Rainy Day

Mood music.

It rained.

It rained a lot.

I have listened to scads of French music today.

San Francisco in the rain reminds me of Paris.

I love that I can listen to music at work.

I was home, at the home of my employers, again, all day.

The little lady was sick again.

And much sicker than earlier in the week.

She had such little energy.

Most of the time was sat and snuggled on the couch.

I got her lunch, which was actually my lunch, and she wrestled a promise out of me that I would make spaghetti for dinner.

That did not happen and she was mad, oh lordy was she mad, when she realized I was leaving for the night and there was no spaghetti dinner.

Her parents had ordered pizza since she had missed her pizza party at school.

She was not so easily mollified.

She had fallen asleep on me at one point this afternoon and had fever dreams and big coughing fits.

I just spent most of the day on the couch rubbing her back and brushing the hair off her hot forehead while she slept, and drooled a bit, on my lap.

Such a sweet little lady.

Although she wakes up really hard and was a screaming crying mess.

I have never seen a child wake so hard.

She does not like waking up.

But before that I had hours and hours of contemplating the rain falling and listening to the Amelie soundtrack by Yann Tiersen, which really is such perfect rainy day music.

I had taken care of my household duties and really the only thing was to sit and be still and let the little girl rest against me.

I know that though she woke up hard and wanted her mother, that I had been a calming, loving, kind presence for her, she totally cuddles with me now and it’s become a very sweet relationship.

I am very glad for it.

I never felt restless, but I was ready for the day to wrap and excited for my first day off in two weeks.

The alarm is set.

Yeah.

Like that.

I’m not sleeping in.

I’m going to yoga, which will do me more good than trying to squeeze in some extra sleep.

And if I need a nap in the afternoon, I can take it.

Not that I will.

I’ll probably roast a chicken.

Yoga.

Shower, breakfast, hope for a break in the rain so that I can scooter up to 7th and Irving and go to Tart to Tart and do some work with my person.

A mani/pedi after.

Then home.

That’s sort of the plan, cook, sort through homework and reading.

Then go see some fellows and do the deal in the evening.

Sunday will be another round of yoga, I’m only getting into the studio on the weekends, but I’m trying to stay with it and not drop back out of it, it’s too easy to let it slide, even when I feel like what’s the point, I do inevitably feel better, and my brain is much quieter when I do it.

Tattoo touch up on Sunday at 1:30 p.m.

No other plans.

A few tentative feelers out there from friends, but no solid plans.

I told on myself today in a phone message about trying to leave some room open on the weekends so that I socialize and see people and don’t completely isolate into homework land.

Fingers crossed that can be achieved.

It will be.

And maybe some clothes shopping, but I’ll probably leave that until next weekend, I have a big coupon to redeem at Gap from when I bought my “casual interview” clothes, and it needs to get used by next weekend.

Maybe I play some pinball this weekend.

I have had this urge to make things happen all day, I realize, as I was just looking at a text from a friend who was wondering what I’m up to.

I want to know.

I want to be solid.

I wanted to text back and say, book time with me, or don’t, but let me know.

I have three people in that boat with me at the moment.

What are you doing this weekend?

Let’s get together.

I’ll text.

Part of me wants to throw a temper tantrum, I want to know definitively so I can prepare myself, it’s a protection thing, I recognize that, and I can let it go.

I have faith that even if every person who said let’s meet wasn’t able to, that my weekend will be just fine anyway.

I mean it’s begun, I’m not working tomorrow and I signed up for a yoga class and I have a coffee date with my person to do some work, I can lightly hold what happens the rest of the day and see what makes me the happiest to do.

A friend suggested I get a mani/pedi and a massage.

Mani/pedi is definitely on the list.

Massage sounds good too, but I don’t think that it would work tomorrow.

I’ll keep that in my back pocket.

I don’t often get massages, they are nice, but I am not often compelled to get one.

I always feel like my money is better spent elsewhere.

But a mani/pedi I can totally get behind.

Not that my toes will be seeing the light of day any time soon, more rain in the forecast, but it is a delicious splurge and I always appreciate my toes when they are done up.

Anyway.

I ramble.

Rainy day French music soundtrack lends me to a meander with my words.

Bon nuit mes amies.

A demain.

 

That Was Fun

In fact.

That might be the most fun I have had on New Years Eve in years.

Last year.

Not so much.

Sadder than sad sitting next to a man I was desperately in love with who could not reciprocate and it was like being skinned alive to be so close and yet so horribly far apart.

The effort we put into not touching each other was extraordinary.

