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The FUN List Revised
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Posted on March 29, 2018 by

Balloons_in_the_skyBack in 2014, when I was figuring out what I wanted to do for Cynthia’s Yearlong 50th Birthday Bash (read about that here), I managed—sadly—to omit fun entirely. Sure, launching a project or doing something new can be fun, but it’s not the same as fun for the sake of fun. My ex-husband, Michael 1.0, used to be good at reminding me to have more fun, but without his influence I tend to forget. (I know, I know. What can I say? It’s sad but true.) Then a friend told me that for her 50th birthday she made a list of activities she wanted to do and asked friends to join her. I loved this idea, and so, the concept of The FUN List was born.

Here were the ground rules: I made a list of things I’d always wanted to do but never gotten around to doing. Or things I hadn’t done in awhile and wanted to do again. If someone thought I’d forgotten something, they had permission to make a suggestion. After all, I was clearly in need of help when it came to fun.

Since I made the list in 2014, here are some of the activities that I did:

  • Drove to Half Moon Bay for fresh seafood and visited “Dog Beach” with Katie and Delta.
  • Visited the Oakland Zoo again.
  • Visited the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park.
  • Took Katie to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and rode the wooden rollercoaster. (Katie bailed on the Big Dipper at the last minute, but Nate and I took turns riding it, which brought back so many great memories. It also reminded me that I’m not in my twenties any more!)
  • Returned to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk many times. This is Katie’s “happy place.”
  • Checked out the Exploratorium in its new waterfront location. Twice! (I still love that museum.)
  • Hung out and had dinner with my girlfriend Jennifer in Santa Cruz.
  • Had drinks and dinner at The Last Word in Livermore.
  • Ate an ice cream sandwich from C.R.E.A.M. (Okay, I’ve eaten several.)
  • Had mac and cheese with bacon at The Rock House.
  • Took a road trip to Santa Barbara over Spring Break to visit the Santa Barbara Museum of Art to see a children’s book art exhibit. Explored the Paso Robles wine region as well.
  • Visited my girlfriend Deborah several times in Capitola/Santa Cruz while she worked on a temporary assignment. Katie had so much fun swimming in the pool and watching HGTV with Homer, Deborah’s dog, she thinks I’m lying when I tell her Deborah doesn’t actually live there.
  • Saw a Shakespeare and Associates summer production in the outdoor theater at Wente Vineyards. Cyrano de Bergerac was incredible!
  • Hiked in various East Bay Regional Parks, including Brushy Peak for the first time!
  • Drove to Pescadero for green chili soup, boysenberry pie, and relaxation on a windswept beach.
  • Tried several new (as in, new to me) restaurants: Posada and Roya in Livermore, Kingfish in San Mateo (now sadly closed), Taqueria La Espuela and Cascal in Mountain View, Refuge and Mama Coco in Menlo Park, and Palo Alto Sol.
  • Drank Philz coffee for the first time.
  • Stayed in Truckee for the weekend with the gals I met in my college dorm 35 years ago. (You can read more about that here and here and here).
  • Went to the Oakland Zoo during the holiday season for ZooLights.
  • Visited the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park.
  • Explored Japantown in San Francisco.
  • Had a Missouri-themed date which included St. Louis-style ribs at Sauced and the movie Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. Both were excellent!

Not exactly earth shattering, but I’ve made a conscience effort to seek out more fun. Clearly this is still a work in progress for me.

