Posts Tagged ‘Marin’

Bits And Pieces

September 7, 2018

I’m slowly working things out.

I’ve not altogether gotten a rhythm with my school stuff, but then again, hey, you know, it’s Thursday and the intensive ended on Tuesday and every day since, including Tuesday, I have read something for a class, highlighted something, watched a full length video of a Harvard professor on the nature of knowledge in the age of the internet, plotted my calendar, downloaded and though I have not figured it out completely, started using an app called Mendeley, which allows me to import a pdf file to their site, save it and highlight it, thus alleviating some of my anxiety about really liking to highlight what I read, but not having been able to when I read something online.

I was tipped off to the program by a woman in my cohort who is super into tech.

I am super into grateful right now.

The work load for school is heavy and I am seeing where I can be as creative as possible with my hours.

Even today, I read for 8 minutes before leaving the house to work.

I really haven’t worked any time into my morning routine for homework or the like, but I know from my Master’s degree work that any time I have to spare I can read a few pages.

I mean, I knocked out five pages and that’s five pages less of the thousands I am going to have to read this semester.

I just have to keep taking tiny bites when ever I can so that when I do have the time to devote to the work I am not overwhelmed by the enormity of it.

I also have some grace periods coming up that I had forgotten about, but was wonderfully reminded about at work today.

The mom is going out-of-town for ten days and the baby is going with her.

Which means I won’t have my usual morning nanny routine.

Add to that, the big kids are back in school next week.

Finally.

Tomorrow is their last day of summer vacation, so to celebrate we will be going back over to Marin for a day of swimming and sunshine in San Rafael.

I am definitely down for some sunshine.

Frankly I have been a bit bummed that the fog is still here.

I don’t recall it lasting into September before.

I want my god damn San Francisco summer.

September and October, at least until about mid October, are usually really nice and warm and sunny.

Not this year.

Not yet anyway.

So a day trip to Marin seems just the right way to end the week with the family.

And next week what with the kids back in school and mom traveling I won’t have any responsibilities at the house, as far as childcare, until I do school pick up at 3p.m.

I’m scheduled to come in at 11 a.m. Mondays and Tuesdays and 10 a.m. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.

First.

I won’t have to come in early at all next week.

Today, for instance I came in at 9:30a.m. to do the mom a favor.

I will have a straight across the board 11 a.m. start all next week.

Which means I could actually sneak in a half hour or so of extra reading in the mornings before work, note to self.

And since I won’t have childcare duties at the house I can also do work there.

Granted.

I will have responsibilities, I’m not just the nanny, I’m the household assistant and I’m often, four days out of the week on average, the dinner cook.

I will most likely be doing all the cooking for the family next week and lunch prep for the kids as well as any grocery shopping that needs to be done.

The mom is super proactive and there’s already deliveries from Good Eggs and Rainbow Foods and BiRite Market lined up.

I probably won’t have to do much grocery shopping, although I can, I have access to a credit card if I need to buy anything.

And there will be laundry and clean up.

I know what the house turns to when the mom is out-of-town.

So yeah, cleaning a bit more, but I should be able, from past experience, get it all done in the first hour to hour and a half that I am there.

Which means I should also be able to get in about and hour and a half to two hours every day reading.

I am really hoping I can knock some stuff out-of-the-way.  I’ll bring my readings, my laptop, and anything else that I need to get as far ahead as I can.  Any postings that I can do, I will do.

Plus, one of my classes has a lot of videos to watch–lectures mostly, but a few other things, that I could watch at work too.

I plan on getting as much out of that work week as I can.

I also have had a few client cancellations in the next two weeks, not a lot, but some hours have opened and I know what I will be doing with them.

I feel like this is how it will go for me.

I will have pockets of time open when I need them and I will be able to get the work done.

I am also starting to think about the Spring semester.

I am thinking that I am going to ask off from Fridays at work, starting in January.

I will make more money seeing clients on Fridays and if I don’t fill up my whole day with clients I will fill it up with studying.

I will of course need to make money, but I suspect that the money is really not going to be an issue, I’m being taken care of, I really am.

So what’s next is to nail down a place.

I saw a studio yesterday and it was no bueno, totally overpriced, and I was way underwhelmed, plus it was dark and didn’t get much light being an interior unit on the bottom of the house.

