Just A Tiny Bit

Surreal.

I turn 13 in an hour and a half.

I have already received a few congratulations and warm sweet gifts, my god, the thoughtfulness of some people astounds me, though my anniversary is not until tomorrow.

I am grateful that I have this time to reflect and think and be in a place of gratitude and warmth and all wrapped up for the week.

It’s been a week.

I’ve plenty to do tomorrow, but I suspect that it will be done with much joy and laughter and hopefully, no little grace.

My morning will be a typical Saturday morning, yoga and shower and breakfast and coffee and writing.

Then I’m hoping to squeeze in a manicure before I have to go to group supervision at 2 p.m.

Something snazzy and flashy and definitely glittery.

Giggle.

I treated myself to a dress from Modcloth that’s super fun,

It’s also super simple and a bit basic, which is good, I wanted a comfy dress to dance in.

It’s pretty much a little black dress with a scoop neck and a skater skirt.

And.

Glitter.

Heh.

I also allowed myself to pick up some glitter fishnets, because, sparkle.

And thirteen years, thirteen years of working it out and doing the deal and showing up and being of service, well, that deserves some fucking glitter, at least so I think.

I had wanted to wear some fabulous shoes but I also want to dance, so my pink velvet Tretorns will have to do, I think they will go perfectly with a glittery dress and fishnets.

Sexy, but hella comfy.

I’ll wear some heels when I go meet my person in the Castro for dinner on Sunday.

Fancy shoes are great for sit down meals, maybe not the best for hours of dancing.

I mean.

I used to do that, a long, long time ago, when my knees were younger and I had a lot of extra chemicals coursing through my veins to keep me going and ignore the painful, numbed out feet I was mashing into the floor as I stomped along to the music long into the night.

Or.

The next morning.

It’s funny.

I’ll be up much past my bedtime, the party goes until 1 a.m. and as one of the hosts I know I will feel responsible to make sure it all goes off well.

I’m not super excited about coming back from Oakland at bar time, but it looks like that will be happening.

At least I got my FasTrak in the mail and I won’t have to pay cash at the toll bridge.

It should be a pretty quick commute back.

Sunday I do have plans, but they’re all spaced out and I should be able to take naps intermittently throughout the day if so needed.

I don’t care in the end.

A girl only turns thirteen once.

Knock on wood.

I don’t have any reservations made for future drinking or using, but I am quite humbly aware that I have been given a gift and that I need to keep passing it along.

I have seen people drift away and they usually don’t drift into wonderful waters.

I have never had a relapse in my recovery and I certainly don’t want one.

I feel really fortunate to have what I have, the community I am in, the resiliency I have been gifted with, the fellowship, my friends, the love that surrounds me.

So.

Yeah.

I’ll be up a little late tomorrow night, but it’s so well worth it.

It’s been an amazing year when I look back.

New relationships.

Vast amounts of love.

Entering my third and final year of my Master’s program.

Starting at my practicum site and seeing clients.

A new job.

A new car.

Travel to Burning Man and Paris.

Therapy.

Internal growth.

So much of that.

Holy mother of God.

So much spiritual work.

All gifts.

I could never have suspected thirteen years ago when I reached out for help the life I would get to have.

It doesn’t even make sense.

I couldn’t imagine the places I would go or the adventures I would have.

So many adventures.

So much travel.

More travel please.

Friends, art, writing.

Oh. My. God.

The amount of writing, I mean I talked about writing before I got sober and I wrote some poetry and I tried my hand a few things, but I never had a real writing practice, I just talked about it a lot.

A LOT.

The book I was going to write, the poetry, the essays, la, la, la, la, la.

All vacuous words spouted from the vapid drunk girl at the end of the bar.

Now.

Well, I can surely tell a story, and I might hold you hostage to it, but I don’t talk about things I’m going to do for hours on end.

I actually do them.

I show up.

I suit up.

And I’m thrilled beyond words that I have a baker’s dozen of years to substantiate that.

Luckiest girl in the world?

Fuck yeah I am.

Choices, Options, Decisions

Home.

It was just to come home.

And I was very much ok with the coming home.

In fact.

I danced around my home feeling pretty happy and complete.

I had a good day at work.

I had a great meeting of the minds after work.

I got asked out to dinner.

And this time I got the feeling it was more than for just fellowship.

I said yes.

I don’t know when we’re going to go, but I feel like we will be going soon.

He had a cold or we might have grabbed a bite tonight.

I decided to opt out of going to my friend’s birthday dinner.

I was already half way towards home and super hungry.

I just couldn’t fathom turning my scooter back around, going the other direction into Friday night end of the week cocktail traffic and doing a late sushi dinner.

I was too hungry.

I figured the best thing to do was ping my friend, extend my happy birthday wishes and head home to eat some tasty dinner here.

I just did and I am quite pleased.

