Posts Tagged ‘staycation’

Hello Daisy

February 22, 2016

I had this profound experience in yoga class today.

Yeah.

I know.

I’m gonna be that bitch.

Don’t even ask me how much money I dropped on yoga clothes today.

But damn, I was not wearing the right stuff and nothing says distracting like needing to breathe through a ridiculous hard pose, for me, and inhaling my shirt.

Yuck.

I figure I made an investment, I’m going to have the clothes for a while, I will be using them, and hey, I haven’t invested in sports or athletic gear in years.

Not since I did the Aids LifeCylcle and suddenly every other day I felt like I was dropping bills on kits, shoes, socks, saddles, not to mention saddle sores, but that’s another kind of expense, protein powder, water bottles, lights, portable air pump, tires, levers, inner tubes.

I could increase that list if I thought a little harder.

You get the gist.

I just bought three pairs of leggings, three sports bras, and three tops.

I’m committing to three days of yoga a week.

I secretly may do more if I can squeeze it in.

Tomorrow will be day four in a row.

After that I won’t have the opportunity for a class until Thursday.

I debated a moment before signing up for the class, but pretty much knew, as I floated, I mean FLOATED out of the studio, that I would be going tomorrow.

Partially as Mondays will be a day that I have time to get to a class before I head into work.

I want to set the intention of going on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

I will probably also do Sundays.

That, of course, will not happen on weeks that I have school, and that’s ok.

School is a priority.

Work is a priority.

My recovery the biggest priority of it all.

And yoga is going to be a priority.

First, because it was heavily, I mean heavily suggested by my person that I start exercising three times a week, a safety valve to let off the steam of stress caused by full time work and full time school.

I can see now how right she was.

Not that I ever doubted she was right, I knew she was the entire time, I was raging over being right versus being happy, I was the person balking.

My disease, the nature of the malady, is such that anything that it thinks may bring me some sort of joy or love or lightness.

Well.

Fuck that.

No.

So I often take opposite indicated actions.

And even knowing that, I still balked at doing the yoga.

However.

I can report that I am really feeling better.

Yes.

I am sore.

But.

Not as bad as yesterday and I let myself get unattached to how I looked or held or not held a pose, I let myself topple, I let myself fall out of certain poses, I sunk into child’s pose a bit more, but I also tried.

I tried every pose.

I found I was more flexible in regards to a couple of poses that flummoxed me the first time they were introduced to me.

I found myself able to do a few things that I wasn’t able to do yesterday.

And.

My hips feel loose.

Oh my God.

They get so tight from riding my bike.

My knees haven’t hurt, my hips are loosened up, I can feel in my body a general lengthening and releasing of old energy, old thoughts, old ideas.

I love it.

I am so happy that I am letting myself do this.

I am so grateful for tax returns!

And student loans.

I can afford to do this and in all actuality, this is going to save my life, I can feel it.

I have been much more relaxed, more in my body, more present, more accountable.

And happy.

Not always.

I’m not saying I’m all high on yoga, but I am a little.

I caught that delicious feeling more than once of realizing that I had forgotten completely the outside world, the clock on the mantle, the life on the other side of the wood floor, school, work, chores, it was all gone.

I was just there.

In the moment.

So divine.

So needed.

The instructor was the same teacher as yesterday and it was a deepening of the dharma talk she gave yesterday.

It syncs well with my own, personal, Carmen based, spiritual practice.

Meaning I could get behind what she was saying even if I didn’t understand the names or words that she was saying, I got the point.

Non-attachment.

Intention setting.

Yesterday I meditated about love.

Today I set the intention for joy.

I felt light and full of love and joy and I held a person in my heart and sent that person that light and then.

Ha.

I had the vision in my mind of a daisy sprouting from the top of my head.

It was divine.

And silly.

And so apropos.

My favorite flowers are daisies.

In fact, after I went shopping for yoga clothes, thank you Sports Basement for the 10% discount! I went to the grocery store and picked up supplies for cooking and meals for the week at work, and I promised myself I would get myself some flowers.

