Posts Tagged ‘platform heels’

That Was Fun

January 1, 2017

In fact.

That might be the most fun I have had on New Years Eve in years.

Last year.

Not so much.

Sadder than sad sitting next to a man I was desperately in love with who could not reciprocate and it was like being skinned alive to be so close and yet so horribly far apart.

The effort we put into not touching each other was extraordinary.

The New Years prior.

I got into a fight with my boyfriend and we broke up shortly thereafter.

The New Year prior to that I was working in Paris and horribly sad to be working, but also happy to be making money.

But.

The Metro got shut down and I ended up walking miles in the rain lost trying to get home to my place in the 9th and tailed by an overly friendly man person who took a liking to me as I was cutting through Place de Clichy trying to navigate my way backwards from the Metro stop that I was supposed to be getting off at before it got shut down.

This year.

Single and happy and carefree and not burdened by needing to work on New Year’s Eve, and I have worked more than my fair share of them, I have, I have.

I got up and went to yoga.

I did laundry.

I had a hot shower and though I wanted, very much to keep my beautiful blown out hair, I had to shower, I had worked up a good sweat in yoga, and so, bye-bye blow out.

Hello curls.

And it’s pretty with the curls, so no complaints.

Some writing this morning and while I was doing the writing I got a message from a friend in the neighborhood who wanted to know if I was going to a party a mutual friend of ours was throwing in the Mission.

I said I was and he said, want a ride?

Hell yes.

I was already nervous about riding my scooter on New Year’s Eve, I had some funky experiences yesterday and I was thinking that I might just end up taking MUNI to get to the party and a car back to the house, so when I got the ride offer, I was all over it.

And the feeling to stay off my scooter really stuck with me.

I wanted to go to the Inner Sunset and hit my nail place and I decided to just take the train.

I read a book on the train.

I chilled.

I didn’t have to worry about distracted drivers or people rushing from one place to another to get that last-minute thing done before the city became crazy.

I just relaxed.

I got to my nail place right before the rush and not that it would have mattered, I’m a regular, I’m nice, I tip 20% and they always fit me in, but there was a huge rush after I had gotten in and I was happy I did when I did.

I flipped through magazines and enjoyed the massage chair.

Then some carnitas for a late lunch.

And.

A train ride home.

I did some grocery shopping at the co-op, Other Avenues, in my neighborhood and made a little food up for tomorrow.

I also made myself a great big double latte.

I knew tonight would be a late night for me and that I would want to do this regardless of what time I got home.

It’s my way to unwind, empty out my head, let go of the day, release and relax.

And it’s habit.

It doesn’t feel right to not write my blog.

She’s a habit I can’t quite kick.

Not that I want to.

Anyway.

I did some food prep, touched up my make up, ate some dinner, read a little bit of the new Don DeLillo book I picked up last week at Green Apple Books and waited for the call from my friend.

He picked me up at 7p.m.

And we got more coffee.

I was zooming.

But.

I have to say, it’s sort of fun to once in a while get a little geared up on coffee.

We got over to the Mission, did the deal with some friends and then.

Yes.

Dancing.

And lots of it.

I danced pretty solid for three hours.

I saw friends I haven’t seen in literally years.

I had girl friends ask me to get a hold of them the next time I went dancing.

I hugged loads of people.

Hell.

I even had a guy ask me for my phone number.

I was not expecting that.

Although.

I did look cute tonight.

If just a tiny bit on the goth side.

I was wearing a little black dress, an off the shoulder shift with black leggings and black platform heels.

That along with the newly dark hair and a smoky eye.

Well.

I did look a little on the goth princess side of town.

And my mani/pedi was super dark navy blue with glitter.

Which looks black with glitter.

My skin tone doesn’t actually look good with solid black nails, my hands look dead, but if I go dark navy or dark purple, it looks black to the glance, but much kinder to my skin tone.

Anyway.

I was a little dark.

But.

It was fun to sport some heels and twirl about in my dress.

Although.

I was also a smart girl, because I do like to dance and there’s only so long I was going to make it in the heels on the dance floor.

