Posts Tagged ‘winter weather’

20,650 Steps

June 27, 2018

That’s how much I walked today.

I wasn’t even sure I was going to write this blog.

I just got out of a bath at the Air BnB I’m staying at in Brooklyn and I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes and I could have stayed there all night.

I mean.

I think I was lying there for at least five minutes, maybe more.

I got up though to put on lotion.

My skin has been changing a little, getting a little dryer as I get older and I don’t like how it feels, so I got up, slathered on some lotion and figured I would at least make an attempt at writing something.

I really did walk that many steps.

I actually walked more than that, I didn’t carry my phone with me all day, so there were a couple of flights of steps not counted and some pattering around the house exploring, but mainly, I was on the move today.

From flying out last night to landing here this early afternoon to strolling all over Brooklyn, I had quite a day.

I am pretty damn beat.

I got about three hours of sleep on the plane.

Not my best showing.

But I am sure I will catch up on that tonight.

And since I’m not on a schedule I can sleep as long as I like.

I have two plans for tomorrow.

The first is the Brooklyn Museum to see the David Bowie Exhibition and the Judy Chicago show.

The second is to see an old friend from SF who moved here years ago and go do the deal tomorrow night at 7:30p.m.

He and his girlfriend started something up a little while back that apparently is like what recovery is in San Francisco.

I had to laugh, since I’m a regular attendee at a spot that models itself after recovery in New York.

It’s always better where you got the message first.

So I will get a little piece of San Francisco tomorrow night, which is sweet.

It’s nice to still be connected to friends 13 years later.

I don’t foresee as much walking tomorrow as I did today.

The walking was actually not really planned.

I decided to walk around the neighborhood a little after I had gotten settled in and had taken a nice shower to wash off the airplane travel.

One block lead to another and another and another.

I like the neighborhood.

Very residential, lots of row houses.

God, I love the brown stones in Brooklyn.

And I love the culture of sitting on the stoop or in the front part of the brownstone, what would be a yard, but is just a square of cement patio.

I loved seeing so many people sitting out on the stoops and watching the neighborhood go by.

I felt like I fit in.

I could see living in Brooklyn, this part of Brooklyn anyway, I’m not quite as much of a fan of Williamsburg, which is quaint, but doesn’t have the row house appeal of this part of Brooklyn.

Bed-Stuy, Fort Greene, Clinton Hill.

Gorgeous houses.

They get fancier and fancier the closer to the water you get.

By the time I had walked to the Brooklyn Heights promenade I was pretty in awe of the houses.

So pretty.

Of course, I’ve only been here when it’s warm, I don’t know that I could deal with the winters, I know they are vicious.

I had enough winters being in Wisconsin as long as I was.

It’s warm, the day was warm, not too hot, it will get warmer as I stay.

Today was about 80 degrees, by Saturday it’s supposed to be low 90s.

It’s going to be hot, hot, hot.

But I will enjoy that too, when the sun goes down and I’m still outside walking around in a light weight dress.

I wore my bibs out today and got lots of compliments on them.

I also got lots of compliments on my tattoos.

I was actually surprised to not see more folks with tattoos, could just be the part of the city I’m in, who knows.

I had a conversation outside a coffee shop on Lafayette Avenue with a youngish girl who wanted to pick my brain as she was planning her first tattoo.

We had quite the conversation.

I like that I can just fall into talking with people, it feels nice.

I did have a moment of feeling a tiny bit lonely tonight when I was back at the Air BnB having procured food from the Whole Foods three miles away.

That was the last stop on my walk, and I have to say, I was a bit out of it by that point.

But.

I did manage to wrangle up breakfast food, coffee, snacks, cold brewed coffee, bottled water, and fruit for the rest of the week.

I plan on eating breakfast at the house and then other meals out.

Although I only ate one meal out today, and it wasn’t with much fan fare, though I have to say, it was nice to eat it outside on the patio at the joint I went to in Fort Greene.

Dinner I didn’t have it in me to plan, cook, or go out for, I was too tired after getting back from the grocery store.

I made oatmeal and a hard-boiled egg.

I’m sure I will eat out plenty the rest of the week.

Anyway.

I’m happy to be here and excited for sleep and to see what the rest of the week shall bring.

Here.

Let me at least leave you with a few photos:

2018-06-26 17.11.47-2

2018-06-26 16.52.54-1

2018-06-26 16.50.11-2

2018-06-26 16.48.11-2

2018-06-26 15.03.36-2

And now.

Now.

It is time for the rest.

Seriously.

 

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You Mean Your 33rd

December 12, 2016

There is no way you’re in your 40s!

Thanks darling.

That was nice to hear.

I was texting with a friend in regard to my birthday brunch next Sunday at Zazie’s in Cole Valley.

One week left of 43.