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Which is why, as my birthday approaches, I decided to create a revised FUN List:

  • Attend a poetry slam.
  • Attend StorySlam.
  • Visit the de Young Museum again.
  • Drive to Muir Woods and hike.
  • Visit the Asian Art Museum.
  • Have mac and cheese at Homeroom in Oakland.
  • Visit my friend Jennifer in Albuquerque, NM and read at DimeStories.
  • A fall weekend in Yosemite.
  • Hike in an East Bay Regional Park (Morgan Territory, Sunol, etc) once per month.
  • Visit Sedona, AZ and Santa Fe, NM again.
  • Wine tasting in Livermore with friends.
  • Attend Friday Night at the de Young. (I missed the tango exhibition, but there are others.)
  • Take Katie camping at Camp Shelley in South Lake Tahoe and make s’mores.
  • Visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium with Katie and Chris (his first time!).
  • Visit New York City for more than a day.
  • See the monarch butterflies in Pacific Grove (November through January).
  • Take a road trip to Portland, OR.
  • See the Columbia River Gorge and Multnomah Falls.
  • Visit the Rosie the Riveter Museum in Richmond.
  • Go to a yoga retreat.
  • Take a poetry workshop.
  • Visit Catalina Island.
  • Spend a weekend (or a week) in Palm Springs.
  • Visit the San Diego Zoo and the San Diego Wild Animal Park.
  • Stay at the Rancho la Puerta Wellness Center in Tecate, Mexico for a week of R&R.
  • Go white water rafting.
  • Visit Berta and Terry in Boise, ID.
  • Ride mules to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.
  • Visit Paris again.
  • Spend a month (or the summer) in the South of France.
  • Visit Greece.

I will be adding to the list over time, so consider this one merely a start. If there is something on the list that looks fun to you, let me know and we’ll do it together!

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Now go create your own FUN List and let’s compare notes.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Letting Go of Practicality
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Posted on March 22, 2018 by

5f18feb5ac87c43171bf2b63bce201c3One of the coolest things about Christopher, my new boyfriend, is that he never tells me to think smaller or be more—dare I say it—practical. He calmly nods and says, “Yes, you can do that.”

So when I told him about my evening with the shaman, he said, “Yeah, I’ve noticed that you’re very attached to practicality.”

“You have?”

Christopher studied Engineering, Computer Science, English, and History in college, then got into Linguistics, Statistics, and Educational Psychology in grad school. (I’m probably leaving out a few subjects.) In educational circles, he’s known as “the Data Guy.” He’s also a researcher with an entrepreneurial streak who takes business classes at Stanford for fun. In other words, he just might be the ideal person to help me tackle what to do next with my career and unplanned life.

Christopher gave me a couple examples. I sighed. It was pervasive.

“Practicality isn’t a bad thing,” Christopher said. “Just not the only thing to consider.”

This is true. Writing and poetry are pretty much the least practical endeavors on the planet, and yet, I still love them. Still wanted them in my life—even if they paid next to nothing.

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I told Christopher about my idea of starting a Super PAC to focus on autism and special education. “That’s definitely not practical because I don’t know anything about lobbying or forming a Super PAC.”

“You can learn that, and I have a contact with a D.C. law firm that does lobbying. I’m sure they’ll talk to you. Besides, you’ve advocated for things your entire life so this really isn’t a huge stretch.”

“True….” How did this guy always manage to make everything, including dating, seem simple?

“If I could house the PAC in the nonprofit, I’d be down to two jobs and two websites. That would be a significant improvement. Then if I could somehow monetize the websites….”

“Oh, that’s easily done,” he said.

“It is?”

“Yep.” He laughed. “This is what they teach me at Stanford.”

“Okay, then I’ll get to work updating the website.” I’d been dragging my feet on this tedious task, but somehow Christopher got me to stop procrastinating.

“Do you get to tell people you’re an attorney when you lobby?”

“If you went to law school and passed the bar, then yes. Otherwise, no.”

“Oh good,” Christopher said with a big grin. “Then I’ll still be dating a poet-attorney.”

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That’s me. A poet/writer/attorney/autism advocate. Also the founder of the nonprofit organization, Autism A to Z, and Livermore’s fourth Poet Laureate. Author. Editor. Speaker. Educator. Fundraiser. Environmentalist and single mom.

I’m not sure what I’ll be adding to that list, but I can feel it coming. Stay tuned.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Truth Equals Peace
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Posted on March 15, 2018 by

truth-166853_1920Lately it seems every time I go to the shaman ceremony, I figure out another piece of the puzzle that is me. This time was no different.

