Posts Tagged ‘the good life’

Soft And Sleepy

February 18, 2016

That would be me.

I was up late last night and that was lovely, it happens sometimes, I go to bed late, things happen, life moves forward, the moon rides the waves over Ocean Beach and the sand presses in between my toes and I carry these small particles of love and salt into the grey morning.

It was far later than I thought it would be when I got up and moving.

The very grey skies gave me the illusion that it was still early.

It was not.

I got up, did my routine, got on with my day.

Really.

It was superiorly mellow and chill.

I did the deal.

I did the writing.

I did the Applied Spirituality homework, but I didn’t really do any other school work, I wasn’t feeling it.

I was soft and sweet and slow today.

I even, wait for it.

NAPPED.

The rain.

The sound of rain outside my back door, the patter of it on the patio the splash of it against the window pane.

I drifted in and out and lay, like Ophelia, with my hands clasped over my chest, my Converse kicked to the floor, my head a soft halo of loose curls tumbling over a velveteen pillow, my skirt billowed out, the crinoline a heap of fluffy icing.

I have been dressing pretty for myself all week and that has been so much fun.

I went to ModCloth’s Fit Shop yesterday and I had an actual fitting session.

It was spectacular.

I don’t have a lot of time to shop, and even when I do, like I have time this week, I am often loath to spend free time wandering in and out of stores.

It exhausts me.

If I know what I want, then I’m good, but just browsing can really just be too much, unless I’m in some sweet little neighborhood or visiting a city or museum, then I’m all about the shopping.

I wanted to go into the Fit Shop after I got my last dress and it was just such a fail.

REALLY.

I mean.

I have a nice figure, my bust is not supposed to look so squished and small and weird.

I was happy to get down town, then, and have the help of the team at the Fit Shop–a brick and mortar downtown on Grant and I think Stockton.

Basically the shop is full of clothes and they keep one of each size they have from petite 0s to 4x.

I mean, really anybody could find a cute dress or outfit there.

For me it’s that I don’t have a great idea of what I look like.

I either think I am bigger than I am.

Or smaller.

I have been rather hit and miss with the sizing chart in the online store.

I got measured.

I got my size.

Then I wandered around the store with a clipboard and wrote down any dress or top or outfit that I wanted to try on.

I tried on ten or twelve things.

I was ecstatic to find a sweetheart of a dress that I would have never bought online and it was a great fit and super flattering.

I felt like spinning around the store.

I also got a sweet cropped red cardigan, a sky blue slip with lace trim, and the perfect tunic shirt dress, amazing fit and again, not anything I would have even looked twice at ordering online, in faded blue.

I spent half the money I was prepared to spend.

The only thing that was a tiny bit disappointing was not being able to walk out of the store with my goodies.

However.

They gave me a discount for coming in and also expressed shipped it at no extra cost.

So I have some lovely things to wear soon.

I am looking forward to it.

It really has been nice letting myself dress up and wear things that make me happy.

I also cleaned out my closet today.

If it doesn’t bring me joy when I hold it I’m going to toss it or sell it if I think I can at Crossroads.

I was able to clean out some stuff that I wasn’t wearing and was just old and then cull a few things out that I just never wear, doesn’t make me happy, or doesn’t quite fit.

I got rid of all the things and hopped the N-Judah to the Inner Sunset.

I mailed the return dress back to ModCloth–I’ll be using that credit now that I know what to look for!

Then I sold 3/4s of what I had to Cross Roads.

I treated myself out to lunch then donated the remainder of the clothing.

I thought briefly of trying to sell it, but it just wasn’t worth hauling around anymore and the rain was starting to come in.

I just slipped back on the train after lunch and came back down to the house.

I made a cup of tea and luxuriated in some non-graduate school reading.

Then.

The nap.

So lovely.

When I woke up I made some nice dinner and then headed up to see some fellows over at the Sunset Youth Services.

I got my God on real good and now I’m back here.

Oh!

And I renewed my FAFSA for next year’s graduate school.

A little crazy that.

But not nearly as anxiety producing and nerve wracking as it was the first time I filled it out.

Pleased I am.

Life is good.

I am good.

I am blessed.

The soft rain on my face, upturned to the wind and the caress, a kiss on my neck, the lovely air on the stars adorning me.

I am a star.

Just another gathering of God light in this Universe sweetly shining in my little space.

Down by the sea.

Happy.

And.

Content.

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Did I Get It All Done?

September 28, 2015

Fuck no.

Did I do a lot?

Yes.

Including and in no particular order, meeting with a ladybug and teaching her how to do spot check inventory, no need to sit in that dirty diaper all day, change it, change your perspective, get on with your day, walk through the fear.

Please.

