Posts Tagged ‘sexy’

No Charge

September 25, 2017

When you, I mean, I.

Let me use “I” statements, I am in graduate school for a psychology degree after all, I need to remember to only speak for myself.

When I have no charge.

Nothing.

No feeling of regret.

No longing.

No nothing.

When nothing comes up.

Well.

God damn.

That’s when I know I made the right choice for me.

I saw an ex today.

I, in fact, had a feeling I was going to run into an ex, but I ran into a different one that I had suspected I’d run into.

A few years ago, three, I think I was dating a man, and it was brief, who was very, very, very, VERY, much into the kink and fetish scene in San Francisco.

Folsom Street Fair was today.

A kink and leather and sex and fringe San Francisco festival and street fair.

And I went.

I wasn’t planning on going and I definitely looked like a tourist–I was wearing a bright yellow sundress and my hair in braids.  I looked like I should have been traispsing through a meadow.

I haven’t gone there “dressed” in attire in about a decade.

I think the last time I wnet I wore high heels, platforms and a corset I had gotten from Dark Garden over in Hayes Valley.

It was a beautiful piece and I needed a lot of help getting into it.

I had a friend who had talked me into the piece, which I tried to return a few days later to only be told flat-out that I couldn’t.

I was pretty devastated as I spent a lot more money on it than I should have considering that my rent was around the corner.

And.

That I only wore it once.

Granted.

I looked lovely.

But.

I soon thereafter lost a lot of weight and it was too big.

I gifted it to a woman at the Burning Man offices who was an intern there at the time.

She’s now a major player there and I remember fondly how excited she was when I gave her the corset.

Anyway, Folsom Street Fair.

My friend had talked me into it and a mutual friend of ours picked me up on his Vespa, in tennis whites, I will never forget that, the audacity of wearing tennis whites to Folsom, right down to the wrist bands and the visor.

We all met at Glide, a church in the Tenderloin, went to services there, then, yes, we did.

We went to The Armani Exchange store and had lunch at the counter.

The server fawned all over us.

It was super fun.

Then off to Folsom.

And that was ten years ago.

How the time flies.

I wouldn’t have gone today.

In fact, I had very definitive ideas about what I was doing, I was going to class, then go hit a spot up in the Mission and do the deal and then errands and a mani/pedi, and groceries, and cooking.

And.

And.

And.

All the things.

l was going to do all the things.

But.

Well.

School happened.

I had a big moment in class, I handled some conflict within class and it was a very powerful moment for me.

A woman in class later reflected to me that I was the embodiment of “fierce grace.”

I don’t remember what I said, only the flavor of it, and I know I was a channel for what was being spoken.

I didn’t feel possessed, so to speak, but when I am in that place, I open my mouth and out comes something, I am a channel, a conduit, a mouthpiece for the Divine.

Or God if you will.

I will.

But you don’t have to.

Sometimes when I talk about God I think folks get a particular idea and feel like folks don’t quite get it.  I am a bit of a spiritual rebel and a bit of throwback all at the same time.

I love me some Lord’s Prayer.

Most folks can’t stand it.

I love the prayer of St. Francis.

I say that one every day.

Every day.

I say a lot of other prayers too, suffice to say, I have a deep and effective spiritual life that I am very grounded in and supremely grateful for.

I spoke to that a bit, but really, I don’t recall what I said.

But I will say this.

I was powerful.

I felt powerful.

I spoke with great articulation, emotion, and care.

I know that much, I know how it felt and I had a lot of power flowing through me.

I felt like I was on fire.

I teared up.

I know that tears drifted down my face at one moment, but I couldn’t tell you the words that evoked them.

I know that it was a kind of spiritual honesty that just rolled out of me.

After I had finished and the class processed what I had said, and my professor, and I remember very well the look on his face, he knew what I was talking about and resonated with it, he looked lit up as he listened to me, I realized that I could not leave right after class.

I owed it to the people in my class that I had spoken up for to connect with me and I with them and I knew that I had to be present and stay with what was brought up.

So.

I did.

I talked with a lot of the folks in my class and one of my classmates said she’d never been to Folsom Street Fair and wanted to go see it.

She flies in from Miami and has offered me her guest room so often that I know it’s not just a polite offer, but a “please use the room whenever you want it” sort of offer.

She even told me I didn’t need to ask, book a ticket and just let her and her husband know and I’ll have access.

That’s always nice to hear.

Anyway.

I decided to not run off, I stayed and connected, I blew off all my “obligations” my “plans and designs” and let the day decide for me what I was going to experience instead of imposing my will on it.

We walked around Folsom.

There was much to see, but not much that excited or intrigued me, I have eyes for other things.

And chatting with my friend in front of someone doing suspended rope bondage I had a sudden feeling that I would run into my ex.

Whom I haven’t seen in years, but, well, Folsom is his bailiwick for sure.

But nope.

In fact.

I didn’t run into anyone but a few other friends from school–campus is three blocks away–in all the hundreds of scantily dressed folks I saw.

Then we came out to my place, I showed her where I live and we went and caught a late lunch at Sea Breeze Cafe in my neighborhood and talked and talked and talked.

She left around 4 p.m. and I took a nice long walk on the beach in my sundress.

Yes.

I said sundress!

It was summer in San Francisco today.

It was so nice I didn’t even wear leggings.

I had a good check in phone call with my person as I walked the beach and then just after I got off the phone, literally seconds later, I look up to my right for no particular reason.

And there he is.

An ex, not the one who I thought I would run into a Folsom, but another more recent relationship (not that recent either, now that I think about it, two years ago now) and a woman.

They were holding hands.

I didn’t stare, but at first I couldn’t understand, consciously, what had caught my eye.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing or why I was even looking.

A nice couple walking on the beach holding hands.

Then I realized it was an ex.

I think I waved?

Not sure.

I remember thinking, “oh, that’s nice, he’s seeing someone,” and that was it.

That was it!

Nothing.

No charge.

No heat.

No energy.

My energy, my love, my attention is so elsewhere, is so taken and captured.

I had absolutely nothing.

Except that little bit of “how nice for him” moment.