The shaman labeled her ceremony “Peace—the bridge between what has been and what is yet to come.” The topic intrigued me, and we hadn’t had ceremony in several months. I lined up a sitter and told her I’d be there.

We settled in and the shaman shared a story about finding her truth regarding her work as a healer, which brought her peace. It wasn’t the generic reason she’d been telling herself for years, but one which resonated within her. She asked the group where in our lives we were stuck. Without hesitation I responded, “my career.”

She asked us to meditate on the root, or the basis, of this issue. Surprisingly what popped into my mind was my mother telling me, at age 17, not to major in English, but to “pick something practical.” I don’t regret my degree in environmental science, and as an adult, I understand why she said what she said, but at the time I felt vaguely unaccepted. And the concept of practicality took on a life of its own in my psyche.

law-1991004_1920My decision to launch a special needs law firm was based on practicality. I could work part time and make more than enough to support my daughter and myself. There were many things I liked about this plan, but I just couldn’t seem to start. I worked on all the preliminary tasks, fiddled with the details, but couldn’t launch the business. No amount of self-talk or reframing changed this fact. After four years, it was embarrassing and humiliating. For whatever reason, I was dragging my feet. By 2017, I’d accepted it was never going to happen whether I knew the reason or not.

And then, sitting in the shaman’s living room, it occurred to me that helping special needs families one by one wasn’t solving the underlying problem. It was like putting a bandaid on a gaping wound. I wanted to do something bigger. I wanted to help more people and change the underlying policies. Did I know how to do this? No. But this shift just felt right.

Over the course of the night, it also became clear that I wanted to continue to write memoir and poetry. That I wanted to teach writing workshops. More importantly, that I needed to consolidate.

Why had I ever thought I could write, run a nonprofit, and start a law firm all at once? Maybe when I was younger  I had that kind of energy, but not now. I needed to streamline my life.

I had recently interviewed to become the Executive Director of California Poets in the Schools. If I was willing to raise my own salary in that organization, why not do the same with Autism A to Z?

Truth

By the end of the ceremony, I didn’t have all the answers, but I did finally understand why couldn’t bring myself to launch the law firm. The shaman was correct. The truth brought me a sense of acceptance and peace. It also showed me the path forward. A glimpse of what was yet to come.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Eulogy for the Old Library
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Posted on March 8, 2018 by

lhg0840_jpgA few weeks ago, back in February when I delivered my Poet Laureate Annual Report to the Livermore City Council, I also read a poem I’d written in honor of the ground breaking ceremony for the new city council chambers and emergency operations center. The poem also marked the demolition of the “old” public library, which was especially poignant for me as this was the library that I grew up with and adored as a child.

The “old” library, which should not be confused with the Carnegie Building that served as Livermore’s first public library and dates back to the late 1800s, opened in 1966, two years before my family moved to Livermore. I swear it still smelled new the first time I walked through its huge sliding doors.

The building stood vacant from 2004, when the “new” library opened, until 2018, when it was demolished. This relic of my childhood is now gone. I wish I had thought to take a photo of it. But I can still picture it—in my mind and in my heart.

 

EULOGY FOR THE OLD LIBRARY
1966-2004 (demolition in 2018) 

As a child I came to this spot every
week to practice the religion of books.
I prayed in paragraphs, worshipped
in words, so many words. They echo
in the halls of memory, spilling off
pages, flooding floors, carving canyons

in the still blooming garden of my mind.
Words polished my heart, changed
its color, left deposits that provided
raw material to construct cathedrals.
The building seemed large in 1968,
packed with possibility, brimming

with books. The rooms smelled fresh
–a river after heavy rain–and I
gulped it down, thirsted for more.
Today we say goodbye to this hall
of stone and glass. In its place will rise
another, a phoenix from the rubble.