I got a sweet little mix of pink Gerber daisies, tuber rose, lilies, and purple poms.

I felt happy.

Very happy.

It’s a small thing.

Flowers.

But so much too.

I love getting flowers and I don’t have to wait to be given them.

Buy your own damn flowers.

It’s been a good six days off.

A lot of heart work, thank you Valentines Day for your lessons in service and love.

Which were extrapolated out into my world all week long.

I saw dear friends, I had tea dates and walks on the beach, I saw a movie, I started doing yoga, I rode my scooter a lot, I did lots of doing the deal, I even, yes, I know, did homework–finished my reading for Multi-Cultural Counseling and the Family and got started on my reading for The Therapeutic Relationship–I sat outside in the sun, I went to ModCloth and got fitted (and I got the clothes on Friday!) and dressed up in my crinoline three times this week.

I had me a lovely, sweet, darling, “staycation.”

It was awesome.

I am ready to dive back into the fray.

Knowing.

Especially that I have a new tool in my box to help me be a stronger, healthier, more connected person.

Amazing.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Let me tell ya.

I am.

I am.

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Hug And A Squish

September 17, 2014

A kiss on the cheek.

A tear in my eye.

Don’t cry, don’t ruin your eyeliner.

A hug for the mom.

A thank you.

And off into the sunset.

Literally.

On my chopper playa bike with my purse in the front basket and a 1/2 gallon of unsweetened vanilla almond milk that I had left at the house in their fridge.  Right on down the road, well, not really, I rode the sidewalk all the way back until about 41st Avenue, then I turned in and onto Irving to take it all the way down to 46th Avenue.

And home.

I parked my playa steed in the garage and brushed the dust off my hands.

All done.

I said goodbye to my little chap in Cole Valley and gear up to start a new position in the Mission in less than a week.

Today I had scant plans, except the goodbye and the bicycle pick up.

I had a friend get a hold of me and we zoomed around the city and caught lunch, pun intended, at Catch, up on 9th and Lincoln.

The last time I had been there was with this friend and I rather enjoyed the continuity of it and that there are friends of mine that I can go months without seeing (even if we live in the same city my friends are hard people to keep up with, we all have such full lives) and it’s like we are instantly comfortable and relaxed and down for hanging out and shooting the shit.

I must have had five glasses of ice tea refills and we took forever to even look at the menu because we were too busy catching up and getting back into the swing of our lives, dramas, comedies, and situations.

I caught him up on all things work, Burning Man, New York, dating, lack there of, and plans to attend graduate school in the fall.

“What didn’t you write about in your blogs,” also came up as a topic.

There is some stuff that doesn’t make it here, fyi, should you think I lay it all out on the line.

I do, occasionally, keep some things to myself.

That’s when I know I have a friend who is absolutely interested in spending time with me, when they know that I edit and they want to hear about the edits and the intrigues and the life and times.

OH.

Don’t worry.

I still put an awful lot, if not most of it here, you’re not missing much I promise.

We also talked all things scooter, he’s the friend who sold me the Vespa, and I told him about my desire to sell the Vespa and trade it in for something automatic.

We chatted about that quite a bit, on and off with the general catch up that friends need to have.

Then we swung through the Haight and went sneaker shopping and window shopping and cool art book shopping, him, I was just along for the stroll.

After.

A car ride, it is fun to cruise about town in a car, I have to say, it really is.

We rolled over to Hayes Valley, did more window shopping, then enjoyed an Americano from Blue Bottle’s shop on Linden Street.  We sat in the open parkway area and soaked up the autumnal kissed sunshine until I had to make my way to Cole Valley.

I love San Francisco.

It was a treat to be a little tourist gal with my friend today.

We may even hang out again tomorrow if he has a clear schedule at work and go walk through China Town and eat cheap Chinese food with the rest of the tourists.

If he’s not available I may wend my way down to the Embarcadero and actually go out on a ferry-boat.  I didn’t end up going last Wednesday, I got a late start on the day and just didn’t feel like I had it in me to do a late crossing.

