mean bundled.

Tank top, long sleeve undershirt, light sweatshirt, heavy sweatshirt, scarf.

On top off all that, my motorcycle jacket.

The helmet, the riding gloves, and off into the cold breezy San Francisco afternoon, on down Lincoln, around the park, past the Pan Handle up and over the hills to downtown, then onto Mission Street, past the bums and crack heads, the junkies and whores, the party people, the homeless, the twisted, the crazy, then, onto the pretty and the shopping district, the Metreon, Yerba Buena, the high end hotels, the MOMA, and all the little haunts and spots I used to know of so very, very well, once upon a time in a land far, far away during my brief and almost fatal stay to Cokelandia.

On down to Copy Central between New Montgomery and 2nd street on Mission.

I used to buy Van Heusen work shirts just a few doors down from there.

I used to do a lot of things in that neighborhood.

Today, I just wanted my readers for my Multi-Cultural class and my second semester of Dubitzky and Psychoanalytic’s.

And guess what?

They weren’t ready.

I got the text seconds after I was standing in line from my friend, who had called, smart lady, to check on the status of the readers to find out that they weren’t done and wouldn’t be done until Monday.

Well fuck me.

I was pissed.

But.

It passed quick.

Really quick.

I also received another text almost directly on top of that inviting me over to a friends house for New Year’s Eve dinner.

Yes.

Lovely.

I’m in.

I am not going to be doing homework after all.

I got over the angry right quick and as I walked out of the shop I noticed I still had time on the meter so I popped into Walgreens and bought a bunch of pens and post-it notes.

Then I had a moment.

A perspective change.

What if the only reason, really, was that I was downtown to see how far I had come.

From being a scared, coke head, struggling waitress–yes it was fancy, but so too was my habit–trying to figure out how to use and make rent in San Francisco.

To being a successful graduate school student–I got back my first grade from last semester–A–riding her own scooter (paid in full in cash) who had just gotten back from an amazing week in Paris with a dear friend, who has an awesome in-law in the city, with rent paid in full and a week early (thank you very much I want to stay in my sweet little in-law), with a good paying job (one that I will have my raise go into affect on January 1st) with children I love.

What if that was the only reason?

It was enough.

It was an amazing little piece of insight.

I took it with me to see my person.

I also got a manicure, because, hello, I can.

We had a lovely lunch where the was much hot soup and hot tea and yes, some hot mess tears, but so much growth, love, and perspective for myself.

“You see the lows, you see the challenges, but you need to acknowledge the good stuff too,” he said peering at me to make sure I understood.

“I suggest you write some of that down tonight when you take stock on what your year has been like.”

Well, when it’s put like that.

Best break up ever, kindest, gentlest, tears on both sides, and hugs.  Yeah, I still had to do a lot of work and I cried my head off, but I also did an immense amount of writing and grew so much and threw myself into what was next.

I also applied to graduate school.

I got into graduate school.

I won a scholarship for $30,000 to go to said graduate school program.

I met and made amazing new friends.

I was flown to LA first class to visit the MOMA and ogle art for a weekend.

I went to Atlanta and ran into old friends and made a lot of new ones.

I went to Burning Man for my 9th year in a row.

I dyed my hair pink, a couple of times, and got awesome new glasses.

I bought a brand new scooter all in cash.

I wrote a lot of poetry–some of which I got paid for!  Making it my second time receiving $1,000 for a series of poems (the first was for a manuscript award I got in undergrad).

I went to Paris.

I mean.

Come on.

For a week and saw friends and places and things from before and also did things that I had not done before (the Jeu de Paume, the Roue de Paris), and bought lots of notebooks and got an awesome tattoo, and ate nice food, and walked everywhere, and practiced my French, and got lost and got found.

I got a raise at work, a great year end review, and an extension on my nanny contract for another six months.

And best and most important.

I stayed sober.

Nothing was more important or significant than that.

So.

When folks ask if I have a resolution.

If I have a wish.

If there is something in my “bucket list” that I need to do.

It’s just that.

Stay sober.

And what ever happens.

I will be ok.

And it will be lovely.

Like the dinner tonight with new friends and old, a sweet cat rubbing her face on my hand, the laughter until crying, the warmth and good food.

The simple things.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

I can’t think of a better start to 2016.

Happy New Year!

Quick

Fast blog.

I want to go to bed here pretty damn quick.

But.

Oh.

The day I had.

So good.

Such the perfect last day.

Even getting into a fight with my friend when I got lost today was part of the perfection.

When I think about it one small tiff in regards to an entire week of travel with a friend is pretty fucking good.

And we made up pretty quick.

It helps when I admit I was wrong.

I joked that I should get “Lost” or “I’m always wrong” as my tattoo.

Yes.

That is correct.

I got a tattoo on my last day here in Paris.

At Abraxas where my good friend Barnaby Williams used to work when he was living here.

He’ll be back in March, to Paris that is, and the shop remembered me, a couple of the guys remembered the jackalope that Barnaby did for me on my birthday and I was able to get in as a walk in.

And my friend as well, even though at first it was a no when we asked, they were booked up.

But.

It happened and I am so grateful.

I got a beautiful tattoo.

It means “dream” in French.

Here is my awesome and amazing tattoo artist, Bin.

He was a doll and did great work, despite speaking no English and the barest French–he’s Chinese.

I had the idea for a different piece, I was thinking “ma vie en rose” but I felt like it would be too squashed where I wanted to place it.

I had the idea to change the tattoo after doing a grand walk about through the Marais from some graffiti art I saw.

“I think of nothing, I dream of everything.”

I think that’s pretty accurate.

And the Marais did not fail with it’s plethora of great past street art and graffiti.

Fantastic street art.

And I saw a lot of art today.

I started the day with my friend by hopping on the Metro and getting to the Jeu de Paume as it was opening to see the Phillip Hausman exhibit.

It was fantastic.

Some great Marilyn’s I had never seen before and also a gorgeous Audrey Hepburn and the sweetest photo of Angelica Houston.

Oh goodness.

And so many other photographs that I just cannot do it justice here.

Nor.

Truly.

Can I do this blog justice as I just noticed the time and I have to be up in six hours to catch a flight back to San Francisco.

A fourteen hour flight.

So.

Bon soir Paris.

Je t’aime.

As always.