Not that I’m counting.

I’m grateful for my age, my authenticity, my life, my person, this body of experiences of heart aches and belly laughs, or sorrow and pain and vast oceans of gratitude, love, and happiness.

I get to encompass so much.

For that I am grateful.

I am also grateful for more affirmations of myself, my abilities, and my work, I received some amazing feed back from my Psychopathology professor today.

I got back my mid-term paper from her.

I was actually a bit nervous, she’s the professor I asked for a letter of recommendation from and I want to impress her (hell fire, I want to impress everyone, truth be told) and she’s the professor that’s got the biggest paper yet to do ahead for me to have the semester of work completed.

I got an “A.”

I was blown away.

Especially as she was explaining her grading scale yesterday in class to a student she hasn’t had before in class; who was asking with the same anxiety that I remember having so well when I first started taking classes with this professor (I will also have her next semester for Trauma), how she graded her papers and assigned grades for the class.

The professor explained and basically expressed that a good grade was an A-.

The a decent grade was a B+.

You don’t want to get less than a B in grad school, FYI.

A B- or a C+ you might as well be failing the class.

That an exemplary, you went above and beyond was what it took to warrant an “A” for her class.

That I got an “A” on my mid-term paper boggles my mind.

After her explanation, which I just summarized, there’s a little more behind how she grades, I was sitting in class thinking I definitely had gotten a B+ for the paper and if I was lucky, perhaps an A-.

I got an “A!”

Fuck yes!

And fuck me.

Now the pressure is more on than before to produce a good final last paper for her.

Especially after the end note she left on my paper: “Carmen, this is by far the most heartfelt, touching, and comprehensive psychopathology paper ever!  You show a deep integration between your personal experience and conceptual understanding.  I appreciate the seamless ways in which you wove in the material from McWilliams (one of the text books I referenced in conjunction with the DSM V)–I can see how much you have made this material your own.  Impressive!”

I just about fell out of my chair.

And.

Yes.

I did indeed tear up.

It just feels so god damn good to be on the right track, to finally, after so many years of soul searching, have a way forward, a goal, an identity (although certainly only a small facet of who I am, but one in which I get to use all that I am), a career path, and that I get to use all those things, all that soul suffering that I went through, to gain access to that path.

Such a gift.

All the pain was not for naught.

All the experience I have and all the resilience.

I’m just stupid grateful.

Which is good, tis the season after all.

My heart full and warm as I pause and look at my Christmas tree, at the neat stack of Christmas cards I just addressed prior to getting started on this blog, on the soft candle light in my home, the hot tea in my body, I feel replete.

Not quite relieved.

No.

Like I said, there is still another paper to go.

But.

I am inspired, alight, and yes, a little nervous.

One of my friends from Wisconsin whom I am shortly to be visiting, sent me a weather update about the cold, the snow and the negative temperatures and asked if I was still coming.

I had to laugh, the cold is scary, but not enough to scare me off from my trip.

And.

I am so looking forward to seeing my friends, their sweet boys, the snow, the Christmas lights in the snow, the smell of firewood burning in the cold night air–one of my favorite smells of all time, wood fire smoke on a cold night (only to be super ceded by wood fire smoke from a beach bonfire).

I messaged him back that I was indeed still coming and that I was in fact finishing up my final classes of my last weekend of the semester.

He pinged back that he would send me something to read.

I said, NOOOOO.

Not yet.

Nope.

I have to write this paper and now I have this additional problem of having some big expectations for myself around writing a stellar paper.

I loved his response: “what a good problem!”

He’s right.

If I am going to have “problems” in my life, this is certainly one of the better ones to have.

Heh.

Goodness.

I just realized that two weeks from now I’ll be there, in the snow, cozy in their home, my best friend, her husband, their three boys, and it will be Christmas.

I am such a lucky girl.

Friends.

Travel.

Snow at Christmas.

Wrapping up gift boxes to send to my mom and my sister.

Christmas cards addressed and stamped.

Meaning and purpose and a design to take all the soul suffering and transmute it into the language of love.

How many people get to do that?

I am blessed.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

And.

Loved.

Yes.

Very much so.

It Looks Like Christmas In Here!

December 10, 2013

Indeed.

I answered the door three times and as I was leaving the house today in Cole Valley the postal service was coming up the steps with more packages.

The holidays are here and they are being delivered to the foyer at my job.

Santa brought me a little something too, I saw when I got home tonight.

With cold stiff fingers.

Oh, I won’t write about how cold it is, suffice to say it’s not the most pleasant riding weather I have ever experienced, but it ain’t raining and for a person who bicycle commutes five days a week to work and often another day of scooting around running various errands on my bicycle, I loathe the rain.

People are asshats when it rains here, biking in the city can be a challenge of constant vigilance, but when it rains the idiot factor seems to quadruple.