I may tomorrow.

I may not as well.

I may just sit in the back yard with a Edward St. Aubyn novel and enjoy the sunshine and the distant shush of the waves on the beach.

I do like the shush sound right about now.

There’s little traffic and the sun has set, and the roll of the waves can be heard in between the slide of the MUNI train rumbling down Judah Avenue.

I like this time of year out here.

It feels all summery and yet, there are few tourists and it feels like the sneaky summer that nobody knows about is happening.

I can leave the back door open to the sound and it’s not chilly inside, the heat of the day still dissipating into the air from the back patio where it’s been warmly collecting itself all day.

Maybe I will take my bicycle out for another ride.

Not too long.

Perhaps a swing through Golden Gate Park, go to the Japanese Tea Garden, hit the DeYoung, go to the Conservatory of Flowers, do a day at the park.

I am sure it will be quiet.

Then swing over to the Inner Sunset for an early evening meet up with some folks and back to my little bungalow by the beach.

I was even proactive today, which means tomorrow is really, truly wide open to anything, and I made soup and brown rice for the rest of the week.

In fact, it’s simmering on the stove right now.

White bean stew with organic chicken, carmelized onions and garlic, zucchini, corn, carrots, a little celery, a little kale, and some slow cooking on the back burner.

It’ll be done and ready for putting away by the time I am done blogging.

Not bad if I do say so myself.

Even my days off I like to get something done.

My goodbye is done.

My bicycle is back.

My staycation hits hump day.

More stories to come.

Trying To Figure It Out

September 15, 2014

Is not helping my sense of relaxation.

I just clicked through a number of “secret San Francisco spots” and things to do and thought, meh.

I’ve pretty much done that been there.

It’s the big guns I have not done.

I have not gone to Alcatraz.

I really can’t quite bring myself to go, to tell the truth.

I do love taking photographs of it when I have ridden past it on a ferry-boat at night or sunset, its a spectacular piece of spooky and eery and beautiful, but I have not ever really hankered to go visit the Rock.

I have never walked the Golden Gate Bridge.

I am not about to start tomorrow.

My ankle still sucks.

Still.

Half way to full healing, not walking in a boot, no crutches, but still aches, still gets swollen, still needs attending to.

Speaking of which, I am going to pause and prop it up with some frozen peas now that I am thinking about it and take a few ibuprofen for the swelling.

Ah.

That’s better.

I have not ever been too keen on walking the bridge, though, I have done it numerous times on my bicycle.

Which I was going to ride today, not much mind you, just to the grocery store and back.

But.

I blew out the valve on the inner tube trying to inflate it.

I have to change out the tube and I just didn’t feel like doing it to justify an eight block round trip bicycle ride to Noriega Market.

Although I will probably change my tune tomorrow when I go through the last of the Stumptown Holler Mountain coffee in my cupboard.  That will dramatically increase my odds of fixing my flat tire.

I was going to be lazy about it and just wheel it up the road to 42nd and Irving where that little local bike shop is, but then I was like, really?  I have the tube, I have the wrench I have the pump.  The time it would take to walk there and back I could probably change it faster and it will be free.

That’s one thing to do on the morrow.

I do have someone coming over for an hour tomorrow to do some work and catching up.

I am getting lots of that.

“You’re going to graduate school in San Francisco!?  You got a new job in the Mission!?”

“YAY!”

Some one I do some work with was over joyed to hear my news when we met at Maxfield’s House of Caffeine on the Dolores/Mission border.

Over joyed that I am not moving or going anywhere but staying here in SF for graduate work.

It was lovely to catch up, it has been about a month since I have done the one on one work and I have missed it.

I’ll get more this week.

But aside from that, not much is happening until Thursday.

After 1 p.m. tomorrow I am wide open.

I called and left a message with a friend of mine who occasionally has Monday’s off, perhaps we’ll kick it around the city.

I have a possible lunch date on Wednesday.

Tuesday I will say goodbye to the little guy in Cole Valley, pick up my playa bike, and hand over the key to the mom.

