One Foot in Front

Of the other.

And moving forward and go.

Go.

Go.

It was quite a packed day, but a lovely day, a day of many smiles and laughs and appreciation for my life.

I got up and did a yoga class.

It was mediocre.

The teacher is just not a good teacher.

But I went anyway.

I always have a moment, or fifteen, when I want to email the studio and just be like, get a new instructor!  This guy sucks!

He doesn’t suck, he’s just young and not a good teacher.

He’s a great yogi.

I am I have seen him do amazing things with his body, he obviously has an incredible practice, but it doesn’t translate to being a good teacher.

So I sort of muddle through and just pat myself on the back for showing up and taking what I like and leaving the rest.

My previous teacher, God I miss him, was amazing, so I feel like there’s some disparity there, and I acknowledge that I was gifted with an extraordinary teacher for a while and thank God for that, if I had the teacher that I have now when I started I would have quit.

When his classes have been on other days I have just avoided them.

But.

My schedule is not really too flexible now in regards to when I can get into the studio, 9 a.m. on Saturday and 9 a.m. on Sunday are the two classes I know I can make and have been really rigorous about making.

So.

I’ll put up with the mediocre for now.

It will change, either he will no longer teach that time slot, other people’s schedules change, not just mine, or when I can I will take another class and opt out of the ones he teaches.

Until then, I literally suck it up and just go.

Better a mediocre yoga class then no yoga class.

Tomorrow, however, is a great teacher, and her class kicks my ass, but I get a lot more out of it and though I still have a preference for my very first teacher, he really was astounding, I like this teacher and she’s good.

And this week I’ll get to go to a morning yoga class on Tuesday.

Yes.

I will be doing yoga to celebrate the 4th of July.

I have the day off and when I have a day off I want to go to yoga.

And a friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while is going to come to class with me and then we’re going to go to Trouble Coffee and get caffeinated and catch the fuck up.

Super happy I get to see him.

He just got back from doing the Aids LifeCycle ride and he was my mentor when I rode it in 2010.

I still aspire to ride again, just now is not a good time to do it.

Perhaps after I graduate or I get my intern number and can start charging for my sessions.

Anyway, it was good to see him tonight and get in some good hugs and also to let him know I’ll have some weeks off in July and can do lunch.

I’ll probably head down to his job place and hang out with him on his lunch break.

I have that plan with another friend of mine who is also super busy in her life and we connected this past week and I told her the same thing, I will come to you, I will meet you for lunch, let’s hang out.

Whenever and wherever I can I will be seeking out social contact.

I put in 8 hours at the internship today, two of them today and the rest was seeing my supervisor on Monday and then seeing 5 clients.

Ultimately I will be seeing 8 clients.

I could possibly do 10 but I think that would be too much.

I will, however, pick up consultation hours when I have that time off from work with my family.

I will suck up as many of those as I can.

But I will also try to not work too much.

Catch up with friends, hang out, go to coffee, see my dear French friend and her little brood before they head back to France at the end of July.

There is a lot for me to do and see and be allowing myself to be seen.

Happy that is all happening.

Happy I also took care of a bunch of errands today, picking up packages at the post office and dropping off a package to return at UPS.

And I got a big grocery shopping trip in.

And I did the deal.

Which was great and picked up a commitment for Saturdays to keep me connected and not drift off into my internship land too far.

I’m trying to keep it all balanced out.

Sometimes I do better than others.

But I am getting decent sleep.

Eating really well.

In fact.

Yesterday, woo hoo, was my four-year anniversary marking my abstinence from sugar and flour.

That was nice to note.

Getting in the yoga when I can.

Doing a good job at work.

Doing a good job, I feel, at my internship.

Tomorrow I will do yoga in the am, have a nice breakfast and a latte, do some writing and then zip over to Cheap Petes and grab my prints.

I’ll be meeting with a lady at 1pm to do some work and reading and connecting.

Then a quick-lunch here.

And.

Yes.

Some pampering.

I’m getting my mani/pedi/waxing the fuck on.

So looking forward to that.

And.

After that.

A zip downtown to do some clothes shopping.

And like that.

The weekend.

Loving my life so very much.

Busiest girl in the world?

Maybe, but probably not.

Luckiest girl in the world?

Absofuckinglutely.

I Saw Your Car

In the parking lot at the 7-Eleven on the corner.

It sounds like the start to a really bad country western song, doesn’t it?

I kept right on right on, moving on.

I did stop.

I did pause.

I did have a wave of something come over me.

I suspect that you were thinking of me, I had you sudden and random in my head as I switched out my glasses and put on the frames you liked to see me in before leaving my house this evening to walk up and do the deal at the place up the road.

I am tan and my hair is in braids.

Like you like.

Like that.

I conjured you to the parking lot, heir to Slurpees and candy bars, to hot dogs on a rolling tray, glistening under the heat lamps, oily and delicious, the crisp coated chicken wings, baking under another set of lights, waiting to be scooped up into thin white paper bags, that spot with grease upon contact.

God only knows the years people have lost consuming such junk.

Devious in it’s siren song.

Though not so delicious as the memory of the first time we kissed.

And then.

I realized.

What the fuck am I doing standing on this sidewalk?

Do I really need to replay that mess?

No.

I have had these odd moments.

Moments when I feel like I’m being given a chance to go back and repeat old behaviors.

Or.

Move forward.

I fished in my purse for my phone, as though I suddenly had some momentous phone call coming in and I had to answer it.

Why was I there, on the sidewalk, stopped in my tracks?

Skin a glow.

Warm.

