First Payment!

And I made it a double.

Just because.

I just did my first payment on my car loan for my new car.

There was some confusion regarding what I needed to do and I was a bit perturbed today that I had to make a lot of time to email back and forth with the sales person at the dealership to figure out what to do.

For some reason, and I don’t believe it’s because they wanted me to have a free car, I was never sent the bank information regarding my car loan repayment.

I knew from reading over the paperwork that my first payment was due tomorrow, 1/4/18.

I sent the dealership a message on 12/3/17 to make sure that I was ready to go and it being the holidays and all, which is why I’m assuming things slipped through the cracks, that I should have it set up before the new year.

I was assured the paperwork was being sent out to me, but I never received anything and right around New Year’s Eve I realized that hmm, I still haven’t gotten my loan paperwork.

Three e-mails later and it’s now the 3rd and the payment’s due tomorrow and what the fuck?

I was getting snippy and I ended up taking a big deep breath at work and resending an e-mail apologizing for being short, saying that I felt a little dropped and was concerned that I was not going to get the information needed to pay the loan payment and I had to laugh at myself, really laugh.

Because.

There was a time when this would have not been a concern, not a worry, not a blip on my radar.

A. I would never have bought a new car, I would have been doing too much blow to be able to afford a new car.

B. If I had somehow finagled a new car, it would be their fault that I didn’t pay the payment on time and I would have played the victim card.

Nope.

Instead.

I just made my last e-mail a simple one of, hey, forgive my shortness in my prior e-mail, I’m concerned and want to make sure the payment is made, please advise.

And.

That worked.

The salesperson apparently, which of course, makes total sense, has nothing to do with the loan company and it was the dealership itself that dropped the ball getting me the paperwork.

Which is odd, as I did get my plates and registration.

And so she, my salesperson, found out where the loan was being held and got a hold of the number for the bank and forwarded that on to me and as of a few minutes ago I made my first payment.

It felt very nice.

I made a double payment and I am going to try to do that as often as possible.

I want to always pay more on the loan than I need to.

I would love to pay it off faster than the financing on it.

Less interest and I just like taking care of my bills in a timely manner.

I could have actually put a little bit more on it, but I also have been advised to have a year’s worth of payments in my prudent reserve, so I have that and if anything should happen, I’m ok.

I’m not too worried though.

I just got a nice raise at work, 5% thank you very much.

And I should get a good tax return.

Plus.

I won’t have to start paying back my student loans if I transition right into the PhD program at school.

I’ll take the summer off from school, but as it’s just three months, I won’t have to start payments on my loans for school.

If I took off more than six months I would.

So it’s important for me to apply for this fall to get into the PhD program.

I want to anyway, I want to keep my momentum going, I want to be in the habit of school and classes and keeping one foot steady in front of the other.

I see a lot of folks take time off from school and it just gets drawn out further and further.

I prefer to get it all in now, line up my ducks, knock ’em down, getter done.

I’d like to pay off my car by the time I get my PhD.

I think that’s entirely possible.

Paying off the car within three years.

At the rate I’m supposed to pay it off it would be done in 2023.

But if I make double payments, well, that’s half the time and it would put me around 2020, same time I’d be graduating with my PhD.

It will helpful as well to have the car loan paid off before I have to start paying off the student loans.

Anyway.

Numbers and money and time.

I’m just really grateful I didn’t have to ride my scooter in the rain today.

I’m super grateful I got to listen to music going to work and coming home.

I’m über grateful that I found good parking in my neighborhood.

And very, very, very happy I made my first payment a double payment and that I got it in on time and I was nice to the salesperson.

Patience, tolerance, kindliness, and love.

That’s what I want this year to be about.

Oh, yes.

It’s definitely.

All.

About.

The.

Love.

Not My Day Today

But not altogether not, not my day.

If that makes sense.

It was a long day and I realize that it’s also been an emotional thing, going back to work, showing up, being present for the boys, and they are such lovely boys, that and the pain that accompanies me while at work.

And the fact that the little guy is teething.

Hard.

Really hard.

Worst teething reaction I have experienced with a charge, worst.

