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.


So last week I made brave statements about how I wasn’t going to spend my Friday check-in (or chicken, if you prefer) complaining about being in pain.

And I’m quite proud of myself for lasting a whole week, but that’s as far as it goes.

We are going to have to talk about the pain.

The hard

Did I mention the pain!?!

Adjusting to this new and (she types hopefully) temporary handicap…

Yes, I’m trying on hopeful, but I keep getting distracted by how hard it is.

Also, I’m learning just how much I think with my hands.

I’m pretty good at not talking with my hands — as long as I’m not speaking Hebrew.

But talking to a client without taking notes? Even thinking to myself or teasing out an idea… I don’t know how to do it without simultaneously scribbling like mad. My hands want to move and write and create. And they can’t.

Talking posts instead of typing them is a nightmare. It takes twice as long to come up with something half as good.

My writing style is “edit as you go”. Yes, I know that most everyone advises against this, but that’s what works for me. I write fastest, most happily and most in flow when I can play as I go. That’s what’s fun for me. Sculpting and polishing. Leaping and retreating.

I love to write so much. And now I can’t.

I mean, obviously I’m doing it right now. But because I’m speaking it — and because editing as I go is way too complicated for Stu (as I’ve provisionally named my text-to-speech software) — what comes out is something that is never quite the thing I want.

But of course I can’t not write.

Words and ideas flow out of me completely of their own accord and not giving them voice is the most painful thing I can think of. Well, second to the moment right after I take my arms out of the ice bath.

The ice baths.

Did I say massage therapist? Because I meant to say my Dungeon Master.

Every two hours I have to plunge my arms in a bath of ice and Epsom salt.

I’ve nothing else to say about this other than that it’s the bane of my existence and it had better freaking help. Because it hurts. So. Much.

The identity crisis.

Not being able to really work or write or do the things that I normally do during the day is wreaking havoc on my sense of what my work is really about.

I’m sure things will clear up and find their way into right relationship. In the meantime, all this transition and newness is a little too much for me.

Can we move on to the good now? I’m ready for it.

The good

Making a difference.

So Naomi and I did our “let’s not be impressed by the recession” call on Wednesday.

And it was so much fun! You wouldn’t think that talking about something so depressing would be fun at all, but we came up with so many ideas and so much inspiration. And we just had a good time.

We’ve been getting some amazing feedback — pretty much everyone reported burning through pages and pages of notes, and are now taking steps and getting stuff done and feeling good about life in general.

I can’t think of anything better than that.

Cairene MacDonald rocks my world.

I’m taking her class on having a better relationship with time and where it goes. And I also signed up for six coaching sessions.


We did the first one this week, and I’m already feeling more positive about the possibility of making useful changes than I’ve ever been before.

She’s so not one of those rah-rah cheerleader coaches. She totally gets how I think, and all of her suggestions and insights are remarkably useful for me.

Also she gave me official permission to not have to make lists and then prioritize the things on them. Ha! I hate prioritizing things and every single book I’ve ever read about time management tells me I have to. Oh my god — awesome.

Ezra still lives here!

Still great. Still fun.

This week we went and invented a new dance form. Had some crazy pun runs with my gentleman friend. And went on a Walking Expotition to North Portland.

Also, he’s earning his keep by making a variety of cheeses, which endears him to us even more. If you can imagine such a thing.

This isn’t really a good thing, but …

Yes, since I am not in the most cheerful of moods and cannot come up with any more good things…

I thought I’d entertain you with some of the more amusing things that Stu (my voice to text software — yes, it’s short for “work, you Stupid piece of crap!”) has come up with this week:

  • It’s turned “dignify” into “deify”,
  • Bullshit into Bolshevik,
  • Massage therapist into mustached checklist,
  • Avoidance into “avoid the ends”,
  • And hurt and disappointment into “her dentist appointment”.

Oh, and here’s my all-time favorite. Every single time I DM Naomi on Twitter to say, “What do you think?” it somehow becomes “What Steve think?”

I quite enjoy thinking that I’m the sort of person who says “What Steve think?”

And that Naomi is the sort of person who could answer that.

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.

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