I am also pleased as I have paid my rent for February and I bought myself a few things online from ModCloth for new interview clothes.

Why?

Because I’ll be interviewing soon.

How do I know that?

I got a response to my resume and cover letter this morning!

Hi Carmen!

Thank you so much for your resume and info. I recall meeting you at the practicum fair.

It does look like you might be a great match for our therapeutic community here. I’d like to invite you in for a casual interview.

Please let me know some days and time-frames that would work for you and we’ll schedule a casual interview.

Thanks! 

Whoa.

I had completely forgotten I had even applied.

Hahaha.

The e-mail this morning caught me off guard.

I was not looking for it, just checking my e-mail as I had breakfast and was enjoying some coffee, thinking about what I might me doing this weekend and my plans had changed when I discovered I had gotten my period.

Yeah.

TMI.

Fuck you.

But no, there will be no fucking me.

Canoodle session canceled.

Which I am alright with.

I realized after I had gotten this e-mail.

I am going to need to do some shopping for some interview clothes tomorrow!

Yippee!

I like clothes shopping when I’m in the mood and I have to say, I’m in the mood now.

Hehe.

Super excited.

And fingers crossed we will be doing the interview soon as I would really love to nail down my practicum site and not proceed forward with more open houses and more applications and more interviews.

I responded with times and days and fingers crossed I’ll hear back soon.

I also contacted the third year student in my program, he’s the person who recommended the place to me, and said, I got asked in for a casual interview, any suggestions?

He said, “just go in and be your fabulous self.”

Well fuck.

I can do that.

And though it will be casual, whatever that means, I do feel like I want to show up nicely dressed and coiffed.

Really what it comes down to is that I need a pair of nice flats.

I don’t have a single pair of flats.

Oh.

I have tennis shoes.

Converse and a pair of Saucony.

And I have my boots.

But I don’t see wearing rain boots.

Or.

My Burning Man boots.

Um no.

Then I have a couple of pairs of heels, but I don’t have the appropriate interview attire to go with them, they were bought for dresses which I feel are too dressy for the interview.

And I have plenty of wedges and platforms.

But walking into an interview in 4 inch Mary Jane black suede platforms might be just a bit too much fabulous.

I figure I need to hop over to Macy’s downtown and grab a pair of D’Orsay flats from Nine West, they carry my size and they’re not super expensive, plus they’re cute and I can wear them with other outfits.

Then maybe I pop into Banana Republic and grab a nice pair of slacks or a long skirt, a simple button down and maybe a blazer jacket.

Nothing too fancy, but clean, simple, pulled together.

The site is in the Mission and it’s a Community Therapy model, so I don’t think any one is going to be over concerned with my outfit, but I know that it’s better to come in looking tidy then roll up in jeans and Converse.

Even if I end up doing the practicum hours in jeans and Converse, which is a likelihood, I will feel better being well suited for the first get together.

I’m going to get up, go to a 9 a.m. yoga class.

Shower.

Breakfast.

Coffee.

Scooter up to 7th and Irving, meet my person at Tart to Tart at 12:15p.m.

Then another lady at 1:15p.m.

Lunch.

Then a manicure and some lunch.

After lunch I’ll head downtown and do the shopping.

Hopefully it won’t take too long and then I’ll head to the NOPA do the deal and maybe if I’m feeling it, hang out and do some fellowship, grab dinner at Brenda’s if folks are going out.

Sunday will be yoga, taxes, homework, cooking for the week, reading, write a paper.

And if I get it all done I will be taking the suggestion to go see a movie.

I may not though.

And I’ll be ok with that.

I did promise myself that since I wasn’t going out tonight to my friend’s birthday gig I would try to get out tomorrow and connect with people.

Keep myself from isolating and be in the stream of life.

Because I suspect I’ll be starting practicum soon and I want to have some fun to balance out all the school stuff.

And though there is more work to do.

I am excited.

I am happy I got a response to my resume.

And.

I’m happy I got asked out to dinner.

Yes.

Yes I am.

Sashay

Ooh.

The good timing.

“Are you dressed up for Pride?” My friend asked as she stopped in front of the cafe on Church Street that I was hanging out at doing the deal with another lady before going to Our Lady of Safeway and doing that thing I do on Friday nights at that spot where they do those things.

Wink.

Wink.

Nudge.

Nudge.

I mean.

I always knew I would be a part of a “secret society” but not this one.

Ha.

Oh.

I love it.

“How come you know so many people?” One of my charges asked when we were walking around the Mission and I ran into a friend.

I get around kid.

And I digress.

Back to the original conversation.

“Nope.” I replied to the young woman, herself a portrait of fierceness, “I’m just dressed for me.”

And I was.

And I will continue to be.

Even when I wonder what the fuck people will think, then, I remember, oh yeah.

It’s none of my fucking business what people think of me.