Soft, skirt billowing about my knees.

Then.

I put the phone resolutely back in my bag, there was no incoming message, there was no sign from God.

Although, there was.

There it was.

Make the decision.

Stay and talk and get wrapped up in a man who is not available for me to get wrapped up in, fantasize about a nothingness that is there, scuttling like a Kit Kat wrapper discarded in the parking lot.

Or.

Jump the other direction.

I was reminded that I was not to chase.

Not to pursue.

To know what I want.

And to sit and wait for that.

That the desire to chase was going to come up and I could let it pass through me and let it go out the other way, run down to the beach, sink into the sand, softly paddle down to the waves lapping at the moon.

And disappear underneath that yellow buttercream frosted moon, a dusted crescent sugar cookie, a soft bitten kind of love sailing over the black velvet waves.

Buh bye.

Bye, my baby, good bye.

I walked up the sidewalk.

I thought about all ways that I took care of myself today.

From sleeping in, to washing my bed sheets and making a fresh bed.

The good food I cooked for myself.

The writing I did.

The quiet time I took.

The phone calls I made and the conversations I had.

The gift I gave myself of not leaving the neighborhood, not seeking to have an agenda, to do something, to make something happen.

No need.

There was no need.

No.

The need was to go slow.

To languish in the sun.

Languid, liquid, warm, soft, sluiced with the sunshine.

It was not foggy today.

It’s Indian Summer in San Francisco.

And thank God.

It finally came.

Granted I spent much of “Fogust” out of town, but the few days that I was here in August, it was surprisingly grey and foggy and cold.

To come back, to be out of the first weekend of my second year of grad school and to have a day where it was sunny, warm, and without fog, was a huge gift.

One that my brain was eager to sabotage by running around and “getting stuff done.”

I have no real idea what this stuff was that needed to get done.

I went grocery shopping yesterday and I really didn’t need to do anything.

I was directed to get my “mind of me” and to go outside, go to coffee, go walk on the beach, get out of myself.

So.

I did.

I took a few phones calls in the back yard, checked in with my people, then walked up to Trouble Coffee And Coconut Club and had a very hot, very wet, very expensive latte.

I sat out in the front parklet and watched the ocean from the wooden top beam of the fenced in space.

I let the sun splash down on me.

I tasted the espresso and milk and let it envelop me.

I went to The General Store and actually found a dress I just adored and even though it was much more expensive than I wanted to spend, I liked it too much to not get it.

I spent the majority of my clothing allowance on it and smiled with sweet happiness that I allowed myself the gift of getting it.

I’ll wear it tomorrow.

I thought about relationships and myself and friendships and remembered the admonishment to spend time with either myself or with girlfriends.

Guy friends I can get too wrapped up in and the fantasy of maybe they’re the guy I should be dating gets in the way of it.

I remembered what my friend said, let it happen, sit still, allow the work to take and don’t push it.

I walked down to the ocean and walked along the beach.

I watched dogs jump in and out of the surf.

I watched surfers drift in and out of the waves.

The sun shone.

The sand stuck to my toes and then washed off as the water lapped over my feet, surprising, cold, crisp, alerting my whole body to how alive I am.

I found a large drift wood log and sat.

I watched a game of frisbee.

I checked some messages and saw a man I had dated a few months back commented on something I posted on social media, I texted him, answered the question, but did not pursue it further.  I didn’t ask, hey, what are you doing?  Want to hang out?

That’s the hard part.

The not pursuing.

Yet.

As I sit with myself, leaning more and more into the strength there.

I know that I am worthy of love.

Of pursuit.

And I’m not too concerned about it.

The feelings come and go.

But I don’t have to treat them as though they are real or permanent.

Just a fleeting kiss of ghosted memory.

And gone.

Like my footsteps past the parking lot.

The neon glow of the sign behind me casting a shadow ahead of me.

Glimmers come shining off the dance floor that I chose to exit from.

Asphalt sparkles in the night.

And the caress of wood smoke hovering in the saline air.

Love.

Love.

Here.

There.

Everywhere.

God, in the details.

The swish of my skirt around my ankles.

The curl of hair, tucked behind my ear.

And.

The soothing whisper.

Soon.

Here.

At the still point of this Universe.

Love.

Will find me.

On the corner of 46th and Judah.

A whimpering croon, oh baby girl.

Just.

Come.

And.

Hold my hand.

And together.

We will walk.

Towards that unknown land.

Love.

Just there, over the dunes.

Under the cusp of the moon.

I am here.

I await.

Still.

And.

Strong.

For.

You.

Hello Friday

Hello three day weekend.

Yay.

I earned it.

Even with it being a short week at work, it was crazy.

Cookie monster crazy.

The littlest guy turns four this weekend and I was the cookie making queen.

I made cookies for the birthday part, I’m not sure how many dozens, but it was a lot.

“You have such self-will,” the mom said, in awe as I slid the hot cookies off the spatula onto the lined counters to cool off.

I’m not so sure about that.

I think that’s called self-will run riot.

I have no self-control.

Hence.

Alcoholic.

Hence.

Addict.

Hence just give me fucking more.

More attention, more sex, more money, more attention, wait, I already said that, more please.

Are you thinking about me?

Why aren’t you thinking about me?

I don’t think you’re thinking about me enough.

Bwahahahaha.

Fuck my mother.

My brain is the lotus of the crazy, but fortunately, I know I’m crazy.

“You got to watch for the ones who don’t think they’re insane,” a person once told me.

Yup.

I know I’m crazy.

And I’m completely cool with it.