The New Years prior.

I got into a fight with my boyfriend and we broke up shortly thereafter.

The New Year prior to that I was working in Paris and horribly sad to be working, but also happy to be making money.

But.

The Metro got shut down and I ended up walking miles in the rain lost trying to get home to my place in the 9th and tailed by an overly friendly man person who took a liking to me as I was cutting through Place de Clichy trying to navigate my way backwards from the Metro stop that I was supposed to be getting off at before it got shut down.

This year.

Single and happy and carefree and not burdened by needing to work on New Year’s Eve, and I have worked more than my fair share of them, I have, I have.

I got up and went to yoga.

I did laundry.

I had a hot shower and though I wanted, very much to keep my beautiful blown out hair, I had to shower, I had worked up a good sweat in yoga, and so, bye-bye blow out.

Hello curls.

And it’s pretty with the curls, so no complaints.

Some writing this morning and while I was doing the writing I got a message from a friend in the neighborhood who wanted to know if I was going to a party a mutual friend of ours was throwing in the Mission.

I said I was and he said, want a ride?

Hell yes.

I was already nervous about riding my scooter on New Year’s Eve, I had some funky experiences yesterday and I was thinking that I might just end up taking MUNI to get to the party and a car back to the house, so when I got the ride offer, I was all over it.

And the feeling to stay off my scooter really stuck with me.

I wanted to go to the Inner Sunset and hit my nail place and I decided to just take the train.

I read a book on the train.

I chilled.

I didn’t have to worry about distracted drivers or people rushing from one place to another to get that last-minute thing done before the city became crazy.

I just relaxed.

I got to my nail place right before the rush and not that it would have mattered, I’m a regular, I’m nice, I tip 20% and they always fit me in, but there was a huge rush after I had gotten in and I was happy I did when I did.

I flipped through magazines and enjoyed the massage chair.

Then some carnitas for a late lunch.

And.

A train ride home.

I did some grocery shopping at the co-op, Other Avenues, in my neighborhood and made a little food up for tomorrow.

I also made myself a great big double latte.

I knew tonight would be a late night for me and that I would want to do this regardless of what time I got home.

It’s my way to unwind, empty out my head, let go of the day, release and relax.

And it’s habit.

It doesn’t feel right to not write my blog.

She’s a habit I can’t quite kick.

Not that I want to.

Anyway.

I did some food prep, touched up my make up, ate some dinner, read a little bit of the new Don DeLillo book I picked up last week at Green Apple Books and waited for the call from my friend.

He picked me up at 7p.m.

And we got more coffee.

I was zooming.

But.

I have to say, it’s sort of fun to once in a while get a little geared up on coffee.

We got over to the Mission, did the deal with some friends and then.

Yes.

Dancing.

And lots of it.

I danced pretty solid for three hours.

I saw friends I haven’t seen in literally years.

I had girl friends ask me to get a hold of them the next time I went dancing.

I hugged loads of people.

Hell.

I even had a guy ask me for my phone number.

I was not expecting that.

Although.

I did look cute tonight.

If just a tiny bit on the goth side.

I was wearing a little black dress, an off the shoulder shift with black leggings and black platform heels.

That along with the newly dark hair and a smoky eye.

Well.

I did look a little on the goth princess side of town.

And my mani/pedi was super dark navy blue with glitter.

Which looks black with glitter.

My skin tone doesn’t actually look good with solid black nails, my hands look dead, but if I go dark navy or dark purple, it looks black to the glance, but much kinder to my skin tone.

Anyway.

I was a little dark.

But.

It was fun to sport some heels and twirl about in my dress.

Although.

I was also a smart girl, because I do like to dance and there’s only so long I was going to make it in the heels on the dance floor.

I whipped off the heels and popped on my Converse as soon as the David Bowie came over the speakers.

And I danced.

And it was good.

And I will probably be sore in the morning.

But I don’t care.

I have not had a good three-hour dance session in ages.

It was and will be worth it.

My friend and I and another friend all left together and squished into his truck and headed out shortly after midnight.

And man, I am so glad I was not on my scooter.

The number of crazy drivers we encountered.

Ick.

Super grateful to have gotten home safe and sound and unstressed.

I shook out my hair, took off my earrings, put on Thomas Dutronc, French guitar and ballads, and made some tea.

The perfect New Years Eve.

A splendid showing out of the old and a promise of bright joy for the new.

Wishing you and yours.

Love.

Light.

Joy.

And.

Yes.

All the things.

This New Year.

Happy New Year!

I love you.

Seriously.

l do.