He said my name, “Hi _______________,” dropped the hand of the woman, “you look great!”

I was startled that he said anything at all to me and a  “thanks,” popped out of my mouth and then I just walked away.

I didn’t turn back.

There’s nothing there.

I just walked the beach.

Happy and content in my skin.

In my pretty yellow sundress, fluttering in the wind.

I went home and I cooked and I read some homework.

I took a good hot shower.

I ate my dinner.

And then I started my blog.

That’s it.

My day.

It was good.

I’m loved.

I’m happy.

I got sunshine on my face.

It was a damn fine day.

Wonderful in fact.

 

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It’s Official

May 11, 2017

I’m on vacation!

And.

In a surprise twist, pun way fucking intended, I am now the owner of a pair of sensible walking shoes.

Fuck my life.

It’s official.

I’m old.

Ugh.

I sprained my ankle.

I am so not happy about having sprained my ankle, said ankle currently elevated, wrapped in an ace bandage with a package of organic frozen corn on it.

I hear hormonally treated, pesticide sprayed corn won’t help in the healing.

Heh.

Grr.

My person today, when I was talking to her, said in her bright cheery voice, “Oh!  Look at that!  God wants you to slow down and really enjoy Paris!  You get to really soak it in.”

Fuck my life.

I mean.

Fuck you.

Even though.

She is absolutely right.

I have been slowed down.

You should have seen me at the PJ Harvey show last night.

A show I normally would have been up front for, screaming my heart out, singing along, having my music experience.

But.

No.

I was in the handicap section seated with my leg propped up on the ledge in front of me.

Sigh.

At least I was at the show.

The ticket was a total last-minute surprise.

And I got taken out to dinner too.

The Slanted Door.

So yummy.

Like, all the yummy things.

Oysters.

Fuck, I love oysters.

Kumamoto’s from Hog Island.

St. Simone.

Beausoleil.

Pacific Gold.

And Island Creek.

So damn good.

For an appetizer my friend and I split the Ahi Tuna tartar.

And I had the seared Ahi Tuna with turmeric, scallion oil, fresh dill and toasted silvered almonds.

Swooning.

Such lovely food.

It took my mind off the ankle.

The ankle that I have NO FUCKING IDEA how I sprained.

Well.

Ok.

I have a theory.

I think that from repeated uphill parking on my scooter that putting down the kick stand I may have been giving myself some stress on my ankle.

And open full fucking idiot disclosure, I know you’re going to say, I told you so, I’ve been wearing Converse on my scooter and they are flimsy shoes.

Yes.

I wear them with inserts, but they are really a good shoe and well.

I’m not old, necessarily, but I have 44 years on these feet and I have not often enough worn good shoes.

So.

Today.

I upgraded.

Big time.

Now.

Part of me wants to tell you that the shoes are fucking big time ugly, they’re not, although, yes, bland and not what I would call sexy by any stretch.

But then again.

You know what’s really sexy?

Being able to fucking walk.

So.

I hobbled my way to the Inner Sunset today.

I took yesterday and today off from work, I could barely make it up the stairs yesterday into work, I got to the top, sat down on the floor and cried.

I was utterly mortified.

But.

My boss was so sweet and so kind and got me situated on the couch with a compression bandage and an ice pack and I started making the calls to my doctor at Kaiser.

The bad news.

No one could see me yesterday.

The good news.

Mild sprain.

If it was severe I wouldn’t have been able to walk on it at all.

I procured a brace from Walgreens that I was able to get around enough on to get me back to the house after an hour of sitting with it icing on and off and elevated and trying to hold back the tears.

I cried a lot yesterday.

I am teary now.

But not so bad.

I mean.

It felt like my whole fucking trip got shit on.

But when I was talking to my therapist she said something that I feel is prescient, that her sense was that if I took care of myself, rested, and took some precautions I would be ok.

That does seem to be the case.

My friend, after the concert, also doctored me up a bit, the brace was not so comfortable and I got an ace bandage wrap as a parting gift.

The wrapping seemed to help and I slept with my foot on a pillow and took a lot of ibuprofen.

I also called into work.

I mean.

I could barely go a block from the MUNI station to the Embarcadero where I met my friend for a coffee at Blue Bottle before Slanted Door.

I wore my pink Saucony’s out last night, but knew I wanted to grab a better pair of shoes.

So today, after taking my time getting going, more icing, more elevating, and bolstering my emotions, I set out for On The Run.

God.

Running shoes are fucking hideous.

Who wears these ugly things?

I suppose people who don’t sprain their ankles like I do.

Ugh.

Anyway after being thoroughly grossed out by the shoes I asked the clerk, well what about walking shoes.

OLD LADY SHOES.

To go with my bifocals.

Er.

Progressives.

Heh.

He pointed some out.

Not sexy.

But.

Not hideous.

He brought them out.

I slipped them on.

Holy shit.

It was like walking on sunshine.

The difference was immediate.

I felt stable, supported, my knees hurt less almost as soon as I took a few steps and the clerk showed me a trick to tying the shoelaces that added extra ankle support.

I almost danced out the store.

Almost.

My pocket-book was a lot lighter than when I went in, but I am super glad I allowed myself to get the shoes.

I got back here.

Ate lunch.

Did some writing, made some phone calls, and met a friend for dinner at Thai Cottage.

I did not go fast.

But I did not go as slow as I did last night and though it’s not as fast as I want.

It’s fast enough.

My person is right.

I get to really slow down and take things in.

I sort of hate it when she’s right.

She often is.

But I also am extraordinary grateful that she is too.

“You can do whatever you want,” she told me tonight, “as long as you accept the consequences.”

So.

I won’t look sexy and chic in Paris with my pretty platform sandals.

I will, however, be happier in my comfortable old lady shoes.

Old ladies be hella sexy.

Just sayin.

 

I Have A Question For You

April 19, 2017

Why are you single?

You’re gorgeous.

Wow.

Thanks darling.

That was super nice to hear, especially in my nanny regalia, which granted is cute, but not sexy.

I also got the sexy compliment.

