Yesterday was a jumble of times, timing, movement, awkwardness, people, more people, and still more people… and cramped airplane seating. Every detail went according to plan, right down to making sure to drink adequate actual plain drinking water before I got to Fresno.

Sometimes basic self-care is really really basic.

A dear friend – one of the dearest – met me at the airport, and I’m so glad we had settled on this plan rather than getting a rental car! Change is a thing, and I’ve not been back to Fresno for something like 20 years… and… wow. The fantastically efficient freeways (pay attention, Portland) are both efficient, and quite fantastical, and I doubt I would have had an easy time of fighting my recollection and implicit understanding of place and placement while trying to cross town during “rush hour” on a Friday in what is now, let’s be realistic, a strange city. Win and good; we had a lovely evening visiting with still more friends, after checking into my room.

I’d love to just skip over the room, but there is a certain tawdry lack of elegance, paired with the most basic fundamentals of “a place to stay the night”, that makes it quite noteworthy. I can’t call it a terrible room… it’s clean, secure, and has ample space to move around, and the bed was well-made with clean linens, and I slept through the night without interruption. But. This place is quite old. It was old when I lived down here. There don’t appear to have been any particular upgrades or improvements. The bare linoleum suggests the 80’s, though, so perhaps the run-down look, and lack of amenities is merely a small roadside motel just trying to hold on and keep costs low? The mouldings are broken in places. Two outlets don’t work – and all the appliances and lights were unplugged when I arrived. The curtains are poorly made, and mismatched. The shower stall is tiled but very dark, and very small, almost seeming to be an afterthought. There is a tall table and a couple of tall stools – no chair. The bed is big, and as firm as if the mattress were built of… a box. A literal wood box. I know there’s actually a mattress there, though, because it is also very noisy. When I went to bed, I rather figured I’d keep myself awake all night. Nope. I woke rested, and headache-y (thanks, Fresno air), with the dawn.

The room felt stuffy when I woke, so I opened the windows feeling both surprised and relieved that there were screens on them. I turned on the ceiling fan, pleased to note the tops of the blades had been cleaned very recently and it efficiently moves the air around without spraying down a cascade of dust. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and I showered, dressed for the day, and enjoyed the sunrise as it slowly cleared the hillside on the other side of the road, beyond the front window. This is a place. I could be here – or I could be “there”, wherever “there” could happen to be. Either way, I have the tools I need to enjoy this moment with the woman in the mirror, if I allow it. It’s a pretty amazing choice to have.

I hung out with my friends until late in the evening. Got to meet the long-time partner of one friend, and their young daughter, who has not yet decided that I am an acceptable human being. I’m okay with that. Better that her agency be respected now, and that she has a chance to learn to use skills for social discernment now, rather than leaving her without them to break her own heart again and again against the rocky shores of what dicks people can be. I met a pack of dogs, who find me to be an entirely acceptable human. So… there’s that. It got later than ideal for dinner, and we all went out for dinner somewhere near-by-ish – the drive was every bit as good as the meal. I’ve missed these dear friends. Already the weekend is quite wonderful.

I sip my iced coffee beverage, smiling about the limited options for such things in the local market, undisturbed by any of that, and feeling content. The view beyond the window is one of rolling golden hillsides, oaks, and stone, and I feel at home. The breeze is still cool and comfortable. I tempt myself with the fantasy of not having to turn on the fairly dirty looking air conditioner, based on this delicious morning breeze. I know I’m being silly; it’s going to be quite hot later, and the sun is already beating down on this place right now. I frown at the thought of the air conditioner, expecting it will likely fill the room with cool air… but… also some sort of less than ideally pleasant odor (most likely cigarette smoke). I’ll no doubt find out later. lol

I miss these views. I miss this place. I miss these friends, even though they are generally very much within reach through the magic of internet connectivity. This spartan room doesn’t allow much opportunity to avoid deep meditation, and self-reflection, and I find myself appreciating that quality over all my bitching… this, right here, is very much what I’ve been needing. It’s been a year, so far, rather intensely dense with OPD and foolishness, and finding truly restorative down time has been challenging. Now? Now it’s time to find some breakfast…. 😉