Posts Tagged ‘love you to the moon and back’

I’m Not Dead Yet

December 5, 2016

Although I just got hit with the tired stick.

I mean.

It’s been a day.

A good day.

But a full one.

I am actually really fucking impressed with myself, if I do say so myself.

As I sit here and listen to the kettle boil and the jazz horn play, nothing says unwinding on a Sunday evening like listening to jazz, and smell the delicious chicken soup simmering on the stove I am replete and pleased with myself.

Grandly pleased.

Greatly pleased.

Happily pleased.

Extravagantly pleased.

I think you catch my drift.

I got it all done.

Well, ok, not it all done, I still have some stuff to do, but I got done what I needed to get done today.

I wrote my Family Therapy paper!

Seven pages.

1,883 words.

References and bibliography.

Even a nice little title page.

Done and done and done.

Good bye Family Therapy.

I’m done with you!

I mean.

Yes, of course I’ll be showing up for class this weekend, but I don’t have to do any more reading or writing for this class.

It is finished.

Show up, turn in the paper, be present and finish out the class.

Yes.

I also have my presentation prepared, mentally, for Child Therapy class.

We don’t have to have a paper to turn in with it, and I already wrote the reflection paper that is due for the class last week.

However, I was thinking I may write-up a quick family vignette just to have a little back story to give to the class so that when I do the presentation there is some information for the class to have so the intervention that I plan on doing in the dyad will come across.

I know what I’m going to do and it’s only a ten minute presentation and I’m going to bring in colored pencils and paper and work with a partner in my group who will be playacting a child in therapy.  I will be doing a creative arts intervention.  I am excited and pleased with the concept I came up with.

All I have to do is contact the person in my group with whom I want to do the dyad work with and lay out a few things for her to play act.

I actually don’t want her to do much prep since I want it to come across as natural.

So.

A quick sketch of a vignette to hand off to her and my classmates, a ten minute presentation, some colored pencils and white paper, and I’ll be done with Child Therapy.

I won’t be making the final class of the semester as I will be leaving early on Saturday to go to my friend’s wedding.

Again.

So very pleased that I was able to find shoes that will work with my dress, pretty shows, fancy shoes, but not too sexy shoes.

Speaking of sexy.

I love the new jeans I bought.

They might be one of the best fitted pairs of jeans I have scored in sometime.

And score is the proper verbiage here.

The original cost of the jeans?

$251.

Who the fuck pays that much money for jeans?

I don’t.

But.

I will pay $44 for them!

Heh.

So happy.

My ass looks great.

I say with no great conceit or humility.

Ha.

Anyway.

Yeah.

Happy with my new wardrobe additions.

And happy with all the things I did get to today besides writing my Family Therapy paper.

I did laundry and put fresh sheets on the bed, because nothing is sexier than fresh washed sheets, well, except maybe a very hot shower.

Which I had this morning after going to yoga.

Yes.

I made time for the yoga.

And so glad I did.

I’m sore.

But tomorrow since I have an early start at work, I won’t be going to yoga, I figure it will be ok, my shoulders will rest up and get a little reprieve.

Not too much of a reprieve though, I want to make sure that I continue with the habit of going to the studio, it feels really good.

The best part might be the floating walk home from the studio to the house.

It really is a divine little walk.

And though it was chilly today, the sun was out and I felt happy to be alive and ready to face the day.

One step at a time.

One moment at a time.

One unsweetened vanilla almond milk cafe au lait, at a time.

A nice breakfast, the aforementioned coffee, and a lot of morning writing.

One of my ladies no showed this afternoon and I had an extra hour.

But one of my ladies did and that was great, to catch up, to do some reading, to talk about the holidays and our plans for travel.

I also started wrapping up some Christmas presents.

Yeah.

Like that.

Because it makes me happy to give gifts and because it makes me happy to see them nestled up underneath the Christmas tree.

They won’t be there for very long, most of them will get sent off to my sister and nieces and to my mom.

A couple of small ones for friends in my cohort and the rest are for my best friend and her family back in Wisconsin.

I still need to get my boys, the boys I take care of, something, I usually do, I just haven’t figured it out yet.

I did find them very sweet cards though, I want my last Christmas present to them to be reflective of our time together and the cards are quite fitting.

One is a “I love you to the moon and back,” for the four-year old.

And the other is “you are my sunshine,” for the six-year-old.

Both with lots of glitter and sparkles, as they are both partial to all things shiny.

Speaking of cards.

I even sent out my first batch of Christmas cards.

I got seven cards off in the mail today.

I roasted a fucking chicken people and then made soup.

I’m impressing myself all over the place.

But.

I will say.

l am knackered and just about ready for bed.

Which is still a little ways off, but closer than my typical night since I’ll be up at 6 a.m. tomorrow for the start of my very, very, very long week.

Four days of work followed by three days of school followed by five days of work.

I won’t have another day off until December 17th.

Sigh.

The day before my birthday.