Commonwealth of community, temple
of democracy, shrine to the enduring
power of words. May this continue to be
a place that inspires. A place of possibility,
diversity, tolerance, ideas, and of course,
words, so many wicked, wacky, wondrous

words.

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What have you said goodbye to recently?

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Poet Laureate Report 2017-2018
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Posted on March 1, 2018 by

notebook-2247352_1920For reasons that I cannot explain, the Poet Laureate gives his or her annual report to the Livermore City Council in February. (I was installed at the end of June 2017.) So last week I compiled a massive spreadsheet of my activities and presented it to the City Council. I couldn’t believe how much work I’d done.

Okay, maybe I could.

In case you, like most people, wonder what a Poet Laureate does, I’m including the summary here.

In the eight months since I was installed as Poet Laureate, I have:

  • Hosted 9 open mics plus 3 additional poetry events summarizes below.
  • Held a reading at the Civic Center Library called Meet the Poet Laureate. I read selected poems from my chapbook along with new work, and answered questions about my goals as Poet Laureate.
  • Curated an hour of classic and contemporary cowboy poetry for a community event held by the Livermore Heritage Guild at Hagemann Ranch. It proved extremely popular, so I’ll be doing it again this summer.
  • After six months negotiating with LARPD, I found a compromise so we could continue the Ravenswood Poetry Series. The 1st event, held January 21st, was a Tri-Valley Poetry Showcase featuring seven local poets plus myself. It was well-attended and well-received. Future events at Ravenswood will be held on the following Sundays: April 22, July 22, and October 28th from 5 to 7 pm. I’ll be announcing the featured poets for the April event soon.
  • IMG_5136Held 4 Teen Poet of the Month contests, with 3 more slated for this spring plus a public reading for the winning teens and honorable mentions scheduled for late May.
  • Received a mini grant from the Livermore Commission for the Arts so I could expand Poetry in a Test Tube: Livermore’s 2nd Annual Science Poetry Contest. We now offer cash prizes in 3 divisions: Youth (K-8th), Teen (high school), and Adult. Deadline for submissions is March 10th. The award ceremony will occur on Sunday, March 18th.
  • Wrote the poem, “A Place to Call Home,” for my swearing-in last June as well as the poem, “Eulogy for the Old Library, 1966-2004/2018,” for the recent ground breaking ceremony (and demolition).
  • I’m currently working on a poem for the Livermore Civic Center Library, as well as another dealing with autism. These will be read at Audacious April—an event celebrating National Poetry Month, Autism Awareness Month, and National Library Week.
  • I was selected to serve as Poetry Judge at the Alameda County Fair. On Saturday, June 23rd, I’ll be hosting a reading and teaching a free poetry workshop.
  • Represented the City at literary events in San Jose, Pleasant Hill, Oakland, and San Francisco.

There’s more juicy stuff waiting in the wings, but I’ll save that for later when I have more details.

In short, it’s been a busy eight months, and I expect the rest of my term to be just as full. And that’s a good thing because it means I’m spreading the joy of poetry and prose far and wide. I’m grateful that I took the plunge.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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More Cha…cha…changes, Part 2
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Posted on February 22, 2018 by

12973396_10154810270134816_8980740602952449345_oAfter an 18-month lapse in services and an autistic child in the throes of puberty, I was eager for a fresh start, behaviorally speaking. But my struggle to re-secure applied behavioral analysis (ABA) therapy for my daughter, Katie, hadn’t exactly worked out as planned.

The situation came to a head when, over two volatile therapy sessions, Katie kicked in the center panel on three out of four cabinet doors on the buffet in my breakfast nook. The third incident resulted in a bad break, with splintered wood flying in the air. I was so angry I wanted to hit both Katie and the therapist. Instead, I excused myself and went upstairs to cry. Then I called the supervisor, and voice shaking with unshed tears, told her I was done. From now on, therapy must occur in their offices.