Poor baby is cutting molars that look like gigantic Lego pieces in his gum line.

He can’t sleep.

He doesn’t want to eat much.

He’s fractious because he can’t sleep, the pain of the teething wakes him up.

I can only give him so much Tylenol or risk him getting ill from that.

So, I wore the fuzzy pink sweater and he spent a lot of time nuzzled into that today.

My other little guy was awesome and sweet and a good little egg and helped by playing with his toys and not demanding a lot of extra attention.

It was loud and noisy at the house too as the construction continues and the door opens and shuts and the workers come and go and I am just out of my element with the whole thing.

So yeah, when I asked for a raise for working the Burning Man event this year and it did not go over so well, I felt like the last nail in the coffin of my week was hammered home.

I won’t get what I asked for but I will get a raise.

I have to.

My cost of living is just higher than it’s ever been before and not having asked for a raise ever needs to change.

Of course I am all invested in the outcome.

Of course I have already figured out I can do the event without getting a raise, should it come to that, I can eke it out for the month of September.  But why?  Work really hard, harder than I do now, and make less.

Yeah.

I know, I am at Burning Man, yay.

But the fact is I am tied to my job and I like working hard and so there’s that, and I know that there are a lot of privileges I receive from working the even the way I have, I am not inured to those things, nope.

But its work.

Hard work.

Long hours.

Hot days.

Dirty work.

Rewarding work.

But emotionally, physically, spiritually exhausting.

Sometimes I wonder if I go through with it all so that I get to have the classic playa meltdown and thereafter allow myself to indulge in some spiritual intoxication when it is all resolved.

If, perhaps, I am getting high off the anxiety and the stress of doing my job so that I can get an adrenalin fix through the drama of it.

What ever it is I have to trust that a. I will go to Burning Man and b. I will get paid what I need to make it by.

I love being a nanny at Burning Man.

There is something special and unique in the service that I give by going out there and taking care of a child.  I get some ego hits off that too, I am aware of it, I like being special and unique.

I do.

I love being Mary Fucking Poppins.

I love the look on people’s faces when I tell them what I do while I am there.

I love that I am good at what I do.

I take pride in it.

I hate, however, asking for what I need.

It is hard and I already have this idea that I am privileged by getting the experience that I get to have, staying where I stay, seeing the people I see, having a sort of all access pass to the back stage working of one of the greatest, if not the greatest show, on earth.

But this lady has to pay the rent too.

So.

Yeah.

It didn’t quite go as I wanted, but I know what I am worth, so I asked.

I thought I wasn’t attached to the results, and it turns out, shocker, that I am.

That’s ok too.

Burning Man is about art and creation and lest we all forget, hoping and wishing that the playa will provide, it is also about radical self-reliance.

I find that has to stretch past the event into my daily life, I have to be fully self-supporting to the best of my abilities, I have to take care of the home fires while sitting around the fires at the event.

I think I am now off into rambling land with this blog.

But I know I have some inventory to write, some patterns to change, some letting go of defects, and a whole lot of acceptance to work through.

Yippee.

Pause for a moment, must flip the bag of peas on my ankle.

Yup.

Still needing to rest, ice, compress, and elevate the ankle.

And this to shall pass.

Everything is alright.

I just had a day.

They happen.

I have made it half way through the week, two more days to go.

It’s all going to be just fine.

I know it.

Grateful for inventory and other people’s perspective and that I still get to learn something about myself and what an awesome way to learn.

I get to go to the best classroom on Earth.

Black Rock City.

I’ll be seeing you in the dust soon.

With or without a pay raise.

But definitely in with some glitter.

I Am Not A Coward

I said to myself this morning as I once again was having a conversation about justifying my needs, my rates, my time and the compensation of said worth.

Oh for fuck, sake, I thought, just do it.

Just have the uncomfortable conversation so I can stop listening to the melee in my head.

And I did.

And I got the raise.

At least from mom number one.

She was so sweet.

So endearing.

And insisted that I actually start today with the wage increase.

Instead of waiting until December 1st like I had offered.

We also agreed to salary my position with her and how I really love her and her boy.

Do I.

I love both my boys.