Only what I think of me.

And I like the way I dress.

Twirl girl.

Oh my gosh.

I got two new dresses in the mail today.

I had a feeling they would arrive and I was super happy to see the box in the hallway when I got home tonight.

I ordered them thinking about New Orleans and wanting to have a couple of cute dresses to sashay around the French Quarter in.

Or just, you know, be dolled up in to sit around on the veranda at the HISTORIC MANSION I’m staying in.

I showed my person a photo of the Air BnB and she was like, “you have to take a bath in that tub! You just have to.”

Oh my God.

Yes, yes, I do.

In fact, I was thinking about doing a photo shoot in it.

I have a photo of myself from a few years back, must be six now, in Texas, at a wedding in a mansion in the Hill Country, outside of Austin.

I was wearing this navy blue retro vintage dress with small white polka dots and coral colored espadrille wedges.

I had short hair that was a little retro flip and I was wearing a white head band with a big flower in it.

I looked fabulous.

And skinny.

Fuck.

What was I doing?

Oh!

I must have just come off the AidsLifeCycle ride, yup, my calves look crazy.

Heh.

A good reason to do some bicycle training again.

Fuck.

I also look so young.

It was only six years ago.

Damn.

Time, it does fly.

So.

Maybe I’ll do another photo shoot with me in a dress in a bathtub in a mansion.

I mean.

Why not?

I’ll have to get someone to come back to the room with me and help me out with that though, not really able to do a full bodied selfie.

Not that I wouldn’t try.

Especially considering the two new dresses I got.

They are hella cute.

The first is not going to work for me right away.

The color does not quite work with my hair.

It will, the color just needs to soften a tiny bit.

Right now it has too many magenta pinks going on, it will fade off a little and be the perfect pastel pink in about a week I think.

Then the kelley green dress will look gorgeous with my hair.

Ooh.

I can’t wait.

Until then, though, the other dress works perfectly with my hair color right now and I believe with any and all colors I may do with my hair in the future.

It’s white, has a square cut bodice, A-line skirt, and a large cobalt blue rose pattern that is feminine and fabulous and all that.

Totally on point.

I tried it on and twirled and sashayed down my little hallway.

I threw on a black crinoline underneath.

Fuck.

Even more fabulous.

Added a black cardigan and it looks incredible.

Very cute.

Very sexy.

Very femme.

My curves look good and I didn’t have any sort of upset about that, that I have curves, that I’m not some skinny little thing.

I have been thinner, smaller, but not by much, but I don’t know that I have ever felt quite this relaxed and at ease in my body.

I love my body.

Nope.

It’s not perfect.

And thank God for that.

I would be boring.

I like my flair.

“Your hair looks even better in person,” he said to me tonight, “and the pink flower, you put flair in your hair.”

Yes.

Yes, honey I did.

Later tonight when my friend gave me a hug goodnight he whispered in my ear, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

Aw.

Thanks darling.

It was a nice thing to hear.

I was wearing one of my favorite Modcloth numbers, a swing dress with heart shaped pockets, a heart shaped bodice, and behind the neck halter tie top, my hair, the mountainous pink of it, up off my neck, curls falling all over the place, bright pink rose clip and a sequined star in there too, and I felt really good.

I love being glamourous.

I love wearing makeup and being fabulous.

Sometimes it takes me a minute to get there.

But get there I do.

And I love that I don’t do it for anyone else.

Just myself.

I’m not doing it for Pride, although, I am more than happy to be thought of in that way, I’m doing it for myself.

I’m not dressing for a man.

Although, should I attract one, I’m not going to be upset with that.

As the case may be, tonight I thought I would probably have a date, and it didn’t happen.

But considering I was on three this past week, really not too upset about that, and the weekend is young and I have time.

Especially since the podcast canceled.

And I have a fabulous new dress to wear out and about.

Sashay.

Work, turn to the left / Work, now turn to the right / Work, sashay, shante / Work, turn to the left…

Happy Pride family.

I love you no matter what day of the year it is.

I mean.

Seriously.

xoxoxo

Be Anais To My Henry

And ding!

Ding!

Ding!

We have a winner.

Best pick up line ever.

Yup.

Back on the dating tip again.

I was told, suggested, ha, when have I not taken her suggestions? To get back on the dating, “that was one date, try again,” she said and gave me a look.

Ok.

I also got some really specific things to write my next inventory on.

Gratefully I have only four, FOUR!

Four people on this inventory, and one concept.

I can’t believe that.

The concept blows me away.

She wants me to write about being unworthy.

“What I’m hearing is that you’re not worthy, I want you to go back and look back and really write about that, how and when that started, because you are worthy, and that false belief needs to get taken out and replaced with worthiness.”

Damn.

I have never heard it put like that.

I am excited, nervous, yes, what will happen when I believe I am worthy, how will my life change?