Saturday, after I go over to Berkeley and deal with some administrative work for my new internship I will come back to the city and hit a couple of open houses.

I have pretty much decided to get out of here as soon as possible.

I want quiet and low-key, I have too much on the line this first semester and I want to get out before the really big papers start looming.

I want to be in my own place and settled.

So I figure if either place looks good, both I can afford, and both have amenities I need, like laundry on site and um, hahaha, windows, I will make the offer to pay more than just the first months rent and damage.

I figure throw all of the buy out money to get into a place right at them.

Fuck mincing around.

So, fingers crossed, by this Saturday I have a place.

Yeah.

I’m juggling a lot.

But I feel like I can breathe today with the realization that it all works out.

It always has.

I am being carried.

I absolutely am.

I.

Am.

Graced.

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Swimmingly

August 25, 2018

I did not forget my swimsuit today.

Nope.

I had that puppy packed in my purse.

I go just about nowhere without my purse.

I pulled it out as soon as I walked in the door at work, “look what I didn’t forget,” I said triumphantly to my charge who was very excited to see it but still asked why I hadn’t remembered it yesterday.

I ruffled his hair, said I was sorry again for forgetting and promised I would do a lot of swimming with him to make up for it.

And I did.

I also went down the water slide to appease him.

I was not really interested, it’s meant more for kids and it was sort of awkward to climb, but he really wanted me to and I wanted to humor him and we were just having the best day, so yeah, I clambered up and went down and it was cute.

He was so happy today.

And so was I.

Although I had my moments of sadness.

Happiness too.

Swimming is happiness for me.

There is nothing quite like it.

I feel so in my body and alive and it’s just exhilarating.

The mom actually told me to take some time to myself today and I got to put in 500 yards.

That’s not much, but it felt great and I was happy to have some time to swim.

I have also set my alarm for tomorrow morning.

I will be getting up and going to Sava Pool to swim.

My swim bag is packed and I’m air drying my suit in a place that I won’t forget it.

It was also really such lovely weather, sunny, bright, not too hot, but hot enough.

And it made me think of you, bunny.

I realized that it wasn’t just the Marin hills that made me think of you, it was swimming as well.

I had the same feeling in my body, in my heart, when I went swimming in the Mediterranean when my best girl friend and I went hiking into the Calanque de Sormiou outside of Marseille.

It was the sun, it was the salt water, it was the dry hills and the green trees, very reminiscent of Marin, but also it was the feeling.

It was the feeling of being so in my body and I kept feeling that you should be there with me, that we are meant to be somewhere sunny with you sunbathing, as I know you like, tan and golden and glowing like some leonine thing in the light, and me swimming and emerging from the pool or sea to sit next to you and bask in the sunshine.

Then I realized it at a deeper level.

Swimming reminds me of you because of how at ease in my body I am in the water.

I found that same ease with you.

I have never felt so at home in my body than when I was with you, making love, or laying together, spent afterward, completely glowing and happy and alive, so alive.

I teared up at the pool when I made the connection and realized that was one more thing that was so good about being with you.

I was myself.

In the pool, in the water, I am myself.

When I was with you I was myself.

Unapologetically me.

I wanted you there by my side because I was myself and free and happy and I associate those feelings with you.

And I can’t share any of this with you.

And we never went swimming together.

Although we did bask in some sunshine.

It wasn’t enough.

I am such a good addict, just give me some more please, more of you and more of you and more of you until I am satiated.

Which I never am for very long.

Sigh.

I miss you my love.

And I am grateful to have made the connection today with what it feels like to be in the water, to be in my body and how it reminds me of you.

It will incentivize me to swim.

And one day.

I can dream.

I can.

I do hope.

I really do.

That I will get to go swimming.

I will get to share this feeling.

I will get to go.

And.

Be.

Once again.

With.

You.

Swimming Pools

August 21, 2018

And nectarines.

Vistas of blue skies, gentle mountain slopes, green trees, sunshine, Marin.

I went with the family I work for to San Rafael to the Marinwood community pool there.

The kids had swimming lessons and mom wanted to be out of the fog and in some actual summer weather.

Mission accomplished.

It is always just a touch surreal to come out of the grey blanket of fog into the bright sunshine of Marin.

It was an hour away but felt like an entirely different planet.

So much sunshine.

