Friday chickenBecause 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.


This week kind of went by in a blur.

But here we are.

Yup. It’s definitely Friday. No getting around that.


The hard stuff

Wrong side of bed.

A couple of days this week just didn’t work. As days.

I don’t know. Kept losing my clarity. Or couldn’t find it to begin with.

Just lost in the foggy and the fuzzy. And it took me TWO HOURS to do Wednesday’s post (which was half-completed when I started).



Speaking of Wednesday, it was brutal.

Not grounded. Depressed. Summer. Way too hot. Groggy. In bed. Miserable.

Also in pain. Arms hurt. Head hurt. Stitches hurt.

It was just generally not fun to be me on Wednesday.

It is also not fun to be me in the summer.

I tend to forget this every single year, but I really don’t do well with summer.

Pretty much everything horrible that has every happened to me has happened in the summer.

And the associations tend to catch up with me. Once I remember that oh, right, this is just my annual bout of summer misery, I can start to move through it.

But it takes me a while to get there.

Putting down baskets.

On Monday we had Jen Hofmann do a genius guest class for my Kitchen Table people and I begged her to do her awesome “how many baskets am I holding?” exercise with us.

Man, recognizing how many symbolic freaking baskets I’m carrying at any given moment is depressing. And carrying them is exhausting.

And putting them down is scary and hard. But I did it. Or worked on it, at any rate … which leads me to the good.

The good stuff

Putting down baskets.

I finally got around to canceling the VIP options on all of my products.*

*If you’ve already ordered one before yesterday, you can still totally do your session with me. So no worries.

Also finished planning the curriculum for two programs so that those baskets can go to the closet until I’m ready for them.

I looked at my baskets. And even though I love the stuff in them …

Down. They. Go.

Extreme self-care.


Seriously, I’ve been treating it like an extreme sport that I’ve just gotten completely addicted to.

This is also hard, but I’m really, truly making this a practice.

Naptime. Trips to the Angel Refueling Station (aka my meditation closet). Bed. Kindness. Permission.

All the stuff that’s hard for me but really, really good for me.

So that’s a win.

Rose City Roller Derby Finals!

Okay, so admittedly my beloved Guns ‘N Rollers came in fourth, cough, last.

But the Breakneck Betties beat the High Rollers in a brutal fast-paced super-exciting bout and that was very cool.

And Danielle was there. And Dana the Spicy Princess. And our bartender. And a billion other people. And I love Portland.

Actually knowing people to run into.

So yeah, that’s a sign that hey, we live here now.

Because in San Francisco, I never ran into anyone. And in Sacramento, I didn’t even meet anyone.

But somehow in Portland the whole “knowing people” thing is working for us. This is new. And fantastic. So hooray!

We (my gentleman friend and I) even ran into our acupuncturist at the Neko Case concert. And if that doesn’t prove we live in Portland, I don’t know what does.

My gentleman friend made homemade ravioli.

With porcini mushrooms from the farmer’s market.

Oh, and he also made his own sourdough starter this week.

Because, you know, it’s not enough that he’s smart and funny and completely gets me and is the world’s biggest goofball and I love him. RAVIOLI!

And … STUISM 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.

Ooh! This one might actually be my favorite Stuism ever …

I was talking to Stu and my gentleman friend was yelling “What?“, because this often happens when you talk to yourself converse with software.

Especially when you’re shouting things like “Work already, you stupid piece of crap!”

Anyway, I yelled “I’m not talking to you–I’m talking to STU!

But I forgot to silence Stu and he wrote it down. Except that he didn’t write what I actually said.

Instead he wrote:

“I’m not talking a deal to Congress on August 2!”


The rest of this week’s Stuisms:

  • it encloses UN instead of “it closes you in”
  • beer is healthy instead of “fear is healthy”
  • When we strapped on instead of “when we eavesdropped”
  • Prince of pal instead of “principle”
  • Or hmmm instead of “okay”
  • we cannot tax a sum of missed communication instead of “we can unpack some of this miscommunication”
  • him is like pure myth instead of “seem less like a pyramid”
  • and a DVD for personal ads instead of “an itty bitty personal ad”
  • a gray base for teaching workshop’s instead of “a great space for teaching workshops”
  • the endless psych of Moore crappy beans created instead of “the endless cycle of more crap being created”

And … new 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:

Spontaneous Fruit Party

Me: “Did you catch Spontaneous Fruit Party at the Wonder Ballroom? They were opening for the Pneumatic Mushrooms.”
Ez: “Dude. I heard it’s just one guy.”


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.