I’m exactly the person I’m suppose to be and I have a solution for the crazy.

Some folks do different things than I do and that’s cool too, I just do what works for me, eleven and a half years in, it seems to be doing just fine.

I don’t have to be perfect.

Thank fucking God.

And I have no will power, the choice was just taken from me and I’m fine with that too, if I thought I had some control over things I would still be out there trying to figure it out.

Figure it out works for shit.

I can still fall into it.

I fell into a little today.

But.

I called my person and confirmed that we were meeting this weekend, I get to see two of my people this weekend, because this crazy takes a village, and I’m super psyched for that.

I also have a coffee date with a friend of mine from school on Sunday at Trouble.

Because who doesn’t want to get into a little Trouble now and then.

I know I do.

Saturday and Sunday I got plans.

Monday not so much.

One commitment in the evening.

I’m debating a few things.

I may go to the new MOMA.

I have heard such good things about the new space and I have missed not being able to go to it for the last few years that it has been closed for renovation.

I’m also debating getting a membership.

I have had one a number of times.

It’s handy.

Plus.

I can get into the Guggenheim, the LACMA, the New Whitney, the MOCA, and the MOMA in New York with the membership.

Not that I have any more travel plans right now, but who knows what the year will bring.

I mean.

I didn’t make it to the Guggenheim this past trip.

Plus.

With the membership at the MOMA I can get another person in with me free.

The last time I was at the MOMA, I just realized was on my seven year anniversary.

I went and got this little chip with a friend at a spot in the Mission, the she and I went to the MOMA and walked through the exhibits.

That was four years ago.

Crazy so much has happened in that time.

The year or so I worked at the bicycle shop.

The six months I lived in Paris.

The not knowing what I was doing and just continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

The high school twentieth reunion.

The amends to my grandmother, my mother, my father, my sister.

All the traveling.

All the Burning Man.

All the life I have lived.

The uncertainties and the fears and showing up with bravery.

Walking through the fear and discovering yet more untapped sources of courage.

“Men of faith have courage,” it says somewhere, I don’t remember where, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

I have great faith.

I have walked through so much fear.

Graduate school anyone?

New jobs.

Boyfriends.

Ex-boyfriends.

Break ups.

The almost was but never was unrequited romantic love.

“Who’s he,” the oldest boy asked.

“A friend,” I said, slightly wistful, but my, so nice to not have the sadness and the stabbing ache that I used to have when I looked at those photographs of our Paris trip.

Growth.

Change.

Love.

Life.

Friday.

The day of the week where I actually set my alarm a little early to go to yoga in the morning before I meet up with my person at Tart to Tart.

I have my alarm set.

I’ll making the commitment to myself to go to the 9 a.m. class.

Then the doing the deal and maybe hitting up a spot at 7th and Irving.

And then, well the day will be mine.

No plans for tomorrow afternoon either.

“How’s the head,” he asked, after I had calmly rattled off the things happening at work.

I laughed, “oh it’s crazy, but really it just comes down to not getting what I want in the time frame that I want it, that’s all.”

Sex.

Relationships.

Love.

I’d like to wrap that all up in one neat package.

But the fact is, again I come back to it, I don’t need a person to complete me, although a compliment is nice, it’s just that thing I can get focused on when I feel uncomfortable with the idea of having down time.

I can get myself all booked up and busy and make busy and make like I don’t have feelings or a great big bloody heart on my sleeve.

Actually.

It’s not bloody at all.

My heart tattoo has healed up quite nicely.

No.

Today I’m not beating my heart against anything.

My life, perfectly imperfect, my heart beat, a hot flush of rose fire, beats just fine.

There is nothing wrong.

There are no problems.

Only opportunities to learn.

To grow.

To change.

To love a little more.

Because ultimately.

That’s the only thing that I really need more of.

Love.

Love.

Only.

That.

Love.

Go, Have Fun!

That’s what you’re supposed to do!

She encouraged me over the phone today as I checked in with my principle, spiritual, not that I checked in with the principal.

Heh.

I told her about putting some folks in the God box (pink bunny) and letting them go and how that felt and surrender being my principle and the next thing you know she’s suggesting I have fun today.

Geez lady.

Don’t you know I have work to do?

But, actually, I am ahead of the curve for work, school work that is.

Yes.

I do have a paper that will be due for the next set of weekend classes, but I have a weekend before that.

I am done with all the reading and today before I went to work I sent in my Applied Spirituality proposal with my ideas about deepening my spiritual life.

I outlined ideas, I reported what I do now, I even said I had been experiencing some consternation about how to put more into my day.

I think fun is a spiritual principle and it did cross my mind today as I was reflecting on how nice it is to spend time with friends.

I miss my friends and I have seen my isolating tendencies peeking out at me.

I am grateful to be making friends at school and I am grateful my darling friend came out to the beach yesterday, even though it was a challenge for her to get to me, she did and it was sweeter for the effort made.

She suggested we do a day trip too at some point.

I’m going to have that free time coming up, not that she can do anything during the week, she’ll be at work, but maybe a weekend day.

It’s nice to think about.

So much to think about and really, not so much.

My head hurts from the thinking.

I don’t need to figure anything out today.

Just go with the flow and show up.

Which I did.

I had a great bike ride in and out, the weather was lovely, albeit a bit chillier than I was expecting riding home.

The park tonight was dark and fragrant.

A pine had been cut down somewhere along the way and it was such a good smell.

I took a deep breath in and sighed with delight, then looked up, and gasped at the nearness and brightness of the stars.

I could have just reached up and pulled them down from the sky.