Which coming from a FIREFIGHTER made my day.

Did I just turn down sex on a first date with a firefighter?

FIREFIGHTER!

Fuck.

I did.

Damn it.

First off.

I’m going to TMI y’all right now.

First day of a my period is not my sexy time.

It can be, I can and have had great fucking times on my period, but for my first time with someone, my first hang out, yikes, not so much.

And.

I didn’t shave today.

So.

No.

I’m not sleeping with the firefighter.

Right now.

Ooooheee.

God damn.

Smokin’.

And nice.

He was very nice.

We “met” on Tinder.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, like last summer, I think, when I was still using the app, but we never quite connected.

We’re not friends on facecrack but he does follow me on Instagram and, yes, that’s right, I had my first time getting asked out on Instagram.

That was a new one for me.

Kind of fun.

The crazy thing is, we live in the same neighborhood.

Like.

A fucking block away from each other.

Shit.

If it weren’t my first day on my period I would throw myself in the shower, shave them stems and um, heh, go make a new friend.

Ahem.

FIREFIGHTER.

Ok.

I’ll stop now.

firefighter.

Heh.

I feel like Samantha in Sex in the City when she goes to the firehouse.

Of course, in the episode, I think she got stranded naked in the station when the alarm goes off and her date has to leave to go put out a fire.

Not really the outcome I want to have.

Anyway.

Said gentleman, liked one of my posts on Insta and sent me a message.

The timing was pretty spot on, I had just gotten in and I was registering for fall classes.

And I was messaging with some of my classmates about classes and things and I get the message let’s get a coffee.

And of course.

I’m intrigued.

He’s gorgeous.

And well.

I’m trying to be spontaneous.

And we live in the same neighborhood.

I asked, “let’s get coffee sometime or tonight?”

“Tonight.”

Well then.

I suggested tea since it was late and we met and hung out and marveled that we’d never run into each other before, I mean, he literally lives a block away on the same fucking street, but nope, never seen each other in the hood at all.

We flirted.

There was flirting.

There was a lot of flirting.

And I let it stay there.

I am actually rather amazed that I did.

Of course when I got home I got a few more messages.

This time on my phone, I figured we’d gotten to know each other enough that I could give him my number.

When he texted me and asked me why were texting and not making out I just about fell out of my chair.

I told him I had homework.

I told him I was writing.

I got flustered and broke and dropped the TMI bomb.

“That has nothing to do with us making out.”

Oh damn.

I’m not flustered at all, at all, at all.

Ok.

Well.

Maybe a little bit.

I did, before we parted, give him a little information, as he asked the why am I single question twice, I think he may have also been implying that he might want to try out for the position, or perhaps just positioning himself to be, I got to stop, I can’t even go there.

Um.

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

I did tell him I was seeing people, that I had, in fact a date on Thursday, but that I wasn’t exclusive with anyone, not that I would be, the date Thursday is a first date, but all in all, I have to say, um, super fucking validating and fun experience.

I liked his confidence and I liked that I felt confident too.

Even in my nanny togs.

If a man thinks I’m sexy in a long sleeve black dress with black leggings and Converse, well, that bodes well for when I am actually in a put together outfit.

I don’t look slovenly, there’s that, I won’t lie, if I thought I wasn’t looking pretty I wouldn’t have left the house in my work clothes.

But.

I also didn’t feel like trying really hard on a Tuesday night to get all made up and glammed up, especially to grab a cup of tea at Java Beach.

There will be time.

I told him that was very tempted by the make out, but, I decided, for me, that it would be better to go on another date, before leaping into the make out.

So.

I asked for a rain check.

Who is this person?

And.

He said, absolutely.

And we text flirted a little more and now I’m up past my bed time, but, so what, that was fun.

I haven’t had that kind of forward as fuck attention in a while, super fun, super validating, sexy as fuck flirting.

I think the Universe did that one up on purpose.

Thanks God.

I needed that.

And.

Um.

I’ll take hot make out with a firefighter for $200 once I get my get out of Jail free card from my body.

Anticipation is also not a bad thing.

Not a bad thing at all.

Giggles to self.

Ok.

Going to stop this silliness now.

Night.

Sweet dreams.

Or

Incindiary.

Same/same.

Heh.

 

I Made It

April 10, 2017

To my weekend!

Thank freaking God.

I have tomorrow and Tuesday off.

Eleven days in a row at work.

Three days in a row of school.

First day off tomorrow.

Who’s not setting an alarm?

Yes.

That’s right.

I am not setting an alarm.

Which makes two days in a row.

I woke up late this morning.

For the first time in forever, I forget to set my alarm.

I really can’t remember the last time I missed setting my alarm, I am a little compulsive about it, I usually set my alarm while I am eating breakfast in the morning and checking my e-mails.

Then I don’t think about it the rest of the day.

I spaced it.

I also typically check it before I go to bed, you know, just in case.

Obviously.

I did not check it and I woke up 45 minutes past my alarm.

Oops.

Fortunately the rain had cleared and I had more time in my morning for the commute in because I could take my scooter.

That and the morning commute is really pretty easy on a Sunday.

I didn’t get a chance to write my morning pages, but I figured, I really just needed that extra 45 minutes of sleep.

Yesterday was a hard day.

Today was easier, shorter, but I still had some frustrations.

Like thinking I had recorded the therapy dyad session I did in Couples Therapy, a half hour recording that I don’t know how, but I somehow deleted.

It was the weirdest thing and I was so over it, the weekend, the classes, the processing, not that any of it was bad, there was a lot of great stuff that happened, it’s just that I’m staring down a lot of work.

Three papers.

Three pretty big projects.

And needing to deal with setting up a new dyad, a fake couple, to practice on and record a new session so that I can write a paper for Couples Therapy, which is also due the week before the last weekend of classes, which I find to be bullshit, but there it is.

The last weekend of classes I have a Trauma paper and presentation due and my Community Mental Health paper due.

Both of them require me to listen to recordings as well.

I did an interview for Community Mental Health and I will need to sit and listen to it, a half hour of interview, and then I will have to listen over again to the podcast we listened to for this weekend of Trauma class, which is two hours long.

