Unexpected Overtime

And not really what I wanted to be doing tomorrow.

That is.

Going into work two and a half hours early.

I normally start on Wednesday, which is my “short” day mind you, at 10a.m. and work until 6p.m.

Eight hours.

Respectable.

I call it my short day as I don’t have any clients, I don’t have therapy before work, I don’t have supervision.

I just work.

Tomorrow I’ll just be working 10.5 hours.

I’m going in at 7:30 a.m.

What did I do today, ten hours, or was it eleven?

I’m not sure.

And yesterday was eleven or twelve.

Mondays and Tuesdays are my longest days as I have commitments before my eight-hour work shift and then clients after.

I always look forward to Wednesdays.

They are delicious.

And well, I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.

I’ve been inside all day for the last two days, granted I did have a kind of respite with a very sleepy baby who napped in the carrier for two and a half hours.

It was dreamy.

But it was also hard to hold the baby that long, I basically had him in the carrier for three hours.

My back felt pretty fried by the end of it.

Although I was able to sit outside for a good bit of it, which was nice.

I pulled a chair out onto the porch and daydreamed and counted the different colors of green I saw and watched hummingbirds and butterflies.

I saw hawks circling, a mating pair and one of their brood, a tiny little hawk, which I didn’t even realize was there until it turned just so in the sky and I saw this tiny little red tail hawk floating between its two parents.

It was beautiful to watch.

Poetic.

There were ravens as well, some crows, and seagulls and a couple of morning doves.

It was a warm day so it was nice to be on the porch.

Even if I wasn’t actively outside, I was outside and the air was good.

I’ll be staying inside a lot tomorrow too, one more day home from school with a sick kiddo.

Who has requested that since I’m coming in so early and he’s not going to school, that I make him pancakes.

I’ll be making my own breakfast too.

I usually get up two and a half hours before I need to be at work.

I give myself a half hour for the commute, which I don’t generally need, but rather that than feeling rushed on my scooter.

The other two hours are my morning routine, making breakfast, praying, reading some spiritual books, writing, having a nice unsweetened vanilla almond milk latte, getting dressed, doing my hair and makeup.

Tomorrow though I am not feeling it.

I am feeling that I will want to sleep in as much as I can.

If I have to be at work by 7:30 a.m. it means leaving here at 7 a.m.

I need a shower, so I’ll do that, but I think I’ll skip my breakfast and my writing, I’ll drink my coffee cold, shotgun some out of my mason jar I keep in the fridge for iced coffees when the feeling strikes, and then just get dressed and put on some make up and scoot.

I figure I’ll make breakfast at my employers house, I am always welcome to eat and drink what ever I want there.

So.

Yeah.

Breakfast on them.

My charge will most likely be sleeping for the first hour or so that I’m there, so I’ll have a nice breakfast, look at the view, drink some hot coffee and do some writing.

When he gets up I’ll make him pancakes.

And I think I’ll do some apple picking from their apple tree and make the family a pie tomorrow.

That will kill some time for me.

Ugh.

I’m not excited about it.

But.

Oh well.

I keep telling myself that I just need to hold out until November 16th.

The family is going to go on vacation and I will have November 16th through the 26th off.

Ten whole days!

I will have clients during that time and supervision and therapy.

But I will also have yoga in the mornings and homework, homework, homework.

I have to address my Child and Elder Abuse online class which I have only read a couple of articles from, I am hoping that I will do all the work during the ten days I have off.

I don’t have Thanksgiving plans, which is no big shakes, I’ll probably go to a movie, I’ve a hankering to see the new Blade Runner movie, and I’ll probably go do the deal somewhere and get right with God.

I’ll do a lot of that, now that I am thinking of it, while the family is a way, that will be a nice thing for me to add into the mix for those ten days.

Yoga, recovery, homework, a movie, and I am also planning, not sure what day yet, but one of those days, to go get a new car.

Still debating buying versus leasing but I am beginning to think leasing, especially as I found out I can get a tax break on gas if I’m leasing a car and driving it to work.

That would be nice.

I do have some anxiety about the expense of a car, the uptick in insurance, keeping it clean, gas, I mean I set aside some money to put gas into my scooter before I go to work tomorrow, $1.38.

I feel that it may take a bit more than that to fill a car tank.

Then again.

I am also super excited for a car, it feels like a kind of freedom I haven’t gotten to experience in a while and it’s also self-care.

That’s what my therapist says anyhow.

And I believe her.

She really good.

She sees me and reflects and mirrors and validates and gives me perspective.

Oh.

The perspective.

Sigh.

And all the work that is yet to be done.

All that too.

Anyway.

The work that has to be done now is winding the fuck down.

I have more work to do tomorrow.

And that is fast approaching.

Seriously.

Oh Hello

I said to my house with distinct pleasure when I walked in the door just a few minutes ago.

I had forgotten, completely, that I had got down on the house before work today.

Scrubbed the bathroom, swept the floors, dusted, took all the trash out, did the recycling, swiffered the floors, fuck, I even vacuumed.

It was sparkling when I came home and such a nice surprise.

I did a lot of things before work today.

Like.

Yes.

I sent in my amended tax statement.

I should be getting back $805 for the penalty I paid but turns out I didn’t need to.

It will take about three weeks to process.

I’m sure it will take longer than that and I don’t care, I’m not financially in straits, it just was a really good feeling, dare I say, adult, to print off the forms, sign them, affix the appropriate paper work to the form, seal them up in an envelope and drop it in the mail box.

I did not sit on it at all.

I took that bitch right out to the mailbox and mailed it.

I also went grocery shopping and sat down for a moment at the little parklet by the store and wrote out my mom a card.

Just because it’s nice to send mom a card once in a while and I was thinking about her.

I got back from the grocery store and had a half hour to “kill” before work.

I decided that since I’m working again tomorrow, four hours of active duty and then five hours when the boys will be sleeping, good excuse to work on my homework, maybe write that little two page paper I need to do for Multi-Culture class.

Oh.

Fuck.

I have to post to the fucking Applied Spirituality forum.

God damn it.

As you may have cottoned to.

I don’t like this class and I don’t often feel very spiritual about it when I think of the work that I am supposed to do.

But.

I get to do it and it’s due tomorrow?

Ack.

I better check that.

I could be due tonight.

Grrr.

Anyway, I can sort that out after I finish writing this blog.

I got my house clean because I knew it was the best thing to do.

And I am glad I did.

I am busy tomorrow.

I am meeting with my person and finishing reading her my inventory.

Then some lunch, a little lady time, mani/pedi.

Then off to the Mission.

I may have a few minutes to kick it around the hood.

I may not.

I have to be there at 5p.m.

I’m working until 2 a.m.

Then I have a ladybug coming over to do some doing the deal on Sunday at 1p.m.

And.

Heh.

I may have a date.

Not a Tinder date either.

(Oh so many “Nopes”)

I have been using the app but not so much action seems to be coming from it, but the Universe does seem to hear me say, hey I’m single and sexy and available for pursuing.

Let’s have fun.

That’s all this is about.

Having fun.

If it’s not fun, fuck it.

I’m not interested.

I don’t have enough time.

I do have time for hanging out and having a good time.

He’s going to call me on Sunday.

See that’s the nice thing.

We have already established that there is chemistry.

We did that when we exchanged phone numbers a couple of weeks ago.

He knew I was in school last weekend and working this week, but when he saw me he asked what I was doing this weekend and the possible time slot I was perhaps setting aside for a maybe Tinder date is now being held for him.

Which is nice.

Already know what he looks like and his age and his smile and I can say reality is a much nicer thing than a swipe on a phone.

That being said.

I will keep on keeping on.

As I was told.

There’s nothing wrong with the app, what needs to change is you.

Yup.

Change.

The only thing I can count on.

Change.

I have changed so much.

It really does amaze me and when I was riding up Lincoln today with a song in my heart, the trees in the park, the flowers blooming, the red tail hawk soaring, I felt uplifted and grateful and just fucking amazed at this life I have.

I have an amazing life.

I live in San Francisco.

I have great tattoos.

I have a scooter that’s completely paid in full.

I have a place to live that I can afford.

In San Francisco, let me repeat, afford.

(Although once in a while I still kick myself for turning down the Junior One Bedroom Studio on Valencia at 21st.  Oh how sweet would my commute be?  OH how cheap my rent would be.  It was $850 when I looked at it.  I turned it down because I thought the carpet was nasty and I wanted to explore living somewhere other than the Mission. D’oh!)

I am in graduate school.

I am doing well in graduate school.

I get to go to Burning Man.

For my tenth year in a row–a decade at Burning Man and no Burning Man tattoo, not that I am opposed to one but the Man symbol has never done it for me.

I get to go to New York in May and have a place to stay at a friends house in Brooklyn.

All these things.

And so much more.

Filtered through my heart, dripped down into my heart, and I breathed and laughed and could have cried, but I was scootering and didn’t want my vision impaired, so I held it down a little, but yeah, I was the girl on the scooter laughing with joy this afternoon.

Sometimes.

It just hits me and I am overwhelmed with the love and the living and all the fabulous things I get to do.

Even my Applied Spirituality class.

I get to do this.

I get to have these experiences.

Rock on life.

Let’s have a fan-fucking-tastic weekend.

Right.

 

Fear Of The Apple People

Part Deux (The original Fear of the Apple People was one of my first blogs on this site about five and a half years ago–maybe I should call this a “reprise” instead).

The fear is not as bad as it used to be, once upon a time, but the fear is still there.

God forbid I look stupid.

I can’t call a help desk.

What if they find out I am an idiot?

What are they going to do, Martines, take away your laptop?

REALLY?

Fear of not knowing what I am doing will stop me in my tracks all the time.

Every time.

But, what I have learned, and I have learned so much since I first became a proud owner of my first, slightly used, refurbished MacBook, is that I may be stopped momentarily with fear, it does not get the best of me.

“Men of faith have courage.”

Courage is walking through fear.

It is not the lack of fear, I’m always going to have fear.

Fear is a part of the human experience, it just is.

However, I have a disease of perception and of over blown fears.

My fears are irrational and unconstituted in fact.

They are baseless, groundless, little mindless animals, voles, shrews, grommets.

I know, a grommet is not an animal.

However, doesn’t that sound like what a little fear animal is–small brown tatty fur, sharp little teeth, scrappy claws, yellowish beady eyes, nocturnal–a grommet.

“Sorry honey, I didn’t mean to snap at you, too many grommets attacking my brain today.”

I have had my new laptop for about a week and I am thrilled.

Thrilled.

The battery last like forever and the receptivity from the key board really does make it feel like I am thinking the words and they are just popping up on the screen.

Lovely.

It’s light, easily a quarter of the weight my old laptop is, that old brick.

But, for what ever reason.

Well, I suspect the not so hot internet connection I have in my little studio by the sea has something to do with it.

The migration of my files on the old laptop to the new MacBook Air took over 24 hours and when it finally happened, something glitchy happened.

The MacBook Air and the old laptop both tell me the same thing–that the files have transferred, but I can’t seem to locate them.

I would like to locate them.

All my music files.

10,000 plus photographs.

Who knew I was so prolific?

Well, you might.

Considering I have been writing this blog on a fair daily basis for the last five years and each blog is on average 1,000 words.

Prolific is not an issue for me.

It has taken me a week, however, to acknowledge that I can’t figure it out.

“Figure it out is not a slogan,” he would say to me brusquely on the phone, and depending on where I was I would burst into tears.

But I want to figure it out!

Damn it man.

God forbid, I repeat, that you find out that I don’t know what I am doing.

I have no clue what I am doing, in case you had any thoughts to the contrary.

I’m following the fault line down the mountain, the path of least resistance, to my heart, to my knees, to my soul.

“If you’re falling down the hill, you’re in God’s will,” she told me at a cafe in Paris, it might have been the Lizard Lounge in the Marais when she first imparted this wisdom upon me.

She then told me about how a snow ball rolling down the mountain takes the path of least resistance, equating it to, if it’s simple it’s the choice, if it’s convoluted and means double back tracking and going around that tree and uprooting that other one, and moving the snow fences, then maybe it’s not meant to be.

I try to figure it out all the time.

Then I remember.

I can’t.

I don’t need to.

And.

Yes.

I can ask for help.

So, I finally got my butt on the Apple site and booked a phone call help session for tomorrow a half hour before my first lady bug of the day flits her way to my doorstep for tea and singleness of purpose.

I can’t imagine it will take more than a half hour to resolve the situation.

If not fifteen minutes.

Probably only five.

That’s the thing.

I often will be given the solution in a nice tidy compact package, but I have to fret for a while.

It’s not as bad as it used to be and I count that as progress.

And bravery.

I am a brave person.

I showed up for a blind date today and I have another tomorrow.

I’m not thrilled to be doing this.

“Geez you sound so excited,” she giggled at me last night when I described going on a date in Golden Gate Park for a picnic on the lawn somewhere.

Yeah.

Not excited.

Not because I didn’t have some rapport with the man, I obviously wouldn’t have accepted the date if there was nothing to talk about.

Which there was nothing to talk about with another guy that tried to contact me today.

Dude.

Did you even read the profile?

And please, I can’t promise I won’t break your heart, no one is responsible for breaking your heart, you break your own heart, so don’t even bother to ask me that.

There are no victims, only volunteers.

I did not volunteer myself to go on a date with said man.

Let some other woman break his heart, I’m too busy breaking my own.

“I’m so over internet dating I told my friend,” my date was running late and I was hungry and boohoo’ing in my coffee.

“Honey, have a snack, I’m sure there’s good reason and he’s making an effort and a MUNI is MUNI, and don’t delete your profile until after you have eaten,” she admonished me.

Yup.

So I’ll be off to try another tomorrow.

Coffee at Java Beach and a walk on said beach, Ocean Beach, with his dog.

I can be afraid of not being enough.

Pretty enough.

Young enough.

Smart enough.

Blah, blah, blah.

Or I can walk through these silly fears too and keep on going.

Every time I take a little leap forward the fear is dispelled a tiny bit and the faith grows larger and larger.

One day this will all be laughable and I won’t worry about calling the help desk and asking them to fax me over a ream of paper and I’ll be ok with looking silly and I’ll keep wearing flowers in my hair and glitter on my face, turning it toward the sun, the blue skies, and the birds flying over head in the park.

“Look, there,” I stopped him, the picnic in the park date, and the story he was telling, “red tail hawk.”

I watched it silently as it circled lazy on the wind and sun, the music of a guitar drifting from the bandshell by the DeYoung, a little boy on roller skates tumble bumbling by, the grass green under my bare feet, I breathed in and closed my eyes to the sun, soaking it up and relishing being exactly who I am in the exact place I am supposed to be.

I think that’s called acceptance.

Face it.

I live in San Francisco.

By the beach.

With a MacBook Air under my fingers, Cat Stevens on my stereo, and nice food in my fridge.

I have nothing to fear.

But yes.

Fear itself.

And even I know that there really is nothing behind that too.

Just another opportunity to grow.

Graceful.

Beautiful.

Loved.