Bittersweet to see another story close.

But excited to have a new adventure happening soon.

In the Mission.

“Are you going to move back to the Mission?” A good friend of mine, who lives in the Mission, asked me this evening when I shared the news of what’s happening next in the life and times of moi.

I wish.

Unless y’all can come up with a spot for me, that is no more expensive than what I pay now and I get as much room and access to laundry.

I mean.

I would in a heart beat.

It is going to be a big commute to get to the Mission from out here.

I can do it.

I have before, but it’ll be about an hour and a half commute every day on my bicycle.

Maybe not that long, but about.

On a good gravy I am going fast day, with good traffic, and not really obeying traffic laws, I can make it to the Mission in about a half hour.

But I will probably give myself 45 minutes to make the ride.

I don’t want to die.

And this does bring me back to my other thought, my scooter.

I would love to use it.

I don’t think I am going to though, I can’t afford another injury on it.

I just cannot.

But I also don’t want to have a vintage Vespa collecting dust if I am not going to use it.

I think I am going to head to a couple of scooter places on Tuesday (SF Moto is closed on Mondays otherwise I’d go tomorrow) and see if I can trade in for a new model, I have been checking out the stock on their website and there seems to be a lot of options.

The commute won’t be quite so daunting on a scooter.

I’ll be getting on my bicycle until that sorts itself out.

I figure another week of taking it easy on the ankle and fingers crossed, I’ll be up and at ’em for the new job commute starting a week from tomorrow.

There’s not really a good MUNI connect between here and where I am working in the Mission, two transfers and some walking, I would rather spend the time on the bike and go slow and get there, it’ll be faster no matter what anyhow.

Of course, this is all unnecessary commuter speculation right now.

I don’t have work to go to until Friday when I am doing a date night for the parents of the new family and Saturday afternoon when I get to see my little guy in the Castro who started up pre-school while I was away at Burning Man.

Until then.

I shall ferret out some secret San Francisco treasures for my “staycation” enjoyment.

Wish me luck!

Hey You

September 11, 2014

Yeah you.

You look like you could use some vacation in your life.

I look over my shoulder, are you talking to me?

Yeah, kid, you, there, in the oversize bib’s, why don’t you go down to the Ferry Building and watch the sea gulls squabble over scraps and take in the Bay Bridge, it’s a nice day in San Francisco, you can even leave the second layer at home.

Alright.

This lady does not know what to do with the down time, so I pretend to play tourist.

Now.

I do it the savvy way.

Number one.

I pack my own lunch.

As much as I like lunching down at the Ferry Building, or any meal, really, I don’t like the price tag attached.

Way too much.

Especially since this time off was not planned and next week.

Yeah.

More unplanned time off.

“You could Task Rabbit yourself,” my friend suggested via text just a little while ago.

No.

I prefer to pre-emptively pay all my bills and be chill.

I was half expecting that the letter of resignation with the family I was just off in the desert with might end up with me not having any work next week, but I did not feel like I could have not given them the notice.

The grandma is in town and when grandma is in town, who needs a nanny?

I totally get it, and as I said partially thought that it may happen that way.

I feel better than if I had shown up for the three days of work that I would have been doing and then said at the end of it, oh and by the way, I’ll be working with a new family next week, so uh, good luck.

I did get a very nice invitation to go say goodbye to my charge and that will be arranged.

Besides, I need to drop off their house key and also pick up my playa bike.

I can’t imagine they will want it hanging out all dusty in their garage.

Actually, I am not so certain I want it hanging out all dusty in my housemate’s garage.

I am thinking of going and picking it up and donating it.

Possibly to the bike kitchen.

Possibly to the guys over on Shotwell and 21st–Pedal Revolution–the non-profit bike shop that teaches at risk kids how to do bicycle repair.

I can’t imagine keeping it right now.

I could use it next year.

If I go to Burning Man.

I might be having to start-up graduate school.

I might be on vacation with the family that just hired me.

Fingers crossed.

I will go in Friday and sign the last of the paperwork so that the insurance company can run the back ground check.