It was nice.

It felt good to be there, to be helpful, to be of service, to be doing a good job.

And.

Motherfucker.

It felt good to swim.

I love being in the water and every time I get in I question why am I not doing it more.

It feels marvelous.

The pool was perfect too, the temperature cool but not cold, the chlorine was well-balanced and it had the perfect saline level.

I was blissed out swimming in that water.

I have been swimming since I was a baby.

Literally.

10 months old.

I can’t remember not being able to swim.

Sometimes it baffles me when kids are afraid of the water, as one of my charges was, but she trusted me and we worked it out and I think she had some fun.

Her brother was much more into it, but they both wore flotation devices.

I keep my opinion to myself in regards to floaties, but I freaking hate them.

I feel like they, the floaties, especially water wings, create a dependence on them and it takes a child much, much, much longer to learn how to swim.

That being said.

I am not the parent in the situation and the mom wanted them in the floats and felt better about having them protected and safe.

Mom’s got the prerogative.

I however, felt free to cavort, to a point, I was with the kids in the pool, and play, and swim.

I didn’t get enough and now I am sitting here trying to think of ways to get myself back in.

And after today’s day at work, I basically have a swim bag assembled.

I have my suit, a towel, a chamois, my flip-flops, a bag of toiletries, and my goggles.

The goggles never made an appearance as I wasn’t going to do any lap swimming, although for a minute or two I thought about requesting the opportunity to do so.

It would have been nice.

So that’s twice this summer that I have gone swimming and after both times I have resolved to get myself into a more regular swimming routine.

It is good for me, easy on my crapy knees, great for all my joints, I love how I feel in the water, I feel free.

There’s something so heavenly about being under water and feeling weightless and graceful and strong.

I feel strong when I swim.

I noticed I walked differently in my suit when I came out of the locker rooms to the pool, I felt like a guard again, I walked like a guard without even really thinking about it.

I felt myself embodied.

It was really good.

And it was a nice change-up from the routine of work.

It’s a like a tiny work vacation while at work.

We’re going to be at the pool all week-long.

There’s a slim chance I might not go with them and stay at the house on Wednesday for a household delivery, which would mean that I would stay in the city with the baby, tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday, however, I will be swimming in Marin.

I am hoping I can carry the momentum forward and maybe hit Sava pool on Saturday.

I also looked at the UCSF Mission Bay pool schedule, they have late hours, I could look into getting a membership there again.

They have a great facility.

Of course, I’m just shy about committing to any certain place in the city yet, after I know where I’m going to live does it make sense to buy a membership to a place that I may regret having to do a big commute to.

So while I’m in the neighborhood I’m really going to give it my all and go to Sava Pool at least once a week.

I also think there is a pool at the hotel that the intensive for school will be held, although I doubt it’s a big pool, there maybe some opportunity to get in the water during the time I’m there.

It’s definitely worth bringing the swim suit with.

Anyway.

Swimming.

It’s on my mind.

And that’s helpful.

It helps with the sad.

It helps with my body.

It helps with my heart.

There is something sweet and nostalgic about it and also healthful and needed.

If I’m not doing yoga and I’m not bicycle commuting I really do need to incorporate something into my schedule.

I just checked the rates for the UCSF membership and it’s not too bad, $105 a month, I was paying $84/month for the yoga, it’s a little more, but then again, I enjoy swimming much more than I enjoyed yoga.

I will start small.

I will get to the pool this Saturday and I will let it begin there.

Shoot.

Having the swimsuit is more than half the battle anyway.

The rest is just showing up and jumping in.

I can do that.

I really can.

Long, Strange Day

October 13, 2017

But I am finally feeling better.

I just ate some dinner.

Roasted chicken with a baked Japanese sweet potato.

I needed some homey comfort food.

The air today had me down.

Granted.

I do not like to complain.

I know people who have lost their homes to the fires, lost everything.

I have friends who have evacuated and are waiting to see if they are going to be able to go back to a home or a charred piece of land.

So much has been destroyed.

It’s utter devastation.

I can’t comprehend it.

Therefor to complain about the air quality in the city seems weak and pansy ass, but, fuck, it’s been bad and I’ve had trouble today.

At first when the fires were just beginning, Sunday night, I thought, wow, there must be some folks having a big old bonfire on the beach, and it smelled good, and the weather that night was warm and I felt really soothed by it.

