One big deep breath
Sore throat. I ask him to get some emergen-c in addition to the bacon and hash browns. I will not get sick. I will not get sick.
The little bit of comfort in knowing that I cleaned the bathrooms yesterday which means I don’t have to clean them again today before our guests arrive.
But the basket are just filled with trash. Literal trash. I don’t know how to help her.
She asks for a trash can in her room. That’s a start.
There are about 8 different types of tomatoes to choose from. I have her get the corn while I selected some heirlooms. We see a box of prickly pear fruit and pick one, just one, to give it a try. Oh, and more asian pears. “It feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere but we’re so close to home.”
I couldn’t resist the pumpkins. Even though it’s going to be 92 today, I just needed some mums.
I take the broom and brush away the cobwebs and dried leaves and dirt. I stack the pumpkins and flowers by the front door. That’s better.
The chicken is a little salty but I”m okay with that.
There. That was good. Our first time hosting a family of one of the kid’s friends. And everything seemed to go okay.
Making friends as an adult is so much harder. We all come new relationships with old wounds. Sometimes we do a better job at not letting those old wounds get in the way of establishing connection. Sometimes it just takes a big effort on your part to be vulnerable and open. Sometimes it will work out and sometimes it won’t. Remembering that part of the process is just trying and releasing judgement of the end result. I will always keep trying.
In need of celery juice.
He’s standing in the garage waiting for everyone else, I’m backing out slowly. He waves to me and I slip down the drive and then he waves to me again as I lurch forward. And suddenly he’s not "almost 12,” he’s just my little boy.
I thought I was clever but as soon as I get to work I realize just how impractical my outfit is. Bad enough I decided to wear a jumpsuit but I added a sweater over it which means every single time I have to go to the bathroom I have to take my arms out of my sweater and out of the jumpsuit. Never again.
I walk over to the cottage to retrieve the cake and deliver it to the lounge. Then I walk to the event center to scope out the new sofas. They will do just fine.
I can’t believe I get to come and work in such a beautiful place. I think of how he says that had we never moved here, there’s no chance I would have had this opportunity. This is one of the reasons we came here: so that we could see what might be possible.
“I am a dreamer but I don’t do fantasy.” There’s so much wisdom in knowing the difference.
He’s literally growing right in front of our eyes. He will be as tall as my by his birthday, no doubt. What will I do then?
I always get so many emails after I get home. Funny how that works.
Range LIfe in Livermore. Under the peppercorn tree. I realize that I’ve never seen a peppercorn tree. Did I even know that peppercorns grew on trees?
Warm olives. He eats the two oysters. We start with a glass of 2015 Avinyo Cava Reserva Brut Nature and then settle on a bottle of 2017 Domaine du Petit Bondieu Cabernet Franc from Bourguiel as we split the ribeye with olive mashed potatoes and sierra porcini jus. We move on to blistered shishito peppers with goat cheese, cured sumac, and cilantro then the Cowgirl Creamery Mount Tam with griddled bread and purple and white figs and olive oil before moving on to malted milk ice cream drizzled with olive oil and topped with a baked honeycomb. I accidentally blew out his birthday candle.
I cover myself with a thin robe thinking that might capture the smell of the breakfast sausage. It does not.
Seedy raspberry jam. Entirely too sweet but so good on a biscuit with melted butter.
Sometimes I wonder if she just pretends to not know the answers. Because, I mean…we do the same thing every day.
A little whisper of fog resting on top of the hill. Traffic is lighter than usual this morning and I’m grateful for it.
I feel like some people think I’m weak. I want to tell him that it’s okay. That I can carry a case or two of wine. Maybe it’s the wedge booties that make me seem incapable.
The cake is petit and looks fancy. Perfect for what we need.
Where is the water? We track down the sparkling but can’t find the still. I tell him I will email Abe in the morning. He tells me that he is Abe and so I shake his hand and tell him my name and ask him to let us know if it turns up.
I slip off my shoes t the door and then take my time, going through each room, opening the blinds, looking at walls and light fixtures and artwork. Thinking of ways in which it needs care and how we can transform it. So much potential.
Reworking ideas at the last minute which is what I always do. I will probably even change it the day of. I know this about myself.
I think about how her bike is gone. Stolen off the front porch. Why would anyone steal a little girl’s bike? The range of feelings one has about the loss of materials.
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.
What will I do for breakfast?
Do they even have anything for lunch? I did not return with a plan in mind.
The break of dawn.
I didn’t think she would recognize me without my braids but she tells me that she had a kidney stone attack and was in the hospital over the weekend. It catches me off guard because I haven’t yet had my coffee and I’m worried no one will eat the turkey I just bought. I’m not present enough to ask more questions.
We decide he should stay home. It really only works when you do it every 4 hours.
The act of unfollowing has become addicting.
I make the call as I head south on Vasco and hope that the call doesn’t drop. But I know it will.
Ah. I know who this is supposed to be but it still catches me off guard.
Reddish-brown cow with a white face and I feel like he’s just staring at me. How can I eat that?
I believe in our magic.