For several weeks we had no ABA therapy, then the therapist left on a three-week vacation. By the time she returned, I was convinced ABA was making things worse, not better. Katie’s behavior, against all odds, was improving. Plus the skills I wanted Katie to learn, like using money and telling time, weren’t happening.

We had a meeting and put therapy on hold for a month. By the time the month was up, I’d lost all my sitters and a good chunk of my job. I told them I wasn’t sure how I could drive Katie to their facility in Concord, an hour away, on top of driving Katie to Menlo Park three times per week. We put therapy on hold for another month. Despite the lack of therapy, Katie’s behavior continued to improve.

CrazyBy the time the second month had elapsed, I knew what I had to do. All behavior is communication, and Katie’s behavior was screaming, “No more ABA!” It was tough to let go of therapy I’d fought hard to secure, but it wasn’t working. We needed to move on, find treatments that worked. With therapists who treated my daughter like the teenager that she was.

Before we could leave, the Program Director needed to complete a progress report. It was a standard one that I’ve done countless times before. Some of the sections, such as verbal communication, were a breeze to complete because Katie could do almost none of the tasks. But in other areas, such as life skills, Katie could do much more. The Director kept saying, “Oh really? She can do that?”

After more than a year, the ABA team should have known this, and that was part of the problem.  But the real issue was that ABA has never worked well for Katie. Certainly not anywhere near as well as the Rapid Prompting Method.

So we’re going to stick with what’s working and build on that. Katie needs a social skills group and horseback riding to start. Special Olympics track begins next month (go Rockets!). Maybe we’ll try some yoga. Or more hiking. Another mom started a specialized social group to practice using a letter board with peers. We’re going to try it all and see what Katie enjoys, what improves her skills. I can write goals, and I’ll hire sitters who can help.

Whatever happens, it will be better that watching Katie color on command.

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What tough decisions have you made lately?

Until next time,
Cynthia

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More Cha…cha…changes, Part 1
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Posted on February 15, 2018 by

12973396_10154810270134816_8980740602952449345_oWhile Christopher and I were settling into our new relationship, I had a tough decision to make. After fighting for 18 months to secure applied behavioral analysis (ABA) therapy for my daughter, Katie, I was now struggling with how to proceed.

Our previous ABA team had been invaluable—helping to curb much of Katie’s negative behavior and solving countless autism “mysteries.” But we lost Mia, Brad, Juan, and the other team members when Katie’s insurance changed. (Yet another reason for single-payer health insurance. Disabled kids shouldn’t lose services for huge chunks of time simply because of a change in insurance.)

After an 18-month lapse in services and a child in the throes of puberty, I was eager to hand things over to the new team. I assumed we would brainstorm goals and then they would develop a plan to meet those goals. I’d be assigned “homework” as the previous team had done. In short, I had high hopes that the new ABA team would help me tackle the problems that had come with puberty.

It didn’t work out that way.

For starters, it often felt as if I knew more about autism than the new ABA team. Plus the supervisor kept calling Katie “Cat,” despite my constant corrections. And why were they treating teenage Katie like a preschooler? It would be one thing if she didn’t know her colors, but Katie did—had known them for years.

Katie had a meltdown at the social skills group due to an inexperienced aide combined with far too many people packed into a tiny space and no sensory equipment. As a result, they postponed Katie’s participation in the social skills group. When she lost it at a park due to sensory overload and a different inexperienced aide, they banned community outings. Stuck at the kitchen table for three hours straight, coloring as instructed, Katie began to rebel. And my home, once again, bore the brunt of her wrath.

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For several months I debated what to do. It seemed wrong to drop the one therapy “proven” to help those on the autism spectrum. Plus Katie desperately needed a social skills group, and unlike our previous team, this provider had one. And yet, ABA now seemed to increase Katie’s negative behaviors rather than decrease them. Was I making excuses? Mom insisted I was. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that ABA was making things worse, not better.