I feel a bit over having to do all so much work for these final projects.

But.

That’s what has to happen.

Plus, two weeks from tomorrow I start my supervision for school.

My plate is officially full for April.

I only have three weeks before the next weekend in May.

This means each weekend I need to write a paper.

Le sigh.

At least I had dinner and hang out plans tonight after class.

A lover came into town and we had a rendezvous.

It was lovely to catch up, I haven’t seen him since last semester, right after I had gotten out of school in December.

It was good to  get acquainted again.

Ahem.

It was nice to be in my body for a while instead of my brain.

Although the conversation at dinner was intellectual and thoughtful, he’s smart, I’m smart, we have smart conversation and yummy Thai food at Thai Cottage.

I am grateful for the “reunion” and it feels nice to have had some company.

Heh.

We even watched a video after and snuggled, which is not usually the case, he’s busy, I’m busy, we both live and work far away from each other and he had to get on the road back home, but it was good, so good, to be a human creature, get my atavistic needs met.

Which really are old needs, they are current needs.

But met needs.

I would like to cultivate a relationship that meets more than once every three or four months.

That would be nice.

I’m sure it’s happening though.

And in the mean time I am grateful for my lover and the time we did have.

A little sexy sexy is fun and it was good to feel wanted.

Who doesn’t want to feel wanted?

Anyway.

I don’t have any plans for tomorrow.

I could get up in do yoga, I might, I might not, I really am going to let myself sleep and purposefully not turn on the alarm.

If I’m up and awake in time for the 10 a.m. class I will go.

Even though the teacher is not one of my favorites, I find his classes exceptionally hard and challenging.

I usually spend my time in class wishing it were over or wondering when it will be done.

I don’t normally clock watch a class, but the few times I have had the teacher I do, and I don’t find it that enjoyable.

So maybe I will try for an evening class.

I don’t feel like making any plans.

I could go get a mani/pedi.

I might go to the MOMA.

I haven’t seen the Diane Arbus exhibit nor have I seen the Diebenkorn and Matisse retrospective.

I have not agenda besides sleeping as long as my body wants.

My brain may be a monkey and get me up early, but I suspect that after the romp in bed, the long weekend of classes and eleven days straight at work, I will sleep just fine.

Yeah.

Me and my bed head are pretty tuckered out.

Glad I got through.

Now it’s time for rest.

Night y’all.

Sweet dreams and all that jazz.

Sexy Got Her Homework On

March 27, 2017

And her yoga on.

But not her sex on.

Well.

Not true.

I took care of business after my second yoga class today.

Yes.

I said that, two yoga classes today.

I have never done that before.

It’s not that big a deal and at the same time, it sort of was.

I went to my normal 9 a.m. Sunday morning class and got a very good sweat on and proceeded to watch my entire day change in the span of a few text messages.

When I got back from my yoga class I got a cancellation then after I got out of my shower and was getting my breakfast ready, my coffee date cancelled.

So.

I sent a lover a message.

And.

Nope.

NO response.

That kind of day.

So.

I got to do extraordinary amounts of self-care.

Which was needed and much cleaning and house hold attending.

And.

Cooking and grocery shopping.

This next few weeks is going to be busy.

I will be working two weeks straight for the family, the dad will be leaving Thursday for a business trip out-of-town so I will be working next Saturday and Sunday.

It’s actually going to be three weeks of work and school before I have another weekend off.

It’s going to be intense.

So I’m grateful I had today all to myself.

I was good company.

I took some extra time this morning for my writing and I made myself the most delicious coconut/almond milk latte and decided to just let the day unfold and not worry about anything.

I knew I also had to get a paper written for my Trauma class, my step-father made it into a paper this go around, and do cooking and food prep.

But I didn’t force myself or stress.

I just took each moment as its own little exquisite experience.

I washed all my bedding and did two loads of laundry, even washed the rugs in the bathroom, and swept, vacuumed, washed, polished, and cleaned my whole house.

It looks so nice.

I also went grocery shopping for two weeks of food.

I will probably have to re-up on fresh fruit, but I have enough coffee, eggs, oatmeal, brown rice, almond milk, organic carrots, frozen blueberries, and prepared food to get me through the weeks to come.

I roasted a chicken today and I made jambalaya.

I froze the majority of it and canned the rest of the chicken soup I had leftover from last week.

I have meals for days and I feel happy to have dealt with it.

I didn’t leave the neighborhood.

Although I did take my scooter to the Safeway on Balboa to get my groceries.

I wasn’t going to take it further, I knew there was going to be one more episode of rain and sure enough, there was, but not before I had run all the errands I needed to do and the next week and a half looks like sunshine.

That is going to be super helpful, I have my first therapy session with my new therapist Tuesday before work and I have an appointment to see my advisor at school Thursday before work.

The before work, work begins.

In actuality, I realize, it began already last week, I have been doing things before work for the last couple of weeks since the last school weekend.

Which reminds me, I need to swing by the post office before work in the morning and pick up a package.

I think work is going to be pretty busy, not just with working next weekend, but also, its Spring Break for the kiddos, which means I won’t have reading time for school work.

I feel like I’m ok though, I have done a lot of the Couple’s Therapy reading already, finished all my Trauma reading and I wrote my Trauma paper today.

I had some push back on it.

I realize I have been having some feelings of, “over it,” move along, I’m tired of this stuff.

It can get exhausting looking at the trauma minefields in my life history and how I got through some seemingly unscathed, but the patterns of the things I did to survive stay with me, little bombs of shrapnel on my psyche that explode without warning and leave me tired on the side of the road picking the stuff out of the pockets of my emotions.

“I feel brutalized,” I was telling my person yesterday at Tart to Tart, that place has seen a lot of my tears, about an incident that happen last week and how I felt and why I was angry.

We did a lot of work around it and I got some very good suggestions and I took them, I’m still taking them, I will keep taking them as the days move forward.

I hadn’t realized how much I was carrying until I said out loud that I felt brutalized and that it reminded me, I later saw, of my step-father and my mom and some stuff that happened to me growing up.