It will change for the better, that I know, so I will do what she suggests.

So.

I have started yoga, went again today, 6th time.

Really hard time today, had a hard time getting out of my head, felt stiff and the new mat I got was so slippery that I was sliding all over the place and falling on my ass, a lot, too much, found myself swearing “fuck this” and almost in tears more than once.

However.

I have a housemate and I asked her after class today, as she does yoga too, about her mat.

I showed her mine and she said, “oh, it’s because it’s a cheap mat, look, you want something like this,” and she showed me her mat.

Oh my god.

What a difference.

I went online immediately and googled non-slip mat and found a Gaiam mat and yes, it was expensive, but not too bad and I have committed to doing this practice, for my school class, for my person, for my self.

I might as well get a good mat that I won’t slip on, because if I had to continue the way that I did today I would quit, it was untenable.

However.

My housemate gave me the older one to use of hers that I was borrowing until I got my own, so I will retire the slick little mat I bought at the co-op and use the housemates until I get the new mat.

That will help.

I plan on going in again tomorrow.

And Wednesday.

Heh.

I’ll be on a tea and poetry date in the Outer Sunset.

Yes.

I did get back on Tinder and realized that one bad date was not going to throw me and even if I have more bad dates, which is more likely than anything, I’ll have had more experiences.

As I have stated before I get to get out there and do this, I get to learn, and like the yoga, I will fall on my face a bunch and make an ass out of myself and probably meet a few asses, but maybe, I’ll also meet someone impeccable and fun.

And tall.

Yes.

My Wednesday cafe date is 6’4″!

Mama’s bringing out the heels!

Although, I may not as we’re having a cafe date after I get out of work and doing the deal.

I may not be in heels wearing mood.

I’ll probably rock the tried and trued Converse.

Or maybe the new Fluevogs, they’ve got a sassy little heel, not too extreme for a first date.

I got time to let my wardrobe speak to me.

I wore the sweetest new gingham black and white check halter dress from Hell Bunny today.

I got the last of my dresses from my fitting at the Modcloth Brick and Mortar.

So happy that I did that for myself, it’s been so nice having sweet, cute, sexy, sassy clothes, I’ve really been enjoying the hell out of them.

I wore the dress with a little black cardigan today and pink glitter lipgloss and just felt all kinds of fancy.

I am also reflecting on fashion as it looks really good for that thing in the desert.

I got an amazing and awesome proposal from the family that wants me to playa nanny this year.

AMAZING.

I’m a little loath to share the details here, suffice to say I need to collect myself and e-mail my current employers and ask for the time off.

I have nerves about the request as it falls outside of my paid vacation time.

First and foremost I have to go to my school retreat.

It’s the second year retreat and it’s another full time week of classes out at the center in Petaluma we were at this past summer.

The dates are August 7th-14th.

That is what I am saving the rest of my vacation days for, I have to go to that, it’s part of my curriculum, there is no getting out of it and I love Burning Man.

LOVE IT.

But.

I have to prioritize the school stuff.

So that’s my first ask for time off.

The second request, the Burning Man request, is outside of my paid vacation, August 25th-September 6th, and though I’d be well compensated by the family I’d be working for on playa (thus negating any pay losses which I can’t, um afford, considering what the hell my tuition is, hello student loans), I’d really be honor bound to work with my current family.

That’s the job that pays the bills the rest of the year.

I think they will.

They did last year.

I just have to ask.

I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it tonight, but I will tomorrow.

I want them to have the information and I want to be transparent.

I respect them greatly and they have really taken care of me, the raise, the SFMTA Child Care Parking Permit for my scooter, cash when I work overtime.

I appreciate them and how they have been so business like with me too.

That being said, I deserve these things, I bust my ass and work hard and I do love, so much, my boys, they are just deliciousness all the time.

Well, not all the time, but you now what I mean.

That being said, I know they want me to be happy and Burning Man makes me happy.

I’m pretty sure it’s all going to work out.

And yay.

It’s been a good day.

I also started my period so I’m not so hormonally nuts, but you know, I’m alright with what happened, my emotions needed a vent and I got it.

Ah.

Life.

You are so good to me.

Tall cafe date, Burning Man, recovery, self-care, coffee, spicy sweet tea, flowers in my hair, yoga, sleep, graduate school, life.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Told you so!

I’m talking to myself here, yesterday and the day before, I wasn’t feeling it.

Funny how quickly things turn around when you let go.

Take suggestions.

Surrender.

And let the love find you.

Show up for it.

It is always there.

I promise.

 

 

 

Vacation!

It’s official.

I am off the next six days in a row.

I’m not freaking out.

Yet.

I have had a lot of loud, however, conversation in my head about the kind of exercise I should, would, or could be doing.

It is in fact driving me a bit bats.