I really did think that I should not say anything to the family and hedge my bets and cover my ass and have work in case, but I did the principled thing, giving notice.

And I feel right with that.

I am grateful for all I received from the family, I really did get a lot.

And another grows up and I move forward.

I am really looking forward to the graduate school part of the equation.

“Aren’t you burnt out?” A friend asked me yesterday.

He was riding by on his bicycle during commuter hours home, oh, I cannot wait for that ride again (I haven’t gotten back on the bike, in fact, tomorrow I have a short gig in the NOPA and I will be taking MUNI again), and he stopped and squeezed me hard.

We haven’t seen each other, outside of facecrack, in years, but it was like old times.

He told me about his own child, now three and a half, and I think, yes, that was the last time I saw him, his wife was pregnant and he asked me some nanny questions, and how it is such a challenge to parent.

“I’m not,” I said, “but I can see it coming in a few years, more so, that my body is older and I am ready to do more with my experience.”

I told him about graduate school and child psychology and wow, big thumbs up.

In fact.

Big thumbs up from every single person I have spoken to about it.

It is really exciting to be going after something and being met with such widespread approval.

Usually if I get a wild hair up my ass about a career change I am met with some resistance or some thought-provoking suggestions.

All that’s happened this time is a complete affirmation of my idea.

It feels so on point it’s a tiny bit spooky.

But I am just going to go for it.

Until the next moves need to be made for the graduate school and for the new job I will relax and take it easy.

In the last two days I have played tourist–Legion of Honor yesterday and Ferry Building today–I shall continue in that vein for next week.

I do have work lined up tomorrow and Friday, then the talent show on Saturday.

Sunday coffee with a ladybug.

Monday tea with a ladybug.

In between?

The DeYoung?

Or the Cartoon Museum.

Maybe a game of bones with a friend of mine and some coffee somewhere in the city.

“Just give me a call,” he said to me tonight as I gathered the contents of my day of playing tourist–I know better than to eat or buy food at the Ferry Building (I got an iced coffee and ate my packed lunch on the pier overlooking the Bay), I walked to the Farmer’s Market at Civic Center and stocked up, “we’ll go out.”

Ah.

Ok.

Go out on his 36 foot Catalina sail boat.

“You just have to scoot over to Sausalito, that’s where I keep it docked, I take folks out all the time, don’t I,” he turned to a mutual friend.

“Ayup.”

Ok.

Then.

Another new experience to have.

Buttressed with the experience of knowing that when work is not at my fingertips I don’t need to freak out, maybe there’s something else I need to be doing.

Like sailing on the Bay.

Like playing tourist in one of the prettiest places on Earth.

I believe I can handle that for a few days.

Not too many.

A girl likes to have groceries and all.

But I can handle a few days off.

Who knows what marvelous mischief may happen.

Life Is A Beach

November 28, 2013

And a vale of tears.

But I’ll get to that in a moment.

Day two of the six-day staycation.

I did not get out so much today.

Rather I stayed in the hood.

I relaxed in the bed a little longer.

Awakening at 8a.m. I thought, nah, I am allowed a few more minutes, and I just drifted off in the warm soft sheets and dozed for another twenty minutes.

It could have been two hours, it felt so good when I woke back up.

I got up without even consulting the clock.

I was shocked to see that I had only slept another twenty minutes, I really was prepared for it to be noon and not 8:21 a.m.

Up was up, however, and up I stayed.

A text from the housemate upstairs and a confirmation that she was around and was I around and that and we should go get into some Trouble.

Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club, that is.

Trouble Coffee

Trouble Coffee

I had some breakfast, made my bed, did some writing and when that was complete I opened the door to my studio and met her and her daughter in the entryway and off we went.

Trouble was delicious, I had an Americano and it was dreamy.

After some coffee and catching up with her we went over to The General Store where her daughter explored the back yard and the succulents in the green house.

Cacti

General Store

I had no intentions of buying anything and happily wandered around the back yard with her.

Then I had to, well, you have a bunch of coffee and you would too.

The bathroom was by the clothes rack.