All the things that happened growing up.

Glad I start therapy on Tuesday, Jesus fuck.

Of course, under the lens of my graduate school work, of course, a lot of stuff is going to come up, the pot just keeps getting stirred and things pop to the surface, so when I sat down to write my paper I realized just how much I didn’t want to write it and I let myself start out that way.

And.

Five pages and 1,562 words later.

I was finished.

In fact.

I finished it so fast that I realized I could go to the restorative yoga class tonight at my studio.

Yes, I had already practiced today, but the restorative is really meditative and relaxing and it’s not about getting a work out, it’s about being in your body and supporting different parts of it that don’t typically get support or rest.

It was just so what I needed.

I came home, lit some candles, checked my messages, saw nothing from anyone, and said, well, I’ll just take care of me and took care of me.

I am actually a little surprised that I had so much sexual energy today, I just finished my period yesterday, but as I am getting older I can tell that sometimes it comes out in different ways energetically.

I also had some fodder for fantasy running around my head that I just let myself have.

I could say it was counter transference from the work I did today, which is another entire blog and far to clinical for me to delve into here.

Or.

I could just say.

After getting flowers, a home cooked dinner, and a restorative yoga class I was just in a yummy, dreamy space.

And I let myself go there too.

Yes.

Thank you self-care Sunday.

You rocked.

Ready for the next weeks work.

Bring it on.

Get Your Sexy On

March 26, 2017

That’s what it felt like today.

When I wasn’t in tears.

I was in this interesting back and forth between working it and being worked over.

I went to yoga and had a really great class, my favorite teacher was teaching and he may start offering some more classes at the studio, at times I could make, so I don’t have to obsess about doing more yoga while I’m doing yoga.

I felt soft and strong in my body and I had a very open moment as I was finishing the class in the final meditation where I just felt some heart opening and some letting go of old, old, old wounds.

I think I moved through the world with that awareness today, both tender and beautiful, open and sore, alive, and sad, awed and in wonder.

I felt in my body and confident and sexy.

And I found out today that a man who I have always found drop dead sexy gorgeous has found me attractive too.

What?

And.

Of course he’s not really available to me at the moment, but fuck, it was really awesome information to get.

It means that my instincts are pretty spot on.

In fact, my instincts are so much better than I give myself credit for that I am really seeing that I am, in fact, my problem.

I was talking with a friend earlier about a coffee date I have tomorrow and how I wasn’t sure if the guy was really interested, and where’s the follow through, and…

“You know, I hear you say that a lot, like, the guy is interested, wants to hang out but doesn’t set a time, I hear this a lot, and…”

Ugh.

And yeah, I know, I have to say something, I have to be the confident one.

And confidence is sexy and God only knows how badly I want to be sexy.

Psst.

Hey lady.

I hate to break it to you, but you are sexy, just stop shooting yourself in the foot.

Don’t bother with vague, be assertive, if someone says “hey, let’s hang out,” or “we should hang out sometime,” nail them to a time.

I don’t have the patience or bandwidth to dilly dally around.

I will always be busy, that is the nature of who I am.

There will always be something in my life, because I don’t wait around to live, I go out and do things.

Except date, I’m not so great at that and it’s because I am in fear.

Fear of not getting what I want and fear of getting what I want.

So.

I am vague, I don’t say what I need, I dance around.

Fuck that.

I am confident.

Well.

Ha.

Obviously not always, but thinking or acting like I’m not a hot tamale is asinine.

I am gorgeous, I sound like an asshole, but I don’t often affirm my attractiveness as I have been classically trained like many women, to deny myself, my beauty, my authority as a sexy creature, as someone worthy of being pursued.

When I down play myself, I actually de-value my worth and I wall up and I get cold and then, well, fuck, who would want to ask me out?

I remember an ex-boyfriend telling me once that he was very surprised by my lack of self-confidence, “I feel like I am constantly having to ‘piss on my tree’ you are always being stared at, and you have absolutely no clue.”

Of course not, because I won’t be safe then.

But I’m not safe anymore in my bubble of self-dom, dancing alone in my room when I should be, could be, ought to be dancing in someone’s arms.

So.

Fuck it.

Fake it until I make it.

I’m not going to get back on dating apps or sites or any of that happy horse shit.

But.

I am going to get a hell of a lot clearer and more direct with men.

The next time a man says we should hang out, I’m going to ask when, give a time I’m available and say let’s make a plan.

Because this sexy beast is worth making a plan for.

I have had a lot of friends advocate for this sexiness and God forbid I waste it, I only have this life to live and I am not going to live it with regrets.

I have made many leaps of faith in my life.

Moving to Paris to turn 40.

Quitting a highly paid nanny job to go work in a bike shop.

Traveling by myself to London, Rome, New York.

Moving to San Francisco with a 2 month sublet, $2,000 in savings and no job.

Fuck.

The biggest leap of all.

Getting sober.

If I can do that, I can ask for what I want from a man and a date.

Yes, yes I can.

I have the power.

It’s not mine.

It’s Gods

And if you think that’s crazy, that’s ok.

God is a sexy beast too.

Like to like.

I always say.

My instincts are just fine.

How could they not be?

They are God-given.

Seriously.

Time to unleash myself from my own fear and shame shackles and get the fuck on with my life.

God did not mean for me to be alone and it’s my own fear that’s keeping me that way.

I’m over it.

Ready for the next phase of my development.

Bring it the fuck on.

This PSA, FYI, is not brought to you by my hormones.

Thank you very much.

Just my own personal reality check.

With a little help from my friends.

Thank you friends.

I couldn’t do this without you.

Thanks for having my back when I was too afraid to.

My heart is open.

My eyes are clear.

My sexy is definitely back.

Watch out.

 

 

Today Was A

February 19, 2017

Fuck yeah kind of day.

I was chilled most of the day, but I did look cute.

Although perhaps a little on the shivery side.

I wasn’t expecting to be out all day long and I just never made it back to the house once I was out and about.