I kept going around and around in my head, unsure what to do.

explorer-gear-377x269-300x214When the supervisor asked me to repurchase Candy Land and Chutes & Ladders—well-used toddler games I’d recently donated to Goodwill—I refused. I asked for alternatives, and they sent me a list of other toddler games. Were they kidding? Why would any 13-year-old want to play toddler games?

I asked my college girlfriends over lunch in Truckee, and within five minutes these non-experts had brainstormed a list of age-appropriate games with simple rules that didn’t require much talking. Why hadn’t the so-called autism experts been able to do that?

But more importantly, what was I going to do? Where could I find the answers I needed?

To be continued…

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Cha…cha…changes
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Posted on February 8, 2018 by

change-948024_1920No sooner had Christopher and I started dating, than other changes started flooding in.

First, Lora, one of our terrific new weekend/evening sitters, announced that she was going back to school to become a nurse. Her anatomy class fell on the two nights that she worked for me. I swallowed my disappointment and asked when her class started. “Next week,” she said.

So this would be her last day. Great.

I texted Miss B to see if she wanted to pick up Lora’s hours. She didn’t respond. I realized she hadn’t answered my last text either. I called and left a message, asking if everything was okay. No response. So my second weekend/evening sitter was missing in action. Even better.

Two days later, when I was relaying this information to Melissa, our tutor/sitter/Girl Friday, she got a funny look on her face. “What is it?” I asked.

“Umm, I’ve got something similar to tell you.”

Turns out the other mom Melissa worked for wanted her full-time. Melissa might have pushed back, but part of the reason for the increase in hours was that Nicole and Melissa were going to begin Italian lessons together in preparation for two months in Italy over the summer.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for me and the girls,” she said. “I can’t pass this up.”

I sighed. A special needs mother had poached a sitter from me—a fellow special needs parent. There should be a law against that. At least Melissa was giving me a month’s notice and promised to help find her replacement. But it didn’t change the fact that in less than a week, I had lost all three of my essential childcare providers.

How was that even possible?

When I remembered to check the dating app, the two guys I had met online in addition to Christopher had both closed their accounts. Apparently they had each met someone on New Year’s Eve as well. This came as an unexpected relief.

But when one of my major nonprofit clients—the most steady, consistent one—called to inform me that due to funding cuts it was closing its doors, I started to worry. Now the loss of childcare providers didn’t matter so much because I was essentially unemployed. Or close to it. What in the hell was going on?

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I told Christopher what had happened over lunch in Menlo Park and repeated my refrain. He said, “You opened yourself up to change when you said yes to a date with me, and now the changes are rolling in.”

I said, “I’d be totally panicked if you weren’t here to calm me down.”

“And I’d be a wreck dealing with my dysfunctional workplace if it weren’t for you,” he said, holding my hand. “But together, we’re the chill couple.”

I laughed. “I’m not exactly known for being mellow.”

“Me either,” he said, “but I’ve never had a relationship this effortless. We’re gonna keep going with the flow and see where it takes us. I think everything will work out.”

And damn, I believed him. Everything, including relationships, seemed easy with Christopher.

“I’ve been thinking for a couple years that it’s time for me to have a career again. And if I’m totally honest, my child got lost in the shuffle when Melissa began working for that other family last fall. Maybe this is a chance to push the reset button.”

“See?” he said. “It’s going to be fine.”

Within a week both of us had new job possibilities that we were exploring. Shortly after, I found out that Elite-Housekeeping.com provide Newborn Nurses, and that’s where I got a sitter who clicked with Katie, and for two months (or more), could cover all my childcare needs.

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I don’t know where this river of change is leading, but I’m doing my best to flow with it rather than fight against the current. I’m curious to see what unfolds in my unplanned life.