Adore.

I usually fall for the kids, hazard of the job you could say, or I could say it is one of the perks of the job.

I don’t have a lot of bosses that I fall head over heels for, constantly snap photographs of and sing funny songs to.

I suspect that not a lot of my bosses would have been amused by that kind of behavior.

It was such a relief.

My head was quiet all day.

I mean fucking silent.

It just had nothing to chew on.

Thank God.

It did wind up a little bit on the way home, I knew I was going to have to bite the bullet and send an e-mail to the other mom who is out-of-town.

Not my preference, but it had to be done.

I just did that.

I have practiced it all week.

I cut and paste my revised twice e-mail that I had sent off to get approval elsewhere, added in a hope your time out-of-town is going well, love to the baby, and please let me know when you can.

I suspect her answer will be the same.

Then I can stop asking for rate changes as I will be current with market rate.

“I need  a goddamn team of people to support me,” I told my dear friend over soup at Sunflower Sunday night, “it takes a village is no fucking joke.”

I have talked with more than one friend who has advocated again and again and again that I raise my rates.

It only took a few months and some really uncomfortable work to get here, but get here I did.

And now I can stop.

Sigh.

Relief.

For the next day, then I need to tell my solo day family that my rates are going up too.  I am offering them the same explanation, keeping it simple, to the point, and hopefully without tears.

I doubt, actually that I will tear up, I am not as emotionally connected to their child, though I think she is an utter peach, plus I have only just gotten to know the family.

The mom I spoke with today has known me for over six years.

She was in the office at the Burning Man HQ when I started nannying there.

First temporarily, once a week for a board meeting, then for the retreat, then for the holiday party then for Juni and Reno, who good lord are both six.

Six.

I met her when she was six weeks.

Now she is six years.

Amazing.

How much I have grown in that time.

I remember her papa once looking at me and saying, “girl, you got to ask for what you need,” when I finally broke down and asked the family for a cost of living increase that I had needed for months but couldn’t bring myself to do.

I see a pattern.

Anyhow.

I am grateful to all the friends who have been in my corner saying all those positive things, I actually do believe them, but old habits, self-effacing ones especially, die-hard.

I am still nervous to hear back from the other mom, but I took the action, let go of the results and did the best I can do.

That’s really all I can do.

That and sit and write.

And do some stretches.

I received my e-mail from the Physical Therapy department at Kaiser, lot’s of stretching, lots of water, continue the ibuprofen, rest, hot and cold, and get a yoga roller.

Ok then.

It was also suggested that I need to get ergonomic with my desk.

Who told that it hurts to type?

Oh.

I did.

Sheesh.

The blog is the last thing I want to give up.

The mom showed me her set up in her private office.

As it turns out, she has a similar issue, which is why there are tennis balls scattered around the house–she uses them to work out muscle soreness.

I had never heard of this before, and it was recommended to me by the PT doc too, use a tennis ball and roll it over the sore spot.

I dug into it today at work while the baby was napping.

Lots of stretches, lots of rolling the ball around my shoulder, more stretching.

And yes, Virginia, I will get myself an ergonomic set up for my computer.

Along with some rain gear.

Wow.

That was a long, cold, wet ride home tonight.

It wasn’t bad to begin, the November rains began today, and despite holding me hostage in the house, fell soft, gentle, with a noise of hushing reassurance, and the entire world smelt fresh and dewy.

However, after an hour detour this evening at 7th and Irving, I came out into the night to find it down pouring.

Ah, damn.

I was soaked by the time I had gone five blocks.

Slow as slow could be.

All bike lights on, collapsible rear fender pulled out of my bag strapped onto the frame, and hood up on my sweatshirt.

I made it back, stripped down immediately, threw my clothes in the laundry and climbed into a hot, hot, hot shower.

Oooh.

The goodness that is a hot shower, especially after that kind of ride.

And a night-time shower, I don’t know why exactly, but it feels some how decadent.

I suppose because I am not in a rush to get out the door like I am in the morning, I can savor it.

Boy did I ever.

Tomorrow.

Rain gear.

I can afford it.

I got the raise!