When I was seated, a little while later, looking at fairy lights on the floor of a room I spent an hour in this evening, I was reminded of something else that had been asked of me.

“Share about it, in a general way, and put it out there,” she told me this past Saturday.

So.

I did, my eyes focused on the little twinkling lights and the haze of the tenderness and vulnerability I have felt myself in.

It was good to get it out and it was also good to get it off my chest.

Even in a vague way.

Even here, frankly, I’m being vague.

However, I have work to do around it and work  I shall.

I’ll be meeting my person again this Saturday, early in the afternoon about 12:45 p.m. at Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club and we shall walk together to the beach and do some work out there and then I will have a couple weeks to write a big inventory.

There are not a lot of folks on it.

Only a couple, really, and one of them I can already see down the road.

Ugh.

I am going to have to make an amends.

Hell.

I suppose for every person I put on that list I will have to amend my behavior.

And that’s ok.

I’m not there yet.

I am in the vulnerable, fuck me, school stuff is bringing up stuff, is challenging, having to process what I am reading and learn and also, sometimes the learning is going to bring stuff up.

I repeat.

That’s ok.

I saw a good friend of mine tonight and he gave me a big hug and I expressed what was going on and he gave me another hug and I said, “and it’s ok, it’s ok to be vulnerable, and it’s ok to have feelings, I have a solution, and I get to experience this, it’s ok to be uncomfortable, it’s not going to kill me.”

It won’t kill me.

However.

I have to do the work.

Ease.

And in the easing into it, I can see my life becoming richer and sweeter and warmer with each passing day.

I am lucky.

I am.

I know what to do and although I don’t always like taking suggestions, it feels so much better when I do, and once I am out of the way, well, wonderful things happen, like having fun.

I had fun at work today.

I had fun with the mom.

I had fun with the boys.

I had fun with the dog.

I cooked a lot.

There’s an imminent grandparent visit happening, they’ll be here Thursday, and there’s lots to do before hand, but it’s nice to have purpose and things to fill my day.

I’m not sure how the fun is going to continue manifesting, but I hope that it will, I could definitely use some more.

I want to be open and available.

I have the time since I am ahead of the game plan with my homework.

I can probably go out and do some things Friday or Saturday.

I am going to allow myself the vulnerability to take suggestions and to be open to new experiences.

Who knows what could happen?

I can feel myself getting excited.

Maybe I should put fun in the God box.

There’s an idea!

The fun will happen.

And if you have ideas, seriously, let me know.

I’m all ears.

I’m Done!

I finished all the reading for my next weekend of classes.

One weekend ahead of time.

I am absurdly pleased.

I just closed my Ethics and Family Law textbook and shelved it along with everything else that I read this weekend.

I do have a proposal that I did not get to, but whatever.

I have all week to do it and it’s a proposal, not a formal paper.

I have had some time to think about what I want to accomplish with it and I do believe I am going to do the meditative coloring.

I also thought about doing a guided meditation, I haven’t done a lot of sitting meditation, enough to know I can comfortably sit for fifteen minutes without bother.

I remember the first time I sat for three minutes.

I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin.

I thought I might leap out of my chair or rip my own hair out.

I was that uncomfortable sitting still in my body, in my own space, with my own thoughts to occupy me.

I thought my brain might actually eat me alive.

I have come a long way baby.

I can sit for up to an hour and have done so on a few occasions.

I have had years where I did a sitting meditation, in addition to my writing meditation, but I have to be upfront about that, it wasn’t more than a ten minute sit, often times just five minutes and I did it because the person I was working with insisted I do it as a requirement to work with her.

I wasn’t opposed.

I am not now.

But.

I think the coloring is a nice way to go about it.

I tried some last night to get the hang of it and it was nice.

I actually got some freedom from the rapidity of my brain and it was nice to get lost in between the lines and let go and play with color and just enjoy doing something that didn’t require me to think.

I plan on being up front with my professor and outlining what I currently do.

I thought, briefly about with holding some aspects of my spiritual practice so that I could “implement” it back in and go from there.

Some might call this efficient.

However, it felt a little like cheating for me and I couldn’t quite square the principle of honesty behind that action.

I prefer to be honest with my professor, to even go so far as to say that I have had resentments and needed to work them out, that, already, is spiritual progress for me.

I recognized that it was with myself that lay the problem, not with my professor, he’s not doing it wrong, he’s just not doing it the way I think, or better, thought, it should be done.

Anyway.

That’s all I have to do.

Write and send a one page proposal, outlining what I am going to do to deepen my spiritual practice.

Due by this Friday.

I’ll probably ruminate on it a little bit more then type something up before work tomorrow.

Just to have it out of the way.

I don’t have to start the actual practice of it until February 12th.

Which is also when my first paper is due.

I plan on working on that next weekend.  I will probably review the readings for the class, it was dense, really dense and not well written.  If the author used “implicit” one more time in a chapter to give gravitas to what he was writing I was going to look him up and suggest some creative writing workshops for him to expand his vocabulary.

It really is a pleasant feeling, though, to have all the reading done.

I also got to see my girl friend from my cohort.

She rode her bicycle out and I was grateful to get to show her my home space and we went for coffee and toast at Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club and then down for a walk on the beach.

It was deliriously windy out and the beach was fairly deserted.

It was like being sandblasted.

We did not stay long, but she got a taste of the glory of the beach and vowed to come back soon, although by a better bicycle route than the one Google Maps gave her.

Oof.

Any other city it probably makes sense, but in San Francisco, negotiating the hillier parts of the city, there really is a way to get from here to there and it does not involve riding the coastline.