But better to be obsessed with figuring out the best work out for my time and schedule than wondering about what I am going to do with all this time.

Just take it easy.

One day at a time and all that jazz.

I do have plans to meet with a ladybug tomorrow and do the deal and things of that nature are happening, but aside from that, my day is pretty wide open.

I have some pretty wide open days coming up, little things here and there, but lots of opportunity to do things and go places and hang out.

And.

Oh yes.

Sleep in.

I have gotten up at 6:30 a.m. or earlier for the last four days.

I am ready to not have an alarm go off.

I will be sleeping as long as I like.

I tell myself it will be a good long time, but it will be whenever my brain wakes up enough to rouse my body from its slumber.

I did take some actions around looking into things.

I went and talked to a woman at Laughing Lotus on 16th and Guerrero and got a schedule.

I also have done a lot of online trying to figure things out.

I have to say.

I am over trying to figure it out.

I got a great suggestion tonight from a fellow to surrender it and ask for direction and see what shows up.

I don’t have to know tonight.

And I can and have been driving myself a little nutty with it.

I have other things to do.

Homework is one of them, but I think I will at least let myself off the hook for that tomorrow and not worry about delving back into the homework right away.

I actually feel like giving myself the entire day off tomorrow to not think about any of it at all.

Just show up for my commitment and let whatever happens happen.

I am sure the day will show up.

It did today and I got to go into work and happily so, on my scooter.

I got my SFMTA Child Care Parking Permit and I am now allowed to park anywhere in the area of the permit for up to 72 hours without getting a ticket.

I can’t imagine leaving my scooter there overnight, but if something did happen, it would be ok for a few days.

And it means that I will be using my scooter to commute to work starting next week when I go back in.  I will want to have some sort of exercise routine in place, but I don’t have to have it right now.

Rather I can just enjoy looking at the day and the fact that I got to walk around a bit outside, have a nice lunch at Herbivore (I’m not a vegan, but I occasionally play one on tv, I actually just realized that everything I had today was vegan, huh) and in between taking care of things at work and meeting my friend for an iced coffee, I also got a manicure pedicure.

And a new vibrator.

Just saying.

I have some down time.

And.

Um.

Ha.

It works well.

Thumbs up.

Ha!

Anyway, I did pop in and out of a few other places, but nothing else caught my eye and truth be told, I haven’t felt too compelled to buy anything.  I will probably still take some time and do some clothes shopping, but nothing on Valencia Street was doing it for me and I was still sorted of at work, so I didn’t really take time to do a lot of looking.

It was better to hang out with my friend and catch up than worry about new clothes or what yoga studio I should check out.

My friend also mentioned ODC and she’s the third or fourth person to recommend it, so that is a place to investigate too.

I keep trying to get back to that and I really just want to let it lie right now, I am not about to go put on my yoga pants and grab a mat and…

Um.

Hahahaha.

Fuck me.

I am in yoga pants.

I put them on after I tried on a new dress I ordered on Modcloth.

I think I need to stop ordering on Modcloth.

I think I need to go down to the fit shop instead.

The dress is cute and it was one of the things I allowed myself to get when I got my tax return, I’d actually forgotten I had ordered it.

However, although it’s a perfect fit, the bodice is bizarre.

It makes my chest look really strange.

I mean.

It is NOT flattering.

Which is a bummer since it perfectly matches my new John Fluevog shoes!

OMG.

They came today and I picked them up from the shop in the Haight.

I am so wearing them tomorrow.

They are magical.

Maybe I should get dressed up and go to the museum and have a little artist date.

Stop thinking and get into some art.

Put on my fancy new shoes and scooter over to the DeYoung.

That would be fun.

I could have lunch at the cafe or I could go to Park Chow.

Oh yum.

Then, who knows.

I am meeting my ladybug at the Church Street Cafe at 6:15p.m.

That’s the earliest I have to be anywhere.

I can really sleep in.

Heh.

Again, I doubt it will be a long slumber, but it will not be getting up at 6:30 a.m.

No, nope, not at all.

Ah.

Perhaps a nice leisurely breakfast, some writing, a walk on the beach, it’s supposed to be nice tomorrow then rain for a few days, so it could be the right time to do the beach for sure.

Life is good.

I don’t have to know anything.

Be anything.

Or go anywhere.

I am exactly perfect.

Right here.

Right now.

And Then

It all just came together.

I am uncertain how, but just like that.

I have a little birthday party happening with friends.

Nothing big, just a small group of us going to Chow on Church and Market after a little getting right with God sesh at Our Lady of Safeway.

I haven’t been to Chow in a long time and it felt like just the coziest place to be with some friends that are super hard to wrangle and then poof.

It all sort of fell into place.

Just like my outfit for the ballet in Paris.

Which is not at all what I thought I would be wearing.

Not at all.

The dress I ordered finally showed up, and again, the wrong size!