Saying Yes to Something New

That would be passing on the tip-off that I got about an apartment in the Inner Richmond for $700 a month with a $500 deposit.

I don’t want to have a room-mate.

I want to have my own space.

I pondered the message I had gotten from my best friend back in Wisconsin, I looked over the photographs of the place, and I read the description.

Nothing said, “hey, that’s the place for me.”

In fact, I thought, no, I really do want to live out by the ocean.

I want to be able to walk to the beach.

I want to get sand between my toes and smell the thick fogged breath of sea salt and wood smoke and fish and rot and brine and I want to hear the waves bounding on the shore, pounding the heart beat of the moon into my dreams when I open the back door to my studio.

I want to live out in the Sunset.

I made the decision without much thought to pass on the information about the apartment to a dear friend that I know has been struggling to find a place in the city for the rent he can afford.

Part of me wants to compromise what I want, wants to take the cheaper space, and you know if it does come up that something better is out there for me, I will know, but it won’t be because of a price tag, or a belief that I cannot afford better.

It will be because it is a better fit.

I still find myself thrashing around with the idea of paying $1200 plus utilities for a studio, but really, in the San Francisco market, that’s actually a good price.

Despite the location.

It used to be that I would joke about having to charter a plane to get out to the Sunset when I lived in the Mission.

But having lived now for a few months, real months, months where I have been actively commuting in and around Oakland and not just from Graceland to the BART straight to SF, I see the Sunset as a relaxing, easy, mellow commute.

I want to continue to make these kinds of decisions, saying yes to things that scare me a little, or a lot, walking through the fear of not having enough and embracing the abundance the Universe really wants for me.

I have this desire tonight to write something pretty and poetic, full of whimsy and poesy and beauty.  I wanted to sit down and write something aching and yearning and tender.

Ain’t got it.

There is sometimes a feeling I get when I am at a turning point in my life where I either sink back into the romantic notions and fears, really it turns out that most of my fantasy life is built on fear, and I will get all woo woo and play old music and dance around and be full of angst.

But I am not feeling that.

I am feeling rather empowered, who knows why and I won’t question it, and it may change by the time I finish this post, but I do know that tricking myself into some sort of romantic delusion thinking is not the answer.

Which is where I was going with my let me live be the beach and be a mermaid.

No, I want to live by the beach and get dirty and smell like the sea and run through the fog and breathe it all in.

Six weeks from this Friday I leave for Burning Man.

Then when I get back, the first week of September, I will move into my studio.

A place barren of objects, clean, new, and ready for a new chapter of my life.

A vessel.

A crucible.

A place to hang my photographs and paintings.

A place to put a plant or two.

Yup, I am ready for it.

It’s just a room, but it will be my room, and I shall be autonomous and though my land lord will be living in the house upstairs, I don’t mind, she’s one of my good friends.

I am surprised I still have words left to say, my brain is a bit blown by the three babies I took care of today.

But it was an easier day than I had first thought it would be.

This morning when I was writing my three pages I called it “Baby Armageddon” but it turned out to be a day that surprised me with its easiness.

Not that is was easy per se, but it was not as untenable as I have had it be in the past.

Getting into a routine and really getting to know the babies has helped.

Now I have to gird the loins for when I ask for the raise.

Which is what is going to happen.

I realize, partially through being honest with myself, and partially through knowing the market, and also because I have not raised my rates in 5 years, that I am being underpaid.

I should be making more.

And when I move to San Francisco my cost of living is going to go way up.

I am not sure when to broach the subject, but I feel that I do need to.

Especially since I am attached to the little girl now and rapidly becoming enamoured with the two boys.

It weighs on my mind and I know I need to do it.

None of the families is going to give me a raise without me asking, although I did get a really cute Hello Kitty notebook from one of the moms today, tickled me pink it did.

Ah, well, I won’t be asking for a raise tomorrow, but it is on my mind.

It will need to be broached and August is probably the time to do it, that will put me at 90 days into the job and it will give the families time to think it over before Burning Man.

And should they say no, well, I have a great skill set, I don’t think I’ll have a problem finding better paying work.

I know that I will be taken care of no matter what.

I always have been.