Posts Tagged ‘love my life’

You Look Like

June 30, 2016

Mint chocolate chip ice cream with cherries on top.

He said as I walked by.

“LOVE YOUR HAIR,” he added, giving me the nod for extra special emphasis.

Thanks dude.

Everybody likes to look like ice cream.

Well.

I do.

I did have to laugh a little at myself though for the outfit I was rolling down the street with, or up the street as the case may be, heading to the spot I spend my Wednesday evenings at getting right with God.

I had come home, started my laundry and rubbed one out.

Hey.

Look.

Sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

Although I could have taken up an offer I was made this afternoon.

“How about ten months?” He texted me.

“Um, hmm, I’ll think about that, let me get back to you,” I replied.

I got back to him a few minutes later, I already knew the answer, but it was fun for a moment to consider.

“Get your year and check back with me,” I replied.

Mother fucker.

REALLY?

Like the third one in a week.

What is up?

Did no one get their birthday last June?

What the fuck is in the air?

My hormones I suppose.

The blood is high, I can tell you what.

My cycle won’t hit until I get back from New Orleans.

Great, I thought tonight as I stripped down to hop in the shower, my breasts a good half size larger than yesterday, great, I’m ovulating or soon will be.

Meh.

I do not need to head of to New Orleans with plans of getting laid, I have other things to think about, do, go to, experience.

Was I heading to New Orleans with a partner, it would be the perfect place to wander romantic in the warm night rains and make out under a lamp post.

Just nibble my neck there and there and then we’ll stroll through the French Quarter and maybe a few cemeteries, because, well, death is sexy, no?

Anyway.

I took care of business, and then laundry and then the shower and in between packing for the trip and being on top of the clothes being in the wash, I had, um, a curious assortment of an outfit as I walked out the door.

And.

I have to say, I pulled it off.

I don’t know how, but sometimes more is better.

Leopard print leggings.

A mint colored nightshirt with candy skulls in pink and white piping, topped off with a sea green sweatshirt and of course a big mountain of cotton candy pink hair with some pink roses and a sequined star clip.

Because sequins.

Hello.

I probably look ridiculous.

But.

Fuck it.

It made me happy and I was cozy as fuck.

Because, bitches, it’s cold out there.

Freaking foggy, chilly, cold, etc, etc, etc.

It was 50 degrees this morning when I got up and socked in with fog, which never really lifted.

It got a tiny bit sunny in the Mission, but the fog that had burned off was rapidly being replaced by 3 p.m. with a fresh batch of cold as fuck rolling in over Twin Peaks.

Hello summer in San Francisco.

They are not kidding.

And the Outer Sunset?

Shut the fuck up.

It was never not foggy out here.

I don’t suppose it ever really burned off.

When I hopped off my scooter and came in and greeted my house, “hello house,” I immediately turned on the heat and lit up some candles.

Welcome to summer, break out your scarves.

I am so looking forward to being somewhere warm for a little while.

I’m sure the heat and the humidity will lose their luster pretty quick, but right now, it sounds fantastic.

A warm run of nights where I can walk outside bare skinned to the air and drift in the warm magnolia scent of summer.

Bring it the fuck on.

One more shift at work and then I’m ghost.

I’ll finish work at 6p.m.

Scooter home.

Grab my rolling suitcase, which is 95% packed, and head out the door to the airport.

I will probably call for a car.

I could try the MUNI and the BART, but I think I’ll also be hitting rush hour commute time and I don’t particularly care to risk being late on the flight.

I would rather get there a little early and blog from the waiting area at the gate.

Tomorrow!

I fly out tomorrow.

My flight is out of SFO at 10:41 p.m.

I’ll have a brief, less than an hour, layover in Las Vegas, then onto Houston, Texas, with another brief layover and transfer.

What with the time change I will arrive in New Orleans at 8:24 a.m.

I’m not excited about the indirect flight, the two change overs are going to wreck me for sleep, but it was worth it to get the discounted ticket, otherwise it was going to be another three to four hundred dollars to fly direct.

I figured that was money for the Air BnB.

Or for the experience of being there, restaurants, souvenirs, tickets to places, should I swing into the New Orleans Museum of Modern Art, it’s actually close to where I am staying, or just for riding around the French Quarter on a street car.

The disjointed travel was worth it.

I’m not upset and it worked out well for me timing wise too.

I’ll hang out and have a nice leisurely breakfast somewhere fabulous in the hood where I am staying and roll into my Air BnB at noon.

A swim in the pool?

A soak in the tub?

A fresh change of clothes, a sexy sundress.

And then off to explore a little and a late lunch before for going to the conference and hitting the registration and the big night get together.

I’m so ready.

Saturday I am really going to play by ear.

