Posts Tagged ‘The Universe’

It Bears Repeating

December 29, 2018

The playlist I made you many months ago.

I haven’t listened to it in a while.

Things were hard.

Strange.

Sad.

Oh god were things sad.

I listened to the music and cried.

I stopped listening to it.

But today.

Tonight.

Well.

I dipped back in.

So good.

So damn good.

Just like you baby.

Stolen kisses in the car.

Your head leaned back against the headrest.

The look in your eyes when you look at me.

Oh the magic.

Damn it baby.

You are the best.

I belted out the songs coming home in the car.

The Christmas lights still up, the traffic still slow, everyone still out of town.

Holidaze.

Sweet love.

My love.

My dear.

Dearest, dear.

I felt like I floated home, drifting down towards the sea with all its love gathering in the passing moonlight.

The songs make me goosebump.

I really love you.

It still boggles my mind that I have had you in my life.

I don’t question it.

I don’t have to know why.

I just know that you love me.

And.

I love you.

What will happen.

I don’t know.

I don’t have to.

I just know how I felt tonight.

Song mix on repeat.

Making me smile.

My heart swelled, pushing against my ribcage.

My heart big, swollen, full of this music.

All the songs about you.

I have never made another man a playlist.

Or a mixed tape.

Just to date myself.

I have made you, though, many.

This one is dear to me, though they all are sweet.

This one special.

My first attempt at letting you know musically how much you mean to me.

I think I did a pretty good job.

I had forgotten what songs were on and when one faded and the next came on.

I just smiled harder.

Sang louder.

Felt my love for you grow again.

How is it so?

Extraordinary.

This expansion of love, like the universe.

On and on and on.

Forever and ever.

Amen.

Penny and the Quarters.

Aretha Franklin.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.

The Cranberries.

Carly Simon.

(You really are the best)

Barbara Lewis.

The Ronnettes.

Bill Withers.

Peggy Lee.

Stevie Wonder.

And last, but oh so not least.

Etta James.

Had to end with a bit of punch.

Like how I feel, knocked down drunk with love on you again.

Smitten kitten.

Me.

Again.

Who knew?

So.

I guess what I am saying.

Well.

It bears repeating.

I am happy.

I got to see you today and there will be more of you to come.

And.

Baby, this bears repeating too.

I’m yours.

Baby.

Sweet baby.

I am so yours.

Now.

And.

Always.

In other words, until eternity.

 

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What Are You Doing

November 5, 2017

For self-care?

My group supervisor asked me after I checked in around a client that I have to do a lot of outside resourcing for.

I blurted out, “baking!”

And it’s true.

Last night I made cookies for a dearest ones anniversary.

It was the first time that I have made cookies in my little home here by the sea.

You could say this person is extraordinarily important to me.

So.

Important.

And I knew that I wanted to make cookies for them.

Peanut butter chocolate chip.

Oversized.

Soft and warm.

Full of love.

I was fluffing the butter and creaming the sugar and adding all the super extraordinary rich smelling ingredients together in the bowl and reflecting upon how much I love this person.

I was thinking of Isabella Allende’s book “Like Water For Chocolate,” and how the main character cooks her emotions into her meals.

How the other characters in the book respond to the emotions in the book, bursting into flames with love and passion and feeling.

Cooking and baking for me are a kind of meditation and they are soothing and full of self-care.

Granted.

I didn’t eat any of the cookies.

I didn’t taste them.

I don’t eat sugar or flour so to make them was sort of a big deal.

It was the first time I had sugar in my pantry in four years.

I found it was fine.

I wasn’t tempted, I wasn’t at all.

Not even to lick my fingers.

And I sense that was the lynch pin for me, that I didn’t have a motive for the cookies except to show this person how much I love them.

Not.

Ooh.

“I’m being secret and baking cookies in my house and all the goodies are going to get eaten.”

There was purpose there and in the purpose, such pleasure.

In fact.

I forgot how much I enjoy baking.

I have been baking a lot at work too, a pear tart, an apple tart, banana bread, plus I make a ton of food, pastas mainly, for the family that I would never touch.

“You’re the best cooker ever!” And, “these are better than granny’s,” are compliments I have gotten from my charges.

I have to take their word for it.

I almost never taste the food I make for them.

But.