And.

Thank you.

Cleaned my house.

Like really cleaned it.

REALLY.

Swept the floors, Swiffere’d the floors ( I know, I know, I used Swiffer as a verb, shut up), scrubbed the bathroom, did my laundry, stripped the bed, even washed and dried the duvet cover.

Which is a pain in the ass if ever there is one.

Putting the comforter back into the duvet cover after it’s washed, that is, pain in the tuchus, let me tell ya.

I even made extra food for the week, since I won’t be doing any cooking or grocery shopping before school next weekend or during the time I’m in class.  But I don’t want to have the experience of bonking out again like I did last time I was in class.  I will have food prepped and ready.

I made homemade pork fried brown rice with peas, carrots, corn, onions, brown mushrooms, garlic, and ginger.

Like that.

Then.

I read.

And read.

And read some more.

I also drank a lot of tea.

Excuse me while I go pee again.

Kidding.

Barely.

I read a lot about Freud, I read more Freud than I have in my entire life up until this point.

I read a lot of Freud, a lot of criticism of Freud and a lot of defense of Freud, that was really good and quite compelling and I find myself actually liking Freud a whole lot more than I used to.

Not that I had many great experiences with Freud prior, just assumptions.

I looked over my syllabi as well.

Although I felt a touch frustrated with how much I still have to read, I read as much as I could.

I switched up spots in my room to encourage better reading consumption.

Moving from kitchen table to chaise lounge.

I read outside on the back porch for a little while, although that was challenging as I found myself just wanting to lie back and enjoy the warm sunshine whenever it poked through the cloud cover.

I read until a friend texted me and we made plans to go up to Twin Peaks tonight and watch the Super Moon rise with lunar eclipse.

It was spectacular.

My friend grabbed me at 6:30 p.m.

Right about he time I was hitting my limit of Freud intake.

It was nice to gel out in the car and not think and let my friend ramble about the new house and new room mates and situations and I wasn’t tuned out, I was just there.

Appreciative.

Grateful.

Held.

Warm.

Because, damn Gina.

I forgot.

It gets cold up at Twin Peaks and after we had parked the car and gotten out to survey the lay of the land and make a spot to watch the moon rise with what felt like a great deal of the city as well–I love you San Francisco that so many of you came out to watch the moon rise and lunar eclipse, I love my city–we decided to get back the fuck into the car.

It was that breezy and cold.

The car.

Oh.

It was lovely.

Warm.

Good music.

Good company.

And the moon rise and the orange glow of eclipse as the earth reflected back it’s refracted light upon the surface of the moon, a reddish-orange hue, the burnt umber red floating in the East over the Bay, the sodium lights of the dockyards in Oakland glimmering, the dusky orange of City Hall shimmering in the cityscape, the flash of a red light on top of the TransAmerica Pyramid, the thread of white gold light sparkling on the Bay Bridge as traffic flowed over the top deck, the fog ghosting in over the back side of Twin Peaks.

And I am reminded of how beautiful this city is.

How lucky I am to get to live here.

And yes.

I had a moment or two, perhaps three, when I thought.

I really should be reading my Freud.

But then.

I would look up at the moon and sigh inwardly at my fortune.

And memories.

The times I have come up to Twin Peaks.

The first time I was taken to the top a couple of years before I moved to San Francisco, at sunset, the fog thick and blanketing the buildings, the tops of the Golden Gate Bridge poking through the grey bed, rosy and red and industrial orange and golden in the setting sun, the clouds over the East Bay a spectacular color guard of pinks and royal purples, blushed with persimmons and pumpkins and creamy rosettes of cloud clusters.

I was smitten.

I still am.

I can still see that first sunset and I can contrast and compare it to all the other times, really, not all that many, despite living in the city for over 13 years I can probably count about ten times that I have gone up to Twin Peaks and taken in the view.

Maybe more.

But not that many more.

I remember the time when I moved to San Francisco and I hadn’t been in the city more than a month and there was a huge spectacular meteor shower that was happening and I walked up to Twin Peaks from 20th and York in the Mission.

The meteor shower was amazing.

I counted 56 shooting stars that night.

And.

I wrote down a wish for each one of them in a notebook.

I have that notebook somewhere.

I feel compelled to dig it up and look at those wishes.

See how many have come true.

So many of my dreams have coalesced.

I have lived a grand and fabulous life.

I have lived in Paris.

I have written short stories in cafes in the Montmartre.

I have travelled to Rome and sat at the cafe on the top of the state museum and written in my journal while sipping an Americano.

I have gone to Burning Man a few times.

Nine.

I have loved and lived and grown in San Francisco.

I get to live here.

Who is this girl, this woman?

