Not enough sugar for muffins.
Wash and wash and wash.
Still not used to this new routine which really feels like no routine at all and so what am I going to do about it?
The whirring sound it makes as it tries to climb the hills. Poor thing is working so hard. The sound of static through the words: “Courage and Confidence, Humility and Curiosity.”
I forget the attachment. Of course. I remind myself that it happens to everyone. I won’t do it again. Something he says: “I will make mistakes but I won’t make the same one twice.” I mean, I might do it again but I will try not to.
Leftovers are always so good.
“You can have anything you want, but you can’t have it all at the same time.”
I try to remind myself that I just need to do what I can with the time I have. And only one thing at a time. But I still text her and vent.
I feel like I’ll never be able to catch up.
1. I sleep in just a little bit but long enough that sun beats me.
2. What is today? Monday. There is laundry and a load of client work to attend to. But first coffee and some re-heated steel cut oats with walnuts and blueberries and a drizzle of honey.
3. The pink and yellow petunias and the thin petals of the hydrangea, chocolate colored mulch, green grass, and black asphalt, gray-white concrete, stone and ants and dragonflies.
4. All the emails. Fever Dreams soundtrack to keep me going. 5 spots left. It seems like a dream. A few days ago I told her that we had created something special, really special. Honored by the trust and the desire and the curiosity of these women who are choosing to be with us.
5. I want to sit in the sun but it's too humid for the heat to feel good. I settle back into the basement where it's almost too cold.
6. Dragonfly meeting me again in this space. Prosperity. Good Luck. Strength. Peace. Harmony. Purity.
7. Popcorn with butter.
8. I know that this is just the manifestation of stress. I'm focusing on the wrong things.
9. Crock-pot chicken tacos. I keep skipping lunch. Part nerves, part laziness.
10. The stone feels cools against my feet. The sky does this interesting thing where, just before the sun sets behind the hill, the neighborhood glows a little brighter before night settles in.
1. Now the first thing I do is pray for a showing.
2. The glass is wet. It will be warm again today. We have plans to see friends, the girl and I, and I can't wait to have my laboradite back on my wrist.
3. Call it in.
4. I drink the coffee even though it's almost too hot to drink the coffee. I sit in the chair on the right-hand side because it's the one that get's the sun first. the bottoms of my legs begin to feel the heat and I pull them back into the shade.
5. What kinds of birds are these?
6. It's so quiet out here. On the inside everything is so loud.
7. We sit in the shade and laugh. They play on the slides and monkey bars and in the sand.
8. I text my parents. They've done this so many times. What do we do? What should we try? He tells us nothing. Assures us that it's summer time and people are on vacation and that there's really no reason to worry. I am not so sure I agree but he is my expert and what's the point in calling an expert if you aren't going to listen to their advice.
9. It's time for braids again.
10. Mosquitoes and fireflies and fire and stars. I keep staring up and thinking of how jealous the little one would be to know that I could see all of these stars. This is one of the last times I'll be in this circle. This is going to be the hard part: Saying all of the good-byes.