Until next time,
Cynthia

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Trust the Process, Part 2
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Posted on February 1, 2018 by

12973396_10154810270134816_8980740602952449345_oAfter walking the labyrinth, I grabbed some hot chocolate and stood in the peaceful courtyard, talking to friends. They all commented on how beautifully my daughter had waited. For whatever reason, Katie has always loved attending the labyrinth ceremony. Tonight she had sat calmly, wrapped in a blanket, while I walked. Still, just the week before, we had had a minor meltdown at my sister’s house on Christmas, and we’d been banned until Katie “learned how to behave.” The contrast between that evening and this one was a stark reminder that Katie’s behavioral issues were occurring less and less frequently. I needed to stay the course and trust the process. We would get there eventually—even if it didn’t happen fast enough to suit my family’s timeline.

Katie and I had just returned home when Guy #3 (aka Christopher) texted: Happy New Year from the Midwest!!

I texted him back and for two hours we carried on a conversation while he packed for his early morning flight. Finally it was midnight in my time zone. Happy New Year from CA!! I wrote. And then this: It feels like I spent NYE with you.

I know, he said, it feels like that for me too. I’ll call tomorrow when I get back to CA. I can’t wait to meet you in person. :)

When he called the next day, I explained that I needed to drive up to Sea Ranch to retrieve my daughter’s missing iPad. He laughed. “You have no idea how many miles I’ve driven to retrieve lost technology.”

So Katie and I left for the coast. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was driving in the wrong direction.

We quickly fell into a pattern: texting all day, and then when Katie got into the tub to soak, talking on the phone into the wee hours. We had both been single for more than a decade, so in addition to the tragic tale of our respective divorces, we shared dating horror stories and single parent moments. We rambled through our childhoods, discussed our children and careers, revealed goals and dreams. I haven’t laughed that hard in years.

Finally neither of us could stand it anymore. We needed to see each other in person.

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I broke it to Katie gently. “I know I said we would spend the whole week here, but I met someone, and I really want to meet him in person.”

“A date,” Katie said.

“Yes, a date.”

“I want to see Nate,” Katie said.

“You can still see Nate, but not while I’m on the date. That would be mean. To Nate. But you can hang out with Lora or Miss B, maybe even Jennifer, okay?”

“Jennifer,” Katie said. “I want to see Jennifer.”

“Okay, we’ll text Jennifer and see if she’s free.”

Katie stared at me for a long moment. “A date,” she said.

“Yes, a date. But not with Nate. His name is Christopher.”

“I want to see Nate.”

“I know you do, and you will. I promise. But Nate didn’t want to live with us, and this guy has good daddy potential.”

Katie considered this. I could see her desire to stay at Sea Ranch competing with her life-long yearning for a father. The latter won. “I pack the bag.”

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The next day, after much debate over location, Christopher and I met at Uncle Yu’s in the Vineyards for drinks and dinner. After a few minutes of awkwardly staring at one another at the dark, sultry bar, we picked up our conversation. For dinner, we took the plunge and ordered the chef’s secret tasting menu with wine pairing. Halfway through our incredible meal, the waitress asked which anniversary we were celebrating: 10th? 15th? Possibly our 20th?

We laughed. I said to Christopher, “Should we tell her?” He nodded, and I said, “It’s actually our first date.”

“No,” she said. “That’s impossible. We gets lots and lots of first dates in here, and you guys are not throwing off a first date vibe.”

“It’s pretty much the best date ever,” Christopher said, “but it’s definitely our first.” He grinned. “I don’t think it will be our last though.”

“No,” I said. “Definitely not our last.”

“Oh my god,” the waitress said. “You two are the best!”

The sommelier brought us a phenomenal port to pair with the decadent chocolate cake, and the owner printed out our menu and invited us back for future anniversaries. Then they left us alone. We talked until we realized we were the only remaining guests.

We wandered through downtown Livermore comparing Chinese fortunes. Then we sat in the Bankhead Plaza and talked, and kissed, and talked some more. We went back to my place and sent the sitter home. Then we stayed up all night talking.

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Christopher was correct. It was the best date ever. Until our next….

I’m grateful I trusted the process.