If it rains this week I will be screwed, it would probably freeze and or snow.

It does snow in San Francisco.

I have seen it twice in eleven years.

One year, when Juni and Reno were two and I was dating the guy who happened to be the engineer running the Red Wood Steam Trains (yeah, that’s exactly what happens when you are a nanny, you end up dating people who run rides where you take your charges, that would be how I dated someone who not only wore the striped bib overalls, but yes, the engineer’s cap as well.) it snowed and stayed put over night up in the hills.

Most of it melted in the first rays of sunshine here in the city, but G. called me up and said bring the bunnies, there’s snow up in the hills.

And there was.

It was probably the most romantic thing he had done, unintentionally, I am sure.

But it was beautiful, cold, the snow, white, so pristine and shimmering it was hard to not want to put your face in it.

Reno did.

Juniper stomped through it with her little feet.

They both got wet and soggy and freaking loved it.

I still have pictures of it and the thick whiteness draping the hanging boughs of the trees.

Then G. took us into the workshop and made cocoa for them and lit a fire in the wood burning stove.

I got all my favorite things in one spot, my bunnies, the smell of wood fire burning, and a cute guy to kiss me.

It lasted but a few weeks longer, the relationship, but that day I will probably never forget, simply for the rarity of all that snow up on the roof, so to speak.

I like the cold.

That may be from growing up in Wisconsin, I don’t know, I also like it warm, which may be from having been born in California and living the first four years of my life here.

I have some very clear, very vivid memories of sky and ocean and of all things, highway signs, of beaches, Muir and Stinson, of many things Californian and warm.

I, however, have many more memories of things cold and snowy and icy–I lived in Wisconsin from 5 to 29 with a few small stints elsewhere, but also cold predominately Midwestern states–frosty and crisp.

Legs so red from being outside ice skating that it took hours for the cold angry blush to fade off my thighs.

The smell of fire burning, so sharp, so intense and intoxicating when the air is cold.

The large, fat flakes that fall through the arc of the sodium lamps on Gorham Street in Madison, shoveling out the driveway to get to work.

Banging up against my frozen shut car door at four in the morning after getting done with work at the Angelic and hollering out loud, “this is why I am moving to California!” at the top of my lungs in frustration.

I have many cold stories in my head, and my toes are defrosting from the chilly bike ride home as I type, but again, I am glad, no rain.

I will happily ride in the cold, just please no rain.

Yeah, I know, we could use it, but I can be selfish too.

So, as I was saying before digressing into a whole long aside about the Wisconsin winter (-7 currently with a windchill of -ohmyfucking God) I got a package from Santa too.

My foam back roller has arrived.

I ordered one last week after using the one at the house in Cole Valley while one of the boys was napping and the other was busy crawling around my legs and snatching at the glasses on my face.

I guess Santa wants me to be healthy.

Thanks Santa.

I rocked it out already before sitting down and then did a quick hula hooping session.

Just to keep the muscles engaged and warmed up.

I am sore after yesterday’s yoga class.

But in a really good way.

Those muscles that I always wonder how am I going to work that out, are getting the work out.

My core is sore, my arms, but not my shoulders, are sore (my shoulder is sore, but not so bad, and I have been using the awesome new double stroller at work, as well as being very conscientious about lifting and moving the babies around), in that good kind of way that lets me know I did the right thing yesterday by going.

I will be getting in another class this week, just not sure when, I may wait again until Sunday.

Saturday is a pretty full day, but I might be able to sneak a class in early before a coffee date to do some deal and go down to the ocean and do some surrender.

I could feasibly go to a class both Saturday and Sunday in the morning.

I am also, yippee!

Getting a massage on Friday.

One of the moms gave me a gift certificate to get a massage for Thanksgiving and I finally was able to get in with the body worker.

Yes.

I work a half day on Friday, I’ll end around 3:30p.m. mosey over to the Mission, her office is at 18th and Treat, get worked on, head to 2900 24th Street at 6p.m., Sugarlump thereafter, and if I still have any zip left, go to a friend’s house up on Church and 30th for a Holiday Housewarming Party (where I am informed we should all be wearing bad Christmas sweaters.  I don’t have one, but I am anticipating that there will be some good ones there) followed by a cold, long bicycle ride back out to the beach.

That’s a good busy week.

Started out just right, too, what with the writing in the morning and the writing in the evening, a good day with my boys, an unexpected hello from a dear friend, a hug from another, a brisk bike ride (to and from work), and a home warm, cozy, filled with the sounds of Coleman Hawkins, and the smell of fresh Christmas tree.

Now excuse me while I heat up the teapot and go bask in the glow of my healthy amazing little life.

Lit up by the blue lights of my Christmas tree.


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