Posts Tagged ‘Sunday’

Almost Over

October 9, 2017

The weekend that is.

But my God.

It was glorious.

Amazing.

Let me tell you.

And it’s not quite over, but at 8:40p.m. on a Sunday, it does have the feeling of being just about put to bed.

Granted.

I will be up a little bit later tonight as I’m going to go to the deal on the other side of town.

I am normally not a late night lady when it comes to that, I used to be, but enough early morning starts and going to do the deal after 8:30p.m. becomes a fantasy more so than any reality if recent memory.

However.

I don’t have supervision tomorrow!

My solo supervisor is on vacation this week and next.

Which means I have to find my supervision elsewhere, but whatever, I’ll figure that out.

I have one session booked for the Saturday after I have school, yeah, I have a school weekend next weekend, right after I attend my group supervision–my group supervisor agreed to stay an hour after and meet with me.

I will probably want to shoot myself in the head because my solo supervisor is amazing and I love working with him and I always leave feeling exhilarated and have pages and pages of notes to review and work through before meeting with my clients.

My group supervisor?

Not so much.

In fact, I realized this weekend that I stopped bringing in my notebook for group supervision.

I get so little out of it that I rarely take any notes.

Granted.

There is something about sitting and processing what is happening for me in the session with my clients and I have gotten some good feedback.

But not much.

I am just going to have to do it though, I am, as I need to carry a certain amount of supervision while I am carrying my client load.

I have eight clients now.

I see clients four times a week, after work, for two hours.

I must have a certain amount of supervision or the BBS won’t approve my hours of client sessions, and that’s fucked, as there are so many hours I have to accrue.

I understand the logistics of it, but it’s still a pain in the ass when my supervisor is gone.

Nevertheless I feel quite happy that I can sleep in tomorrow and thus go out a little later than I normally would on a Sunday to hang out with my fellows and get right with God.

I am also happy to say I had a super productive day so I’m ok going out too.

I have gotten a lot of reading done.

I just finished writing a paper for my CBT class and I turned it in three days early.

Granted.

I had to do the fucker tonight, it doesn’t really matter to me that it wasn’t due until the 11th.

I’m going to be working and seeing clients today and tomorrow.

I will be going to therapy before work on Tuesday.

I will have to do my group supervision this week on Wednesday and I have a commitment after that.

I wouldn’t have had time to do it any other time.

I do have another paper to write, but I’m not quite ready to write it and since I had a client cancel for my Thursday slot at 6:30 p.m. I will probably take that hour in my office to write the paper.

I have to go in Thursday despite the cancellation, I still have a client at 7:30p.m.

So anything that I don’t get done by Thursday I can address in that time.

Yeah, an hour is not much time to write a paper, but I can write a 1500 word blog in less than an hour, I can certainly crank out a paper for my Jungian Dream Work class.

I didn’t attend to that today as I had other reading to do that had to happen and also I haven’t really had any dreams that I have remembered.

I have had some snippets but nothing worth writing about.

I did have one a few nights back that was pretty interesting, but it was happening as I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and I was super tired and fell right back into bed.

I am not going to pick up my dream journal and write down a dream at 4 a.m.

No I am not.

So.

I remember bits of the dream, but not the bulk of it, and I suppose I could have sussed something out that morning after I got up, but I had other stuff happening and I forgot.

I don’t as of yet really have fodder for the paper.

Oh.

I suppose I could use a dream I have had before.

I have a very vivid recollection of many dreams.

But.

I’m waiting for something fresh.

Speaking of fresh.

My house is looking tidy.

Did more laundry.

Did a bit of cooking, I’ve got food all prepped up for the week and for the weekend of classes.

I also met with a ladybug and did some work with her.

I love how I find myself telling the women I work with the exact, and I do mean, exact thing that I need to hear myself do.

So.

After she left I had a phone check in with my person and then I did my accounting for the month of September, which I usually do within a day of the beginning of the month, but um, ha, it’s the 8th and I finally got to it.

And I did my spending plan for October.

Then.

I got my health insurance stuff sussed out.

My coverage through Healthy SF ends on October 16th.

I applied for health insurance through school and it was pulled, the money to cover the plan, from my financial aid.

But I hadn’t really finished setting it all up.

I did that today.

I also called and contacted my new ophthalmology doctor.

Which was fantastic, I have insurance now that will cover my eye doctor appointments, I was paying out-of-pocket and that has gotten pretty expensive over the last few years as my prescription as changed.

Thanks “old age” and reading a fuck load of books and articles for grad school.

I have been wearing “progressives” for a few years now.

Bifocals.

Thank you very much.

And they are not cheap and I suspect my prescription has started to change enough so that I need a new pair of glasses.

I’ll be making an appointment tomorrow.

Very happy I got that taken care of.

Hell.

I even got to yoga today too.

I wasn’t sure I was going to, I was feeling a bit of anxiety about getting enough homework completed, but then as I was reading for my Transpersonal Psychology class I just realized, you know, I’ll feel so much better if I go exercise.

I looked at my watch it was 4:10 p.m. and yes, there, on the schedule at my studio, a 4:30p.m. class.

I got so worked.

But it was worth it and I felt so much better and I was able to focus on the rest of the homework that I needed to do.

Not bad Sunday.

And you’ve still got surprises in mind for me, I can tell.

Thanks for an amazing weekend.

I actually feel really on top of my game right now.

It’s a good fucking feeling.

Really, really good.

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So Many Things

July 24, 2017

This Sunday.

Although I did not set foot out of the Sunset.

I almost didn’t get out of the Outer Sunset, but I did manage to scooter up to a lovely little church shrouded in the heavy fog this evening.

Wow.

The fog tonight was no joke.

It was super spooky riding home and the visibility was little to none.

I went very slow.

Grateful to be in a neighborhood that was quiet and sleepy and muffled.

The few cars I did pass basically blinded me with their headlights refracting in the fog.

So careful.

So slow.

I don’t want to die.

I say that with and without tongue in cheek.