Who is this person who now gets to go to graduate school and balance all the things with all the other things, which make all the things possible?

She is a woman who once in a while is going to let herself off the hook from Freud.

To play a little hooky and watch the moon rise over this city.

This beautiful city.

My city.

By the Bay.

Welcome Back To “Normal”

June 17, 2015

Although there never really is a normal day in my life.

I am just not going on a date, being scammed for all the money in my bank account, or finding out that I won a full ride to graduate school.

It was a big day at work, I had to have the boys out most of the day as the house was being fitted with new heating and air duct work, so crazy amounts of working guys in and out and I had to be off premise from 10 a.m. till almost five p.m.

But.

The mom and dad are so flexible with me and the boys schedule and they have extra space outside their main residence that was used.

It ended up being a restaurant adventure sort of day for me and the boys and one that I marveled at on more than one occasion today.

I got to eat at Tacolicios for lunch, which despite its lame name, I’m sorry, it’s lame, is really quite good.

I had the Marina girl salad with grilled shrimp and sat on the patio with an iced tea while my boys ate the house made refried beans with cojita cheese and had fish tacos on hand-made tortillas and ate corn chips and rice like they were going out of style.

Then this evening, a further celebration with the family for my graduate school acceptance and the scholarship award–dinner out with them at Kiji on 23rd and Guerrero.

Oh my god.

It was so good.

I texted a friend tonight and was like, go, go, go.

I had Hamachi Kama–grilled yellow tail tuna collar-bone–extraordinary; grilled asparagus, Umi Maso, also a first for me, which is ocean trout, sashimi; Unagi–barbecued fresh water eel; Toro–blue fin belly; sautéed Japanese mushrooms; a bowl of the best Miso soup I think I have ever had; and two perfect Miyagi oysters, some of the best I have ever had, super fresh and the presentation was beautiful.

Divine.

I will be going back.

Sans the little guys.

In fact, I thought, definite date night restaurant for upcoming date.

I have many upcoming dates on my mind.

But not obsessively so and I have to say, that is so refreshing.

Just taking it nice and slow.

I’m finding the more I know about myself, the more that taking it slow feels right, good, the thing to do.

Healthy.

I am liking that.

Taking it day by day is how it’s supposed to be anyway and I realize that normal, whatever normal looks like for me, is just staying as much as possible in the moment and keeping the focus on myself and my care; on what I have to accomplish in my day and how to be the best woman I can at any given time during that day.

I’m not perfect and I don’t expect to become so, but I am feeling a whole lot more relaxed about things.

I suppose not having to be concerned with coming up with tuition money for my first two years of graduate school has something to do with that.

And my healthier approach to Burning Man.

I just got off the phone with my best friend from Wisconsin, who echoed how nice it was to hear me doing well and what a big change it was going to be for me to go to Burning Man and not work every day that I am on playa.

It’s coming up pretty fast.

However.

My next focus will be on getting to Sonoma next week and what that will look like work wise.

I’ll be heading up to Glen Ellen to work with the family and stay with them at their place, I believe it’s called Stone Tree?

It’s not their house, they rent it, but it appears to be palatial and has a pool and a lot of space and I’ll have my own room and bathroom.

Which is good.

It’s one thing to nanny at Burning Man, I mean, yes it’s Burning Man, so there’s that; but it’s quite the other to actually be a live in nanny at a house with a family.

For a week.

I’m going to miss my sweet little home by the sea.

Although, it will be sunny and there is the aforementioned pool and I will have down time.

I’m not even anxious about it, really, rather just looking forward to a new adventure with the family.

I really do consider myself so lucky to be with them.

The fit is perfect for my graduate school schedule and goals and they just take care of me and I love the boys.

God.

I love these kids.

I mean.

I know.

I say that about all the children I take care of and I love them all.

I marvel at how they are all so different, but when it comes down to certain things, there is nothing like sitting down somewhere–a stoop, the bench at a playground, on the floor, a bunk bed, or rocking chair–and snuggling and reading stories or just talking.

Yesterday the oldest boy and I sat for a good forty-five minutes on the front stoop bird watching and talking about how much we like spending time together.

“We’re going to have slumber parties in Sonoma!” He said.

And so we are.

Blackberry picking.

And blackberry pie making, the oldest one is adamant about making a black berry pie.

I’m even tempted to break out the old pie crust recipe, although I’m sure freezer ones will do, and weave a crust.

There will be swimming in the pool, hikes along the creek, visits to the llama farm down the road.

I’m excited.

And I get paid.

So there’s that.

I’m excited about all sorts of things.

Some of which I am not going to write about, but you know, read between the lines yo and know that I am happy.

Life is good.

It is generally.

But.

Really.

Life is good.


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