I know where I will be in the evening, at the conference, but I really do want to do a little exploring, walk, shop, dine, see what New Orleans has to offer, and also, what do I have to offer to the city, since I am such a taker.

How can I go and best be of service to the situation?

Make amends for the time previous I was there and my behavior, it was not so pretty.

I’m wild with excitement.

And I’ll keep you posted on all the adventures.

Promise.

See you next from the gate at United Airlines flight 455 SFO.

Happy.

Joyous.

Motherfucking.

Free.

Less Than 24 Hours

June 12, 2016

Since I heard the announcement.

And.

I have booked tickets to New Orleans.

As well as.

Secured a place to stay.

I cannot believe it all fell into place so quickly.

I mean.

Ridiculous.

Yeah.

I dropped some dough, but I didn’t spend all the money I had earmarked for my New York trip that I had been saving for and I transferred that money from my savings account, leaving me with a little more than my standard prudent reserve of one month’s rent and utilities.

Hey.

I know.

I don’t have a retirement plan.

But fuck it.

I only have this one life to live and somehow I don’t think that it would have all fallen together so beautifully if I wasn’t suppose to go.

Besides.

Please.

I’m going to be with my fellows.

Unless I decide to not leave the Air BnB I rented.

Holy shit.

I mean.

I was basically had when I read the “Historic, Opulent Mansion Suite With Swimming Pool” and then I saw the photo of the HUGE claw foot bathtub and the bathroom that is probably as big as my in-law studio and I was like, book it, book it, book it!

Except.

First.

I had to book the plane ticket.

Last night I was searching, searching, searching.

I couldn’t find what I needed and I couldn’t find what I wanted at the price I was willing to spend.

Everything for the time frame I was looking for was $700-$900.

That’s just a little rich for my pocket.

I figured.

I could go as high as $700.

Not that I wanted to, but I could.

I can.

I will if I need to.

Funny how registering for a commitment and dropping two five dollar bills into someone’s hand committed me to doing the deal and going to New Orleans.

“You could back out,” a insidious little voice said in my brain.

“Just consider it a donation to your favorite cause,” the snarky little voice continued.

Fuck off.

I love that I get to be wild and impetuous and leap once in a while on an unexpected adventure.

I have no man in my life, no children.

Yes.

I have friends and commitments and doing the deal and the yoga and yes I need to do all these things, but there was no one else to consult, no one else to worry about.

The only person I had to please was me.

And I am so well pleased.

I went to bed with a dazed head, a bit of a head ache from looking over too many travel sites trying to find the best deal and I realized that nothing needed to be done that quick.

I could take the day.

I could take the morning.

I could take a breath and pause.

Make sure that my impetuous idea was actually a intuitive decision that would serve me.

And.

I did just that.

I shut down my computer.

I set my alarm.

I had signed up for a morning yoga class.

I decided I would yoga it up, shower, have breakfast and coffee and do some writing, go meet my person, do the deal, and then look for a flight to New Orleans.

I saved the listing for the Air BnB and went to sleep.

I woke up a half hour before my alarm and was too restless to go back to sleep.

Hello brain.

Glad to see you’ve already had a double shot of espresso, mind if I make some coffee for the rest of me?

I got up, did my little morning routine, did some writing and headed off to yoga class.

It was hard.

What with my schedule change this past week I was unable to make any classes during the week, so it’d been five days since the last time I had stretched and I could feel my body was slow to warm.

My brain was also busy and I was grateful to get into my body and my breath and let it go.

I know that thinking about something constantly does not do me well.

It does not serve.

Action.

That works for me.

Not trying.

Not thinking.

Doing.

So I did the yoga.

And thank fucking God.

It got me out of my head, I left feeling light and sweet and joyful.

A good hot shower, some hot breakfast and coffee and I suddenly, out of nowhere I had extra time.

Where the hell did that time come from?

I have no clue.

However.

I felt it.

NOW!

Look now.

I opened my lap top and there it was.

$577.

My ticket.

Now.

Granted.

That’s still more than I would have liked to have spent, but still, not bad for a last minute purchase and moreover, it was the times I was looking for.

The deal with this being that I have work until 6p.m. Thursday the 29th of June.

The family would normally have me be working that Friday, but they will be heading out of town for the weekend and I have the Friday off.

I did not want to to fly out Friday, it would have meant losing a day of the convention I registered for, but I had not been able to find any flights that were in my price range that also left during the evening of Thursday the 30th at a time that would work for me.

I wanted to find flight that would allow me to work a full day Thursday, then basically fly a red eye to New Orleans.

Sleep on the plane.

And arrive in New Orleans on the morning of the first.

I hadn’t been able to find anything last night that would have allowed me to do so without it costing upwards of $800.

The flight I found was for 10:50p.m. evening Thursday, June 30th out of SFO.

Yes!

