I panic in the morning about the time I don't have but I finally give in. I drive an hour in silence to my guitar lesson where Bob asks me, in the farthest opposite from scolding as one can manage in a tone, why I have not been practicing. One of the great gifts that Bob has, is to never judge, or at least, I have never felt judged by him, not even once. The thing is, Bob wants me to practice and if that means getting to the bottom of my own guilt, then that is part of my lesson. It is always a relief. We spend the rest of the lesson studying the bluegrass scale.
Grocery shopping makes me feel brain dead and after, on my drive back to the city, I listen to Beautiful Ruins and my jaw starts to hurt. Upon arrival at home, I am uncharacteristically spontaneous, jumping in the car with Poppy and Paul to go back to the Presidio, where Paul hits golf balls again and I photograph in the woods. Poppy and I run, like small children, down large sweeping hills in the woods which always makes me smile. Then I try to match Poppy's enthusiasm for bounding back up the hills, like a game, with joy. I am not so successful at that.
We put our names on the list at the Japanese bathouse and wait over an hour. We make our round, steam room, then hot pool, then cold pool, four times. When I ease myself quickly into the cold pool I remain calm and relaxed, up to my neck in 50 degree water. After a minute and a half I get out. The cold pool always feels best after you get out. This place always reminds me of myself, my real self. I hear myself saying, "Psssst!" and a whisper, "Kathleen! You can relax."
"Pssst! Kathleen! You don't have to take yourself so seriously."
"Pssst! Kathleen! You can enjoy life."
"Pssst! Kathleen! You don't have to worry about time."
Afterwards we sip some wine and share an Allagash FV13 Sour Ale at a bar before heading home at midnight to eat dinner.