But I don’t want to get up.
At least today should be an even slower day. Maybe there will be space for daydreaming.
Today is our anniversary and I must have been so concerned about having the weekend off for our trip that I forgot to ask for the day off. I even forgot a card and I always remember a card. Is this what happens when the years begin to really accumulate? Well, our trip was like an early anniversary gift. There’s that.
There are still small bits of metal and plastic in the intersection; I think back to yesterday morning and the crushed up Toyota Camry; the Infinity SUV askew in the middle of the left-turn lane; the older man, thin and frustrated, carrying his bumper from the intersection and then throwing it into the parking lot.
A coyote crosses in front of me. Animal Medicine.
It will be warmer today but I’d still rather be outside.
General Animal Symbolism of the Coyote:
She just won’t stop talking.
All of this drama over a glass of wine that I can’t pour because it’s after 4:30. I can’t even complete a sentence. But she just won’t go home. I just hope that once she does leave that she never comes back again.
Burgundy with dinner and Joseph Perrier Cuvée Royale Brut Vintage 2002 for dessert.
One more day. Just need to make it through one more day.
I make a list. I still don’t know what I’m doing but I’m hoping it will all work out.
This feels more like me.
He says that the day is going okay but that he thinks the heat is making people cranky. Oh, boy. I know. I know. I’ve had those days too.
100 degrees feels like 100 degrees.
Done and done and now a breath. And packing.
I tell her that I’m not doing much of anything except new things that I didn’t think I’d ever do and have now discovered don’t really suit me. And that kind of clarity is good, a relief.
No tv. I can’t wait.
“In a group, if everybody thinks about the other person’s needs, everyone’s needs are actually fulfilled in the end.” - The Art of Gathering
1. Up before the alarm. It’s so dark but I know it’s almost time.
2. Can’t stop thinking.
3. The kitchen is dark and quiet and so clean. This is the best part of the showings.
4. Sun, glorious sun. Rectangles of it landing on the chalkboard wall and on the floor. It’s the really golden kind of light that emanates on a warm day. This is probably the last of the warm days.
5. When I return I will need to harvest almost everything.
6. You can’t not be happy around a happy baby.
7. Sitting on the couch talking life. Watching the light change through the windows. Shadows on the rocking chairs.
9. Basin full of water to rinse all the herbs. I managed to grab all of the thyme, a good amount of sage, and all of the oregano. I’ll harvest the rosemary tomorrow. What will I do with this handful of okra? More peppers. Roast them and pack them in oil? Who knows. Just gratitude for the abundance.
1. But I didn’t want to wake up from that dream.
2. I can hear the gusts but it’s too dark for me to see anything.
3. Sub blueberries with strawberries. Sprinkle the tops with sugar.
4. Come to life.
5. Doctor. There is a wheeze. I’ll keep him home for the rest of the week. Email teacher. Call school. Scratch plans for the rest of the week.
6. Hawks gliding in the wind. When I come back I want to come back as a bird.
7. This is not the kind of news we wanted to hear. Nevertheless it’s exactly what we expected.
8. Chicken noodle soup and focaccia. Pinot Nero for me and Rosé for him. Loud slurps.
9. I should probably be more concerned. I tell him that the thing is we had a vision of what the rest of the year was going to look like and we’re watching it crumble away bit by bit.
10. How do I get access to Moira’s wardrobe?
I will remember that he has soccer this morning.
I have no desire to make a meal plan for the upcoming week but every desire to eat at some point. So I guess I will make a list. Or at least a rough outline.
I have no words. I mean, I have no time to work out what wants to be said in a way that makes sense right now and so I type a single sentence. How does one begin?
It’s dark and cool and the kind of weather that makes you want to sleep all day. Soup again for dinner. And a sandwich. Maybe a salad too. Or chips. That sounds like a good dinner for a Friday.
I am silent. I am thinking all the things but not wanting to speak out loud. I tell him that I’m going to get rid of Facebook. It doesn’t serve me. I don’t know if it really serves any one. I’ve tried multiple ways of trying to make in work so that I’m in alignment with my own values and goals but I find myself continuing to resist it. I don’t want to be consumed.
Petit Chablis and Pinot Nero. Prawns, sausage flatbread, cheese plate, charcuterie board.
Not cool, but cold.
If I start the soup now then I can lay around and drink tea with the kids after school without feeling rushed to get dinner done. Strip corn from the cobs; chop the onions and the bell pepper, the celery and the carrots.
9. The rain is falling and it’s exactly the kind of weather you want for soup and a slow evening.
10. Yeah, I think I’m done.