I sort of know better, but oh well, that’s all I really have to complain about, I was a little cold today, and now that I am home, a hot mug of tea next to me, the heater turned on and my candles all lit up, oh yes, and some nice Saint Germaine de Pres on the radio cube, yes, I said radio cube, it’s like a trip toy for rave kids candy flipping, but I’ve had it for years and years and it really does work–an old IHome cube.

I have had it forever and it’s been to many a Burning Man.

Not this year though, nothing that I will have to hook up to electricity, I won’t be working the event so very doubtful I will have access to any sort of power hook up like I have in the past.

I digress.

Burning Man was not today, although it did come up in conversation a few times.

I am pretty dorked out that I get to go again.

Anyway.

I did go to things today.

I went to yoga.

I am glad I did, although, yes, I had a moment or two when I didn’t want to and it’s hard to get back on the horse, but I did.

I wasn’t able to go at all last weekend since I was in class all day and it’s hard, I see how fast I can lose the benefits of the practice, but hey, I went, and it was enough.

I am enough.

There it is again.

Hello.

Yes, I repeat, I am enough.

After yoga, a quick hot shower, a yummy hot breakfast and a tasty coconut/almond milk latte.

Living the high life.

Then.

I gratefully accepted the reprieve in the rain, it cleared today, but shall be back the next few days, and I uncovered my scooter and rode it up to 7th and Irving.

I met my person at Tart to Tart and embarked on some inventory.

We did some reading.

I did some writing.

I did some crying.

Damn it.

But.

Such good crying and also a lot of laughing, sometimes seeing how my foibles are impeding my journey just makes me laugh and how I think and how it does not serve.

Oh.

Does my thinking, NOT serve.

So.

I got some amazing perspective and some really good suggestions.

And.

Yes.

That’s right.

I took them.

I ran with them all day.

Guess what?

I had a fucking fabulous day.

FABULOUS.

I went and had a mani/pedi after and got my eyebrows wrangled.

Then I took myself out to lunch at Marnee Thai–duck breast curry with plantains.

Holy Mother of God.

So freaking good.

I did a little shopping after that at Ambiance.

I actually took a friend’s suggestion around self-care.

Well.

Close.

My friend had suggested I go get a massage.

I went to a hot tub instead.

It was bliss.

So good to get a soak and let all the kinks get worked out.

Then a scooter ride over to Turk and Divisadero to hang out with my fellows and do the deal.

I even fucking fellowshipped after and discovered a new place for food that I had not been to in the neighborhood.

Hung out.

Socialized.

Ate hella good food and let my hair down.

I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time and I was able to nip the isolation blues in the bud.

Sometimes a girl gets lonely.

I could have bailed on the fellowship, I had food at the house, but I really craved some company tonight and I am so much the better for just hanging the fuck out with my people.

They are like no other.

Yeah.

I know.

I am biased.

But.

I do know a special and amazing group of people.

They’ve got my back and I’ve got theirs.

I felt a lot more a part of and I want to continue making that effort.

I shared with a friend tonight that it really can be a challenge to navigate doing grad school work and work and recovery and socializing.

I isolate sometimes because I am scared.

But.

Also.

Because, um, yeah, I have hundreds of pages of reading to do and papers to write.

I may not get to the paper I was going to write today.

And I’m just fine with that.

I have time and my time was so much better spent letting myself be of and in the world.

I rather like my San Franciscan world.

Sure.

It’s not the same city it used to be, it’s changed, but then again, so have I.

Change happens.

Change is the only reliable thing that is consistent.

I can try to control things and I am a sucker for routine, but once in a while I need to break out of it, evolve and see what comes of that action.

I may go back to where I was, all up in my head, but i have a solution that works.

I mean.

Fuck.

It works.

I am so grateful for that.

So much so it’s sort of stupid.

Don’t care if I’m a dork about that too.

Something lovely about my gratitude.

Something lovely about not having it all be on my time, my schedule and my way.

God has perfect timing.

Perfect love.

And wants me to be happy.

I can stop trying so hard to make things happen and just let them happen.

I don’t have to watch the horror show in my head.

I’m pretty bored with the characters and the casting is awful, and really it’s over dramatic, fear filled, and unrealistic.

Reality is so much more sexy.

And I certainly had a sexy day today.

Yes.

Yes.

I did.

My Bunny Slipper

January 19, 2017

Game is on hard tonight.

I mean.

It’s happening.

And so too, the softest, fuzziest, warmest socks I could pull out of the drawer.

I changed socks three times today.

Will this be the year that I finally buy rain boots?

It might.

Even if it’s just in preparation for the next rainy season.

Especially if I should be staying with my current family, which I plan on doing so, I do like them quite a bit.

I’m out a lot in the elements, I was much of today, going to school pick up, coming home from school with my charge, then again tonight after work, it was wicked.

I was going to hire a car and then the pool cost was over $20 and I was like, fuck that, no, I’ll wait on the train.

And the train was fine, but I got wet again, even with my umbrella and many layers, not having rain boots, my shoes did get wet and when that happens and the cold toes, yikes it takes forever to get warmed back up.

Working on it.

Like I said, the bunny slippers are out in full force and that helps, plus, lighting up all the candles in the house and yes, I just made a nice fresh, hot cup of tea.

Thank God for tea.

I remember when I eschewed it, now I carry the shit with me.

I laughed today when I was packing up my personal bag for work, I am discovering that I need to re-think my bag plan a little, carrying a purse is oh, so very adult, but not really handy I’m finding when I’m out and about a lot in the rain with the charges and taking trains and carrying extra umbrellas and rain jackets and little miniature pack backs and snacks and water and shit.

I’m like a walking snack factory.

My really nice, for me, Hobo purse, is getting beat the fuck up.

So, I decided to switch it out and use one of my messenger bags.

And I discovered a secret cache of tea bags in one of the pockets.

“That’s where that went!” I exclaimed and chuckled.

Now if only I can figure out where I lost my expensive prescription sunglasses.

Yeah.

They are lost.

I think maybe at school?

I carry them in my bag with in a case that I keep a cleaning cloth in and the last time I can remember using said cloth was over the school weekend.

I should give the front desk a call tomorrow.