I have a favorite childhood memory of a bonfire at the beach from when I was four years old.

The next day was odd though, finding out about the fires, and then finding ash residue on my scooter and in my basket.

And each day, it’s been the same, although I think I’m used to the smell and the smell, well, it’s changed, it doesn’t smell like bonfire anymore.

It smells tainted and bad and oily and plastic and chemical.

It smells like bad drugs and sickness and I’ve began to feel off today, I suspect I’ve been a little off all week, but today it really hit home.

Last night when I was riding my scooter home I thought for a moment it was snowing and thought, wow, it’s cold, but not that cold.

Then I realized what I was seeing was ash falling from the sky.

Ash like snow.

Ash on my shoes, ash in my hair, ash on my jacket, ash stuck to my scooter.

Spooky.

Every day riding my scooter up and over Diamond Heights I have looked downtown to gauge how bad the air is.

And it’s bad.

Downtown swathed in smoke.

The haze so thick I can’t see the Bay Bridge, even the top of the new gigantic Sales Force tower is smudged out by the smoke.

Supposedly it’s supposed to get worse tomorrow and Saturday.

The kids I nanny for had their school cancel tomorrow and every day this week they’ve been forced to stay inside and not been allowed out for recess.

My little lady charge has had croup on top of it.

She’s been inside all week.

I can feel it in my chest.

And today I started to sneeze.

Not because I think I’m coming down with a cold, no, it’s just breathing the air.

I’ve not been outside much, but I’ve inhaled some yuck, riding on my scooter for sure, walking to the market this evening.

By the time I got home from grocery shopping and running a couple of errands I felt really out of it.

My clients cancelled tonight so I was free to go home after work and I planned on doing homework and getting the rest of my reading wrapped up, tomorrow I’m in school again.

Aside.

Tomorrow marks the half way point of the semester!

Half way!

I am very happy about that.

But I could barely concentrate on my work and reading felt challenging.

I’ve had a head ache all day.

I’m a pussy.

I admit it.

Can you believe I used to be a smoker!

Anyway.

I just reeled it back in and got right with myself and stopped having gigantic expectations about what I could do and just settled for what’s the best thing for me to do instead.

I roasted the chicken up.

I made some spiced brown rice for meals the rest of the week.

I did some laundry, it’s in the dryer now, fresh warm towels.

I drank lots of water.

I cut myself some slack.

I look over my syllabi and packed my school bags and I’ll probably roll up on class tomorrow and just be ok with what I have not done.

One class I’m completely caught up with, no need to worry about that one at all, it has the biggest brunt of reading and I’ve completed that.

I’ve nearly every thing else done for another class, just have to whip out a little paper tomorrow.

I was going to do it tonight.

But.

Um.

Nope.

I’ll get out of class tomorrow and have a few hours before I see my clients.

I was tempted to get ahold of them and say stay the fuck put, don’t come out, but I’ll go to my office and see them.

And before I see them I’ll do what ever reading I need to do and I’ll write-up the small paper I have to turn in Saturday.

I’m not beating myself up for not being 100% ready.

I had a hard week with the family, not that they were bad, they are super, super sweet, but when a four-year old and a seven-year old are cooped up all week-long it’s hard to keep things balanced.

Add the sick little monkey into the mix and it was a long week.

I’m grateful that I was able to keep myself pretty on keel with them, but I was feeling it today, the worrisome smoke, the quality of the air, seeing little kids in face masks, it reminded me of Burning Man in a rather sinister way.

Sigh.

I’m done complaining.

I am.

I just want my head ache to go away.

And my heart breaks for all the loss in the North Bay, it’s unfathomable.

Just going to be sweet to myself for the rest of the night, take it easy, drink some tea, get some rest.

Wishing for all those near and dear that this passes soon and we will all draw a collective deep breath of fresh, sweet air.

Good night.

Sweet dreams.

 

 

Now What?

November 29, 2013

So, this whole “holding space” thing is starting to make me wonder, what for?

What am I holding space for, or whom?

I turned down a nanny gig for tomorrow.

I turned down a house sitting gig for this weekend.

I don’t have plans people.

I have three days off, three days into the six-day staycation.

I have a lot of “selfie” photographs from the beach.