When she told me her route I got sympathetic leg pain just thinking about it.

I have done some similar things when I was newly on my bicycle and found out the hard way how to navigate around the hillier districts.

The SFBC (San Francisco Bicycle Coalition) map is probably the best one to use for navigation, as it shows grades of streets on hills.

One block over can really make a huge difference.

Going up Polk to the Marina is a lot easier than going up Van Ness.

And probably much safer too.

I digress.

We had a great time.

No homework was really accomplished, although we did go over a couple of things on the syllabus for the next weekend and talked about the school, the program, and of course, our other classmates.

But mostly.

About ourselves.

It was sweet and I feel a strong connection and bond to her.

Partially because she really does see me and also sees me in a way, that although I don’t find flattering and sometimes I get upset with myself, I do have a vast amount of acceptance about, that being that I am in desperate need to control my environment.

“It’s a safety thing for you,” she said in her sweet, lilting, French accent, “I totally get it, and I see how often you do it, with everything in your environment.”

I have had lovers mess up the pillows on my bed to make me squirm or a friend purposely mess up a section of literature I have just set out on a table.

I have seen it, consciously, more and more as I accept myself more and more and learn, not always gracefully, to let go of the reigns and have new experiences.

I really do want them and I recognize, I must recognize, how brave I am.

I didn’t fold up, I didn’t collapse, I kept trying.

Sometimes doing things that I didn’t know better, stratagems that I learned growing up, self-defense mechanisms that worked really well at the time and then stopped, even though I continued to employ them.

I see things with a lot more clarity.

The writing daily has helped, the praying, the spiritual practices I employ.

My recovery.

Oh, all the wonderful things I get to do in the act of getting back to that place where I am allowed to be vulnerable, soft, sweet, and not in control.

Tender.

I opened the door.

I let in my friend.

I experienced intimacy.

And I got my reading done for school.

Winning.

All The Pretty Sunsets

In the Sunset.

I live in the Outer Sunset of San Francisco and today was the kind of day that everybody comes out to the beach for.

Clear skies.

Sunny.

Great waves breaking.

Warm.

Not hot.

But warm enough for flip-flops and grilling out and playing Ultimate frisbee in the sand, for tall cans and high jinks, to go cups of coffee from Trouble Coffee and Coconut Club, sandwiches wrapped up in white deli paper from Java Beach Cafe, and the ubiquitous joint or three from a kid on the MUNI who “lives” in the park.

It was as if the entire hipster nation came in from the Mission.

Not that I mind sharing the beach with the rest of the city, the Mission shares its burritos with me, but that I am not always used to it being so crowded.

I did want to be down at the beach, though, it was too pretty to stay at home for the sunset.

I had myself a really lovely, low-key, mellow day.

I had two ladies over, back to back, for tea and writing and reading.

I did my laundry and changed my sheets and took a nice shower and ate a good breakfast, wrote lots long hand, went grocery shopping on my bicycle.

It was the grocery shopping on my bicycle that both confirmed for me that the entire city was ocean side, and also sealed the deal that I would, despite the crowds, go down too.

It was just dreamy.

Riding my bicycle on the Great Highway and the sun warm on my face, the breeze, yes cool, I didn’t want to be in the shade today, which in San Francisco is its own mircro climate, but gorgeous, truly.

January 25th and the temperature was in the mid sixties.

I’ll take it.

Although my preference was to take it easy.

I haven’t had an easy Sunday for a while.

I have been coming and going and doing and being and breaking up and having feelings and you know, stuff.

Today.

Well.

It all fell away, like a dream, I woke up and there was the beach beckoning and my back yard beckoning and I could not but heed the call.

I had lunch on my patio and sat with my feet in a chair listening to Coleman Hawkins on the stereo and dining al fresco in the sun.

It is just protected enough by the houses surrounding it that it tends to be just a bit warmer than if I was outside in front of the house.

It soaks up the sunshine and reflects it back.

When it’s hot, it’s not too pleasant, but it is infrequently hot.

I read a magazine.

I closed my eyes and drifted in and out.

I read more of my Stephen King novel, Doctor Sleep.

I drank some tea.

I listened to the birds.

Ravens.

Finches.

Gulls.

I heard the scream of a hunting hawk.

I heard the faint shush of the sea.

During the day it’s a lot harder to hear, too much back ground noise, but in between the birdsong and the N-Judah train running, occasionally I would catch just the barest hint of surf crashing.

Muffled.

Yet joyful.

When I first moved out here and it was suggested that I take Sundays and allow myself to have some down time and to not make plans, I got really freaked out.

Spend time with myself?

No way man.

I might have feelings.

I have places to be, things to do.

I have to get ahead, man.

However, I am a suggestion monster, and so I did.

I sat.

I got still.

I listened to the sea.

I listened to my heart.

I did cry.

And then something happened.

The stillness sunk in and I started to need it.

I started to crave it.

And then I forgot, sort of, all about it, when I got into the relationship.

I do recall having thoughts about going down for a walk on the beach with the ex-boyfriend, but he wasn’t much for walking on the beach.

I don’t believe I ever asked either, I’m sure he would have been game, but we never did.

Add to ideal.

Ugh.

Yes.

I would like to go for walks by the sea.

I mean, yeah, it’s a stupid cliché.

But it’s also my back yard and I like walking and really, when I live so close, it seems silly to not enjoy it.

I mean.

Come on.

It’s gorgeous.

Sunset Ocean Beach

I had made a few resolutions about today.

Deal with my taxes, meaning, contact my families from 2014 and find out what they are claiming for child care, if they are claiming, and request that information by the 31st of the month.