Until next time,
Cynthia 

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Trust the Process, Part 1
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Posted on January 25, 2018 by

12973396_10154810270134816_8980740602952449345_oBy early December 2017, I had decided to let Raymond, the man I thought I’d waited for all these years, go. But letting go is never easy. Yes, I was miserable. Yes, I hadn’t seen him in over four months, hadn’t communicated with him in two. But he was so perfect for me! Except for one fact that was now impossible to ignore: he was a workaholic who couldn’t make time for me.

Yes, I felt wonderful in his presence, but those precious hours were few and increasingly far between. Plus, did I really want to live with three autistic kids? Sure it made a great story, but that was hardcore even by my admittedly warped standards. Yes, his boys were high functioning. Yes, I’d always wanted three children. Yes, Raymond had always wanted a daughter. But did that make us soulmates?

Would I feel so lonely if he was my soulmate?

Did I even believe in soulmates?

I felt like I was back having the internal “am I settling?” debate that I’d had when I was dating Nate. (You can read about that here.) Once again, I confronted the fact that asking these types of questions probably raised a red flag (or two). Even so, I struggled with letting Raymond go.

As you, my readers, are aware, this was not my first rodeo. I knew I needed to get back in the proverbial saddle. But it was harder this time. After more than a decade of being single, I was losing faith that I would ever find a stable, long-term relationship.

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By late December, however, I had three men chatting with me online. One was a short, pompous Indian guy who thought he was far funnier than he actually was. I could tell he would bore me quickly. Maybe he already had. The second was another tragically short man. But he was funny and smart and knew how to flirt, which goes a long way in online dating. The third was tall, but had photos that did him no favors. I could tell he wasn’t ugly, but had no idea if he was, in fact, cute. Still, like Raymond, he could write beautifully, and before I knew it, we were exchanging long emails.

On December 31st, Guy #3 (aka Christopher) asked for my phone number, email address, anything. He was staying in St Louis at his parents’ house with his four—FOUR!—children, and well, the dating app was less than discrete. His kids, and maybe even his parents, were wondering what was up. I laughed and sent him my phone number.

The self-described family man and nerd had managed to ask for my number before two other potential suitors. Interesting. The other guys checked in via email before heading off to parties.

A Chartres-styly labyrinthLater that evening, while I waited for my daughter to swing, Christopher texted and asked what I was doing for New Years Eve. I explained that I was just about to join some friends at a year-end labyrinth walk. It’s about letting go and requesting what you need going forward, I wrote.

“Interesting,” Christopher replied. “Go do that and I’ll be in touch later.”

Katie finished swinging and we went to the labyrinth. There was an unusually large crowd in the candle-lit courtyard, but Katie said hi to the people she knew and calmly sat on her favorite bench, near the fountain. I bent to pick up a polished black rock at the entrance to the labyrinth. Each is engraved with a single word, and this evening, mine read: TRUST.

Interesting, I thought, not realizing until later that Christopher had said the same thing just moments earlier.

As I paced slowly through the Chartres-style labyrinth, I focused on letting go of Raymond plus everything else I had struggled with in 2017. I thought about the word on the rock. What or who did I need to trust?

When I reached the center of the labyrinth I looked at the icy winter sky, glittering like diamonds, and heard my internal voice: Trust the process. You’re on the right path. Everything will be fine.

I knew I’d made the correct decision to stop waiting for Raymond. I silently said goodbye and wished him well. Then I walked back through the labyrinth, calling in what I desired for 2018: courage, laughter, adventure, ease. I asked for effortless self-care and all the help I required. I asked for guidance in solving Katie’s challenges, plus joy, creativity, peace, patience, financial serenity, and abundance. And don’t forget the man I’d been waiting for, one who would make me a priority. As I said it in my head, I heard the word TRUST repeat again and again.

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I reached the labyrinth entrance and looked at the stone in my hand, finger tracing the bold letters. Okay, Universe, I thought. Bring it on!

To be continued…

Until next time,
Cynthia

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