I can smell it and sense what works with what and I think about the woman who owns and runs Tartine Manufacturing and how she is known to make the most extraordinary bread.

And.

Oh, the Universe is sly and funny.

She doesn’t ever eat any of it.

She’s gluten intolerant.

But like, me, I presume, there is a great satisfaction in the baking.

I know I felt super happy baking my cookies last night.

Really good and sweet and loving and I planned it so the cookies would be warm when I handed them over.

I love little details like that.

I like giving.

I am remembering when I used to make sugar cookies at Christmas time and bring them into work.

Or candy.

I made a lot of Christmas candy, back in Wisconsin mainly, after I moved to San Francisco I still did a bit of baking but not the candy making and after a few years, 2009, I stopped baking, when I began to get abstinent around my food.

I occasionally made something for someone.

A pie here or there.

But it’s really been years since I have had all the ingredients in my home to bake.

Heck.

I had to buy a cookie sheet last week.

I didn’t mind though.

I had such a good time doing the baking.

And.

I also did a lot of cooking over the last two days.

I roasted a chicken too, yesterday.

I figured I would be using the oven and if I could get some food prep out-of-the-way it would be super helpful as next weekend I’m in classes and I like to have my meals made up before the weekend of class.

I just grab something out of the freeze and a piece of fruit and I’m set.

And today.

Well.

I was up late last night and decided I was going to let myself just sleep today.

Skip yoga, coddle myself, be sweet to myself and just sleep.

Of course.

I forgot I had set an alarm to go off so that I could go to yoga.

Haha.

Can’t sleep in even if I wanted to.

And it was good, I needed to connect with the outside world right away.

Although, I didn’t get out of bed to do so, just lay in bed talking on the phone for an hour.

Slight aside.

Talking on the phone is magic.

I am happy that I have people in my life that still like to talk.

There was luxuriating in the being in bed and not making myself go to yoga, don’t worry, I’ll be going tomorrow, there’s only so much “laziness” I can condone in myself, and being gentle and soft and slow and letting the morning have its way with me.

And it was extraordinary, I didn’t feel rushed and yet I did get all sorts of things done.

I wrote a lot this morning, always helps.

I got a hold of the dealership where I am interested in getting a car from and started some preliminary work, submitted an application and talked to the manager of the sales department and got some good insight.

I wrote my mom’s birthday card and got that in the post.

And.

I made chicken soup with spicy Andouille sausage.

Yup.

All before I left for my internship.

So when my group supervisor asked what I was doing for self-care, baking popped right out of my mouth and was followed up by, “making soup.”

Comfort.

And.

Love.

The best kind of self-care.

Showing up for myself.

And showing others how much they mean to me.

So much gratitude for my life.

So much love.

So, so, so much.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

I Need Some Arm Candy

February 23, 2016

I am all yours baby.

That is just the kind of message I need to hear on a Monday afternoon in between cooking three different things for the family, in preparation for the boys coming home from school and the grandparent visit.

Yeah.

I know.

They were just here.

And they are gone, as of probably about a half hour ago.

Only passing through San Francisco on the way to further destinations.

I actually have little gripe with the grandparents, the boys adore them and they keep them busy and it’s nice to see a lot of family interaction.

However.

It is more work for me.

More wrangling, more cooking, more errands, more, well, work.

Fortunately, I was fresh as a daisy this afternoon when I rolled up to work on my scooter.

Yes.

That’s right!

The SFMTA Child Care Permit is in affect.

I am now a scooter girl to work officially.

It was really nice.

And super faster than I thought it would be.

I had almost fifteen minutes to kill before I walked in the door at work today.

I had already had a super full and bright morning.

I wrote.

I read.

I ate a lovely breakfast and had lots of delicious coffee.

And.

Yes.

I did a yoga class.

Like that.

Because, you know, it’s a half block away.

I debated doing one tomorrow morning too, but really, four days in a row is cool, my body probably needs a little rest, though, truth be told, I feel more in my body than I have in quite some time.

And.

That shit is addicting.

“I could get hooked on this,” I thought this morning as my body just collapsed in a puddle.

I had some challenges with my new gear, new mat is slippery, but managed to get it together and do a lot of the poses and really try the ones that I wasn’t even going to attempt even yesterday.