I whipped off the heels and popped on my Converse as soon as the David Bowie came over the speakers.

And I danced.

And it was good.

And I will probably be sore in the morning.

But I don’t care.

I have not had a good three-hour dance session in ages.

It was and will be worth it.

My friend and I and another friend all left together and squished into his truck and headed out shortly after midnight.

And man, I am so glad I was not on my scooter.

The number of crazy drivers we encountered.

Ick.

Super grateful to have gotten home safe and sound and unstressed.

I shook out my hair, took off my earrings, put on Thomas Dutronc, French guitar and ballads, and made some tea.

The perfect New Years Eve.

A splendid showing out of the old and a promise of bright joy for the new.

Wishing you and yours.

Love.

Light.

Joy.

And.

Yes.

All the things.

This New Year.

Happy New Year!

I love you.

Seriously.

l do.

I Can’t Quite Believe

December 23, 2016

That.

Tomorrow is my last day with the boys.

I only cried three times today.

Grateful for that.

I didn’t need to stuff my feelings.

It was a challenge.

I cried when I wasn’t expecting it.

I felt a bit blown out and a bit tired and a lot sad.

The boys also had great big screaming tantrums, so that was fun, albeit completely understandable.

The tantrums didn’t, of course, start until after we had gotten back to the house and I needed to get them ready for A Charlie Brown Christmas at the San Francisco Symphony.

I mean, really, sort of figured it would happen.

Just needed to have the monkeys fed and changed into their navy velvet blazers and bow ties by 1 p.m.

No biggie.

Except they were emotional too.

They know.

They know I’m going to be gone tomorrow.

That’s it.

No more nanny.

“Carmen, please visit us,” the older boy stopped, took my hand, tugged on it, as we rounded the corner from the park to the house, literally stopping me in my tracks as I pushed his brother in the stroller.

“________________, I’m right here, right now, with you, and,” I paused, reached down, hefted his 6.5 year old body up, great work out, being a nanny in case you’re ever wanting to switch careers, “I love you and I promise tomorrow is not the last time you will see, I promise.”

I had lifted him so that he was eye level with me, we rubbed noses, he wrapped his arms around me, and we just stood and hugged it out on the corner.

Oof.

It was like that all day.

The park was barely the park.

Mostly the park was both boys trying to sit in my lap at the same time.

They eventually did get up and play and run around and chase pigeons, but all they wanted to do was sit with me, on my lap, or leaned against me.

The youngest gets me the most, or at my heart the most, his small face this plate of silence and sadness.  He just oozes it, it breaks my heart to look at his face and every time, like, um now, fuck, I see his little face in my head, I just start crying.

Which is challenging to do when writing a blog, the screen gets blurry.

Ugh.

Oof.

I am super grateful I have the feels, it means the boys mean something to me and it’s important I grieve the loss and the moving on and yeah, I don’t know what tomorrow is going to be like but I did make sure to have plans to have dinner with a friend and maybe I’ll go get a mani/pedi afterward and just take it really sweet and easy.

I got a nice Christmas bonus.

Slight aside.

SERIOUS ADULTING.

I got my Christmas bonus yesterday and I couldn’t open the card until I had been home for hours, there was something daunting about it, and I realized later that I was loath to open it because it really would signal the end of days and I can’t quite seem to wrap my mind around not going in to work next week and seeing my little guys.

But.

I did open it and I was quite grateful for the gift, really.

And then.

I did the adulting.

The first thing I bought with my bonus?

Dental insurance.

Then I put a little in savings.

I met with my person after work today and she plunked the kleenex box down in front of me, “today the last day or tomorrow,” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” I said and reached for a tissue.

We had tea we talked all things recovery, it was really good.

Then she said, “that’s great about the dental insurance, that’s a beautiful gift to give yourself, but get something fun for you too.”

I took her suggestion.

It took me a hot minute though.

I was going to go book a massage and when I went they place was closed for the holidays!

Ugh.

So I went to Rainbow and bought some, for me, expensive body lotion I really like by Pure Organics and a Rau raw chocolate drink.