Ugh.

Seriously.

I have to return it yet again.

I was not happy and I will have to return it now for the third time.

Actually, this particular dress I am returning for the second time, but it’s the third go around with ModCloth.

The first dress was a horrible pattern, the screen color was no where near the actual dress and I rarely think about when a dress pattern or color clashes with my tattoos, because it so rarely happens.

But wow.

When it does.

It really does.

And the original dress was an awful clash.

So.

Returned for a different dress, this all in black.

And the first size, too small.

Returned.

And this size too small again.

Damn it man.

The instructions said size up, but two sizes up?

Ugh.

It’s not that I can’t get into the dress, it’s just that my rib cage, nothing else, is too big.

If I had the time I would take it out.

But I don’t, I leave for Paris in four days!

Four.

Holy crow.

After struggling in and out the dress I resigned myself to the fact, that I am just going to have to return it again and hope for a better fit.

I may just have to go with a different style, because I run the risk of the dress not fitting correctly if I size up further.

It fits everywhere else perfectly so if I size up it will probably fit in the ribcage but not elsewhere, it will be too baggy.

So.

Another dress return.

Oh well.

I was flustered when I left the house, thinking I may have to do some last minute dress shopping to get my outfit together.

I am dressing up, damn it, for the ballet, I just am.

I mean have you seen my new shoes?

But I had places to go tonight that were more important than my outfit and commitments to cover as well as a few groceries to buy for the rest of the week.

I came back to the house elated to have actually confirmed a dinner party with four, possibly five of my friends on Friday, this Friday, in the middle of holiday party season, for a birthday dinner.

Then I thought.

Well.

Shoot.

What am I going to wear?

Not that I have to get dressed up, but it might be fun.

The other consideration is that I will be nannying all day and so what ever I choose to wear will have some wear and tear on it.

I manage my clothes fairly well, but I do work with little boys, the dirt, it does happen.

So.

I was looking in my closet and then.

Oh.

Hey.

What if I do that and this and that and this.

And voi-fucking-la!

I have my outfit for the ballet.

Halter dress in black with white polka dots with white crinoline underneath and my Helmut Lang black cashmere sweater over the top, black tights, the new Fluevog’s in “Dots” and my hair up in a bun.

Perfect.

Chic.

Eclectic.

Retro pinup girl with class.

I tried on my new coat, the swing coat I got at Tatyana’s to match my shoes.

And.

Fuck me.

Swoon.

It’s a great freaking outfit.

I was so happy.

I will NOT be wearing it to work on Friday for my birthday.

I will wear something fun and sassy.

But this look.

Oh.

I’m saving it for the ballet.

I don’t know how I’m going to stuff my crinoline in my carry on to Paris, but that bitch is coming with.

Over the top.

I have my outfit.

And I have my birthday party with some of my nearest and dearest.

It’s such a pleasant surprise.

I really hadn’t much planned.

And when it all fell together I was so pleased.

I am so pleased.

And I’m doing pretty much exactly what I want to do on a Friday night in San Francisco, do the deal, and hang out with my favorite people in the city over a bite to eat in a cozy restaurant.

Some of whom aren’t in the city proper and I feel super grateful that they are going to come in from Berkeley and Castro Valley.

Drop on by if you like, always room for another smiling face at the table.

And like that.

It’s Wednesday.

I’m halfway through the week.

I have birthday plans.

I have a mighty fine ballet outfit.

I have my Therapeutic Communications paper three quarters done!

I have been working on it everyday before work.

I should actually have it completed either tomorrow or possibly I will be wrapping it up Friday morning before I go into work.

Work, some doing the deal, some fellowship.

Saturday, I’ll meet with my person, get my nails done and my eyebrows waxed, pack, and if I can manage to not break my brain, I’m going to write my Psychoanalytic paper Saturday as well.

Now that I don’t have to worry about buying another dress at the last minute, I’ve got plenty of time to kick it out of the way.

Then I’ll be free and clear for take off to Paris.

The cafes call, the museums beckon, there’s a steak tartar or three that have my name on them, I suspect there’s some oysters in my future, a trip to Sacre Coeur, possibly for Christmas Eve Mass, walking the streets with my girlfriend from school, buying notebooks and postcards, walking everywhere.

What a lovely holiday season this is.

I really am.

The luckiest girl in the world.

New Dress

Finally.

I returned a dress weeks ago and finally just got the access to the return on Modcloth.

I have been itching to get a new frock, but what with the scooter purchase and the unexpected, “hey let’s go to Paris for Christmas!” I have been loath to lay out any money for a new dress.

I want a new dress.

For Paris.

For my birthday.

Because it’s Monday.

Because maybe I want to wear it somewhere.

Not that I have a date or plans, but you never know.

I am still debating popping into the ARTumnal event on the 21st.

We shall see.