Done and done.

I sent out the e-mail earlier.

Order a pair of jeans online.

I know my size, I know what kind I like to wear, so order them.

Thanks Ebay!

I found a pair of the normally $175 jeans for $19.99 plus shipping.

$25.88 and I have a new pair of jeans coming to me in the mail.

Next.

Walk to the beach and watch the sunset.

Allow myself to enjoy my neighborhood and not be wary of running into my ex.

Then it happened.

I realized I wasn’t afraid to run into my ex.

It wasn’t like I wanted to.

It was more that, as I was walking down Judah toward the beach, that I suddenly knew that whenever we saw each other next, it would be alright.

The thought of seeing him didn’t make me want to cross the street to avoid him.

Which is a good thing since he lives four and a half blocks away.

I didn’t run into him, in case you were wondering.

But I’m not afraid to.

And that felt nice.

Like.

Oh.

The world.

It has moved on.

And so have I.

I am back into my groove.

I have my jazz on the stereo, my face full of sunshine, my belly replete with tea and good food, the weekend was restful, I got to read, I accomplished the basic household stuff that needs to be done, grocery shopped, and did the deal.

And I got to go for a romantic walk on the beach with the best girl in the neighborhood.

Me.

 

“To love oneself is the begging of a life-long romance.”

-Oscar Wilde

 

 

I Don’t Like You!

That’s ok kid, I know that’s not what you mean.

What you mean is, I don’t like that my mom leaves when you show up.

Nobody likes that.

I understand the correlation, but you like me.

You do.

How do I know?

You told me so.

Oh my heart.

It was a full day, a good day, a big day for staying at home and in pajamas as long as possible since it was also rather a grey day, a dreary overcast day, threatening, so it seemed at one point, to rain down on the city, so pjs and snacks and stories for the late morning into early afternoon, naps and quiet time.

It was a busy day because it was the second day off from school for the oldest boy, so I had two guys on my hands today and lots to do.

But somehow it all got done.

In addition to it all getting done there was also pirates, swashbuckling adventures on the high seas, telescopes, eagles nests, scurvy!

How does one get a little pirate to eat their zucchini?

Scurvy.

Arrrr.

There were also sea monsters, astronauts, space ships, zip lines through the jungle, excavators, working guys, and coloring of maps, hiding of secret pirate treasures and the unearthing of said booty.

Plus, pooping.

And peeing.

On the potty.

Potty training is happening for the two-year old and it’s going pretty smashingly.

Actually having the older brother around while using the little potty has been super helpful.

That and food bribes.

They love grapes.

So, use the potty, get grapes.

Not a bad trade-off.

And the trade-off to being told that “I don’t like you” this morning was a very happy, contented sweet little guy crawling into my lap, the older boy, the four-year old, after dinner.

“Can I sit in you lap,” he said already crawling into my arms.

Then he tucked his head down underneath my chin and snuggled with me, “I love you.”

Heart melting.

“I love you too.”

We sat and watched his younger brother fling fish about and rice and the happy, I mean very happy, family dog snuffle it all up like the best vacuum cleaner ever.

Then it was bath time, pajama time, rescue on the high seas time, submarine ship time, make pretend avocado sandwich time, more using the potty time, marching band time, and last but certainly not least, snuggle in nanny lap time while I read them Dr. Seuss’s “Oh the Places You’ll Go.”

Not a bad day for Mary Fucking Poppins.

Not bad at all.

Lest you think that all I do is the deal with my nanny charges, whilst hoisting the pretend Jolly Roger on the stroller on the way to the park, I did also confirm that I have a date on Sunday.

Yup.

Coffee at Trouble.

Hike at Fort Funston after.

Not that I will be hiking any huge hills, but the paths around there should be just fine.

I’m not really sure that this is going to work, he’s an acquaintance/friend I have known for years, but we rarely see each other off of social media since I moved out of the Mission.

I am not certain there’s chemistry there, but, well, like I said, trying the different things hoping for different results.

Instead of doing the same thing expecting different results.

The difference, it is subtle, no?

Yet huge.

I don’t expect he’s the one, in fact I don’t suspect that any man is the one, that just puts a whole house load of pressure on any guy that I am dating.

Not really a fair proposition.

However, I do suspect that he’s part of the process and that it will lead to where I am supposed to be.

I am just dating.

I am going to try to have one date a week.

That is the goal.

Once a week, go on a date, whether it’s for coffee, to the movies, out for dinner, playing pinball at Free Gold Watch, going dancing, walking the beach, hiking in Muir woods, making out on a cable car, walking the labyrinth at Grace Cathedral, going roller skating on Sundays in the park swing dancing (not that I do either of the later very well), going to the Conservatory of Flowers, taking in the view from the top deck of the DeYoung Museum, eating a bowl of pho, walking around North Beach, going to the big kite store in China Town, swinging on the swings at South Park, seeing a show, walking along the Embarcadero, going to the Farmer’s Market, taking a ferry to Sausalito, what ever it is.

I am going to do one date a week.

Until something happens.

I might crack.

I might get a boyfriend.

I might have some hilarious stories.

I might be kissed.

I might get flowers.

I might hear some really bad jokes.

I might have to sit through some odd dates with odd ducks.

But I will be out there doing it, rather than sitting at home twiddling my thumbs and wondering why a girl is going home early on a Friday night.

Not that I can do anything this Friday though.

I am working for the family so that mom and dad can attend a friend’s going away party.

The nice thing about it is that I won’t have to start on Friday until 2 p.m.

