Because 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.

That was one helluva week, is all I’m saying.

Well, that and the other sixty five thousand things that I’m saying.

Onward. The week must be Chickened.

The hard stuff

Ow. Tired. Ow.

Over-doing. Lots of doing.

Basically, stuff related to doing.

Things-going-wrong in weird and stupid ways.

All somehow related to coldness? And discomfort.

The heating in our hotel didn’t work. Or, not without smelling like burning hotel room.

We had to move rooms. After a couple days, so all of our stuff was unpacked and I had to teach a class and gaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Then we got back from California and the pipes were frozen.

That was Tuesday and there’s still no water in the kitchen. Lovely.

This has to stop.

I get that people say hard things because they’re feeling hurt. Sometimes it’s a question. Sometimes it’s more of a hurled shoe. Or it feels like one.

And I’m really, really ready to have more people in my life who can take responsibility for their stuff instead of projecting it on me.

This happened in about six different ways this week, so clearly this is a thing to work with.

Sleeplessness + excruciating high-pitch noise = migraine + misery.

Being woken up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday because of Asshat With Leafblower outside the window of our hotel.

After having taught all day Friday and being about to teach all day Sunday, being completely wiped out and in need of rest.

And then complaining bitterly at the local bar (yes, Twitter) and having people be unsympathetic. I mean, sympathy when things suck: it’s what the bar is for.

I’d already had a rude awakening, thank you very much. Two seems a bit much.

And then I avoided the bar for a while, which also wasn’t fun.

Speaking of migraines…

I like my un-laws.* A lot. They are sweet people, and they have really made a point of welcoming me into their thing. And the kids are super cute.

It’s just that I don’t do well with background noise. Or anything squeaky. And an entire day of high-pitched kid-squealing as the default background sets off my HSP-ism.

So I went into hardcore Highly Sensitive Person mode and the inside of my head may have exploded. Or something.

It felt like there wasn’t any me in there anymore. Working on it.

*Unlawful in-laws, yes?

Enormous piles of work stuff.

Obviously this was made more crazy by all the traveling.

Even the fun parts of it (like reviewing seventy-jillion applications for the Kitchen Table and Biggification 2010 and the Destuckification Retreat) just take a crazy long time.

The good stuff

My right people!

The Sacramento Biggification Day workshop. I kind of talked about this in my Very Personal Ad, but man.

The people who came were so cool. The day was so intense. I had so much fun. And my people are having breakthroughs. Whoo. Breakthroughs!

*dances jig*

My people are amazing. And they came from everywhere (London, New York, Chicago, Seattle, Tucson) just to spend a day with me . And working with them is a huge high.

I feel inspired just thinking about them.

Getting to teach in a new environment.

The reason I was in Sacramento was that I was flown out to spend a day teaching at a yoga teacher training.

The theme was … “how to be a yoga teacher and still make money doing it, without becoming some horribly cheesy, sleazy person or having to go back to an office job”.

Or something like that.

So I got to hang out with twenty bright, fun, yoga-teachers-to-be, talking about biggification, right people and all that stuff that we love.

I didn’t know what it would be like, since these aren’t my people. But it turned out they totally were. And we had a blast.

And they asked smart questions. And we did some Shiva Nata. And had some epiphanies. It was awesome.

Sacramento.

Selma and my gentleman friend and I did everything we like!

We had sandwiches at Dad’s. And pizza at Zelda’s. And a spicy breakfast at some greasy spoon whose name escapes me.

Visit with the un-laws.

My gentleman friend’s parents and sisters really love him. And they love me because he does. I appreciate both of those things.

And I made it!

Jew-ey tree-hugging vegetarian urban me spent an entire day in conservative, small town, evangelical America (what I believe is now known as “real America”) and … it was fine. It was fun.

And I’m pretty sure I didn’t accidentally blurt out anything related to potentially dangerous topics (climate change, queer culture, songs we used to sing at socialist summer camp, our dreamboat president), so phew.

Quote of the day (care of my gentleman friend’s seven year old nephew):

“Look at me! I’m kicking a rock!”

Policy updates. Finally.

Got around to doing a bunch of tiny but not unimportant edits to my Official Boring Policy page. Since, apparently, there were bits that were confusing.

Normally I dislike doing policy-related things, but this time I documented my Steps In The Process (it’s just one guy) and turned what I learned into a teaching tool for my Kitchen Table people.

So that was good.

Reading the Kitchen Table applications.

I have smart, interesting, lovely, schweet people who get it. They say things like this:

“Let me just say that even if I don’t make it to the Kitchen Table this time around, and no matter what else, THANK YOU. Thank you so much for everything you do here. For everything you’ve done, even though you might not have realized you were doing it, for me.”

“Writing my answers to these questions has been such a useful exercise that even if I don’t get in, I still feel grateful.”

Man, I feel so lucky to have people like this wanting to be a part of what I do.

First candle. Tonight!

It’s Hannukah in 3, 2, 1 … well, tonight it will be.

Yup. Chag urim sameach, y’all.

I know the candles will make everything cheerier. Looking forward to a week of it.

And … playing live 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.”

This week it’s all about:

Mangled Syntax

Me: “Sorry about the mangled syntax.”
My gentleman friend: “Mangled Syntax? You know it’s just one guy, right?”

And … STUISMS 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.

Anyway, the gems from this week, including Stu’s acetyl Freudian slips.

• “Misstep is not as good anymore” instead of the stuck that’s not supposed to be there anymore
• “for that stronger standing moral abuse experienced hit” instead of for that visceral understanding where all of you has experienced it
• “sorry but the mangled sin tax” instead of sorry about all the mangled syntax
• “how many more years a pooper processing this to the ugliness” instead of how many more years of over-processing this to death
• “Hubby chooses to raw fest some punk” instead of Havi chooses to process some gunk
• “closeted guys” instead of also, guys?

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.