Friday chickenIn which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of ritual and self-reflection.

And you get to join in if you feel like it.

The hard stuff

The letter that I didn’t want to receive.

Well, not the letter that I didn’t want to receive. That would have been unbearable.

But a letter of love that still hurt.

Being toast on Friday.

This always always happens after Rally, to the point that I pretty much just schedule it in.

But somehow it hit harder than usual this time.

Being toast on Saturday.

That was from not going to bed on Friday night.

Up until four in the morning.

Admittedly, up until four in the morning enjoying the hell out that. But Havi on no sleep cannot do conscious entry, and without that everything else kind of falls apart.

Havi needs her sleeps.

No regrets. Just a reminder for the Book of Havi.


Worn out.

A difficult situation and I don’t know what to do about it.


It isn’t really a difficult situation. It’s just that I don’t want to deal with it. It’s a design problem, it has a design solution. Somewhere.

Not on my way to Boston.

Moments of sad to very-sad.

Sadness and old pain.


Every time I didn’t do entry.


The worst.

Too much going on.


The good stuff

Found a new just-right cafe.

Thank you, hidden clew that lead me there.

A stone does an unexpected thing.

Hmm. Intriguing.

Playdate playdate and more playdate.

I will [silent retreat!] on the details and instead will just beam a radiant smile of delight and contentment about this.

Basically this entire week just turned into one long uninterrupted playdate of playfulness.

It made everything better this week. Over and over again.

Also it made a really hard thing that was going on so much more bearable.

I am happy. About this. And words are being weirdly useless right now, so just: know that.

Under the tree.

Yoga in the park with Danielle. Under a giant tree.

Pinecone shaped bruises. Tiny twigs everywhere.

Happiness and delight. Soft breeze. EARTH. My god.

I did not have to have any stressful horrible conversations this week.

So that was a new fun development that made this week different than the last several.

I was actually social this week, how bizarre, and it was fun, how bizarre.

This is highly unusual.

Aside from the one thousand nights of playdates. I guess that is a form of social too.

I finally had that drink with Lizz, eight months later. She’s great. She’s on a mission, you guys. Pay attention. Also her dog Oliver is my new best friend.

Also Jenny and I have ACTUAL PLANS to, I don’t know, paint the town red or drink tea and fall asleep, more likely. The point is, this is all new.

And I ran into Emily on the bus, and this was the most perfectly timed thing in the world.

Beach day.

With Lady Chuck.

It made everything better.

I’m actually glad I’m not in Boston today.

So that worked out well, I guess.


One of the most painful of the many, many painful things in these past six months was the loss of a friendship that was incredibly important to me.

This week I leaned into friends.

Michelle and Marisa and Danielle and Chuck.

The best thing. Well, aside from playdating.

The tiniest of tiny children, at the beach, wearing a shirt that says Play Or Get Out Of The Way! And nothing else.

I approve wholeheartedly.

I wanted to write all week.

And I even put stuff here.

All the words.

Let’s start with eight, because I always start with eight.

How about vernacular and flash and reaction and romp?

Crossing, intensity, namings and tug.

Words are the best.

An amazing sparkling visit with my business mentor.

We speak a secret language, and we tear stuff apart, and it’s amazing.


Me, on Wednesday: “I feel so excited that I can’t stop moving! I need to go aerobics and do fabulous cheesy 80s moves to disperse some of this! Okay, now I need to go to dance class! Wait, I still need more dancing!”

Me, Thursday: “No, still excited! More dancing? How about a two hour walk and then another couple hours of yoga, just to calm down a little?”

Me, Thursday night: “Why do my calves hurt?” … pause …. crash.

Today! Today is my secret royal coronation at the royal courthouse.

I have been waiting for this for a very long time. Today I am meeting Incoming Me, and maybe we are also going out to brunch. This is all because of shiva nata, and it is amazing.

Havi Bell! Come in, come in. Let’s reverberate. Let’s ring all the bells.

What a pleasure. This. Is. Pleasure.

From the archives.

Some old, weirdly pertinent posts that I don’t remember having written, encountered while looking for something else:

Tabstravaganza! Or: what’s Havi been up to with all those open Firefox tabs?

  • Read this. Amy’s marvelous post about monsters and understandings.
  • Our Eve is doing the most amazing thing.
  • Okay, I am so very much out of the loop (out of all the loops) of pop culture, and I hadn’t even heard the Call Me Maybe song until last week. I’d only heard people bemoaning its existence slash all the covers. So this is probably the last thing you want to see but I don’t care because Cookie Monster! And also because “Snicker-doo-dell” is the best pronunciation ever. And also the line “please someone call the girl scouts”. This fills me with delight. Snicker-doo-dell.

Playing live at the meme beach house — it’s the Fake Band of the Week!

Background? Ez and I make up bands. Stu (retired Bolshevik-fearing voice-to-text software) once translated “people will hate me and be jealous” to “they’ll hang out at my Meme Beach House“. It’s just one guy.

This week’s band:

Bothered By Pomelos.

You might have heard their first album: LINGUAL COLLISIONS.

And yes, it turns out that it’s really just one guy.

I stole both of these excellent names from Nick.

Hallo Hallo! I am saying Hallo Hallo. Announcement time.

Picture me wearing that crazy hat

I recommend the monster coloring book. It worked several miracles this week for pretty much everyone at Rally.

Also the September Rally is sold out, so try to come February.

That’s it for me …

Join my Friday ritual in the comments if you feel like it. Or call silent retreat!

We let people have their own experience. We’re supportive and welcoming. And we don’t give advice (unless people specifically ask for it).

Wishing you a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come.

I am lighting my candle. You can light one with me if you want.

p.s. It’s fine if it’s not Friday anymore. There’s complete chicken amnesty — join in whenever (or not) and it’s no big deal.

Soundtrack of this week…

Here you go. Dance it up.

That’s what I’m doing.

The Fluent Self