It’s almost worse to be in a place that is neither hot nor cold, neither incredibly sad nor terribly content. I am getting over the drama that was San Francisco – learning and re-learning lessons about obsessive thinking and how I beat myself up when things don’t go as I hope. Lessons about the great significance of being naked with another person and how that can open you up to so many emotions and memories. (A note on that:  Being naked was great. Easy. Sweet. Delicious. But sitting with my naked emotions the  next day and the feeling of having been opened up – and yes I mean that literally and figuratively – well, that was much much tougher and not so sweet. Very bittersweet, in fact. I’d say Scharffen Berger 65% cacao single origin dark chocolate, to be exact.)

So here I am now, not nearly as dark and crazy-headed as I was at 4:30 in the morning when some nice Eastern European cab driver took me to SF International Airport — but what does look bright and happy at that time in the morning while driving through a city’s underbelly? Instead, I’m facing mediation in four days. The kids are back at school, Bea full of trepidation. I’m negotiating cheese graters and the Jewish high holidays with the ex. And just trying to find the grace in being here now. No drama. No temptation. No kisses on the ears, but no tears either.