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.

One hundred and eight of them.

Anyway. It’s Friday! Time to chicken.

Which, by the way, I protest as being thoroughly preposterous. Friday? There is no way whatsoever that Friday could be here again.

Clearly my calendar is full of the crazy. That is the only reasonable explanation I’m willing to accept.

The hard stuff

Soreasaurus mouse. I am one.

First the sore back from nightmares and thrashing around unhappily.

Then exacerbated by spending an entire day clearing out the Pirate Queen quarters at the Playground and doing way more heavy lifting than was good for me.

I’m sorry, sweet body of mine. That was not nice. You are right to be annoyed with me. I will try not to forget that we are twice as old as we are in my head.

Sadness and memories.

Worked through a lot of crap this week.

Old stuff. Getting closer to resolving some of it. Still not fun, though. Surprisingly.


My gentleman friend’s car was run into (he was fine) in New Mexico, and the bill that we might or might not have to pay is exorbitant and depressing.

Trying to maintain faith that this will be taken care of and not by us.

The heat wave that will not end.

Enough. Really. I would like my brain back, please.


We were at the airport way too many times this week.

And I always think that picking someone up won’t be a big deal but then it somehow devolves into chaos and absurdity.

Delays and miscommunications and we never remember to pack food and water because we never expect it to be an ordeal but then it is an ordeal.

Too many ordeals this week. I am done.

And just generally tired, cranky and ready to hide under a bed for a while.

Yes, well.

The good stuff

Yard sale fabulousness in our neighborhood. Score!

Oh, I bought the most perfect and delightful presents for my dear, sweet Playground. For practically nothing. Schnäppchen!

We are now the proud owners of two hobby horses, an assortment of alphabet blocks and puzzles, a pirate trunk and spiderman on a motorcycle.

Awesome. As were the thoroughly entertaining conversations that accompanied this.

Neighbors down the block: “Wow, so how old are your kids?” Me: “Huh?”

Even more shivanautical epiphanies. Hot!

I do Shiva Nata and then I have unbelievably brilliant ideas and then run around shouting gleefully about what a genius I am.

It is probably extremely annoying for everyone else in my life but oh the fun for me.

I did a smart thing.

Not letting Mack (the laptop, of course) stay home but instead having him sleep at the Playground.

Less internet-ing. More designated times and spaces for computerizing.

This was a very good thing.

Clarity and spaciousness and things like that.

Hugely energized from a session with Hiro, my sister-in-silliness-and-wonder, I performed minor miracles.

That is to say, I cleared out my office and the bedroom closet and entirely transformed the Pirate Queen Quarters at the Playground.

It took an entire weekend but it is making everything better.

Summer! It is so delicious I can hardly stand it.

The farmers market!

Peaches and nectarines. Blackberries! Cherry tomatoes and basil on my gentleman friends’s homemade sourdough bread.

Homemade cheeses.

Red pepper soup!

At least seven times a day I declare whatever it is I’m currently consuming to be the ambrosia of the gods and then I must immediately swoon again on the nearest fainting couch.


My dear, sweet Jane, the friend I do not get to see nearly as often as I would like, was in Portland for THREE WHOLE DAYS and I got to monopolize her time completely.

So lovely.

Hope and trust.

The notion that one day I will be okay (and not just okay but ENTHUSIASTIC) about the having space that is just for me.

The idea that I will gleefully claim it and no longer be ambivalent and/or resentful about space and having it …

This is a hard thing for me right now, but feeling hopeful about it is really good.

Gigantic full moon plus porch swing plus blackberries.

Really, summer is blissful.

And … playing live at the meme beach house: it’s the Fake Band of the Week!

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.”

This week I’m delighted to introduce you to:

Nubble Dots

This is from @butwait on Twitter. You will love this band. Of course that it’s really just one guy.

And … the not hard and not good but occasionally kind of accidentally hilarious.

So there’s this guy on Twitter who also goes by a name that sounds like mine but his has a second v.

And his friends are either not especially bright or not perceptive or both, because they are constantly tweeting things to me that are meant for him.

It is quite clear when this happens because my people do not (generally) misspell things in extravagant ways, nor do they (generally) say things to me about jesus or partying or partying with jesus.

So I know that a person who has just said something especially bizarre and nonsensical to me (but not the usual kind of bizarre and nonsensical that I would totally expect from say, you) will turn out to be one of the other Havi people.

Anyway, it happens all the time but for some reason this week it was more entertaining than usual.

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 day and a restful weekend-ing.

And a happy week to come. Shabbat shalom.

The Fluent Self