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.
I don’t even know what to say about this week.
Other than that it was pretty crappy, with some surprisingly good bits thrown in.
But that the good bits showed up at all the right times.
And that is actually pretty great in and of itself. Shall we chicken?
*waves to the Chickeneers of the High Seas*
The hard stuff
Birthday weekend hangover.
Not literally or anything.
But maybe energetically.
Down in the dumps. Dehydrated. Headachey. Miserable. Ugh.
Lost track of the good.
Had a couple days of feeling really disconnected.
And then I couldn’t remember why I do what I do.
And it was not fun. But then I remembered. Whew.
Processing discomfort. And more shoes.
Blah blah. Growth period. Blah. Ick. Stoopid. Tired of it.
Awful treatment at fancy spa place.
Ugh. Worst birthday present to myself ever.
Did I mention the part about everything getting on my nerves or is that already obvious?
Luckily, there was also good stuff.
The good stuff
You guys and my clients and everyone making things better.
Pulled out of my funk (with the assistance of my gentleman friend who took me and my duck out for a breakfast-and-work date) and actually got stuff done.
Had my first genius productive day in a while and it was lovely.
Yet again, my salvation in difficult times.
My gentleman friend pulled out the non-sucky yoga package every single evening after work. And we made creaky sounds (I am, after all, an old Turkish lady) and it was kind of depressing to see how little my body wanted to move, given that I am also a yoga teacher.
But it just made everything better.
A lot better.
So much happy.
And it was exactly what was needed. Mad dancing ensued. Selma loved it.
Much rocking out to Dance of Shiva and having weird, crazy, wonderful understandings.
Big progress on my thing.
Thanks to some emergency Non-Drunk Drunk Pirate Councils with my gentleman friend (more like Morning Bagel Council — aaarrrr!), stuff is moving.
Seriously, all the cards and presents-for-Selma that arrived this week were just charming.
Thanks Janet and Meghan and Megan and Steve and Beth and Michelle and Ingrid (mwah!) and Cairene and my uncle Svevo and everyone else that I’m forgetting at the moment in my current state of being overwhelmed-by-sweetness.
You are all marvelous!
Also my gentleman friend surprised me with a vintage 40s vanity table (remember?!) and it’s gorgeous. And now I can sit on an enormous pink mushroom stool brush my hair in style.
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.”
Dough Conditioner Conspiracy
Yeah. It’s just one guy.
Second runner up: Hollow Bagel Politicians (their latest album is RUBBISH!)
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.