Then I pondered where I was going to go.

There was a little voice in my head that said, go home, hide, stick your head in the sand, get all isolated and shit, watch some videos and let the squirrels in your head run amok.

I was like, ooh yeah, I’ll catch up on Black Mirror.

But.

Well.

That sounds fucking depressing.

Jesus, Martines, that’s not a good idea.

I just about laughed out loud.

So.

I rode my scooter over to the Inner Sunset and I made myself park close to a spot that would pretty much guarantee me doing the deal, then I went and cashed my Christmas bonus check and went to Green Apple Books.

I had not bought anything when I was there the other day, I was just browsing to kill time until I met my date at Park Chow.

This time I let myself buy.

God  damn do I love buying books.

And pleasure books, oh lord, I get to do some pleasure reading.

Not much, just a week, so what ever I knock through between now and New Years is what I get.  Maybe even a little less, I’m going to need to order my books for the upcoming semester sooner than I realize, I know it.  But.  I’ll have seven days of freedom, I think, where I can read.

I bought three books.

The new Don DeLillo, Zero K.

Cormac McCarthy, Child of God.

And.

Irvine Welsh, The Bedroom Secrets of The Master Chefs.

I’m drooling just typing out the names and looking at them on top of my stack of notebooks makes me very happy.

After I had satiated my book desires I went to dinner.

I treated myself to Marnee Thai and fuck am I glad I did, it was awesome.  I took the suggestion of the waitress and had a red curry with duck and plantains and brown rice.

Swoon.

It was good.

A bit pricier than I would have typically spent at my little secret spot out here in my hood, but Thai Cottage is closed for the next few weeks for the holidays and I smelled goodness wafting from the restaurant when I passed it on the way to the bookstore.

My nose knew.

After the dinner I still had some time and I popped into Ambiance.

And yes.

l bought myself a pretty dress for New Year’s Eve and decided that I would commit to going to a New Year’s Eve party some friends of mine are throwing in the Mission.

Yup.

I’ll be going stag to a New Year’s Eve party, and I don’t fucking care, I’m going to dance and wear platforms and my new dress and be pretty and not give a damn about being single, because I’m allowed to have fun and be happy.

I don’t need to be partnered up on the holidays.

That’s not worked out so well for me the last few years.

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, not well at all.

No.

And tomorrow.

Well.

It will be here soon and I’m sure I will have all the feels about it and just breathe in and out and hug my boys tight and smell the napes of their necks and kiss their faces and it will be alright.

It will.

I am lucky to get this opportunity.

I am literally paid to love.

Not a bad job if you can get it.

Seriously.

 

Who Is That?

May 7, 2015

He said, “that’s what I thought, the first time I saw you, who is that?

Aw.

That’s nice to hear.

I do not know how the topic of high heels was the conversation I fell into outside of the Sunset Youth Services this evening, but there it was, and the first time my friend had met me I was in platform heels.

I miss wearing heels.

I don’t have much reason to wear them.

Hard to ride a one speed in platforms.

Not that I couldn’t.

I could.

I just like the feel of my feet being connected to the bicycle and that means wearing my foot retention straps (think a cage except a heavy velcro strap of fabric instead of the standard cage set up on a bicycle), my lovely Hold Fast Straps (designed by messengers in Brooklyn, they work really well and I have had them on my bike since I got her and that was over three years ago, still looking sharp and doing the trick) in purple.

I could wear some heels and bike around if I don’t put my feet in the straps, but I don’t want to be going anywhere in heels on a bicycle.

I have to dig my way out of a hill to get to go anywhere worthy of wearing heels and that means working hard and generally, breaking a slight sweat.

I often wind up at work being quite warm and if not outright sweating, damn close.

I carry the hoodie for when I cool off and for the rest of the work day, as well as to ride home in.

I got to have my hoodie.

And heels, well, I suppose, in San Francisco, you could be excused a nice hoodie with your heels, and I have seen some ladies rock that look alright.

Yup.

Miss the heels.

My ex liked me in heels, albeit he preferred the stiletto heel and I prefer the wedge.