And on the clothes rack there they were.

My bib overalls.

I have been looking for a pair of bib overalls for the last year and a half.

I actually found some at a Brocante in Paris, but the woman would not barter with me and was more than exceptionally French, Parisian, and rude (I actually only had one other interaction with a French person that was the cliché, in all the six months of being there really, two nasty “French” people.), she was also enjoying a cocktail brunch at the cafe with her girlfriends and had no intent on selling anything from her stall.

It was like a front to sit in the sun and get schnockered on a Sunday.

Which is cool, but I did not succeed in trying on or purchasing the vintage coveralls.

I did, however, today.

Man, oh man, they are cute.

I will be wearing them to all my holiday parties.

Why?

Because they make me happy.

Some clothes just do that.

They made me happy when I tried them on and I almost wore them out the store.

Holidays should be dressed in happy clothes.

And for me that is a pair of bibs.

Doesn’t matter that it is not traditional holiday garb, holidays are already a challenge for me, what ever I can do to make them less so is something I am going to embrace.

As I found myself crying over a pint of ice cream this afternoon.

No.

I did not eat a pint of ice cream.

But I did lose it over a text requesting that I pick some up.

I mean I lost my shit.

I went from being a fairly calm, rational, just went down to the beach and watched the surfers and listened to the waves boom on the shore, and hula hooped and eaten a kale and spinach salad and, what!

Napped.

Oh yeah, did that too, twenty-minute knock out in the full sun after my salad and banana.

Did any of that matter when my friend sent a text asking me to be a dear and grab some ice cream to accompany the pies he was bringing to the event?

No.

I, as I said, lost it.

I sat down.

I cried.

Then I got angry.

Fuck you God.

Fuck you.

I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, it’s Thanksgiving and I ain’t gonna eat get to eat any fucking pumpkin pie or whipped cream or strudel or gravy or cranberry sauce.

I hopped the self-pity train and rode it the fuck out-of-town.

I knew better than to respond to my friends message as the response was way out of proportion to the event.

So far out of proportion that I knew it had nothing to do with the request and was just the sign pointing the way to a deeper disturbance in the force, Luke.

The restraint of pen and tongue and text paid off.

I had to make some phone calls and follow through with meeting up some of the ladies this evening and I did both.

When that was finished, when I had a modicum of perspective I made the phone call and joked to my friend that it was sort of like asking me to bring a couple of grams of coke to the party.

I asked if there was anything else I could bring.

He was such a sweetheart I felt bad for even making a deal about it.

Asking for what I need is still so damn hard and it’s not the big stuff that gets me, I can handle the big stuff.

Births.

Deaths.

Accidents.

Evictions.

Getting fired from a job.

No problem.

Bring a pint of ice cream to an event and my entire world falls apart.

“Honey, it’s always the mouse in the room,” John Ater said to me, “it’s never the big things, the elephants are easy, it’s the mice.”

No kidding.

Holidays are challenging and feeling out of my league is standard for me.

What is not is saying yes to a new experience and going somewhere new to be with new people.

And an old friend.

A friend that I don’t get to see for long stretches of time and who will be away for a lot of time for the holidays, kind of gift, you know, to actually get to meet his friends and be invited to his high holy holiday.

He’s getting all my pie.

And the ice cream.

Knowing myself too, it’s the being vulnerable part, I want to be perfect and be capable and be on top of things, but sometimes I have a hard enough time just getting to the point where I know what it is that is troubling me.

Having open time to spend with people and develop intimacy is one of the things that I want the most, yet shy from when it’s presented.

I have been gifted with some perspective around this and when I can sit still and allow the feelings to come and go, I am better for it.

Much better.

Here’s to not sabotaging my abstinence or my holiday.

Here’s to showing up with my authentic self.

Shy, scared, a little anxious, but happy to be included and grateful to have a place to be this holiday.

Grateful to have friends who want me to spend time with them.

Thankful beyond words.

And happy I get to do it dressed in bib overalls.

Not the bottom of an empty ice cream container.

 

 


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