There has been a lot of death around lately.

I joked, in a rather morbid way, the other night, the God must like taking folks in July.

“What is under that fear,” I asked her today.

“Well…..” she said somethings and got closer and closer and then, “I’ll drink and then I’ll die.”

“So, you’re afraid to die,” I said softly.

I am too.

I remember the first time someone spelled that out to me.

I hadn’t made the correlation from the resentment I was holding onto to the point that I was ultimately afraid that I was going to die, that so many of my fears stem from that oh so basic fear of death.

Oh.

There’s littler fears, smaller fears, the classic ones that come to my mind are always the same, fear of being unlovable, fear of being abandoned and alone.

Always they come up.

But tonight.

Well.

It was just plain old fear of getting hit by a car on my scooter because the visibility was so bad.

I was very glad I had my scooter jacket on.

Aside from the fact that it’s a great windbreaker and it has padded elbows, shoulders, and a back piece, it is also pink and has reflective fabric sewn into it.

I’m pretty visible.

I mean, nothing is 100%, but I would say that I have more visibility than someone who is riding in a black jacket, that’s for sure.

I’m running around in loops.

Get to the point.

Today another person died.

Taken off life support.

I knew her a little while after I got into recovery, she’d been around, on and off, for at least ten years, maybe eleven of my time doing the deal.

Always a bright light, always a lovable woman.

She came in and out a lot, there were many times I saw her after a relapse and they were not pretty.

But.

She got out and she was doing well and had relocated back to the Midwest and was doing it, she had two years when she died, had gotten married, had a great job, she was a step mom and happy, and you could see it in her photographs and in her cute little quips and fuck, she just recently recommended to someone in our community who recently had a baby that they reach out to me as she knew I was a “great nanny.”

She’d been a nanny too.

We often times would commiserate about our families, and more often swap pictures of the babies we worked with, our charges, and we would share stories of endearment about them and our nanny adventures.

It takes a special kind of person to love unconditionally children that way that she did.

That’s what she was doing.

Swimming.

Teaching a child how to swim.

If I understand the story correctly.

And she drowned.

She was pulled out and they tried to resuscitate her and she spent some time in the ER, but she never came back.

She passed this morning and once again I find myself taking a big break from social media and trying to titrate how much I take in.

I did reach out to a dear friend of mine and offer some support.

He’d dated her and though the relationship hadn’t lasted, I know how very important she was to him and how much they still stayed in touch.

He was devastated.

He’s got a great support system though.

And I think of the community and support system I get to be involved with, all the gratitude I have for my fellowship.

And.

Yes.

Sigh.

I think about Shadrach.

He would have run the marathon today.

He was supposed to ten years ago today.

But that was not what happened.

Ten years ago he was hit on his scooter and though not outright killed, he was in the ICU on life support for a week, he was killed that night.

He just hung around long enough for us all to say goodbye.

And sometimes it feels like there was never enough time to say goodbye or never will be and I keep going on living and when I used to feel guilty I just feel graced now that I get to be so exuberantly alive.

I bitch about going to yoga.

But fuck.

I get to go to yoga.

I get to do so many things.

All the things that he didn’t get to do.

And I wonder about this woman too, what things did she not get to do.

I am grateful that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was at the best place she’d ever been in her life and that God took her at the peak of her experiences.

But that doesn’t mean it’s not sad.

God damn it’s sad.

She was so freaking young.

I’m forty-four.

I think she was about to turn 40 this year.

I just recall that we were close in age.

Sigh.

Shadrach would be 42.

I don’t feel the sads the way I did a week or so ago when I was walloped with emotion, but it is there, soft, and slow, and muffled, like the fog, creeping in and nestling down in my heart.

So.

I lit some candles and I will have a moment and I have looked at his handsome face today in the photographs I have on the wall.

And I will say thank you friend for showing me how important it is to live to my fucking fullest every damn day.

Sometimes it’s tiring.

But.

Fuck.

I get to be tired.

I am so lucky to be here.

If life was fair I would be dead.

I am not.

I am here and I promise.

YOU.

I will keep loving with all my heart.

Loving so damn hard.

Regardless of how much it can hurt to live.

The pain is worth it.

I get to live.

I get to love.

I get to.

I am so, so graced.

 

No One Is Reading

June 12, 2017

Two days in a row.

Not a single hit to the blog.

Wow.

Taking it off social media certainly did the trick and since I will be starting with two new clients this upcoming week I am grateful that I have cleaned things out.

I also winnowed out a lot of other “friends” on facecrack and my social media has come down to me checking into restaurants and yoga.

Yeah.

I did another day of yoga today.

I wasn’t planning on it, although I knew it was an option, I sort of played today by ear.

I didn’t want to stress myself out but I also wanted to make sure that I was prepped for the upcoming week since it will be long and busy and full.

I had a speaking engagement this morning so I got up early on my Sunday and did my morning routine and wrote a bunch and then headed to the Mission.

Sometimes I miss the Mission.

I will have nostalgia for it, especially when the Outer Sunset gets socked in with fog, but this morning I didn’t have that much nostalgia and by the time I was done with my engagement I was really quite happy to get out of the fray and head back out to the ocean.

I could actually feel it in my body when I crested the hill that starts the downward roll to the sea and I could see the ocean and it just soothed me and I felt calm and nurtured and happy to be heading home and not have a lot of responsibility to the day.

I met with a new lady I just started working with and we did some reading and talked, a lot, there was lots of talking and it was good.

It is so good to be able to pass on what I have been given so freely and for it to be accepted so open armed.

I just felt blessed and grateful and by the time she had left I was ready to do the first round of food prep.

I made a shredded chicken hash with Andouille sausage, corn, carmelized onions, and crimini mushrooms.

Instead of potatoes I used brown rice.

No peppers though, peppers give me indigestion.

Which always bums me out.

I have super fond memories of my mom’s stuffed bell peppers from when I was a kid and I crave them once in a while, but all peppers, especially the green ones, tend to give me acid indigestion.

Anyway, so I cooked and had a nice lunch.

And.

Well.

It’s my fathers birthday today and I decided to call him.

Except that the call didn’t go through and the phone isn’t set up to receive voicemail and I took that as a sign, it wasn’t time to talk to my father.

But I could wish him a happy birthday from my heart and remember the last time I saw him and how his skin felt so warm against my lips when I kissed his cheek goodbye.

I hope you’re well papa.

Always, I hope this for you.

I settled my heart and decided to get out of the house and do a little self-care and get a manicure.

I had already done a great big cleaning, sweeping, vacuuming and dusting as well as laundry and putting my kitchen back together once I knew for certain the paint had dried on the cupboards, so I wasn’t slacking in the doing things department.

But.

I figure I’m going to either need to take good nail care maintenance for myself or get a manicure once a week rather than the every other I have been doing.

I want to show up well-groomed for my clients.

I want to be a demonstration of good self-care.

So.

I went up to the Inner Sunset and got the nails did and then I scooted over to Noriega Produce on Noriega and 46th and picked up a few last-minute groceries to have at the house.

And then back home to unpack, fold laundry, and figure out if I was going to the restorative yoga class or not.

I decided to go.

And.

It was so good.

So stretchy and relaxing and I just felt held and coddled and like I was taking super good care of my body and I could feel where I had worked my muscles this past week with all the yoga I had done.

I wish I could go more often, but I’m always down to take advantage of the studio when I can get into a class.

Next week I’ll probably only be able to go on Saturday and Sunday.

Maybe only Sunday.

So getting it in this week was good for me.

It was also super dreamy.

I was in deep revery the majority of the time.

I felt wrapped up in golden sunshine and I went to the meadow.

There is a place, I don’t know how or where it comes from, but I get the image off and on when I am in a certain kind of open body space in yoga class.

I remember the first time I had it and it was with a specific teacher and it happened during a certain time in class and it was accompanied by a bit of music that I never did find out who the artist was, but it was bluesy folk and guitar and achy and melancholic and sweet and reminded me of high mountain meadows and tall grass and long-stemmed wild flowers and I just spun out tonight in the meadow and danced and I was accompanied.

I have never been met there before.

I remember once being in that same space and it was beautiful and I saw myself as myself now holding the hand of a younger woman who held the hand of a younger girl and we walked towards a woman, who was I also, long flowing grey hair and I saw myself.

Girl.

Maid.

Woman.

Crone.

And I was awed by the beauty and the image.

But.

Also sad.

There was no one but I in the meadow and it seemed that I was waiting.

There was a fire to be lit.

Enchantments and witchery and strawberry full moon light and warm night air and yes, bonfires.

Dancing.

And I was met and I saw a long line of faces and stories and I danced and was held and turned and it was extraordinary.

I won’t analyze for you what I saw.

I just had a dream.

On a golden lit early Sunday evening in the Outer Sunset.

I drifted off, buoyant and aglow.

Wrapped in soft butter cream light and warmth.

So much warmth.

As though cocooned in a silk hammock on a summer day nestled into the strong arms of another.

Swaying in the wind.

A swooning melting and then.

Softly the bells chimed pulling back to earth and back to hearth and back home.

To the smell of dinner.

Chicken roasting in the oven and the warm embrace of my clean sweet space.

Happy Sunday.

Sweet dreams.

Good rest.

And.

Godspeed into this hazy night of dreams and revery.

Choices, Options, Decisions

January 28, 2017

Home.

It was just to come home.

And I was very much ok with the coming home.

In fact.

I danced around my home feeling pretty happy and complete.

I had a good day at work.

I had a great meeting of the minds after work.

I got asked out to dinner.

And this time I got the feeling it was more than for just fellowship.

I said yes.

I don’t know when we’re going to go, but I feel like we will be going soon.

He had a cold or we might have grabbed a bite tonight.

I decided to opt out of going to my friend’s birthday dinner.

I was already half way towards home and super hungry.

I just couldn’t fathom turning my scooter back around, going the other direction into Friday night end of the week cocktail traffic and doing a late sushi dinner.

I was too hungry.

I figured the best thing to do was ping my friend, extend my happy birthday wishes and head home to eat some tasty dinner here.

I just did and I am quite pleased.

I am also pleased as I have paid my rent for February and I bought myself a few things online from ModCloth for new interview clothes.

Why?

Because I’ll be interviewing soon.

How do I know that?

I got a response to my resume and cover letter this morning!

Hi Carmen!
Thank you so much for your resume and info. I recall meeting you at the practicum fair.
It does look like you might be a great match for our therapeutic community here. I’d like to invite you in for a casual interview.
Please let me know some days and time-frames that would work for you and we’ll schedule a casual interview.
Thanks! 
Whoa.
I had completely forgotten I had even applied.
Hahaha.
The e-mail this morning caught me off guard.
I was not looking for it, just checking my e-mail as I had breakfast and was enjoying some coffee, thinking about what I might me doing this weekend and my plans had changed when I discovered I had gotten my period.
Yeah.
TMI.
Fuck you.
But no, there will be no fucking me.
Canoodle session canceled.
Which I am alright with.
I realized after I had gotten this e-mail.
I am going to need to do some shopping for some interview clothes tomorrow!
Yippee!
I like clothes shopping when I’m in the mood and I have to say, I’m in the mood now.
Hehe.
Super excited.
And fingers crossed we will be doing the interview soon as I would really love to nail down my practicum site and not proceed forward with more open houses and more applications and more interviews.
I responded with times and days and fingers crossed I’ll hear back soon.
I also contacted the third year student in my program, he’s the person who recommended the place to me, and said, I got asked in for a casual interview, any suggestions?
He said, “just go in and be your fabulous self.”
Well fuck.
I can do that.
And though it will be casual, whatever that means, I do feel like I want to show up nicely dressed and coiffed.
Really what it comes down to is that I need a pair of nice flats.
I don’t have a single pair of flats.
Oh.
I have tennis shoes.
Converse and a pair of Saucony.
And I have my boots.
But I don’t see wearing rain boots.
Or.
My Burning Man boots.
Um no.
Then I have a couple of pairs of heels, but I don’t have the appropriate interview attire to go with them, they were bought for dresses which I feel are too dressy for the interview.
And I have plenty of wedges and platforms.
But walking into an interview in 4 inch Mary Jane black suede platforms might be just a bit too much fabulous.
I figure I need to hop over to Macy’s downtown and grab a pair of D’Orsay flats from Nine West, they carry my size and they’re not super expensive, plus they’re cute and I can wear them with other outfits.
Then maybe I pop into Banana Republic and grab a nice pair of slacks or a long skirt, a simple button down and maybe a blazer jacket.
Nothing too fancy, but clean, simple, pulled together.
The site is in the Mission and it’s a Community Therapy model, so I don’t think any one is going to be over concerned with my outfit, but I know that it’s better to come in looking tidy then roll up in jeans and Converse.
Even if I end up doing the practicum hours in jeans and Converse, which is a likelihood, I will feel better being well suited for the first get together.
I’m going to get up, go to a 9 a.m. yoga class.
Shower.
Breakfast.
Coffee.
Scooter up to 7th and Irving, meet my person at Tart to Tart at 12:15p.m.
Then another lady at 1:15p.m.
Lunch.
Then a manicure and some lunch.
After lunch I’ll head downtown and do the shopping.
Hopefully it won’t take too long and then I’ll head to the NOPA do the deal and maybe if I’m feeling it, hang out and do some fellowship, grab dinner at Brenda’s if folks are going out.
Sunday will be yoga, taxes, homework, cooking for the week, reading, write a paper.
And if I get it all done I will be taking the suggestion to go see a movie.
I may not though.
And I’ll be ok with that.
I did promise myself that since I wasn’t going out tonight to my friend’s birthday gig I would try to get out tomorrow and connect with people.
Keep myself from isolating and be in the stream of life.
Because I suspect I’ll be starting practicum soon and I want to have some fun to balance out all the school stuff.
And though there is more work to do.
I am excited.
I am happy I got a response to my resume.
And.
I’m happy I got asked out to dinner.
Yes.
Yes I am.

Write It Out

November 7, 2016

To work it out.

I’m so grateful for my little old blog.

It does help me with the practice, with the writing, with the working it out so that I can work it out on paper too.

I just wrapped up another paper for school.

One more down.

One more step down the long, winding road toward becoming a therapist.

I wrote a nice paper, it was good, I liked it, I’m actually quite happy with it and I don’t have to worry about it over the upcoming week.

Next weekend I have another I have to do.

It’s twice the length and will need to be a lot more focused and detailed.

I started in on some of the reading that I will need to do for it today as well.

I had a full day, but it was good and I am very happy to say that I wasn’t nearly as anxious writing this paper as I have been before.

I did clean and cook like a house a fire.

There is something about having to write a paper that really does motivate me to have a sparkling clean house, fresh sheets on my bed, laundry folded and put away, groceries in the fridge and dinner cooking on the stove.

Plus I met with a lady and did some doing the deal and some reading and that really helps too.

I love that my house is so clean and tidy and smells delicious.

I actually made two different things today, a little extra food prep the weekends before I have a big paper due helps me out.

So.

I made chicken soup with the leftover roasted chicken I had.

And.

I made something new today that I had a hankering to try–coconut curry chicken with cauliflower, green pepper, onions, and carrots.

I don’t often make curry dishes, but I made something similar for the family on Friday and wanted to try it with my own little twist and I rather like it.

It could use a little tweaking, but really, I did pretty good for only having cooked a curry once before this.

It feels nice to have yummy food in my fridge and freezer, soup in Mason jars, clean sheets  on my bed, washed rugs in the bathroom, and that paper done.

That is really a good feeling.

I do have lots to read this week and it’s going to be a long week.

I’ll be doing a full 40 hours this week.

The boys are out of school on Thursday and Friday.

I’m ok with it, though it means less time for me to study, it does mean more money in my pocket and that will partially make up for the time I am taking off around Thanksgiving to go visit my school friend in Nevada.

I’m super happy to go hang out with her and amazed, freaking amazed that it’s November.

How does the time go by so quickly?

I suppose it helps that my days are full and busy.

Full and busy.

Next thing you know it will be Christmas.

The days they do fly by.

I was sharing with the lady I met with today that the time it does speed up, it does go faster, and there are so many things that I want to do.

I mean.

I could have done fifteen other things in addition to what I did do this weekend.

But.

I don’t have the time for it all.

I am however, grateful that I have been letting myself do a little more socially, a little bit more fellowship, a little more out in the world.

It’s a balance.

I’m not sure how that balance is going to look for next weekend.

I’m not certain I can squeeze in a date or an outing around needing to work on the paper.

I don’t have plans.

I’m going to allow myself a little fellowship either Friday night or Saturday night, but mainly it’s going to look a lot like staying home and doing the paper.

Oh, the papers.

I do feel that I’m getting better at organizing them and knowing what I need to address.

I actually wrote an outline of the one I did today.

I reviewed the readings, stuck some post it notes to the parts I wanted to cover, reviewed the directions in the syllabus and then I sat back and did the thing that helps me to push through.

One.

I prayed.

Yeah, I know, sounds hokey, but alleviates the stress of having to be perfect, I just remind myself that I need to show up and the words will come.

Two.

I finished cooking dinner and washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

I knew if I was going to write I needed to have it all done and put away or the dishes in the sink would be having a conversation with me while I wrote.

Three.

I took a picture of the notes and books and post it notes and I put it up on social media.

It’s a kind of accountability that I have found works surprisingly well.

Four.

I turned off the volume on my phone and flipped it face down so I would not see incoming messages, texts, or social media updates.

No distractions.

I also turned off the jazz, although I do love me some Sunday afternoon jazz listening, the music distracts.

Then I wrote.

I wrote the 1,956 words in one hour.

Don’t hate.

That’s why I love my blog so.

I have the practice of doing it consistently and the typing just flies out and so when I’m getting ready to write a paper, I remind myself of that.

And that it is a gift.

And an accomplishment.

I have been putting in the work, the practice, the blogging for years.

It is the culmination of that practice that I am grateful for, that helps me so when I have to do the writing.

Now.

Just to slog through the rest of the week with work and do as much reading as I can before next weekend.

I’m sure I’ll find some fun along the way.

Fingers crossed.

But if I don’t I’m ok with getting these papers addressed.

It’s a gigantic gift to get to be in graduate school.

Huge.

And now.

It’s a gift to wrap this up and watch a little video before bed.

I’ve got an early start tomorrow.

But it will feel very good knowing I have another paper behind me finished.

Yippee!

Here’s to starting off the week on the upswing.

Seriously.

 

 

 

Soft, Slow, Sleepy

March 21, 2016

Sunday.

I needed to sleep in.

I was bushed last night when I got home.

The good news was the mom and dad got back from the fund raiser an hour earlier than we had planned.

I was in a car and heading home around 1 a.m.

I was just done in.

As I have said, the cold was getting to me.

I did set an alarm and although I did not sleep all the way to the alarm, I did get a great amount of very restful sleep.

The cold appears to be waning.

This morning the spot in my chest that has felt like there’s a small hole in it, ceased to be painful and I didn’t cough up as much gunk as I have the rest of the week.

I am still keeping a low profile, but have been feeling better and better all day.

On one hand I wish that it hadn’t been so rainy.

On the other.

I am glad that it was.

It kept me in the neighborhood and it kept me quiet and contemplative.

Not in a bad way.

A retrospective, insightful way, more like.

I also did a good bit of school reading.

I knocked out all my Multi-Cultural reading and half of the reading for my Clinical Relationship class.

I should be able to get the rest of the readings done this week.

I have plenty of time.

My next weekend of classes is April 8-10th.

I have three papers due this round, and of course the ubiquitous posting to Applied Spirituality.

Well.

I actually don’t know if I have three papers, I dashed out of Dubitzky’s Psychoanalytical class last weekend as I had plans and was impatient with the class already running over time.

Only to find out that there was going to be a paper assignment.

Ack.

She is supposedly sending it to the class, but I haven’t seen it show up yet.

Until that point.

Two papers.

One of which I did the majority of work on in class, just need to type it up and print it off.

I also got my hard drive downloaded to an external hard drive.

Now the question is?

Do I start deleting stuff?

How do I go about making room on my MacBook Air?

I suppose I should just call up the help desk.

I do have Apple Care for fucks sake.

There is just this silly trepidation, I’ll look stupid, I’ll ask the wrong questions, somehow, mysteriously, I will fuck up my computer and lose it all.

I could go on.

Heh.

I actually just tried to contact Apple support and my internet dropped.

Nothing is going to happen.

My computer won’t explode and if I don’t figure it out tonight, I will soon.

Really the only thing left to do tonight is write my blog, doing it, and rest.

I am debating yoga in the morning before work.

I haven’t gone at all this week since I’ve been under the weather.

I may hold off until Tuesday and give it one more day of sleep and rest.

I did do nice self-care today, although, it may easily have been a side affect of the weather not being so hot.

I did manage to get out a little, some short walks in the rain to the co-op up the street, and I caught the sunset!

There was a break in the rain for about twenty minutes right before the sun went down and the sky lit up and I had to go outside.

Had to.

I hustled down to the ocean and caught the last kiss of the sun as it was swallowed up by the sea and felt uplifted to have just that moment of sunlight on my face.

A tiny, whispering, soft kiss of light to get me through.

I walked home.

And yeah.

No more homework for tonight.

Just some rest and some watching a show.

Some more tea.

I even got Thai Cottage take out.

I did do my cooking for the week, but since I had it for lunch I decided to go with a little spicy pumpkin curry and brown rice.

So good.

I am replete and though this blog is a short blog.

Sweet, too.

I am going to end it there and snuggle down in my cozy bed and rest the rest of the day.

Sundays are for sabbaticals I hear.

A day of rest indeed.

Slow Down

February 23, 2015

That was my thematic for this weekend and it was fully achieved today.

I feel rested.

I feel serene.

I feel soothed.

I feel tasty.

I mean, really I do.

I smell like a dream.

I was given a pot of organic chocolate and honey face mask.

It was a fright to put on and I dare say I was tempted to lick my own face, I can’t remember the last time I had that much chocolate around my mouth (although not literally in it), and I don’t think I wanted any one to see me after doing it, but yeah.

I had a spa day.

Loads of tea.

Outdoor meditation in the back yard sitting in the sun.

Hour long walk on the beach.

I waded in the waves and was pleased to wipe salt off my skin later in the day.

I was tempted to post photographs of my toes, golden brown, basking in the sand, the sun, the surf.

But I didn’t actually take any photographs of myself today or of my doings, even when I was tempted to Instagram my lunch, I mean really it was bucolic today.

I sat in the big white-painted wood Adirondack chair in the back yard, I padded about in flip-flops all day long, I put on sunscreen, I ate strawberries warmed by the sun.

I bought myself flowers last night and they opened this morning, I feel like that, an opening flower.

I remember once being told to let myself blossom, to let myself bloom, to not force the growth, that there is beauty in the unfolding and opening of the petals.

I have a tendency towards urgency.

I want to have it all right now and right away and more, faster, more, did you hear what I said?

I want to rip the petals away from the bud and force the bloom.

I was watering my orchids today, they are in a dormant stage and not flowering and there were some parts that I thought about pruning of the plants and then I thought, nope, don’t force nature, let her do her thing.

I watered them and tended to my gigantic spider plant and lazed about my studio enjoying the golden creamy light that falls through the back door.

I wasn’t slothful today.

I was just slow.

I was present and open and allowed myself to be tender and breathe.

I also sat and bore witness to another woman for three hours this afternoon after my walk down by the sea and my lunch out in the pack patio.

I knew I need to be grounded and serene and still.

“You are so serene,” she said to me last Sunday in awe of how far I have come, “it was the most zen like share I have ever heard.”

I don’t know so much about zen.

But I have allowed myself to be slower at times, to not run so fast, to not be that moving target.

Allowing myself to be hit with love, to have emotions, to experience life, to have bittersweet moments wrapped up in the glory of the day and wanting to share it with someone, but also knowing that I was sharing it with someone.

Myself.

I am a pretty good date.

Flowers, lunch al fresco, long walks on the beach, a day at the “spa,” I mean really, what woman doesn’t want those things.

Or man for what it’s worth.

I will have a full week.

I will work an extra hour for the family, I will be going to my graduate school interview, I will be doing the deal, meeting people, speaking at a workshop, writing, blogging, living, moving, shaking.

I tell myself it’s ok to take the down time, to soften and reflect and relax.

Hell.

I read a book today and a magazine.

I lay in the long slanting sun of late afternoon and watched the sun kiss the tops of the houses behind the back yard fence and lounged with my book.

I didn’t even really cook today.

That’s something I like to do on a Sunday, but I wasn’t sure how long I would be listening, so I just kept my food simple, lots of raw veggies and homemade humus, organic hard-boiled eggs with fresh pepper and sea salt, and left over beans and rice with chicken I made the last week.

I did roast some vegetables too.

But that was the extent of my cooking.

One cast iron pan with cauliflower, garlic, sea salt, pepper, olive oil, and parsnips, roasted off in the oven while I caught up with my housemate and drank tea in her kitchen.

I can feel a slight kiss of morose as the weekend winds down and I wish to berate myself for being in my pajamas before 8 p.m.

But that’s what I do after taking a long hot shower and washing off raw cocoa organic mud mask from my face.

Douse myself in coconut butter body lotion and put on the pajamas.

Write my blog.

And yes.

I will be going to bed early.

10:30p.m.

Who is this person?

Aside from someone who likes to get 8 hours of sleep, I will be up at 6:30 a.m. to do my deal before work.

I even let myself off the hook around dating this weekend.

I feel it’s sufficient what I did over the weekend to compel someone to ask me out.

I am going to be a glowing ball of gorgeousness after all the pampering, my skin a little tan from all the sunshine, and super hydrated from all the tea.

My smile happy and big.

I took good care of myself this weekend.

So that I can take good care of those that I care for this week.

It all comes around.

But it starts with me.

It may make for a less than dramatic blog post.

However, it gives me the jazz to do all the things that do make my blog, my life, me, interesting.

Even a superhero needs a nap once in a while.

And me.

Well, I’m just a worker amongst workers.

I hung up my cape next to my beach towel and wore flip-flops all day.

I think I’m going to go put some coconut hair mousse on my curls.

And call it a day.

My super sensory spa Sunday.

Now concludes.

 

The Week In Review

November 3, 2014

“Oh my gosh, I so relate to that,” she said, “I self-sabotage all the time.”

Hmm.

And then.

“Oh, I won’t date a woman who blogs,” said a friend today that I ended up hanging out on the beach with this afternoon, “too many people seeing my foibles, all one-sided, nope, I couldn’t do it.”

“You need to stop writing about dating.”

And I wonder.

Maybe I do.

It may be time to stop the self-sabotage, to not air the laundry, clean, dirty, or otherwise.

“You can write about me all you want,” my friend told me last night as we sipped lemon ginger tea and got caught up on each other’s lives–he’s back from the radical sabbatical and it was good, very good, to see him.

It’s hard to watch friends through struggles and he has been there for me through a lot of them.

There is a lot I don’t blog about, I think, I do keep some things, lots of things, to myself, for myself, by myself.

I could write all about my friend, but it is not my place, so perhaps, yes, I should not be writing about the dating too.

Not that I had a date today to write about.

I spent the day having Sunday service down by the sea.

It was so beautiful out today and I had a new white dress to wear.

I woke up earlier than I should have, all things considered, even with it being Daylight Savings time, I still was up late last night.

However, the sun was up and it was all blue skies and the brain started up and I just decided to get up and brave the day.

Even without having a thing planned, which can at times cause a kind of frantic feeling in me, I have a hard time sitting still and I have spent much of this past year trying to find that balance of not working too much and getting in some fun and some relaxation time to, because, ultimately, it does make me such a better worker and person in the end if I do.

Breakfast, coffee, hair in braids, new dress, flip-flops (which made me smile a bit, it’s November 2nd and I am in flip-flops), write for a while, sit for a while.

I went out into the back yard and sat in the big white Adirondack chair and the sun beamed benevolent and warm and the birds rustled over head, ravens, and songbirds chattered, gulls squawked, the ocean surf rumbled, and once in a while the N-Judah would grumble past.

I sat soaking in the warmth and the love and I got quiet.

The frazzle and dazzle of the week siphoned through me and I was still.

I realized I did a few things this week that I could regroup around and rethink, especially in regards to self-care, late nights, some really late nights for me, both Friday and Saturday, with early wake ups and no naps, a few nights when I did not get to my blog, which is like its own version of sunshine for me, I need to do it, it feeds the art monster in me, drinking an energy drink on Friday.

Oooh.

I know, I am so subversive, drinking a caffeine bomb.

However, it’s true, I don’t really drink them, I don’t do artificial sweeteners, I don’t chew gum, I don’t drink diet sodas, so what was I doing drinking a sugar-free Rockstar on Friday?

I knew, even as I said yes, I should have been saying no, or at least, yes, I’ll have a water, thank you.

But I did it anyway.  I want to keep up with the cool kids you know.

Then again.

I also did some spectacular self-care for me–went and got the mammogram done, which I was dreading and it wasn’t so bad, did grocery shopping, sent my mom a birthday card and got her birthday present, I need to drop it in the mail tomorrow.  Called mom, I try to call my mom on Sundays, it still amazes me that we have re-established a relationship, I feel ridiculously blessed by it.

I bought myself a new dress, I don’t clothes shop well, so this was really big self-care and as I took it out of my bag last night to hang in the closet my friend made a comment and I said, “I don’t even know why I bought it, I have no idea where I am going to wear it.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

And of course.

I did.

To the beach, to the beach, to the beachy, peachy keen, lovely beach, that place wild and wooly right out my back yard, just blocks away.

I packed a lunch up for myself–large kale salad with 1/2 an heirloom tomato, broccoli, carrots, 1/2 an organic Hass avocado, kalamata olive oil, apple cider vinegar, Bragg’s amino’s, 1/2 a tart apple, two hard-boiled eggs, and of course the ubiquitous persimmon (they won’t be in season much longer so I have stacks of them in my kitchen), a bottle of water, a blanket from the housemate, my camera, and off to the beach I went.

I climbed up and over the dune at the edge of Great Highway and Judah and walked down toward the sea.

I found my spot.

Spread out the blanket.

Sat down and breathed deeply all things good and salty and sea.

I felt it all loosen in me, the sun warmed me, I felt doused in love and light and I unpacked my lunch and ate it under bright cerulean skies, laughing at the confused sea-gull who was watching close by and was none to happy when after much patience he finally scavenged something from my lunch–the persimmon top, and disgusted with his findings, flapped off  in a huff to better pickings.

Beach Picnic

Picnic

 

 

Kite

Kite

I took some photos and called a friend.

Who, as luck would have it, is it odd or is it God?

Was right down the beach at Noriega and Great Highway.

He made his way to me and we sat and talked about shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings, dating, family, recovery, Ocean Beach, life, travel, work.

It was so good.

He gave me some lovely perspective and I felt unburdened and lucky and blessed to again, come back to this simple, sweet, serene life I lead.

My Sunday sabbatical complete I was able to come back to the house, write some more, meet with a lady, do some reading, eat a wonderful dinner, sit in the last of the sun and drink copious amounts of cinnamon tea.

I downloaded my photographs and felt that despite a rather tumultuous week–all in my head, mind you–I had gotten what I needed and relaxed here, finally, at the end of the week, the edge of the world, down by the sea.

Sunshine

Sunshine Day Dream

Right exactly where I am supposed to be.

Sunday Slacking

September 29, 2014

I know.

I know.

I deserve a down day once in a while.

But when I don’t have much to report I do wonder what to write about.

I am always of the assumption that no one is too interested in my napping, soup making, and laundry doing, or marketing.

I mean.

These things need to happen and they did so in a sense I did not sit around on my ass all day long eating Cheetos and watching movies.  I meditated and I rode my bicycle and I shopped and I cooked and yeah, I napped.

That feels actually like an accomplishment.

Especially since I did do a lot of running around yesterday.

Not included in my break down of yesterdays comings and goings was the fact that I also went to three different scooter and motorcycle shops in the Mission/SOMA area.

SF Moto.

Mister Scooter.

Scuderia West.

I have officially decided to sell my scooter and upgrade to an automatic.

No more kick starting for me.

I cannot afford to have another ankle injury.

That being said I am a little flummoxed as to how I am going to sell the Vespa.

How do I sell something that I am afraid to start to demonstrate to a potential buyer that it works.

And it does work.

The only problem is that my ankle does not work.

So.

I had thought, perhaps the best idea would be to take the scooter to one of the aforementioned shops and have them appraise it and then see if I can trade it in for something that works better for me.

I got some information.

First.

SF Moto.

Your staff was not cool to me.

I was ignored for a good long while and when I was finally spoken to, the guy was a dick.

Condescending, assumptive, and rude.

I ended up cutting the conversation short, thanking him for his time, and leaving the store.

I know that one negative experience does not a store make, but I don’t have any desire to go back and chance the repeating of it.

Plus the store didn’t really carry that many scooters I was interested in.

The next stop was Mister Scooter on Mission and 14th.

The guy was sweet, but he didn’t think he could do a trade that would work for him and the shop and I didn’t think he had anything in the shop that was suitable for me.

On to Scuderia West.

Where I was treated, far and away, the best, respectfully, immediately approached, and honestly dealt with.

I showed the guy who stopped to speak with me a photograph of my scooter and he told me, “don’t trade it in, you won’t get what you deserve for it, sell it privately, then come back and buy a new scooter.”

“And don’t tell my boss I said that,” he looked around, “he’d kill me, but really, you deserve to get better and I don’t think he’ll give you what you can get for the scooter.”

Good to know.

Plus, the shop had some cute offerings and I was impressed that I could do financing and even set something up with the shop before I sold the Vespa.

Although I am not certain that is the route to go either.

I don’t want to have two scooters on hand.

I do, however, want a scooter that works for me.

I feel like I am in a bit of a conundrum, but that if I just put it out to the Universe, something will shift.

Who doesn’t want a 1965 vintage Vespa in great running condition and with low miles?

I mean, I still want it, for fuck’s sake.

I am really bummed that I can’t ride it anymore.

Really bummed.

I am thinking that one thing I could do is offer it privately to my friends on my social media networks.

For friends and family I will ask exactly what I paid for it (still paying for it, I have $750 left to go) $2650.

For anyone else, I think I’ll start at $3,000.

Then if I get someone who wants to offer me a little less I am able to negotiate a little without losing money on it.

Hell.

My friend sold it to me at a huge discount.

He paid $4,000 for it and then still dropped a new engine into it.

Then, there’s the thought, maybe I could get that kind of money out of it.

But, I’m not interested in trying to flip my scooter.

I am just interested in getting a scooter that works for me and making room for it by letting go the Vespa.

If I don’t find someone to buy it I will trade it in.

I am going to give myself until December.

I’ll have it fully paid off by then.

My friend asked that I pay $200 a month to him to cover it and I have been paying $250, so I’m knocking it down faster than he asked and I can consider it an investment in money.

I didn’t have $2650 to buy a scooter.

When I sell the Vespa, I will.

I can got to a shop and buy something new.

I am also considering going to Vespa of San Francisco and seeing about getting a new Vespa with them.

I won’t have as much toward a new Vespa as I would towards a used or the Kymco’s I have seen that I like, but I will have a big chunk and I can finance the rest and have a new Vespa for my birthday in December.

Then pay it off within a year.

It’ll be nice to have something to ride to work that is not my bicycle, though, it’s doing the deal for right now and I have no complaints about it, and something for when I am in graduate school.

I cannot see being in the intensive all day long and then riding my bicycle home from it.

I would probably fall over in exhaustion riding the Wiggle to the Pan Handle and that’d be all she wrote.

A scooter is in my future.

A scooter is in my present.

I re-phrase.

A scooter that I can ride with a bum ankle is in my future.

Zipping on down the road.

I can just see her around the bend.

Do they make Vespa’s that glitter?

Sunday Sounds Like

February 3, 2014

Soup.

Sleep.

The slip, slap, slosh of rain pattering down from the sky.

Sunday sounds like going slow.

Taking care of the small things.

Fixed the flat tire on my bicycle today.

I was going to take it into the shop, but the weather was so wet and cold and drear that I found myself balking big time at going out in it.

The idea of taking my bike into the Mission then wandering around in the wet waiting for it to be taken care of, then hanging out all day long until my commitment at 6:30p.m. just sounded yuck.

Wet and cold and yuck.

I mean, I like hanging out in the Mission, don’t get me wrong, but I did not like the idea of getting my bike back and then riding it around in the Mission on Super Bowl Sunday in the wet.

No thank you.

Not that it would have been all that bad, most folks were inside watching the game, but, yeah the day called for something else and when the person I was supposed to meet also texted to cancel meeting, I said, screw this, I am staying home today.

But I need to fix my bike.

Sunday sounds like self-sufficient.

Or nearly almost self-sufficient.

I had to ask the housemate’s boyfriend for a hand with the tire just at the very end.

I pulled out a tube from my stash and got my tire lever and went to the garage, flipping my bike up side down I ran my thumb along the wheel looking for an obvious, ah there, piece of glass.

It was huge.

Definitely from a beer bottle, brown glass, and I am fairly certain it was from the smashed bottles I tried skirting around on my way home from work Wednesday.

I remember hearing my wheels crunching through it and silently hoped that I would make it home without incident.

And I did.

Of course, only to get the flat the next day.

I took off the wheel and stuck the lever in between the tire and the rim and pried the tire off the rim, pulled the tube, tossed it, and got the tweezers out.

I pluck the piece of glass out then took a damp cloth to the interior of the tire and made sure there were no other offending bits hiding out in there.

Then I put a little air in the tube, aligned the tire and the rim and got them back together again.

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, look mom, I can change a flat!

Until I couldn’t get the last bit of tire onto the rim, that’s always the tightest part, and I hollered up the stairs for a pair of guy hands.

The housemates boyfriend ambled down and lent me a hand, then polished  a bit of the chrome on his Harley Davidson.

My brain went to, when will I be doing that?

Maintenance on my bike?

I don’t mean my bicycle either.

I suppose I should rephrase that, bike connotes motorcycle and well, that’s not quite where I am going, although the principle in pretty similar.

Because Sunday also sounds like scooter.

I got a reply from my friend about his Vespa and he said, let’s talk, I am sure you can get hooked up with the scoot!

I hadn’t heard the text ping in and when I did see the message I did a double take, then yipped out loud with glee.

Oh, hello scooter town.

I will need to talk with him and see if the old offer stands, the price, the paying it off in installments and the whatnot of owning a scooter.

I will need to take the licencing class and I will probably have to get insurance, not certain about all that stuff.

Or what that all costs.

But Sunday also stands for spending plan.

Which I did this early afternoon after fixing the tire on my bicycle (I will still be replacing the tire, it’s got punctures and cuts and really should be replaced, but I will do that on a day when it’s not raining, possibly Friday since I will be in the Castro for work), tallying up my expenditures from the month of July and writing out the plan for February.

I have a good idea how much income will be coming in having confirmed Fridays for the month as well as a full day on Wednesdays, I can pretty much count on a steady income for the month.  Knowing how much I spend and what I can save and where there is wiggle room is great.

I love having a plan.

I don’t always stick strictly to it, but knowing how much I spend, where it goes and what my expenses are really gives me a lot of freedom.

Like, I don’t like how much I have been spending eating out.

It’s not a lot, but I have been eating out one to two and occasionally three meals a week.  I used to never do that.  But living further out and having a different map of places I go to do the things I need to do makes it that way.

More home cooked meals, more soup.

Made a white and red bean soup/chili today with corn and diced carrots, carmelized onions and garlic, and pan sautéed organic chicken breast meat.  Then cooked up a big pot of brown rice.  I will have beans and rice and chicken for my meals all week, good solid protein, nice hot meals to have at work.

A bowl of that and an organic apple equals a happy girl.

“Wake up and smile,” she told me on Saturday, “it will change your day.”

I did that today.

I really woke up and smiled.

It made my face feel a little off, like I was crankily moving muscles that did not want to move.

I felt stupid doing it, but I take suggestions, so I tried it.

Hmm, might be working.

Try that again.

Still feels silly, but yeah, better.

Then I drifted off a few more minutes of sleep and woke up at 8a.m. on the nose and grinned.

I mean grinned.

Goofy as hell.

But it did work.

Felt good to do that and to take the nap in the late afternoon as the last of the rain dissipated, a soft splash, a tiny patter of drops falling from the eaves, the burble of a pot of beans simmering on the stove, and the sound of yes, I will say it, myself snoring.

Ha.

I startled awake with a little snort.

Sunday, we did ok, didn’t we?

And now I am ready for the week.

Soup made, scooter plans unfolding, bike wheel fixed, rest had.

Sunday sounds like self-care.

And serenity.


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