I could actually go out Thursday, if I wanted to.

Thursday’s are a tough night, close to the weekend, but not quite, so I don’t want to count on it, but it will be awful nice to sleep in on Friday.

And Uber to and from work.

The family is going to cover that so that I don’t have to ride my bike home at midnight.

I asked the mom the details about the evening and said I would like to have an Uber home or a taxi cab and as I did not want to ride my bike home at midnight through drunk infested waters in the Mission, and she said of course!

And before I said anything about just taking MUNI in for work, she said, “and you’ll Uber to work too, we’ll cover it.”

Damn Gina.

Thank you new family.

I’m feeling the love.

It doesn’t hurt that it’s wrapped up in adorable little boys either.

Especially when I get the hug and squish at the end of the day.

Today was a good day.

And a date for the weekend.

Not too shabby.

Winning

I still can’t hardly believe any of this has happened.

But it has, and as I write I just look left to my tingly, in a good way–it means it’s healing–ankle, I know it has.

I still want to pinch myself  though.

I got the text today saying the funds had been deposited to my bank and thank you for letting me be of service and don’t rush out and do anything wild, you still got to heal kid.

I rushed out and paid rent.

Yeah, yeah, it’s not due for another eight days, but I did not want to go spending money on frivolous things, look at all the money in my account.

Money that I would basically have if I were working, and since I am not, I felt due diligence to take care of that which needs taking care of.

Rent.

Utilities.

Phone.

Healthy San Francisco.

Check, check, and check.

Then I looked at my check register and sighed.

Here.

Gone.

But I am so completely taken care of.

So utterly held and carried, I become overwhelmed at the drop of a hat and want to play it forward so bad that I can get carried away in my head about what I can and cannot do.

Here’s some crazy for you.

I actually walked out of the house and mailed my Grandma a card.

I made it to the mailbox today without having to ask someone to cross the road for me.

Look ma!

No crutches.

Then I sat my ass down for a minute on a bench.

Then I decided, I am going to go to Trouble and have a coffee.

I didn’t particularly need one, I had two cups this morning when I had breakfast and did my writing–which incidentally has morphed from three pages long hand to four (despite having “nothing” to write about I am writing like gangbusters)–but the idea of sitting at a cafe and enjoying the human life around me was too good to pass up.

I found a nice little perch on the parklet that is outside the cafe and prepared myself to go inside and get my Americano on.

I heard my name hollered, and here comes a friend!

My buddy two blocks down from my house who has been in a cast from foot surgery, then a walking boot, and now a half-boot/sandal, for four and a half months!

Months.

Mind you I don’t think I can make it four weeks and he’s been doing it for four and a half months.

My friend, you have bigger balls than I.

It was perfect timing.

He went inside Trouble and ordered up some coffee and we sat in the sun and shot the shit for an hour or so.

It was such a relief to be outside of my studio.

Outside of my head.

In good company, in my neighborhood, in my city, by my ocean.

I could see the ocean from the crest of the hill, a small hill mind you, one that I look ridiculous climbing in my wobbly boot, but one I made it up nonetheless.

Jesus.

That’s a scary thought.

Thank God this didn’t happen to me when I lived in Nob Hill at Taylor and Washington.

That would have been such a challenge.

After a bit of chat, this and that, meditation, sitting still, the insights that come from having a stretch of quiet time, forced upon oneself, and what comes from the practice of being quiet, we parted ways with hugs and gimped off in opposite directions.

I came home did some household stuff, made sure my check book was balanced–just because the online version says I have so much money is not the same as having that money–I double checked my maths with the rent and utilities check and then made some food for the week.

Homemade fried rice.

Left over rice from yesterday’s beans and rice, sautéed garlic and onion, broccoli, white corn, carrots, peas (not all of them, mind you, I still need to be icing down my ankle), chicken and shrimp that I cooked up with some ginger and sea salt, Bragg’s Amino’s, Spike Seasoning, and then to make it all come together, one organic scrambled egg.

I topped it with 1/2 a sliced avocado and sat outside with the warm sun on my face.

I can’t say that I want to be sitting still for much longer, but when I take the time to make it special, like taking my food from my kitchen to the back porch, and eating it with intention and attention, it becomes this magical thing.

I am finding a deep richness involved in my day-to-day life that I believe I was going way too fast to see or appreciate.

Making a meal takes some effort and I sort of blow it off, but being forced to slow down, I feel and see things differently, the small things that I accomplish now make me feel really good.

“You made your bed!” My friend said as he helped me bring in groceries from the car. “You must be feeling better.”

I am.

And I am having a lot of personal delight in my home.

It really is such a beautiful, sweet, warm place.

The perfect place to heal.

I am also thankful and in deep gratitude for all the help I have gotten, the money, the groceries, the toiletries.

You know you’re loved when someone buys you tampons.

Just sayin’.

I am also grateful for other’s perspectives, because mine is so skewed, I really don’t see myself very clearly or well.

And I often think I am trying to get over when I am not, I’m not really sick/hurt/tired/hungry/lonely….

I will push myself to be perfect and just fine and ok and I can handle this.

This whole experience has more than shown me that I am not capable of doing it all myself and I need to be reminded of that even now.

“Oh yeah, he’s right,” a friend said to me tonight when I mentioned the silly, well, what I think is silly, idea of calling ahead to the airport and asking for the wheelchair. “Totally use it, don’t push yourself, you’re still healing, you’re still within the time frame the doctor said, right, two-three weeks.”

I nodded.

“Uh, besides, how are you going to handle your suitcase?”

Oh fuck me.

