Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
See? I was going to call it a Christmas Chicken but that just sounds too much like something someone might eat.
And we don’t eat the chickens.*
If you missed the Zombie Yule thing, that was yesterday. And yes, it’s still fabulous.
* I think I can safely say that my business partner would not be into that, being a duck and all.
The hard stuff
Weird holiday energy.
It’s like the whole continent goes … off kilter, somehow.
And if you’re have big HSP (Highly Sensitive Person) issues like me**, it’s a lot of having to disentangle yourself from everyone else’s stuff.
** Personally, I prefer “delicate violet” or “sensitive goddamn flower” but what are you going to do.
Three. Entire. Days.
That’s how much time got spent on administrative stuff for my Kitchen Table program this week.
Because of systems problems. Because of a snag where certain established “here’s how we do things” bits turned out to be not as established as previously thought.
Spreadsheets and graphs and an enormous bottle of
And a lot of the time I was saying things like this:
“So what you’re saying is that if we can’t have more than 100 people this quarter (which is really 114 people if you include group leaders and admin spots), and we have 16 more spots that are definitely open but it might actually be 27 spots that are open because of this group of haven’t decided if they’re renewing … and if there are 39 people that I can still grant permission to apply, what do I do with the 10 remaining people who got permission to apply two weeks ago but haven’t applied yet? Wait, is that even right?”
And then wondering why I had a headache.
So yes. I learned a bunch of stuff to do differently for next year’s switchover, if there is one, but this was also annoying because I really, truly thought I had already learned all my tough, expensive, painful lessons this year.
An old hurt.
Back for a visit.
Big surprise there.
It was going to be a crazy busy week this week before the Kitchen Table crises started.
Big balagan. And no patience for it.
The good stuff
A few of those tough, expensive, painful lessons got resolved this week.
And whatever needed to get sorted did — or at least enough that I can move on and not take the crappy-ness into the new year with me.
Flannel sheets. Are the best.
Last week I decided that Hoppy House needed a present.
And bought these outrageously soft, warm flannel sheets in a deep, rich cranberry red.
Since, as we all know, I have big issues around anything that seems “extravagant” (which according to my stucknesses is everything) this involved a lot of talking to my stuff.
So it’s really a double win. One, I talked to my stuff and was able to feel okay bringing more comfort into my life. And then now I get to enjoy Extreme Snuggliness. It’s a sport. I mean, it should be a sport.
In related news, the hardest thing to do this week was get out of bed since it was so completely lovely being in it.
The Kitchen Table.
So much amazingness happens there. My favorite thing is people recognizing where they were a year ago as opposed to where they are now.
The recognition of what it’s like to go from a person who stews and agonizes over every decision and every new step to being the person who knows how to ask for things, how to resolve things, how to set boundaries and how to own their stuff.
Also, reading the applications makes me laugh. The happy kind of laughing. Because they get it.
Also they stay stuff like this:
“Hoping to join in the crazy cake-fight-ful warm-fuzzy-fest that I expect is the Kitchen Table.”
I started listening to music again.
I have hardly been able to listen to anything since finding out about my friend who is dead. There are maybe two albums that don’t make me fall apart.
This week I listened. To lots of things. I even bought some things on iTunes. And a bunch of CDs from the Carolina Chocolate Drops.
And I only cried a few times.
Presents! Cards! Gorgeousness.
Surprises in my mailbox from so many lovely people.
Thank you, all of you.
And … playing live at the meme beach house!
Yes, that’s a Stuism too.
My brother and I have this thing where we come up with ridiculous band names and then say in this really pretentious, knowing tone, “Oh, well, you know, it’s just one guy.”
So this week, I bring you:
Pig Neon Flashing Letters.
This one somehow emerged from the Kitchen Table chatroom so who knows what we were talking about.
But I can definitely assure you that it’s just one guy.
And … STUISMS of the week.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in
torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him.
The gems from this week. What an acetyl.
- last night in a sunny addition to Penthouse instead of “last night on earth zombie gingerbread house”
- Pennock homophobia instead of “enochlophobia“
- if you dismissed the zombie hosting instead of “if you missed the zombie yule thing”
- I was going to Gothic Christmas chicken instead of “I was going to call it a Christmas Chicken”
- hustle the panty comforts instead of “possibility of empty cupboards”
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.
Happy Zombie Yule!