I have had three different teachers at the studio and I have to say they all have great teaching skills and though different, I appreciate the things that each has brought to the classes.

And the floating out the door after an hour and fifteen minutes of studio time is phenomenal.

I mean.

I am feeling alive and energized.

And.

No.

I did not have a late coffee today.

Although I am listening to some Radio Soulwax and that is upbeat–I have gotten up three times now to have a dance party.

I am feeling the need for some dancing, outside of my own studio, soon.

I got happy feet.

I have a happy body.

I also have a happy heart.

It was really sweet to get the message from my new friend that he needed some arm candy this Thursday for an event at the SF Design Center.

I was like.

Um.

Yes.

I have some dresses.

Chuckle.

And some new Fluevogs too.

Heh.

Even though it’s a school night, I’m going.

I haven’t ever been at an event there and I adore my friend.

He’s super handsome, my Puerto Rican fairy god father, and tall, so heels are a must and I am just grateful to get to connect with a good heart and a fun heart and some one who is smart and sassy, just like me.

Ha.

I don’t even care that the mom asked me to come in early on Friday.

The boys don’t have school.

I was like.

Wait?

What?

Didn’t they just have a full week off from school last week?

Oh well.

I can handle it on a Friday and it’s nice to get out early on Fridays and get the weekend started a couple hours earlier than typical.

That’s work.

School’s going well.

I have my reading dialed in for this week and some how, not sure how, even with all the yoga, I’m staying on top of it.

Grateful for that routine that I have got going with it.

And.

I do think there’s less reading, either that or I’m just used to the style of writing now and I’m understanding the material better, I’m definitely kicking through it with less struggle than last semester.

So a little night on the town with Mister Fabulous is just what this lady needs.

I could use a date that’s not late, full of excuses, and desperately sending me text messages to see him again.

Um.

No thank you.

That being said.

I am open.

Available.

And ready for some fun.

Yes.

Yes I am.

Maybe it’s the full moon.

Snow moon.

I had this vision (yesterday’s the daisy sprouting from the crown of my head was pretty awesome, I tried to replicate it, but I wasn’t in the same space at the studio today when asked to set that intention) of a bubble of light.

A crystallized sugar ornament.

Spun like a glass bulb.

Glenda The Good Witch couldn’t have wished for a sweeter bubble of light and candied phosphorescence.

I imagined it full of light and I felt myself ensconced in the midst of it.

Floating.

A bubble.

A small light.

Luminous.

I am a luminary.

I illuminate from within.

Small parts die, burn away, and in the rebirth, the lightness ascends and I am swept up and warmly held, divinely held, swooning with softness and surrender.

Um.

Yeah.

Like that.

It was pretty nice.

And like I said, I could get addicted to that kind of feeling.

That spiritual high.

I accept that like every thing worth having, there is work, great deals of it, involved.

“Just show up to the mat,” I told myself today as I sat and tried to regain my composure after slipping on the mat more than once and feeling wildly out of my comfort zone.

That’s all I have to do.

Simple.

Just show up.

And there it was the light.

I walked out of the studio loose and fluid in my body.

I lifted my head toward the sun and felt it’s warm loving caress on the planes of my face.

I smiled.

“Thank you,” I said out loud.

To the Universe.

To myself.

To the sun in the sky.

To my heart for doing the work to pump the blood through my body, this imperfect, perfect vessel for infinite light.

And.

Love.

Not a bad way to start the week.

Happy Monday!

 

 

Sometimes The Universe

September 24, 2015

Conspires in my favor.

I found out, in rapid succession, that both ladies I was scheduled to meet with, one on Friday evening after work and the other Saturday morning, have had to cancel

On top of which my person isn’t available either this weekend.

Oh.

Don’t you worry your pretty little head.

I still have plenty of shit to deal with.

But now I have a little flexibility in my step and I am very grateful for that.

I still have two ladies to conspire with on Sunday, I’ll be getting my deal in, but I will also be getting my homework on.

I have a project for my Human Development class that I must have the work done for by this Saturday so that I can confab with my partner on Sunday.

I was feeling a little bit of a squeeze when I received my partner’s e-mail this morning before work.

“I’m working as hard as I can,” I felt like yelling at the screen.

Not as though she would have heard.

I know everybody is doing it to the best of their abilities.