If so, then this is definitely the dress for it.

Or just to have a dress.

It’s nice to have something coming in the mail.

I won’t be spending anything else this month on clothes.

I am trying to keep it all to a dull roar.

Technically I could drop up to $200 on clothes this month, that’s what I put into my spending plan, but that was before Christmas in Paris and frankly, well, I would rather buy things in Paris than buy new clothes here.

Notebooks.

I am getting myself a gang of Clarefontaine notebooks.  I see the occasionally here in the city, Flax will carry them, but they don’t tend to carry the collections or the special issued ones.  I suppose I could just order them online, but there is something special about buying notebooks in Paris.

I will definitely be purchasing a special notebook for the trip, me and my glue stick are ready.

“Whenever you go on a trip, grab a glue stick and paste in things to a little notebook, so you can see everything you did while you were there,” a very good friend of mine, who travels a lot, told me this years ago and I do exactly that.

Where ever I am, Paris, Burning Man, London, Rome, New York, I stick and paste little things from my travels in that notebook.

I discovered, in my great hunt for my passport, so many of my notebooks from Paris.

I was a gog at all the places i went, all the little tickets and postcards and strip photos from photo booths in Metro stations, with ribbons and match book covers, with the Metro tickets and airplane boarding passes, the reciepts from museums and the ocassional business card or note from someone I had met.

I was able to remember so much just by flipping through the journals.

So.

Yes.

Notebooks.

And stickers.

Yeah.

Whatever.

I like stickers and I always try to get some from where I travel to.

The museum stores normally have some fantastic ones that you just don’t see anywhere else.

My trip in 2007 I got some phenomenal stickers from the Pompidou, I was just astounded at the whimsy and artistry of them and I never saw them anywhere else again.

But they are in my notebook.

I want as well, a market bag.

I lost my Merle Moqueur tote bag, I think in a Uber one day coming home from school being totally exhausted and stupid I think I left it in the front seat, so I need to replace that.

I would love to go to that bookstore, it’s a great one and definitely my favorite in the city.

Even though all the kids go to Shakespeare and Company, which has its appeal, but it’s a definite tourist stop and Le Merle Moqueur was just a neighborhood bookstore with a great selection of books and paper goods and I got two strands of paper cut outs there that I still have hanging in my house–one of the Eiffel Tower and paper hearts in yellow and orange by my chaise lounge and the other of pale green birds hanging in my bathroom.

I may get another set of paper cut outs.

They are sweet and not a lot of money to buy.

I also will get a hat.

It’s Paris.

You have to get a hat in Paris.

Well.

I have to get a hat in Paris.

I always get great compliments on the cabbie hat I got in the city my visit in 2007.

I still have it and whenever I wear it I do feel just a kiss of Paris.

The last time I wore it to school my friend who gave me a ride said, “nice hat!  You look very French today.”

“I bought it in Paris,” I replied with a smile and adjusted the brim.

“Of course you did.”

I chuckle.

Oh!

I want some tea.

Definitely.

Tea.

From Mariage Freres.

The Earl Grey.

So yummy.

I remember the first time I had it, visiting my person up in Pacific Heights and she was someone who travelled frequently to Paris, being in fashion, how could she not, and she made me a cup and it was divine.

Just a kiss of milk and heaven in a cup.

Yeah, I take a tin home with me for sure.

Perhaps some perfume from duty-free on the way back out, another bottle of Chanel Egoiste.

I still have some from the Chanel Boutique down on Maiden Lane, but it will be gone soon enough and it’s always nice to have a bottle I bought in Paris, in the airport as the size of bottle I want won’t go through security.

Postcards are on the list.

I will send myself one.

I will send many to friends and family.

It’s what I do.

I love snail mail.

There’s something so lovely and deliberate about sitting down and writing a little note and thinking about the person I am writing to, then the placing of the stamp, sealed with a kiss, the dropping it in the post and letting her go.

The time it takes for mail to get from France to here will be longer than the time I am in Paris, so sending myself a postcard is like a lovely little reminder of the adventures I had while away.

Perhaps a small poster from the booksellers along the Seine.

I pair of earrings.

That is always something I do.

I still have the pair I bought at a brocante (flea market) at Square D’Anvers one of the last weekends I was in Paris.

I always think of walking around that market and the sunshine, it was a warm April day, last weekend in April and it was almost hot and the cafes were overflowing and the music of French being spoken all around me, soon.

Soon.

I will be there again.

I am looking forward to it.

And I will be well dressed for it!

And Like That

We went “official” this weekend.

That is we changed relationship status on facecrack to “in a relationship”.

Nothing like changing my single status to in a relationship to stir up the social webs.

It doesn’t feel much different then before I was “single” and dating my guy.

Just a little more out there.

Not that we have been hiding it from anyone, all my close friends pretty much know, oh, I suppose, there are a few folks out there whom I have not talked to, although not for lack of trying.

