Posts Tagged ‘summer time’

What A Day

June 30, 2017

A good day.

But quite the day.

A full day.

For sure.

Into work, lots of loving on the charges, family friend visit, lots of kids running around, and then quiet, a reprieve, unexpected in the middle of the day.

Snuggles and nap time with the baby and then the family and their friends went out to lunch and I had nearly an hour to myself.

It was so nice.

I haven’t had that since school has gotten out.

I ate a slow, relaxed lunch.

I looked at the skyline from the back porch, I made a few phone calls and connected with a girlfriend I haven’t seen since January, we made tentative plans to get together when the family I nanny for is on vacation.

So nice to reconnect.

I was to do the camp pick up for the middle child and I enjoyed the hell out of riding the MUNI, not having any charges, and then taking a nice quiet walk to BiRite, picking up snacks for my charge and a few things for the house.

Pick up at school was great.

My charge and I ate cherries and apricots and talked about sunshine and being nice, “I’m going to tell mom that I was kinda nice to you today,” she said and squeezed my hand tight.

I love her so much.

She is always the best.

Even when she is a handful of fierce fiery little girl.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She has a voice and I really love how her parents let her have that voice.

I was shushed often.

There was a lot of don’t speak unless spoken to in my home.

I didn’t really know that children could engage and interact and have conversations with their parents.

It was sort of, get out-of-the-way and be quiet or go outside and leave me alone.

I’m ok with that.

I developed a big case of the curiosity at a very young age and a desire to explore, seek, find, and experience whatever I could.

I had, and still do have a great big imagination.

I don’t really escape into fantasy anymore, life is real and reality is so much more interesting, but for a while, when I was young, fantasy was my hard-core go to.

And I was, and am, dare I say it, creative.

I concocted lots of games, did relay races with kids in the neighborhood, made up my own version of Kick the Can, Ghost in the Graveyard, Ding Dong Ditch, and a plethora of other things.

The summer I watched the Iron Man triathlon on television and became absolutely mesmerized in the event.

I staged a mini Iron Man, I called, aptly, Iron Kids.

There was a run around the apartment complex, followed by a bicycle race.

I couldn’t do the swimming in the ocean part, seeing as how we were in Wisconsin and the nearest pool was miles away, but I am sure I improvised something.

It might have been running in and out of all the wading pools in the courtyard.

I found my voice in motion and then again in books and escaping to the library.

I was always reading.

Always.

I would hide under my blankets at night with a flashlight and read.

I got yelled at a lot to do that.

Now.

I wonder, would a parent yell at a kid for reading past bedtime?

Perhaps using their phone and texting or being active on social media, but reading?

I think, probably not.

Ooh.

I got a new book in the mail.

Such a gift.

To get a book.

That is not for school.

I look forward to reading it.

I don’t have much time now, but it is something that I can flip through and I will be able to enjoy it when I am off from the family in July.

I am still trying to suss out if I’m going to travel.

One of my clients who I see on Thursdays will be gone for vacation and his times overlap mine and the availability I have to travel.

Maybe there’s a long weekend in my near future.

I am open to all possibilities.

And I’m super psyched.

Tomorrow is Friday!

I have a client consult after work.

I will have a long day still.

I’m hoping I’ll be able to sneak in a little time with my fellows, if I get out of work fast enough, and then I’ll have a client at 7:30 p.m.

It’s a consult, so there’s the possibility it may only go a half hour.

So if I don’t get out of work in time I’ll see about doing the deal after seeing the consult.

Then the weekend.

Which is full, since I still have to go to my Group Supervision.

But.

I’ll have some pockets of time.

I’ll do yoga in the morning both Saturday and Sunday.

I desperately need a mani/pedi/eyebrow waxing session.

And I do need to do grocery shopping, cooking, and errands.

Plus meeting with a lady Sunday afternoon.

And still.

There will be time.

There will be time to stop and breathe and love.

And maybe.

Yes.

Read a little for pleasure.

Such a sexy thing.

Oh life.

It is so.

So.

So.

Good.

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Be Flexible

June 4, 2016

And I’m not talking yoga.

I am talking to myself.

I am about to embark on the summer time schedule at work, aka, the boys full time.

However the family has a lot of traveling, summer camps, swimming time, and activities planned, it’s going to be busy and the mom has asked me to work 10 a.m. to 6p.m. Monday through Friday.

Except next week Tuesday when I’ll work 12-7p.m.

Or the next week when I’ll be on call for jury duty, so who knows if I’ll be working or not.

Oh!

And that Friday, the 17th, I’ll have it off completely!

They will be out of town visiting family in the Midwest.

And although they won’t be back until the following Tuesday, I will work that Monday for them, just to let the housekeeper in to clean the house and also for me to accept whatever Instacart order the mom has placed so I’ll be there cooking food for them.

Like this week: oatmeal for the boys breakfast, broccoli soup for the mom over the weekend, pitted 6 pints of cherries for snacks, hulled an entire flat of strawberries, roasted cauliflower twice, homemade baked macaroni with cheese, homemade beef stroganoff with bow tie noodles, cheese tortellini with pesto, plus lots of peeling of carrots and chopping of raw veggies.

Yeah.

Like that.

Then the next week.

Well.

Who the hell knows.

I did ask that I have a set schedule, but the mom has other ideas and I’m ok with it to a point, I do need some regularity in my schedule.

Or.

Do I?

Can I be flexible?

I want to be flexible, I want this job through the school year, through all my school years if I can, and that means trying to fit myself of maximum service to the situation.

I did ask that I have a weeks time to negotiate my own schedule.

Seeing as how I already went ahead and offered my time to one of my ladies for next Tuesday thinking I had the schedule all figured out.

Nope.

Ugh.

Fortunately she’s flexible too and all the women I work with are sweet about my school schedule and work schedule and I’m just going to do my best to stay in the moment.

Each moment.

To each moment.

To each moment.

It’s really the best I can do.

Like not trying to figure out my weekend plans.

Because.

Um.

I have none.

That would have once thrown me into paroxym of terror.

Unscheduled down time?

NO!!!

I’ll do yoga.

Or not.

I’ll sleep in.

Or not.

Probably not, although I did a little today and  that was lovely, my Fridays previous for the last year have been days when I got up early to do reading and school work, today I slept in long, did lots of reading, loads of writing and did some laundry, putting fresh sheets on the bed.

I’d like to get them rumpled up.

My possible date has not gotten back to me and I have eschewed chasing him down to nail down a time this weekend.

It will happen.

Or.

It will not.

I’m being flexible.

I’m doing my best to lighten up.

“I’m open to be available for what you need,” I told my boss, in sincerity, once I had a moment to breathe and realize that though it was not my ideal, the change in my schedule that she was out lining, “even if you want to have a date night in there, just let me know.”

Um.

Hey.

Lady.

Before you give it all away, remember, there is too flexible too.

I want to bend, but not break.

I will need fun time for me too.

Especially since the rest of my summer vacation time is not vacation time–it will be my second year school retreat.

Even if I’m not sure what I want to do on my weekends, aside from getting my hair colored the weekend of the 18th and being interviewed the weekend of the 25th.

Wait.

What?

Yeah.

I’m super excited about that, and a bit nervous too.

I actually have to confirm it and let her in on some of my creative process and see what she wants from me in regards to the filming.

It’s a podcast, so I’ll keep you posted as to when it airs.

Fuck.

I don’t even know what that means, podcast.

Bwahahaha.

I have to, scratch that, I get, to talk about my creative process and what that looks like, what I’m working on, what the fuck am I working on?

Inspirations, loads of those, but a definitive list, and so on.

Ooh.

I just realized, heh, I’ll have had my hair done pink from the previous weekend.

Nice.

I’ll be on film with pink hair.

Heh.

I have actually practiced reading the sonnet sequence that I wrote for the gentleman I met last year at Burning Man, I like how I sound in my head reading it, of course, I don’t like hearing myself so much, but I have been told many times I have a nice voice and I do believe that as well.

Plus there’s a couple of longer poems I have memorized that I could perform.

But.

I haven’t done an open mic in a while.

And I’m not sure what exactly I am working on.

I have had a thought about re-working a short story I wrote years ago and sending it to Glimmer Train, they have a “new writer” contest deadline coming up–they send me updates all the time since I have applied to the contest before.

That could be something I’m working on.

And of course.

This blog.

I am always working on this blog, or it is working on me.

The blog works me.

It is where I find solace.

It is where I find my truth.

It’s not always pretty.

But once in a while, I believe, it is searing in its honesty.

And once in a great while.

It is beautiful.

I have no idea which blogs those would be, I don’t go back and re-read them once they have posted unless I feel like I need to do some grammatical editing, or, ugh, I have written something that affects someone in a negative manner.

Really.

I can only write about myself.

I cannot judge another.

Fuck.

I’m not allowed to judge myself.

See.

There!

That!

I am searching for the things to show this artist who wants to film me about all the things I am doing and already I am not enough and I am judging myself.

Wrong.

This is not how it works.

I show up.

Every day.

Or damn near close.

And put my heart on my sleeve and let you in.

I show up.

And that may be the best artistry I am capable of at any moment.

It is not the awards or accolades.

It is the daily grind.

The words mount and flow and I can sit on them and bury my heart.

Or.

I can show up.

Let them out.

Have a little dance party.

And surrender to the art of what is happening.

Not to worry about what I have published, accomplished, or succeeded with.

The failure is just as important.

Every experience and opportunity.

For love.

Art.

Poetry.

More love.

All the time.

As long as I show up.

That’s it.

Oh yeah.

And let go of the results.

That too.

Always that.

Always.

I Only Cried Once

June 1, 2016

Ok.

Fuck.

Twice.

And of course, I was wearing glitter eye shadow today.

ALOT.

Fuck me.

Oh well.

That’s what mirrors on my scooter are for.

They certainly were not for anything else tonight coming home.

Holy fog Batman.

I was pretty soaked when I got home.

I digress.

I got out of the house early today to go wait in a line at the SFMTA.

To get a number.

To wait to be seen.

Wait, what?

Yes.

That’s right.

I had to wait in a line to wait in another line.

Ugh.

Fortunately, I had given myself enough time and I was able to address the issue, although, damn it, yes, I did cry.

I got frustrated.

I had all the things, I mean all the things, that they could possibly require, plus photographs of the scooter with the Child Care Parking Permit and my proof of insurance, my license, my title, all of it.

However.

As the supervisor so nicely told me, after I was redirected from the counter to another counter, it was the way it was.

There was nothing she could do.

“Listen, this is just the way it is, I’m sorry that you have to go through this, but there’s no other way, you need to get this documentation every time you apply for a child care permit,” she said, kindly, she was kind.

“But, I’m not asking for a new year long permit, I’m just asking to get a replacement permit,” I said, “the permit is good until November of this year.”

“Doesn’t matter, the city requires certain documentation, here, these are the forms, have your employer fill it out and then she has to come here in person and….”she paused.

I had started to cry.

I can ask for certain things from my employers, I know I can, and I have when I have needed to, but I knew, I mean, I really knew, she was not going to spend any time in the SFMTA to help me get the parking permit.

No way.

No how.

“Please, is there no other way,” I asked, “I just can’t see her coming down to do this, anything, please.”

We worked it out.

I got a sheaf of paperwork my employer will fill out and then she can mail it back to the SFMTA.

Ugh.

So I’ll get to wait another month or so and pay for parking out of my pocket, but better that than the sore knees I have had from riding my bicycle to and from work.

Plus.

Starting next week.

My work schedule will change.

10a.m.-6p.m.

This is my last week, that is, until school starts back up in the fall, with the 1p.m. to 8p.m. schedule.

The boys will be out of school as of Friday.

Which means my yoga schedule will change too.

No more yoga before work.

But.

For this week, I still have the late start and for that I am grateful as it facilitated me getting to the SFMTA and dealing with the standing in line and the paper shuffling.

And yes.

The tears.

There are just somethings that I get worked up about and I knew, I mean, knew, before going in, to not have any expectations.

Still had them.

Surprise.

Fuck.

God only knows what the fuck will happen when I am on jury duty.

Sigh.

Yup.

Got nailed with that too.

My service week is the week of June 13th.

I suspect I won’t get called, but I had to let the family know and the mom was none too pleased about that too.

I can’t delay it.

I did that already.

I was initially called up while I was in the throws of my last round of papers and projects for my first semester of grad school.

There was no fucking way I could do it.

I applied for the six month deferral.

Got it.

And then completely forgot that six months later they were going to cheerfully pull my card and call me in.

Oh well.

Civic responsibility.

“Adulting.”

All that jazz.

I do know that it won’t be as horrid as it could be, schedule wise, the family will be going back to the mom’s side of the family for a little while and I will not have them that Friday, Monday deal.

Of course, I will get to be there to open up the house for the house keeper and do some cooking and take care of things like I do.

This time, though, no locking myself the fuck out of the house.

Not playing that shit again.

My schedule has been a little wonky this week already.

I normally meet with some ladies on the weekend, all of them got rescheduled, and normally, I meet with another lady tonight, but she had work stuff.

I found myself in a part of town I don’t normally get to.

And for an hour.

I had some reprieve from the fog, the parking, the SFMTA, the work, the schedule, the juggling of folks.

It was nice.

I saw some folks I don’t see often.

And though I wasn’t pleased to get out to see how thick the fog had become, holy Moses, it was soup, I was centered and calm and happy to get home safe and sound.

To light up some candles.

To turn on the heat in my studio.

Yeah.

It really is like that.

It’s cold out here.

The fog is something serious.

And I don’t recall it being this dense already at this time last year.

I think I’m in for a pretty fogged out summer.

Grateful I work in the Mission.

I did get to see sun today.

The mom was incredulous that there was anything but sun at the beach this weekend, but I assured her, it really was dreary.

Although.

It is a cozy sort of thing.

Wrapping up the neighborhood.

Softening the edges of things.

The transformers sparking in the moisture.

The smell of the sea.

The call of the fog horn.

Just calls for cozy company.

Which shall happen this weekend.

Despite the tears.

I’m just a girl, you know.

Life is lovely.

It really is.

Fog and all.

Happy.

Joyous.

Foggy.

And.

Free.

 

Today

May 30, 2016

Was a good day.

Really.

Like nice.

And stuff.

Heh.

Yoga in the morning, and although I felt stiff and cranky, after yesterday’s class when I pushed so hard today felt like it took me a very long time to get to where I felt at ease in my body.

But.

At ease I did get and the final resting pose was so lovely and good and I walked out of the studio floating and into the sunshine of a lovely San Francisco day.

Albeit.

Windy as fuck.

And typical Outer Sunset weather, the fog came, oh, hello there, “summer time” let me turn up the heater and find a muffler, and where’s that extra hoodie?

But.

Before then.

I had a coffee date with a friend of mine from school, and I realized that we had never hung out during the year of classes, which really, isn’t that much of a stretch when I reflect on the fact that the majority of my class mates work full time as well as doing the full time grad school program.

Of course we hadn’t hung out.

The fact that I have socialized with any of my cohort still astounds, it was a busy fucking year, yo.

A lot happened.

“I realized I had no idea what the fuck was going on with you,” my friend said tonight as the fog was rolling thick and cold over Twin Peaks.

We were up at the Castro Country club sipping tea and catching up.

I got to do a lot of that today.

Catch up with folks.

First with my friend from school–Trouble Coffee, a hang out in the back garden at The General Store, a walk down to the ocean, although we didn’t hang there long, the wind was super kicking.

Then he hopped the N-Judah and I went back to my house, made up a nice lunch, and made some plans for next weekend.

Yup.

I’ve got plans.

Yay.

The date was confirmed and we’ll be hanging out Saturday.

Then.

I realized.

It’s.

Sunday.

And.

What the fuck do I do with myself?

I found myself wandering around my studio, no homework to do, no lady doing the deal, no responsibilities, I mean I knew I was heading to the Castro tonight to meet up with my person and grab dinner at Firewood Cafe, then doing the deal with a bunch of peeps up at Most Holy Redeemer, but I had hours, hours of nothing in front of me.

I contemplated going to the MOMA, but realized it was already after two and it closes early on Sunday, not the best time to get my new museum on.

Although my friend and I discussed going in on a joint membership together to save some money and get the most people with us to use the membership.

Anyway.

I didn’t go to a museum.

And.

I didn’t go running amok about the city either.

I realized.

I just needed to stay put.

To sit still.

To be in my home and be ok with down time.

No homework daunting me, no papers looming over my head, no reading that has to get done today or else.

Nope.

All I had to do was sit and read one of the books I had picked up in a wild burst of delirium my first semester when I thought I would actually have time for pleasure reading in addition to my school reading.

Bwahahahaha.

What silliness.

I picked up a book that I had started months ago and sat out on the back patio and soaked up the sun before it got completely shrouded in fog.

The next door neighbor was out on his back stoop playing blues guitar.

I would read a few pages, then let the book fall to my lap, raise my face up to the sun, close my eyes and let the blues scales roll over me.

He played for hours.

I read for hours.

HOURS.

Oh my God.

I realized that in the last week I have actually picked up two books for pleasure, finishing one completely and three quarters of the way through the other.

I may need to go book shopping.

Yippee!

It was so nice.

To sit still.

To watch the sky.

To feel the sun on my face.

And when it got chilly, because, well, that’s what it does out here this time of year, I pulled inside, curled up on my chaise and read for a while longer.

Then, when the time was ripe.

I hopped on my scooter, rode up and over the hills to the Castro and reconnected with my person and also found out my favorite new friend, my darling Puerto Rican fairy god father, was coming in from Oakland and my friend, the having tea friend, the doing the deal and going to school friend, also wanted to hang out, well.

I just found myself surrounded by friends and I saw so many folks tonight and reconnected with faces and people who I have not seen in a while and, well.

It was good.

So good.

I am so blessed to know the people I know.

Really.

And the Castro was on fire tonight, all the neon lights and all the party people, hello Memorial Day weekend, I do remember when, it was a party by the time I left the Country Club, my tea a warm ball in my tummy, to head back here on my scooter.

I turned it on, let her warm up and could see the moisture, the flakes of fog like snow flurries in my head lamp, and took it careful going home.

No less to avoid the drunky drunks and the many Ubers on the road then to keep myself from slipping around on the road.

I laughed as I was coming up and over the last bit of hill on 17th, I knew I would be coming home to light all the candles up in my studio and turn on the heat and make hot tea stat.

“Hello summer, we meet again,” I chuckled.

Summer time.

High jinx.

Dating.

Doing the deal.

Having fun.

Dancing.

Seeing friends.

Drinking tea in cafes.

Or coffee.

I mean, let’s be real here.

Hello summer.

It’s nice to see you.

Let’s be friends.

I found my muffler.

I’ve got four hoodies.

Bring it summer.

Let’s go.

Packed

May 23, 2014

Or the closest proximity to being packed as I can be.

I have to put together my toiletries and a few more clothes.

I can’t pack them yet, though, toiletries needed for tomorrow’s work day and the clothes are in the laundry.

Although, should I need to, should the laundry not get taken care of tonight for some strange reason, I’m ready on that front.

I am actually bringing more clothes than I probably need, although less than I had originally packed up.

I got a text from my friend regarding the weather being in the 90s.

Ok then.

I will need my sunblock and that sweatshirt can go back in the closet.

The only other thing I need is the tent, which is in the garage, but not packed yet.

It’s my housemates and she wants to pack it up to make sure nothing’s missing.

Ok.

She knows I leave tomorrow by 4:30p.m. and although I offered to do it, she insisted.

I am covered.

I was offered, very sweetly, some extra gear from one of the families that I work for, but the logistics of trying to get it and co-ordinate with my friend who is driving were too much for me.

And not worth the struggle.

Which is what I realized when I stopped to really access my need for the things that were being offered.

Do I really need a cook stove?

Yeah, I suppose, it’s nice to have it, but all the food I bought for the weekend can be eaten without cooking.

Ditto for the cooler, which maybe I could have used, but the thought of getting up earlier than I already am, to go to work on the MUNI so that I could then either Uber/taxi/MUNI over to another location to pick up a cooler that I don’t really need seemed just too much.

Then my friend would be making two stops, one to pick me up in the NOPA and another to go out to my place here by Ocean Beach.

Keep it simple.

I don’t need the cooler either.

Should I change my mind I’ll just buy one.

Everybody needs a cooler anyhow.

I did take the offered sleeping mat and a blanket that can be used for roughing it and picnics and laying about on.  I folded the blanket tightly and wrangled the sleeping pad in my messenger bag.  Pair that with the sleeping bag I bought years ago for when I did the AidsLifeCycle Ride, and I am set sleep wise.

I will probably also bring a pillow, but that won’t get packed until tomorrow.

I have everything else stacked by the door.

One plastic bin and one large recycled bag with the pad, blanket, a towel, my food supplies, and some eating utensils.

I will rough it just fine.

It’s only three nights anyway.

I am looking forward to being out of the city.

It will still be a jam for me tomorrow.

I will ride my bike to work, get in seven hours, leave an hour early, by 4 p.m. and ride like the wind, to get back to my place at 4:30p.m. to be picked up.

I feel quite competent that it will all work out and I am ready for some dancing, some art, some hanging out with my friend, some making new friends, some seeing old friends who let me know they are there, and just chilling.

I am bringing my laptop and my phone and my camera and I don’t know if any of them will be supported.

Well, that’s not true.

My camera will be fine.

It has re-chargeable batteries that are fully charged and I have packed an extra back up.

The laptop and the phone I am curious about.

I don’t know if I will have access to electricity where we will be camping.

We are not going to be RV camping with hook ups.

We will be car camping.

I may not be blogging.

I don’t know.

I am going to do my best to send my daily posts out, but fore warned, there may not be another blog coming.

That being said, I will take a lot of photographs and I will document the experience in my notebook, I will continue to write my three pages long hand, that’s a habit I can take anywhere with me.

Funny, I was thinking I actually have access to more amenities when I go to Burning Man, but I won’t be dusty here.

I had that thought earlier, oh, don’t forget to pick up some baby wipes.

Then I laughed.

I am not going to be camping in the dust bowl of the Black Rock Desert.

I don’t know what to expect and the not knowing gnaws at me a bit, but there’s only so much preparations a person can do and I am as prepped as I am going to get.

I am not investing a lot of money into going, I just don’t have it to invest, the ticket is bought and paid for and I have a sleeping bag and some Tasty Bites, a summer dress or two, something to sleep on, some flowers to pin in my hair and the attitude of let’s go have fun.

That’s all I really need.

Oh.

And my water bottle.

I expect I will be drinking a lot of water if I am going to be dancing in 90 degree heat.

Memorial Day weekend.

The opening salvo of summer.

I am ready.

All I need to do is get up in the morning, shower, and stick to my normal routine, swap out the laundry, get dressed, ride to work.

Then ride home and wait to be picked up.

I will pack up my little mobile office with my MacBook and chargers and my Iphone and camera and if I have the time, whip up a little dinner to take on the road with me.

That’s it.

Summer time fun.

Road trip.

Lighting in a Bottle.

Here I come.


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