And I might be spending that entire day working on my Psychopathology paper since it has to be sent in by the 19th and fuck if I’m going to be writing a paper on my birthday.

I had to take a final on it once and that blew.

I would rather have the day free and clear.

Ah.

I get a head of myself.

There is time and there is time.

There always is.

 

 

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisionsm

Before the taking of toast and tea.

 

Off On A Jet Plane

July 1, 2016

Well.

Soon.

But not quite yet.

I’m sitting in the terminal at SFO waiting to be able to board the plane.

I have a little time.

I have e-mailed my people, checked in, got accountable, and popped my headphones on.

I figured, I’ll blog it out and by the time I finish it with the writing it will be time to hop onto the plane to Vegas.

Then.

Houston.

Then New Orleans.

Yeah.

It’s a lot.

But.

I got a super sweet message from the woman that I am renting a room from in the historic mansion in the Treme district this morning, asking after my travel itinerary and when I would be getting in.

On the Air BnB site check in is for noon.

But.

When I told her that my flight was coming in at 8:40 a.m. she said, hop in a cab and come over, I’ll be here to let you in.

I don’t have to kill a couple of hours wandering around with my luggage!

I’m freaking stoked for that.

Seriously.

Makes up for any weirdo timing with the flights.

And honestly, it’s not a big deal.

I am super lucky I get to go.

I was in the Lyft car on the way to SFO and I was like.

Who is this woman?

And.

Where is she going?

How is it that this is my life?

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I can’t get over it.

I will add.

My alcoholic mind added, so kind, so sweet, always thinking about me and my welfare, “who is this woman, traveling ALONE.”

Fuck you head.

I am happy traveling alone.

I am good fucking company.

I got the Skull Candy Hesh headphones on bumping some Green Velvet and I am happy as a clam with my company.

“You have done this before,” the woman behind me said in awe, as I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my jacket, set my laptop in the bin, hefted my roll on up to the conveyor belt and waited to be waved through the body screening device, pulling my boarding pass and id out of my bra.

I smiled, “I have done this a few times.”

It’s awful nice that.

Getting to travel.

I felt a bit like a rock star as I surveyed myself in the mirror before leaving the house.

“I love you and I forgive you and you look fucking amazing.”

Stuart Smalley strikes again.

Short flowered mini dress, chambray blue shirt, black leggings, Converse, hot pink mountain of hair, pink glitter rose clip, hoop earrings, a few choice star tattoos peaking out, black sweatshirt, blue jean jacket.

“Nice art,” the security guard said.

“Thanks,” I replied.

I still got the pat down.

I just don’t look like your typical traveler.

And hey.

Whatever.

I’m hella happy to be my glittery, pink, tattooed fucking fabulous self.

Rock star.

No I can’t play an instrument.

(cello once upon a time)

I can’t really sing.

“That hasn’t stopped me,” my friend said with glee as we walked out of the Paul Simon concert.

But.

I can swagger.

And I did just that.

Once I was through the gate, I pulled the earrings out, slipped my watch back on, slid into the Converse, hit the Green Velvet and sashayed down the terminal to my spot at gate number 74, United Airlines to Las Vegas.

And!

This is freaking crazy.

Sitting here, happily charging all my electronic devices, downloading an episode of OITNB (Orange is the New Black) and I look up from my laptop because there is someone staring at me with a baby.

OMG.

It is one of my best friends!

Heading out on a flight too.

We are not going the same place, but crazy.

Serendipity.

Especially since we were just texting early this week about getting together for coffee or doing the deal or whatever we could fucking figure out.

When you have a friend with a kid under two who also happens to be a doctor, well, it’s hard to make plans.

So to see her in front of me?

Fuck yeah.

She’s off to feed the baby then we will get some catch up time until I board my plane.

I have about an hour to go.

Super excited.

I haven’t even left San Francisco and it’s a fabulous trip already.

“Carmen, I love you to the moon and back 100 times,” he said to me, curled up in my lap, “I need to tell you since you’ll be traveling and I’ll be traveling and I need to let you know that you are in my heart.”

Oh my god kid, you’re killing me.

“I love you too, _________, to the moon and back,” he held his hand over my mouth.

“Wait,” his eyes got big, “I love you to the moon and back google plus times!”

Oh.

Fuck kid.

I guess I got trumped.

I don’t even know what that number is.

Is it a number?

Maybe I’ll just go google that.

Heh.

I thought infinity was the biggest number.

Both the boys were sweet and adorable, although loath to leave the house, they typically can sense when stuff is up and added to me traveling, the family is also traveling.

I was thinking about that when I was doing a bit of last minute rearranging with my luggage, is it going to rain, is it not, best to add this, take out that, swap out, and have this extra…that and, god, it’s nice to only have to pack for myself.

I can pack quick and fast and have traveled light and know how to do it and make it work.

And.

There’s my friend.

Off to go catch up.

Then.

Time.

To.

Hit the next leg of the journey.

I’ll see you in New Orleans!


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