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.

Won’t you?

Oh, hooray. I knew you would.

Let’s do this thing.

The hard stuff

Not having shelves yet.

It’s just part of moving. But it makes everything a little harder.

Thanksgiving.

You’re “supposed to” like it and I don’t.

Actually, I resent anything that messes with my work, my routine and my yoga practice.

I also resent most things that requires me to put on shoes.

Of course it ended up being really, really fun and I had an amazing time. And at the same time, I’m still thinking maybe next year I should just leave town.

Or admit to everyone I know that I’m an anti-social barefoot hermit and that you really, really don’t want me at your party. Hmm, would anyone believe me?

The flood of email I haven’t answered yet.

Apparently every single thing I wrote this week (except for the Item! post on Wednesday) triggered something deep in almost everyone who reads this blog — I got insane amounts of email reaction, some of which was extremely emotional.

I haven’t dealt with it yet. I’m sorry. You’re all in my thoughts. I love you all. I’m just not ready (yet) to sit down and answer these.

Not everyone is honest.

One of the crappy, challenging things this week was learning that stupid, annoying life lesson again. The one I have trouble remembering.

Anyway, apparently someone found an unlocked backdoor into one of my products and decided to pass the link around in an online forum.

Wow. That sucks. And yes, I know. I know.

I always figured, what the heck. If someone’s going to work the system, they’re going to work the system.

But now that it’s actually happened … I just feel disappointed. As in “Yeah, I knew I should have had a better lock on my bike, but I really like all the neighborhood kids who hang out in my yard.”

So I’m doing the thing I didn’t want to do and moving it all to expiring links.

Sorry, guys. I know it’s no fun to get that “you must download this right this second” message when you buy something. But this feels like something I need to do to take care of my right people.

The wrong ones shouldn’t be here anyway. Please don’t give me advice on this — I don’t want it … but if you want to give me a hug, that’s cool.

The good stuff

Michael Chabon was in Portland!

Michael Chabon! In Portland!

So my gentleman friend and I went to see him speak and it was fantastic. We’re both fans, and he’s a terrific speaker, very funny, with that wonderfully wry, twisted Jewish humor that you don’t get a lot of in the Pacific Northwest.

What was weird, though, was realizing that he and my gentleman friend are contemporaries. Michael Chabon is three years older, but he’s so obviously a total grown up.

Whereas I think of my gentleman friend as … you, know, kind of like me. A person. But not like, an adult.

It’s not like either one of them is especially mature and sensible. Nor are they especially immature or insensible.

So I don’t know what creates that distinction. Is it because Michael Chabon has four kids? Because of the Pulitzer? Because he’s on a stage and we’re in the audience?

But I digress. It was awesome. Michael Chabon! I’m assuming you’ve already read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, but you really should also read The Yiddish Policemen’s Union.

Caveat: you might need someone who speaks Yiddish to explain a lot of the jokes but it’s still a good read even if you miss out on some of the subtext.

Which I probably shouldn’t have said, because I can feel the “email flood” expanding right there. Whoops.

I has a friend!

Jen Hofmann, whose life-changingly fantastic Inspired Organizing course prompted me to write the very same personal ad that drew me and Hoppy House together, made a big crazy trip to visit me.

She got the official tour of Hoppy House and oohed and aahed appropriately.

And then we spent four hours at the kitchen table drinking tea and talking about everything under the sun. I heart Jen. What a blessing.

A chunk of unpacking! Done!

I think it’s now fair to say that we are mostly unpacked.

Starting to feel like I actually live here. Hoppy House! Turning into Hoppy Home?

We shall see.

Thanksgiving.

Despite all my neuroses documented above, it was a heck of a good time.

Dana the Spicy Princess
and her charming husband “Ranch Boy” (don’t ask) are really, really fun.

Everyone there was lovely, and we all got to say things we weren’t grateful for, which is right up my alley.

And the food was out of this world. Dana made an artichoke-cheese-something-or-other that was yummy. And there were potatoes and sweet potatoes without sugar and salad dressing without sugar. And my beloved brussel sprouts.

At the three other Thanksgivings I’ve been to, being vegetarian and sugar-free pretty much ensures that the whole thing will be one, long miserable ordeal. This was great.

I’m a grownup and you can’t make me!

As some of you know, I don’t play charades. Well, I also don’t play board games.

The thing I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving:

The ability to say “Wait, I’m a grownup. You can’t make me play board games!”

You can’t make me! You can’t make me! You can’t make me!

I’m not really all that mature while standing up for my rights, but stand up for them I did. Ha! Life is good.

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.