I can work my full shift, hop on my scooter, get my stuff, and Uber to the airport without having to ask any time off from work (I’m saving the last of my vacation pay for my grad school retreat in August).

The flight arrives in New Orleans at 8:54 a.m. Friday July 1st.

Fucking perfection.

I will get in, make my way into the city, probably head to Morning Call, the 24 hour beignet cafe in City Park, that is close to where I am staying.

You know.

The opulent, historic MANSION, with swimming pool and claw foot tub and twelve foot ceilings.

Giggle.

I will feel like a princess.

The Air BnB also offers a bicycle with the room.

I will check in at noon, chill out, maybe go for a swim, then make my way over to the convention which is a couple of miles away.

I’ll probably ride the bike unless it’s crazy hot.

Or.

I feel like walking.

A couple of miles is a nice walk.

The event starts at 4:30p.m.

I’ll probably do the two events Friday night that are listed and then go see New Orleans all day Saturday.

Walk the Garden District.

Check out the neighborhood where I’m staying.

Dine out.

Oh jambalaya, I can taste you now.

Then do the deal in the evening.

End the day at the conference on Sunday, check out of the Air BnB and have a lunch somewhere splendid and then hit the airport.

I’ll fly back at 6:50 at night, get into SFO in the late evening, right before midnight.

And have all day the fourth of July to recuperate from my travels.

Fuck yeah.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

Love my fucking life.

So.

So.

So.

Hard.

It’s fucking fabulous.

Seriously.

 

Hello Daisy

February 22, 2016

I had this profound experience in yoga class today.

Yeah.

I know.

I’m gonna be that bitch.

Don’t even ask me how much money I dropped on yoga clothes today.

But damn, I was not wearing the right stuff and nothing says distracting like needing to breathe through a ridiculous hard pose, for me, and inhaling my shirt.

Yuck.

I figure I made an investment, I’m going to have the clothes for a while, I will be using them, and hey, I haven’t invested in sports or athletic gear in years.

Not since I did the Aids LifeCylcle and suddenly every other day I felt like I was dropping bills on kits, shoes, socks, saddles, not to mention saddle sores, but that’s another kind of expense, protein powder, water bottles, lights, portable air pump, tires, levers, inner tubes.

I could increase that list if I thought a little harder.

You get the gist.

I just bought three pairs of leggings, three sports bras, and three tops.

I’m committing to three days of yoga a week.

I secretly may do more if I can squeeze it in.

Tomorrow will be day four in a row.

After that I won’t have the opportunity for a class until Thursday.

I debated a moment before signing up for the class, but pretty much knew, as I floated, I mean FLOATED out of the studio, that I would be going tomorrow.

Partially as Mondays will be a day that I have time to get to a class before I head into work.

I want to set the intention of going on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

I will probably also do Sundays.

That, of course, will not happen on weeks that I have school, and that’s ok.

School is a priority.

Work is a priority.

My recovery the biggest priority of it all.

And yoga is going to be a priority.

First, because it was heavily, I mean heavily suggested by my person that I start exercising three times a week, a safety valve to let off the steam of stress caused by full time work and full time school.

I can see now how right she was.

Not that I ever doubted she was right, I knew she was the entire time, I was raging over being right versus being happy, I was the person balking.

My disease, the nature of the malady, is such that anything that it thinks may bring me some sort of joy or love or lightness.

Well.

Fuck that.

No.

So I often take opposite indicated actions.

And even knowing that, I still balked at doing the yoga.

However.

I can report that I am really feeling better.

Yes.

I am sore.

But.

Not as bad as yesterday and I let myself get unattached to how I looked or held or not held a pose, I let myself topple, I let myself fall out of certain poses, I sunk into child’s pose a bit more, but I also tried.

I tried every pose.

I found I was more flexible in regards to a couple of poses that flummoxed me the first time they were introduced to me.

I found myself able to do a few things that I wasn’t able to do yesterday.

And.

My hips feel loose.

Oh my God.

They get so tight from riding my bike.

My knees haven’t hurt, my hips are loosened up, I can feel in my body a general lengthening and releasing of old energy, old thoughts, old ideas.

I love it.

I am so happy that I am letting myself do this.

I am so grateful for tax returns!

And student loans.

I can afford to do this and in all actuality, this is going to save my life, I can feel it.

I have been much more relaxed, more in my body, more present, more accountable.

And happy.

Not always.

I’m not saying I’m all high on yoga, but I am a little.

I caught that delicious feeling more than once of realizing that I had forgotten completely the outside world, the clock on the mantle, the life on the other side of the wood floor, school, work, chores, it was all gone.

I was just there.

In the moment.

So divine.

So needed.

The instructor was the same teacher as yesterday and it was a deepening of the dharma talk she gave yesterday.

