Four years is a long time to carry something. The divorce was finalized this week — the day before Otis turned five — and whatever else I feel about the timing, what I feel most is the particular relief of a weight that has finally, actually, been set down. We had been separated since 2022, when Otis was just one year old, and what I had hoped might resolve in a reasonable amount of time became four years of something tumultuous, exhausting, and in the end largely financial in its ugliness. I represented myself throughout all of it. The chapter is closed.

I had known the date was coming, and so I had tried to plan accordingly. The original plan was a trip to Solvang, which my body promptly vetoed by producing a cold the moment all my obligations were complete. I have decided to take this as evidence that my nervous system was simply waiting for permission to decompress, and I appreciate it doing so on a schedule. The pivot was a one-night stay at the Claremont Resort in Berkeley — a place I've had drinks at and brunch at but never actually stayed, and staying, it turns out, is entirely different. The room had six skylight-style windows looking out over the East Bay. There was a pool day with snacks and good sunglasses. A whole branzino for dinner with views to match. It was exactly what was needed.

In the surrounding days I gave my mind some quiet by picking up a crochet project — a chainmail gorget pattern I found on Etsy, which sounds extremely niche and is, but the rhythm of it in the evenings was meditative in exactly the right way. I made two.

And then there was Otis's birthday. Five years old. We went to a local play-place with his cousin, came home, cut into the Death by Chocolate cake he had selected by name, and opened presents — thank you sincerely to everyone who sent him something in the mail, he was delighted. He's heading to Monterey with his father and grandparents for a second celebration, which I love for him. Kindergarten is two months away. I have already begun thinking about back-to-school shopping, which is a form of illness I have no intention of treating. Something about this particular milestone feels like a genuine exhale. I feel more settled in how I can simply enjoy our time together. That matters more than I can say.

On the DPS front, this week I made some decisions that have been quietly forming for a while. The experiments are wonderful and I'll keep making them, but the thing I care about most — the thing that is actually the point — is getting people together in real spaces. Community. Presence. A third place that isn't a bar or a coffee shop but something weirder and more intentional. I've been calling it a park salon, or a collective workspace, or a gathering space, and I don't have the name quite right yet, but the vision is clear: DPS out in the world, regularly, somewhere people can find us. To that end I ordered what I needed — including a custom banner that has arrived and is now hanging on my wall, which I love deeply and which still needs more of the DPS treatment before it's ready to go out. I also made the call to switch the vending machines from quarters to tokens, since digital payment for a token is simply more practical than hoping someone has exact change.

I also received a beautiful invitation — my dear friend Ayrn is getting married in Death Valley this winter, and I am her maid of honor. The invitation arrived in a dark envelope with a copper wax seal and a green laser-cut filigree wrap tied in burnt orange ribbon, which is the level of invitation I respect. Something luminous to look forward to on the other side of all this.

While moving through the week's quieter hours I found myself in an antique shop in Martinez, where I came across a collection of Victorian cabinet card portraits — and discovered, somewhat to my astonishment, that some of them were photographed right here in Oakland. I noted the studio markings and intend to dig into the history. These photographs have been quietly forming the seed of what would be Experiment No. 3, but I've made a conscious decision to let that idea wait while I build out the in-person side of DPS first. The community piece is the mission. The experiments are expressions of it, not the other way around.

Summer is here. The pool confirmed it. There will be more days like it before the season is out.