Hadn’t thought about that.

Dragging a suitcase along while hobbling through the airport.

“Swallow your pride and accept the help.”

Yes ma’am.

Once again seeing that the only way to win, is to get out of my way, I am my worst advocate.

As soon as she said that it made complete sense.

And I don’t need to be a hero and I will still be healing.

Hello.

The doctor said six months for a full recovery.

Take it slow.

The hare may bound ahead.

But it is the tortoise that wins.

Slow and steady.

Winning.

Really slow and steady.

But winning, nonetheless.

 

So, I Pussied Out

Sometimes its going to happen.

Ack.

I saw the guy, the guy who I said, hey, let’s hang out, when you get back from being in Europe, tonight, and nope, didn’t pull the trigger.

Then again.

Neither did he.

So, maybe I don’t have to beat myself up.

Besides, there’s always tomorrow.

Not that I plan on doing it tomorrow either.

I don’t believe I will see him.

I suppose I could call.

I suppose I could.

Don’t want to, but I hear those things that we don’t want to do are good for us.

Like eating kale and running and stuff.

Speaking of running.

Bay to Breakers is tomorrow.

I sort of knew this and sort of was not paying it any attention.  I have seen the aftermath of a lot of Bay to Breakers and it’s generally a lot of wasted people wandering around the city after having run a race from the Embarcadero, in costume, to Ocean Beach.

What I wasn’t realizing was the Ocean Beach part.

Uh.

Hello.

I live out by Ocean Beach.

And worse yet, probably the only time I would not care to be this close to public transportation, I live a block from the N-Judah stop at 46th Avenue.

The mode of transportation that I am assuming the vast hordes will be riding home from the running.

I suppose I could get into it and sit out front of the house and watch the drunken revellers stumble past, but really, I have better things to do on a Sunday.

I mean I managed to survive the unexpected down time today quite well.

I slept in.

I showered.

I grocery shopped.

I made an awesome lunch–savory oatmeal with roasted white corn, sautéed chicken breast, onions, garlic, and kale–I got stuff to make home-made refried beans, and I made a big pot of brown rice.

I got a manicure and pedicure.

I had coffee with a dear heart.

I did my commitment in Noe Valley.

I also ordered a new phone.

Yes, I am getting a pink Iphone.

Fuck off.

I like pink.

I also am getting it really cheap, even upgraded to extra storage space.

I renewed my contract and in addition, I am selling back my current Iphone 4, and I got a huge discount.

HUGE.

I basically am paying $132 for a new Iphone 5.

Thank you and you and, yes, thank you.

I have been thinking about getting one since I had some problems with my Iphone after Burning Man last year.  But I got the charging system fixed at a Fix My Phone place in Cole Valley, and it’s gotten me through for another nine months.

Thing is, I dropped it last week and the back shattered.

My bad.

The case is keeping it all together and it still works, but it’s time, so I got online and did that.

Felt like a nice little accomplishment to have taken care of.

I caught up with my housemate, too, who I haven’t seen in some time, busy schedules, and we made a tentative coffee date to go to Trouble tomorrow and laugh at the Bay to Breakers.

I will probably have two cups of coffee at the house before venturing out, to yes, get another cup of coffee.

That way if the line at Trouble, which is typically out the door anyhow, is untenable, I will have already caffeinated.

I should bring my camera.

I bet there will be many hilarious folks to take photographs of.

That’s the thing too, if you are not from San Francisco and don’t know what this merry mayhem is that’s about to attack the city, the race is notorious, aside from drinking and getting high, for being run in costume.

It’s San Francisco.

It doesn’t matter what the event is.

It’s always better if done in costume.

Folsom Street Fair.

Leather.

Halloween.

Your sexy alter-ego witch/nurse/doctor/Fräulein/superhero.

The Too Weird Street Fair.

Your wackiest dayglo.

Decompression.

Your best Burning Man flair–Steampunk meets dance tights and glitter with a hula hoop.

Christmas.

Santa Con.

Easter.

Hunky Jesus in the park.

So, of course, a foot race through the city should be done in costume.

Or naked.

You know, whatever floats your boat.

From what I understand and have seen, but not witnessed, this is my first year being anywhere near as close to the event since I have lived in the city, it’s rather like a big drunken frat party.

I don’t get the impression, though, I could be wrong, that many native San Franciscans run the race.

They wait for the real deal and do the San Francisco Marathon in July.

Bay to Breakers is a Bridge and Tunnel crowd, and a new to San Francisco transplant from the Midwest, let’s go see what the city has to offer newly arrived college graduate who likes to party scene.

Again, in costume.

I like the costume bit.

But the party’ing at 7a.m or 8 a.m. or any a.m. is just not my thing anymore.

It never was.

Unless I was up from the night before and if I was, I wasn’t going to go out for a jog in the morning, I was going to go excuse myself to the bathroom for the nth time to privately do my own drugs so I wouldn’t have to share any with you.

The closest I have gotten to Bay to Breakers is being pissed off at the bartender at the fine dining restaurant I worked at when I first moved here, Hawthorne Lane, who went and was still so fucked up from the event at 5 in the evening that she couldn’t barely mix a drink for herself let alone for the bar orders the wait staff were putting through.

I guess I will get to see what the mayhem looks like from a new perspective tomorrow.

OR not.

I could just stay in the house and hang out in the back yard and read a book.

Or I could dress up like the woman who punked out on asking the guy on a date.

Oops.

Already dressed up like that tonight.

I will have to a costume change.

Guess I will be doing laundry tomorrow.

I need to wash my big girl pants.