But its a busy time of year.

Holidays have taken hold.

The Thanksgiving turkey has been picked apart and eaten and the Christmas tree lots are in full swing and so too is my debit card.

I have a holiday party to attend with my guy next Saturday and I tried on my dress tonight from ModCloth, it’s quite retro/vintage, definitely for a gal with some curves, and I have a few.

It reminds me a little of Mad Men and I like that kind of vibe.

I am pairing it with cream fishnet stockings and pumps.

I was going to wear it with cream wedge heels that I have from Seychelles, but the look was just not quite right.

It went from looking retro glam to sort of retro hooker glam.

I don’t want to look hooker for the holiday party.

I tried looking at the shoes from every angle and they just didn’t work, so hopped onto Zappos and bingo!

An adorable pair of cream mary jane pumps with a sweet low wood heel.

Vintage, va va voom, and not too sexy.

Just sexy enough.

Hell, I tend toward sexy without really trying and I am aware of it and sometimes I have to tone it down.

Not today, though, I brought out the leopard print leggings and the brown lace tank top and tight black hoodie, I was with my guy and I loved that.

I like walking hand in hand and well, er, gah, I wasn’t going to write about the boyfriend, so never mind.

Suffice to say that does not mean that I will spend the entire time blogging tonight about clothes and shoes; although it is tempting since I still need to find a wrap for the dress and perhaps a little bag to carry too.

I am really enjoying being in the relationship, let me say that.

And we spent the entire weekend together.

It has been some time since I have spent Thanksgiving weekend with another person.

It was lovely.

I got to see lots of friends and there was much sleeping in, late breakfasts, coffee, staying up late, road trips, small and big, on the back of the Harley Sportster.

Yesterday afternoon we took it up the coast, crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge, heading past Sausalito, threading down the highway in between the slower moving tourist traffic that was turning to view the city by the Bay, to the quick fast overpass and down into Sausalito and then left toward Tamalpais and then Shoreline Highway toward Muir Beach, and onto Highway One and Stinson Beach

Curving up and over the canyons and hills, the green trees, the smell of Eucalyptus, the wet, damp earth–it was wetter than anticipated and the rich earth smell beguiled me along as I held tight onto the man in front of me.

Often I was closing my eyes.

I just smelled the smells, the green, the brown, then the smoke of a wood fire burning.

I inhaled deeply and was happy.

I thought of all the times I had climbed through these self-same hills and canyons on my way to Stinson Beach or Muir and smiled with satisfaction to be adding another layer of memory onto the trip, the journey.

Sometimes I double back on the path, as though I have to do it again properly and lay down another trail of memory to expand my love of a place and also my love for myself and the joy of living, just knowing that I am alive and riding along having yet another new experience.

I have never ridden to Muir Beach or Stinson on a motorcycle.

Or to Olema either.

That is where the afternoon ride ended.

Stopping a roadside cafe for hot lunch and coffee.

I updated my status on facebook.

I uploaded the photograph of us smiling from Stinson Beach and I sat back and felt the feelings.

On one hand it took something delicious and private to open air.

And I felt a ping of sorrow for letting the cat out of the bag.

On the other hand.

It felt gleeful and giddy and right.

Here we go.

It’s official.

We are a couple.

Yowza.

And there is so much I am learning about this person and about how to be intimate.

Yet.

There’s even more I am learning about myself and frankly, that is astounding.

One embarrassing thing, a defect I suppose, a character trait that used to work for me but doesn’t any longer, although I default to it all the time, I have to admit to is that I don’t give a straight answer.

Yes or no.

Simple right?

Are you hungry?

Yes.

Or.

No.

Not let me tell you a story about how I had a late breakfast and I probably won’t need anything until later, but if you….

Oh.

My.

God.

I am that fucking person.

Do you want a bottle of water?

I have an apple in my bag.

What the fuck?

I am mortified when this stuff comes out of my mouth.

Yes, please.

Or no, thank you.

Oof.

I am learning how to do this relationship thing and it is a challenge.

But a sweet, tender, revealing challenge.

And despite not wanting to voice my needs or wants or desires, of not wanting to ask for myself, I find that I am finding my voice.

Creakily.

Slowly.

But it is there.

I am not lost in the relationship, but oh, it is cozy to curl up in the blankets, listen to the rain, the jazz, and snuggle into his arms.

Yet I did burrow out and set about my day.

I cooked.

I cleaned.

I made my bed and said my prayers.

I took my shower and did some writing and met with a lady and had some coffee.

But when I went grocery shopping, it was not on my bike, it was in his car and he was there to hold my hand, to open the car door, to carry my groceries for me.

It’s a nice balance I am finding.

Just like finding the right pair of shoes to match my pretty new dress.

Challenging.

But not impossible.