Stiletto’s always make me feel a little wobbly and they generally do not have enough of a toe box to accommodate the width of my foot.

If I wear heels, they have to be comfortable.

Not that I’m wearing them around, I think I am just ready for a date.

An excuse to put some heels on.

I certainly won’t be wearing them to work.

I can’t even imagine nannying in heels, even high-heeled sneakers.

Which.

Aside.

I know I am a judgmental nanny, but please, please, please, stop forcing little girls to grow up into pre-teen slut buckets already.

It’s bad enough to see little ladies in skinny jeans and leggings, sometimes just a little too much, but I saw a little girl in high-heeled sneakers at the playground wobbling around and it just broke my heart, she couldn’t have been more than seven, maybe eight.

And yes, I know, little girls like to play dress up, but this wasn’t that and I felt an aggrieved for the child.

Keep your Keds for just a few more years kiddo.

End aside.

I actually had a moment of panic about what am I going to wear to work tomorrow, but then laughed at myself.

I’ll wear the same stuff I always wear and I always wear some eclectic thing.

Today the boys were all about my socks, which had big pink and red flowers on them–you couldn’t see them, except when I was rolling on my bicycle–and I forgot all about them until we were playing and the boys discovered them and had to examine the flowers.

Most of their socks have bulldozers or rocket ships on them.

Wondering what to wear is my mind’s way of trying to not think about the review I’m going to have with the mom and dad, who have decided that we should do one after all.

I brought up the needing to take a break thing today.

I didn’t have one yesterday and I know that those are the lumps sometimes when I nanny, but I also am at a different place with my nanny career and I work for a family that works from home, so I have the ability to rely on one of the parents to step in for me.

I realized that my perfectionism and people pleasing was going to kill me and that I can’t be the best nanny ever, ever, if I’m worn out.

I expressed my desire to be flexible and helpful, I know that children change and their schedules change and there will be days when things get wonky and woolly.

But.

I also realized that I have never 1. worked with a family that works from home

Sub point a. Which means that I don’t ever feel relaxed, I feel like I always need to be doing something, loading or unloading the dishwasher, cooking, running errands, doing the laundry, etc.

Sub point b. my bosses are always there “scrutinizing” me.  Now I know that’s my brain being and asshat, but sometimes that’s what it feels like, I am being watched always.

And I am.

There are camera’s everywhere and I don’t pay them any attention.

This is my third gig now with a family that has monitors.

Sometimes they are obvious and sometimes they, the camera’s, are not.

Well.

I say I don’t pay them any attention, but I do notice a feeling of relaxing more into my job when I am out with the boys at the park or just anywhere outside the viewing zone (which I was reminded by the outgoing nanny when I asked if there were cameras in the house–they are a little more clandestine than others I have seen–is that I am always on camera, she was alluding to all the cameras out in the world and how it’s very easy to be tracked all day long) which is pretty big.

I believe most people have more to do than monitor me, I’m not paranoid, I just know that I feel better when I am not under the bosses eye.

There’s actually a lot to the job that is different from other gigs, the boys are older than the children I normally take care of, I have worked predominately with babies and toddlers.

And parents, that for the most part, did not work from home–although there have been a few.

So, the dynamic is different and it will be good to sit down with the mom and dad.

I know they don’t want to lose me, the “you’re the best nanny we have ever had,” comment assuaged any concern around that.

It’s just sticking to me guns and saying what I need and hearing what they need.

And being flexible.

I don’t want to be the broken nanny.

That is what I expressed today, that I don’t want to burn out, that I want the best for the boys and that means being fresh, and I want to do my best in for the family, accommodating their schedule the best way I can.

It’s a balancing act.

It always is.

I don’t know what I will wear, suffice to say, not heels.

What I wear doesn’t matter so much.

What I bring does.

He rolled over on his back, placed his hand in mine and looked at me with deep brown eyes and his flushed face, warm from a nap and a snuggle with the best stuffed cat in the universe, “I love you Carmen, cuddle with me please.”

Deal kiddo.

Happy to be of service.


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