I may not wear the sunglasses much, but when it’s sunny and I’m outdoors, I do like having them and they were really expensive, maybe the most I have ever spent on a pair of glasses, so yeah, um, I’d like those back.

Speaking of making phone calls.

I called and left a message at one of the practicum sites I am going to apply to.

Hoping to hear back by the weekend and do some follow-up as to what they are looking for in a MFT intern (Marriage/Family Therapist) and what I need to do to apply to the site.

The information on their website says cover letter and resume.

I can do that.

But I also met the person who runs the institute in person at the practicum fair last year, so I wanted to speak more with him, I left the message for him and I’ll be awaiting further instruction.

I will also be working on putting together my stuff, resume, cv, cover letter, this weekend, I have looked over the information the school has up on its website and hopefully I should be able to knock out a decent one before I go into my first open house next Wednesday.

Yep.

Next Wednesday.

A week from today.

I will be attending my first open house at the CIIS Church Street site.

Church and 30th.

Two and a half blocks from my job.

Not bad if you can get it.

Fingers crossed.

I don’t believe that I need a resume and cover letter ready to go for the open house, but I feel like it might be really handy if I did, if it turns out they are willing to accept them in person.

It would feel good to hand one over.

And the site is being managed and supervised by a professor and TA that I worked with last year at the “retreat” in Petaluma before the fall semester started.

I am fairly certain they will remember me and I feel that it would be a good show of my commitment and desire to work with them by having all my materials ready to hand over when I show up Wednesday.

The rain it shall continue through the week and weekend and perhaps this is for the best, drought status and all this last few years, as well as helping me knuckle down and get the work done.

I mean.

I typically do, I’m not too much of a slacker around that, but yes, staying on top of things is nice.

I got my last book in the mail today when I got home and read through the book material that I got yesterday to get me caught up.

So, I’m making some nice steady progress.

And.

I am just about warmed up.

Bunny slippers and tea to the rescue!

Maybe too I’ll take a little time tonight and hunt and peck about for some rain boots.

I just checked the weather.

Solid rain not just through the weekend, but into next week as well.

Sigh.

I am glad I covered up my scooter this morning.

I don’t think I’ll be using her this week, maybe not for a week, actually, if the weather forecast is correct.

Yup.

It might just be time to succumb to the ugly boot store and get myself something to keep my feet warm.

Looking cute can be sexy.

But feeling cold and wet is not.

Feeling warm and cozy, in my bunny slippers, might just be the sexiest thing yet.

Seriously.

You should check them out.

They rock.

I Might Be Feeling It

December 31, 2016

My new hair, that is.

OMG.

I feel like Snow White.

I love, love, love it.

LOVE.

I’m back to my “natural” color.

I haven’t had this hair color in about four years and it was brief at that.

It feels good to be brunette again.

And.

Though I hate to say it, age appropriate, which equals sexy as fuck in my book.

44 you look pretty damn good.

fullsizeoutput_dacYes.

That is a lot of cleavage, Virginia.

But fuck it.

Once in a while a lady is going to feel her oats.

I almost.

But no, I did not, re-load the Tinder app to my phone.

I realize that I don’t really need it and the validation is nice, but it’s not real.

I want someone to see me in real life and go, yes, I want her.

And.

Then.

Ask me out.

That’s the feel of it.

I always feel a little sassy after I have a new hair do and this is no different.

Except that it is.

It feels the most me that I have felt in ages.

I’m not trying to be anyone different from who I am.

Granted I may feel differently when my hair gets curly.

Which it will do.

I got a blow out at the salon and it will last a day, max two, if I don’t go to yoga in the morning and I don’t shower.

Now.

I did shower today.

And.

I could possibly beg off yoga since I’m still sick.

Not as bad as yesterday, I woke up without the tightness in my chest, but I had to bail on dinner tonight with a friend after doing the deal as I could feel it settling back in and the last thing I wanted to do was be out longer and get chilled and have it come back with a vengeance.

Especially since tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve and for the first time in a long time I have plans to go out to a party.

I had been invited to one in the East Bay, and man it’s tempting, a lot of my favorite people will be there.

But.

East Bay.

And no car and I don’t want to BART, even though, yes, it runs until 3 a.m.

I decided to get tickets to a semi-private event at a friends gym here in town.

He’s doing a “Fight Club” themed party.

Which makes sense since he owns a gym.

There will be lots of people I know, some doing the deal, and good djs and dancing.

I’m psyched to go and I want to feel good and healthy for it.

And yes.

I do, um, perhaps want to sport my sexy as fuck new hair.

I’ve been contemplating going back to my natural color now for a little bit now.

I had at first thought about just chopping out the blonde and the pink, but I realized, no, I rather like my long hair and I like that the longer it gets the curlier my hair gets and when it’s short, it tends toward wavy, not curly.

Here’s for curls.

So when I went to the MOMA on Wednesday with my dearest friends, who both happen to be taste makers for a living, one in retail fashion and the other in interior design, I asked.

“What do you think if I went back to my natural hair color?”

And they both gave it a big, big, big thumbs up.

Ok then.

I got home, hopped on the phone and made a call.

I got in!

I was surprised that I was able to snag a spot so close to New Year’s Eve, but it happened and I got great color and an awesome cut.

Harper Paige Salon.

Love you guys!

It was a faster process than going blonde and I was grateful for that as I had some time left on my meter and I skipped over to Sephora.

New hair.

New lipstick.

Duh.

I got an Urban Decay.

Oil Slick.

And.

A new Kat Von D.

Motorhead.

I love how both are dark and sexy and a tiny bit sinister sounding.

I’m rather all sweetness and light at the moment.

But I’ll go with dark and sexy too.

I’m single.

Dark and sexy could catch me a few dates.

Fingers crossed.

And perhaps I am feeling my oats.

But.

This is my year.

I feel it.

I feel it in my bones.

I’m excited for it.

The new contract for work.

Moving forward in my school program.

New hair.

Which is just really, “old hair” but it’s been such a long time that it feels like a new me, just a slightly more polished, a tiny bit more refined (unruly will be on the scene soon when the blow out fades of, but I can say polished for at least the next twelve hours), fresh, and pretty.