I am not the only one working hard.

But my timing is sometimes weirder than others and I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to address my partners questions until almost 10 p.m. tonight.

Which is exactly what I just did.

Despite my work hours being seven hours a day instead of 8, I feel like I am working double overtime.

I get up and read before school.

I write before school.

I do my morning routine.

I go to work.

I do the deal after work.

I come home and read.

I blog.

I might sneak in fifteen minutes of video or perhaps a conversation with a friend.

Then I do it all over again.

I will say this much.

The three years of graduate school are going to go fast.

Whiz.

Motherfucking.

Bang.

The days are full and the weekends are not times to relax.

They are time to do the work.

I will now have alot, for me, extra time to get my project dealt with, so my partner is not carrying the brunt of the work and I will also get caught up on all my reading.

I am almost there.

But.

I have miles to go before I am completely on par with the next weekend of classes.

I have one plan for Friday night after work, then all day Saturday to get it done.

I may let myself sleep in a little on Saturday though, roll around in bed, drift in and out, get all sexy in the sheets.

Once in a while a little extra sleep is a nice thing.

Especially when the Universe has given me the nod to do so.

I will also, fingers crossed, be celebrating my year review.

Although it was not discussed at work, there was no time in the day with the boys and the parents schedule, I do believe we will be having the conversation on Friday and I am good with it.

Good with whatever happens.

Good.

With it all.

“Carmen, I love you,” the smallest guy hollered to me as I went tumbling down the stairs to climb onto my bicycle and ride like a comet out to the Outer Sunset so that I could toss myself in the shower before my commitment tonight at the Sunset Youth Services on Judah and 44th.

I squeaked in a shower and it was so nice.

That’s what life feels like right now.

Squeaking in as much as I can wherever I can.

In fact.

I may just pause here for a moment and go throw a load of laundry in the wash.

Excuse me a sec, ok.

Nice.

Always a bonus to get something else taken care of.

Now to figure out how to get some groceries in the mix and I’ll be doing ok.

Busy.

I don’t know when I won’t be busy and sometimes that does make me feel a little overfull with all the things, but I am also gifted to have all the things, and it’s nice to know that there is a balance in there and I know it.

I’m grateful to be able to do all these things and that I get to live in San Francisco.

I mean.

Really.

I live and work and go to school in San Francisco.

I was checking in with a friend and we were discussing some of the fellows in my cohort and how many of these students commute in from all points, literally, from as far away as Miami, Fl, and how I am lucky that I live here in the city.

Granted.

I do bitch a tiny bit about the commute from the Outer Sunset, but it keeps me healthy, all that bike riding, and as a friend said recently when I expressed that I haven’t owned a car since I moved here in 2002 (13 year anniversary the beginning of this month!), I have no carbon footprint.

Although.

I may have offset the entire 13 years by the one joy ride in the 1972 Mach 1 Mustang that I got to ride around in on Sunday.

Damn that was fun.

I’ll take another please.

What else?

There isn’t much else.

There isn’t much time for much else, is there?

Or is there?

Life is always throwing me some sort of curve ball, just when I think I have a routine, or something figured out, I don’t have anything figured out at all.

It’s all topsy-turvy all the time.

I suppose I should be used to it by now and sometimes I actually am.

I feel like right now, despite my shaky start to the day, that I have some equilibrium.

I have love.

I have a home.

I have the setting moon.

I have a bicycle.

She’s smart ass whip and she’s all mine.

I have a strong, healthy body.

I actually have relationships with my family, not always close, but I have them.

I laughed out loud the other day catching a random post on facecrack from my oldest niece.

Which deserves a shout out here since she is the reason my blog is called “Auntie Bubba.”

I sent her a certain gift for her birthday that she had dropped a hint that she would like, so I went on Amazon and ordered it.

Then I promptly forgot, because, like yo’, I’m busy, duh.

I almost didn’t see the post either, but there it was and I laughed out loud, almost snorting coffee out my nose when I saw the photo of her holding the gift in front of her very happy face.

The caption read.

“Auntie Bubba is best Bubba!”

That may be the greatest compliment ever.

Busy.

Yup.

That’s me.

But squeezing in the love wherever I can.

The Universe conspires for me.

In case you were wondering.

I am the best Bubba after all.

Hello.


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