It syncs well with my own, personal, Carmen based, spiritual practice.

Meaning I could get behind what she was saying even if I didn’t understand the names or words that she was saying, I got the point.

Non-attachment.

Intention setting.

Yesterday I meditated about love.

Today I set the intention for joy.

I felt light and full of love and joy and I held a person in my heart and sent that person that light and then.

Ha.

I had the vision in my mind of a daisy sprouting from the top of my head.

It was divine.

And silly.

And so apropos.

My favorite flowers are daisies.

In fact, after I went shopping for yoga clothes, thank you Sports Basement for the 10% discount! I went to the grocery store and picked up supplies for cooking and meals for the week at work, and I promised myself I would get myself some flowers.

I got a sweet little mix of pink Gerber daisies, tuber rose, lilies, and purple poms.

I felt happy.

Very happy.

It’s a small thing.

Flowers.

But so much too.

I love getting flowers and I don’t have to wait to be given them.

Buy your own damn flowers.

It’s been a good six days off.

A lot of heart work, thank you Valentines Day for your lessons in service and love.

Which were extrapolated out into my world all week long.

I saw dear friends, I had tea dates and walks on the beach, I saw a movie, I started doing yoga, I rode my scooter a lot, I did lots of doing the deal, I even, yes, I know, did homework–finished my reading for Multi-Cultural Counseling and the Family and got started on my reading for The Therapeutic Relationship–I sat outside in the sun, I went to ModCloth and got fitted (and I got the clothes on Friday!) and dressed up in my crinoline three times this week.

I had me a lovely, sweet, darling, “staycation.”

It was awesome.

I am ready to dive back into the fray.

Knowing.

Especially that I have a new tool in my box to help me be a stronger, healthier, more connected person.

Amazing.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Let me tell ya.

I am.

I am.

Grateful

December 24, 2015

Goose bumped with grateful.

Smashed with grateful.

Overwhelmed with the grateful of all things.

Art.

Ballet.

High heels on cobblestones.

The Metro line over Passy.

The taxi cab to the Opera Garnier.

More art.

Walking in the Tuilleries at dusk.

The sunset at Place de la Concorde.

Photographs.

The nearly full moon.

Plans for tomorrow–the Jeu de Paume, the Palais de Tokyo, walks, always the walking, the Eiffel Tower–this time to ride to the top.

Grateful for love.

Grateful beyond words.

Grateful over the moon over the Paris skyline, over and back 100 x infinity.

Grateful for joy.

Grateful for Bottecelli.

Grateful for tears rolling down my face, front row, premier etage, center right, Palais d’Opera Garnier.

So damn grateful.

Grateful I am not going to force myself to write it all down, but rather share a smattering of the days photographs with you so that I may rest, get up early and smash more glorious Paris into my person, my heart, my soul.

My Paris today.

Looked a little like this:

IMG_7700

Marc Aurelius, sculpture fragment, Richeliu Wing, Palais Royale du Louvre.

DSCF1331

Diana the Huntress, at the Louvre.

DSCF1337

Cherubim, ceiling of the Louvre.

DSCF1341

Bottecelli, that made me stop in my tracks.  Stop and break out into one of the most intense art highs I have ever had.  Stop my heart, tears splashing down my face, almost mortified with the joy of the piece.  I still cannot quite put into words how heart stopping this piece was.

Especially her face, the one in the goldenrod dress.

DSCF1342

Breathtaking.  I stood in front of the painting and forgot the masses of people streaming past me on their way to the Mona Lisa.

The Louvre was super overwhelming, so after a few more salons my friend and I left to find fare for a late lunch.

Catching the sunset as we emerged from the Jeu de Paume cafe after a brief respite from the crowds.

I captured these:

IMG_7716

Place de la Concorde with the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

And this:

IMG_7717

Roue de Paris.  The infamous ferris wheel at the entrance to the Tuilleries.

We rushed back to the studio to get ready for the ballet at the Palais d’Opera Garnier.  On the way stopping in the neighborhood for a rotisserie chicken and potatoes from Monsieur Defrenoy, fresh asparagus from the market and apples.

The ballet was not going to let out until ten pm so we figured we’d have a late dinner at the house rather than trying to find something open.

The ballet was smashing.

Over the top–the venue, the lights, the space.  I cannot do it justice with words so I will finish my little blog of joy with these last shots of my time at the ballet.

IMG_7718

IMG_7721

IMG_7727

IMG_7744

IMG_7746

IMG_7750

IMG_7759

IMG_7773

IMG_7776

IMG_7765

Beyond grateful to be having Christmas in Paris.

Again.

I repeat.

Just to hear myself say it.

I am.

The.

Luckiest girl.

In the world.

At least, tonight.

In Paris.

I am.

 


%d bloggers like this: