Posts Tagged ‘The Beatles’

We Were Talking

August 10, 2017

About you tonight.

Oh you were?

“Yeah, we were saying that you’re doing too much,” my friend said and gave me a hug.

Well.

Of course I’m doing too fucking much.

And I’m ok with it.

I am a busy woman.

But pockets of time present themselves to me and I get stuff done.

I managed to sneak in making a pot of soup in between a phone call, work, and covering my Wednesday night commitment.

I am good like that.

I also, wait for it, dropped off my paperwork to the school practicum office!

Killed two birds with one stone.

I had the mom ask me to take the oldest boy out on a solo adventure with me.

We went to the Exploratorium today down on the Embarcadero at Pier 15.

On the way, we swung into my school campus, rode, “the slowest elevator in the world,” according to my 7-year-old companion, and dropped off my evaluation to the woman who runs the practicum office.

We chatted a bit and it was nice to down load a little about my experiences and how it feels to be running with clients.

I have seven now.

My charge was as patient as a 7-year-old could be and after three minutes of chat I corralled him and we made our merry way to the FMarket trolley.

We also stopped in at the Peets Coffee across the street from my campus and I got a large nonfat latte and he got a steamed milk with whipped cream.

He was so cute.

It was adorable hanging out with him all afternoon.

When it’s just he and we have the best times.

We played all over the Exploratorium, the museum of science, art and human perception and had marvelous experiments and adventure and looked at all the things and played with all sorts of miraculous contraptions.

It really was great.

We ate lunch there and he ate most of my lunch because it was tastier and I happily shared and he cuddled with me hard and fell into a bit of a food coma and collapsed on my lap and hugged me and said, “scratch my back,” and I did and it was fabulous.

There’s nothing like a seven-year old boy snuggling on my lap to make me happy, he just loves me so much and it makes my heart super full.

He can be a total handful when he’s around his siblings, but one on one, oh my god, melt my heart.

He literally sat in my lap the entire way back.

We took the FMarket all the way into the Castro then hopped on the 24 bus and rode it to Church and 30th.

He’s a big fan of the Beatles and walking up the hill we sang Beatles songs and held hands.

Mostly “I Say Hello and You Say Goodbye,” over and over again.

I’m not much of a vocalist, I mean, I can sing, everyone can sing, but my little guy can really sing.

I was happy to hold my own and actually harmonize a bit with him.

And when I couldn’t hit the high notes, well, he did.

I feel pretty in love with the little guy and it was so nice to have the day with him.

We got back to the house a tiny bit before mom and his siblings and I got dinner going while he played Legos.

Dinner was pretty simple, I made his favorite dish, organic ground beef pan sautéed in good olive oil with garlic and onion, sea salt, rosemary, black pepper, and a bechamel sauce that I make right as the beef has browned up and then I put it over brown rice fusilli or whatever non-gluten pasta I wrangle up out of the pantry.

The boy loves it.

It’s amazing to watch him inhale it.

I love cooking.

It’s a nice perk to my job.

I know some nannies who would be horrified to have to cook, but I do really like it.

I love my family and I love making them dinner.

In fact, the mom told me that they, the kids, were excited to come back from their big trip and eat my food.

That was nice to hear.

The mom let me go a few minutes early and since I had dropped off the paperwork to my school I was able to slip home, do some practical stuff, eat a quick dinner, make a pot of soup and take a phone call before heading back out the door to my next gig.

I know I am busy and it was sweet to hear my friend and I looked at him and said, I get it, I do, I am busy and it’s a lot and yeah, I’m probably doing too much, but I don’t feel like I have much of a choice.

Although, that’s not necessarily true.

I could quit school and have oodles of free time.

But.

I would just be a nanny.

And I want more.

I am too smart and too driven to just stop here.

I want this.

I have been groomed for it, or so it feels.

And yeah.

This last year of school is probably going to be full tilt boogie.

But.

I know.

I know without any doubt.

That I will get through it.

I haven’t felt anxious at all about my schedule and the things I need to do.

It feels like it’s all falling right into place.

I can’t fuck it up.

I can’t manipulate it into happening.

If it’s supposed to happen it will.

I just get to show up today in the best way I know how and do whatever work is in front of me.

And yes.

When I can.

Well, yes, a girl will like to play.

And I shall.

No worries.

It’s all happening.

All the things.

All the.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

Awesome.

Things.

Oh, yes, they are.

Thank God.

 

Spring Clean My Heart

March 9, 2015

Oops.

I forgot, sort of, that today was Daylight Savings Time.

I was amply reminded last night as I chastised myself to get to bed, it’s almost two a.m. crazy lady, go to sleep.

As I blew out the candles in my room and adjusted down the comforter on my bed my clock on my phone sprang forward.

Shit.

It’s 3 a.m.

Oh man.

And of course, though I woke up with plenty of time before my first lady was coming over to sit in my “kitchen” and do some reading and some checking in, I forgot that I had not set my watch forward.

My computer automatically did it as did my phone.

When I got the phone call I was like, what the hell, I have another hour, did she forget it’s Daylight Savings?

Then I realized.

Oh snap.

I had not moved the watch forward and my lady was right on time.

I was behind.

But not for long and as the case was, my second appointment on the day cancelled at the last-minute.

Like, two minutes before she was supposed to arrive.

I was a tiny bit miffed, I had rearranged my own schedule to accommodate hers, but I also had some compassion, sometimes showing up to do something is a lot harder to do than we are willing to acknowledge.

I took advantage of the “additional” hour I had to get caught up on the things I needed to do for today–grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking.

I went to town on the studio and really cleaned it, dusted, swept, Swisher’ed the place up, even borrowed my housemates vacuum and did the rugs, plus washed the rugs in my bathroom and did my laundry.

I did take a break between grocery shopping and cleaning to enjoy a nice little lunch on the back patio–it wasn’t quite as warm as yesterday, but there was still a nice bit of sun.

And I must say that having the extra hour of light was really lovely.

I stayed off my computer until just a few minutes ago, connecting via phone instead, and letting myself enjoy a book that I finished as the pot of chicken and white beans on the stove reached the culmination of cooking.

I flipped my book shut and “shelved” it next to the stack of books on the floor by the chaise lounge and finished the ginger tea in my mug.

I looked around my studio, again, with wonder and delight at my clean, warm, sunny, sweet, artsy little spot.

I remembered the last place I really lived, in Paris, and realized how far I have come since returning to San Francisco and was overcome with the gratitude that I have let myself stay in one place, to establish a home.

“I’m not leaving anytime soon,” I told the car load of ladies as we drove back from the Oakland get together last night.

“We’re all trapped into our spots,” my friend acknowledged, “there’s nowhere to go.”

I agree, it’s scary out there with the rents being what they are, and my rent is just what I can afford.

I doubt that I would be able to find what I have here for less.

I am not going anywhere, especially with graduate school looming on the horizon.

The music on my box switched to another song and I suddenly was swept back to Paris, Paris in the rain, Paris breaking my heart.

My friend, my lover, my love, the mixed cd he sent me, the realization, as I listened to the artist, Mike Doughty, sing out his song off of the album I had on heavy rotation in Paris, that I was also spring cleaning my heart.

I had let him go a few weeks ago.

I had been let go by my ex boyfriend a few weeks prior.

I saw the similarities in the two men.

And my heart was sad, awash in soft grief and I felt the tears roll down my face as I remembered all the things my lover was unable to say to me until I was in another country.

The flag on my heart, the stamp, the imprimatur of music that I had ground itself into my soul, my emotions and feelings bubbling up.

And yet.

The grief, the soft tears, the sunset falling through the door to my studio, the dust swept away, the cobwebs pulled down (man, I even dusted the top of my refrigerator), the sink scrubbed, the mirror in the bathroom polished, I had cleaned them both out of my space.

I love them both.

In a little while this hurt will hurt no more.

I loved them both.

And I want to move on from the lover who became my friend, but went down a path I cannot follow.

From the ex boyfriend who was just a taste of what the divine wants from me.

The ex hated Mike Doughty.

I don’t think he even knew who it was when I played Soul Coughing, but he was amazed that anyone would want to listen to Ruby Vroom.

I remember thinking, this may be a non-negotiable.

I am emotionally attached to my music, I won’t deny it.

I remember how I cried when I received those mixed cds in the mail in Paris.

The drumming rain splashing hard in the courtyard as we messaged back and forth over the internet, the way my heart-felt finding that package in the mail slot, the one below the one I was assigned to.

Then.

Returning to find he’d moved on.

Truthfully, so too had I.

We stayed friends though.

Then.

Well.

Things happen and sometimes those things are toxic and awful and tragic to watch.

I know I’ll never lose affection for people and friends that went before.

I don’t know how close the two men were tied to me, although I know it was by my own hand, but the similarities, though I rarely discussed them with others, existed.

Sexually oriented the same way, ex-junkies, younger, in fact, almost identical in age, and neither, in the end wanted me to be their lover.

And that does not mean that there’s anything wrong with me.

No.

It just means that my God wants something different for me.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and I have to say, I love what I have.

Love what you have, and you’ll have more love.

It’s time to change the music on the box.

Because.

Oh baby, baby, it’s all about the moon.

I get to have feelings and I get to hold love, for myself, and move on.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

I have space now for what the Universe wants for me.

I move forward into that light knowing that I am clean.

I have allowed myself to surrender.

Sprung forward.

Launched into the next episode of this.

My exquisite life.

 

 


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