It does also feel just that.

Pretty.

Which I’m also down for.

Dear God.

I have just written nearly my entire blog about my hair.

Hahahahaha.

I’m not-self centered, really, bahahahahaha.

Sorry.

So.

So.

So.

Stupidly self-centered.

But also.

God help me, quite happy.

I did something completely for me.

Going blonde, the last time I did it, was for someone else.

Granted I wanted to, but I wanted to even more when he wanted it too.

This was all about me.

How to make myself happy.

How to please myself.

Not about a man, a woman, a job, another person.

Just for me.

It turns out I like making myself happy.

I should remember this the next time I’m feeling remorse.

I deserve to feel happy and I have all the power and capabilities to make myself happy.

No one completes me.

I am complete.

With just a tiny bit.

More.

Um.

Sexy.

Yeah.

Like that.

 

I’m Not Dead Yet

December 5, 2016

Although I just got hit with the tired stick.

I mean.

It’s been a day.

A good day.

But a full one.

I am actually really fucking impressed with myself, if I do say so myself.

As I sit here and listen to the kettle boil and the jazz horn play, nothing says unwinding on a Sunday evening like listening to jazz, and smell the delicious chicken soup simmering on the stove I am replete and pleased with myself.

Grandly pleased.

Greatly pleased.

Happily pleased.

Extravagantly pleased.

I think you catch my drift.

I got it all done.

Well, ok, not it all done, I still have some stuff to do, but I got done what I needed to get done today.

I wrote my Family Therapy paper!

Seven pages.

1,883 words.

References and bibliography.

Even a nice little title page.

Done and done and done.

Good bye Family Therapy.

I’m done with you!

I mean.

Yes, of course I’ll be showing up for class this weekend, but I don’t have to do any more reading or writing for this class.

It is finished.

Show up, turn in the paper, be present and finish out the class.

Yes.

I also have my presentation prepared, mentally, for Child Therapy class.

We don’t have to have a paper to turn in with it, and I already wrote the reflection paper that is due for the class last week.

However, I was thinking I may write-up a quick family vignette just to have a little back story to give to the class so that when I do the presentation there is some information for the class to have so the intervention that I plan on doing in the dyad will come across.

I know what I’m going to do and it’s only a ten minute presentation and I’m going to bring in colored pencils and paper and work with a partner in my group who will be playacting a child in therapy.  I will be doing a creative arts intervention.  I am excited and pleased with the concept I came up with.

All I have to do is contact the person in my group with whom I want to do the dyad work with and lay out a few things for her to play act.

I actually don’t want her to do much prep since I want it to come across as natural.

So.

A quick sketch of a vignette to hand off to her and my classmates, a ten minute presentation, some colored pencils and white paper, and I’ll be done with Child Therapy.

I won’t be making the final class of the semester as I will be leaving early on Saturday to go to my friend’s wedding.

Again.

So very pleased that I was able to find shoes that will work with my dress, pretty shows, fancy shoes, but not too sexy shoes.

Speaking of sexy.

I love the new jeans I bought.

They might be one of the best fitted pairs of jeans I have scored in sometime.

And score is the proper verbiage here.

The original cost of the jeans?

$251.

Who the fuck pays that much money for jeans?

I don’t.

But.

I will pay $44 for them!

Heh.

So happy.

My ass looks great.

I say with no great conceit or humility.

Ha.

Anyway.

Yeah.

Happy with my new wardrobe additions.

And happy with all the things I did get to today besides writing my Family Therapy paper.

I did laundry and put fresh sheets on the bed, because nothing is sexier than fresh washed sheets, well, except maybe a very hot shower.

Which I had this morning after going to yoga.

Yes.

I made time for the yoga.

And so glad I did.

I’m sore.

But tomorrow since I have an early start at work, I won’t be going to yoga, I figure it will be ok, my shoulders will rest up and get a little reprieve.

Not too much of a reprieve though, I want to make sure that I continue with the habit of going to the studio, it feels really good.

The best part might be the floating walk home from the studio to the house.

It really is a divine little walk.

And though it was chilly today, the sun was out and I felt happy to be alive and ready to face the day.

One step at a time.

One moment at a time.

One unsweetened vanilla almond milk cafe au lait, at a time.

A nice breakfast, the aforementioned coffee, and a lot of morning writing.

One of my ladies no showed this afternoon and I had an extra hour.

But one of my ladies did and that was great, to catch up, to do some reading, to talk about the holidays and our plans for travel.

I also started wrapping up some Christmas presents.

Yeah.

Like that.

Because it makes me happy to give gifts and because it makes me happy to see them nestled up underneath the Christmas tree.

They won’t be there for very long, most of them will get sent off to my sister and nieces and to my mom.

A couple of small ones for friends in my cohort and the rest are for my best friend and her family back in Wisconsin.

I still need to get my boys, the boys I take care of, something, I usually do, I just haven’t figured it out yet.

I did find them very sweet cards though, I want my last Christmas present to them to be reflective of our time together and the cards are quite fitting.

One is a “I love you to the moon and back,” for the four-year old.

And the other is “you are my sunshine,” for the six-year-old.

Both with lots of glitter and sparkles, as they are both partial to all things shiny.

Speaking of cards.

I even sent out my first batch of Christmas cards.

I got seven cards off in the mail today.

I roasted a fucking chicken people and then made soup.

I’m impressing myself all over the place.

But.

I will say.

l am knackered and just about ready for bed.

Which is still a little ways off, but closer than my typical night since I’ll be up at 6 a.m. tomorrow for the start of my very, very, very long week.

Four days of work followed by three days of school followed by five days of work.

I won’t have another day off until December 17th.

Sigh.

The day before my birthday.

And I might be spending that entire day working on my Psychopathology paper since it has to be sent in by the 19th and fuck if I’m going to be writing a paper on my birthday.

I had to take a final on it once and that blew.

I would rather have the day free and clear.

Ah.

I get a head of myself.

There is time and there is time.

There always is.

 

 

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisionsm

Before the taking of toast and tea.

 


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