I have slept well.

I have cried a little and drank a lot of coffee.

A lot.

I am like a recreational coffee drinker.

Sure, I’ll have a cup.

In fact, I had two tonight after the six o’clock point, which is so rare as to be a phenomenon of sorts for me.  I might be up to go clubbing, hit me if you want to go dancing, I am jacked up.

Unlike the fellow comatose friends who I just recently left.

I just got in from Marin.

From a house full of people I did not know.

But with a standing offer to come back anytime.

I think I got along well.

No doubt that my friend’s friends were going to be good people.

And they were and it was really nice to be a part of a gathering, to help out here and there, to chase the two-year old around the living room and snuggle with the dog.  To talk with the mom who is expecting and the dad who had the worst best holiday sweater that promptly came out once the dessert was being served.  To help wash dishes and to smell the smells of Thanksgiving.

And actually watch some football.

“Why are you crying?” My friend Wilmein asked me last year in my French class in Paris.

I was looking out the plate-glass windows at the mottled dark sky leaking rain, the inside of the windows starting to steam from the bodies in the class room, and the various voices, German, Japanese, South African, South American, and me the American, practicing our “futbal” excercise.

I had been struck by the worst homesickness I have ever had on Thanksgiving last year in Paris.  I had just been in the class room a couple of weeks and had already been making friends and Wilmein was such a pumpkin.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” I whispered under my breath, “I, I am supposed to be home watching football and eating too much pie.”

Although I had done neither of those things in years, that was what I was supposed to be doing, not studying a soccer composition for a rhetoric lesson in French.

“What is Thanksgiving?” Wilmein asked.

Jesus.

Of course, like they celebrate an American holiday in South Africa.

I told her.

“Oh!  You’re homesick!”  She said it sweetly and patted my arm.

Indeed.

I was.

I was not tonight.

I was a little uncomfortable every now and again, but for the most part, I felt quite warmly welcomed and it was nice to be in a group of people celebrating their friendships and connections, listening to stories, though not mine, still stories, of home, and I like me a good story.

I like to tell myself some “good” stories too.

That I am alone or unwanted or not loved.

Such bullshit.

I am loved.

I love, there for I am loved.

I had wonderful texts and messages and phone calls all day today.

I got to talk with my mom for a little while, I sent my little sister a message, my grandmother, my aunts, I got phone calls from dear friends, and I got to spend some time down at the beach walking in the tides.

The waves so mighty and gigantic, I saw very few surfers and it was wild.

The sun was warm and I felt really blessed to be down walking the shore and listening to the lull of the waves.

My brain said I was alone.

But my heart said, no, you are confusing “alone” with “lonely”.

Yes, you are alone, but you are not lonely.

I had the song of the sea and the memories of past Thanksgivings keeping me company on the shore.  I had the love of friends old and new reminding me that I was thought of and often.  I had my own good company and that of the wind and the ravens on wing in the warm air.

I didn’t really feel alone.

And I didn’t feel homesick.

I felt at home.

I can be an isolated person and I work at rectifying that, but sometimes the deep serenity of being on the beach is a kind of company that I have only experienced by myself.

Sure.

When I saw couples walking on the beach holding hands I wanted that too, still do.

It is a bonfire scented night, the skies are clear, I have the next three days off, I want to walk on the beach and hold someones hand and be kissed under the stars.

I am a romantic at heart, in nature, and that is a want.

But it is not a requirement to having a deep and meaningful relationship with my community, my fellows, my friends, and frankly, with myself, or my home.

Or my city.

Seeing San Francisco lit up like a Christmas ornament tossed down from the heavens as we crossed back from Marin through the Golden Gates, I was so enthralled with her beauty and so grateful that I was home, again, here, now, not saying good-bye, but rather a new hello, a new experience, a new kind of life here in this city which I continue to get to live in, be captivated by, and romanced.

I was deeply thankful.

I am grateful for many things.

Not the least of all the time that I have over the next few days to continue my homecoming.

That’s what this Thanksgiving feels like to me, a homecoming.

I am home.

This is it.

From one side of the city with the Embarcadero One light up with Christmas lights to Ocean Beach with Orion rising over the black waters, shimmering luminous above me.

This is where I am meant to be and this is where I shall stay.

I have meaning.

Here, most of all.

I belong.


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