Tag Archives: coffee date

Dear Friend

16 Oct

Dear Friend,

Here I am. Escaping for just a moment. Not sure what to say… but knowing I want to throw a lifeline out there. This week has been hard. I’m pretty worn out. But I have a little break, and a warm cup of roobios tea, so here I am.

I’ve been sick this week. So have Mark and the baby. Add some troubled teething sleep, and a recent transition from two naps to one (the baby, not me) and I’d gladly give up a day’s paycheck (or two) just to sleep through my shift.

I don’t want to ruminate… really, I don’t…

I’m just trying to figure out how to pull off all the things I want to pull off while I’m feeling stretched so thin.

Mark reminded me that it’s been an uncharacteristically busy week… family in town, friends in town, a birthday party to plan, several recent trips.

What am I really thinking…

Just so you know, the biggest reason that I write is to find out what I’m actually thinking, underneath the day-to-day happenings and the familiar records that play in my head. Sometimes, I think we all try and save ourselves some brain power by playing the same tracks over and over… slightly varied versions of the same story… to come to our reliably quick conclusion and our seemingly simple solution [not enough sleep, not enough time in the day, not the right groceries in the house][need more sleep, to organize my time more efficiently, to buy more almond butter and tofurkey and bread]… rather than sitting with a question or feeling a little bit longer than is comfortable, to see if it’s really anything else. Writing helps me to do this.

Do, or do not. There is no try.

I think there is a fine line between being gentle and compassionate towards yourself… and using your own circumstances as excuses to avoid putting yourself on the line.

I think of people I know, friends, who approach their lives in a way that appears so courageous. My friend Mary who moved to New York, and is now an off-broadway actress, directing and choreographing on the side. My friend Jenna, who quit a very good paying job to take part in a home-based essential oil business that she and her husband must build themselves. Or my cousin Izzy, who moved to Japan to be a freaking ninja!

Now… none of these lives are for me. I don’t want to be an actress, a martial arts expert, or a salesperson. But still, I’m so impressed by these people. People that I know, who didn’t come from particularly out of the ordinary backgrounds. To have initiated and begun living out these goals that just seem even too incredulous to say out loud. But they seem to tackle it with the same methodology that I would plan dinner with…

Buy these groceries, chop this, mix that, sprinkle in a little of this, simmer for some time, serves and boom, I’m living my dream!

I don’t need to move to the other side of the globe, or the continent, or even make $10,000 a month.

Right now, I just want to create a rhythm and flow to my days and weeks so that I can portion off enough time for some soulcare, some newness, some activity, some rest, some planning for the future… and still have energy for playing and cuddling and adventures here and there.

Oh, and if someone can please invent a barometer that can let me know when to remind myself, “Hey, you’re the mother of a one year old… brew a cup of coffee, grab some baby snuggles and stay home all day, it’s okay.”

or

“Hey! Stop whining, get off your ass and make things happen! You’re a mom, nat an inmate.”

that would be great…

at least until I can fine tune my own temperature reader…

Thanks for listening.

<;3, E

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Coffee Date

27 Feb

coffee in italy

If we were to grab a cup of coffee somewhere… I would hope it would be a shop that’s a little bit funky.  With couches and club chairs that are a little beat up, and hopefully a fireplace, and some old vintage tin signs on the walls.

I would probably have to order an herbal tea, although I would long for coffee in my cup, because although most coffee shops have non-dairy creamers now, very few have non-dairy, non-soy creamers.

We would pull up a couch or a chair, and gaze at the fire for a second.  I’d pull my feet up onto the chair to get a little more cozy, take a deep breath, look you in the eyes and smile.  Partly because I feel at home in coffee shops, and partly because I feel so comfortable with you.

I would tell you how we really should do this more often, and I would mean it with all my heart.

I would tell you about how I ate a handful of trail mix at work the other day, and mid dried kiwi, I realized it much have sugar in it.  But I would also be sure to say that I was tempted to eat the garlic bread that came with my quinoa pasta yesterday, but resisted.  Small victories, right?

I would tell you that I have been thinking so much about the future lately.  Where to live, how  to live, where my baby will go to school, how to make sure we’re laying the foundations for the kind of life we want to be in day to day, and that sometimes those thoughts are overwhelming.

I would tell you that this coming Thursday, is the last day until March 31st where both Mark and I are not working.  That of the four weekends this next month, two weekends I work straight through, and the other two weekends, either he has a conference or I have a workshop.  I would be clear in saying that I’m SO excited for these workshops… for the travel up to the bay area that they require, and for the workshop itself… but I would also admit that having that little time together worries me a little, and is not a pattern I want to set up.

I would tell you how we talk about how we want to be intentional with the time that we do have together.  The couple hours after Mason goes to bed and before we fall into ours.  And how sometimes, like last night, we do a great job working on a project together, talking, poking fun at each other, until we get too tired to do so anymore… but how a lot of the time, we’re so in need of a break by the end of the day that it’s blog reading and hulu watching, next to each other.

I would take another deep breath, and a sip of tea, and I’d ask about you.  How your days are going, how you’re juggling everything.  Are you excited about where you’re headed? Are you nervous? I would ask you if you ever get that little voice in your head trying to tell you that you need to reconsider, and what you do about it.

I’d tell you that Mason’s skin was started to smooth out.  The baby softness was returning, even after a few days of these oils, and this diet.  And then we gave him some milk over this weekend while I was at work, that I had pumped at the beginning of the month, before I started eating this way.  And didn’t realize what we had done until his little cheeks started to roughen up again, and a rash spread across his chubby little legs.  Blast!

But my eyes would light up as I tell you how excited I am, because that means that it is working!  That he won’t have to just learn to live with it because food really does heal if you pay attention to what it is you’re eating.

And as I start to sparkle with possibility, I would tell you how I want to do everything.  I want to live in Portland or Corvallis, and Kent and Brooklyn, and Venice and Tuscany, and maybe even in Providence Rhode Island… just to try it out.  I would say that I want to write for a living, start an etsy shop, get a degree in Nutrition, do more yoga, knit more prolifically, read more books, give my baby all the time and attention he wants, spend more time cuddling with my husband like we did when we first started dating, take Ruby on long walks…. you would laugh at mean little as I almost start vibrating with excitement when I think of all these things.  And then when I pause to take another breath… I would say that I’m trying to learn how to pace myself.  To readjust and tame the nudge inside me that makes me feel like I should try to do all of these things at once.   And pick a couple each day, or each moment.  So that my time has a bit of focus.

After my rambling comes to a close… we would sit and sip for a few moments.  Each thinking of our own string of possibilities.

And we would catch eyes again and smile.

And of course the time would run out too soon.

We would gather up our bags, I would probably take my tea to go, since I’m such a slow drinker.  Cast a longing glance at the pastry display, and walk with you to the front.  I’d give you a big hug, say, “it was good to see you”

And we should definitely do this again soon.


<post inspired by Casey Wiegand>