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.

Oh, what a week.

I have no idea what happened because I was pretty much in recovery mode from last week in Taos.

So I’ll pretty much say “Oy, what a week!” … and leave it at that.

No, I’m pretty sure that if I sit here with Selma and Stu, and stare at the screen long enough, we’ll come up with something.

The hard stuff

Whiny!

I’m tired! It’s too hot! My hair is all frizzy and it wasn’t in New Mexico and I want to go back to New Mexico!

Et cetera.

Tired.

And missing being on Retreat. And missing teaching. And missing getting to do Shiva Nata wackiness with a room full of people.

And did I mention the tired?

Seriously, I must have slept twelve hours a night this week. Plus naps.

Many, many naps.

And still tired.

Some horrible person said that Paddy Fermor is gone.

He’s not.

It turned out to be a mean, fake rumor.

But it totally shook me up. Like, I cried.

If you do not know Patrick Leigh Fermor and you haven’t yet read A Time of Gifts …

I don’t even know what to say. He means so much to me.

And he’s ninety-four, and typing the final installment of his travel memoirs (after finally agreeing to use a ’51 Olivetti to expedite the process) after decades of writing it all out by hand.

Anyway, I was much relieved to find out that he’s okay. But it was just so much sad. So so so so so much sad.

Thursday.

Thursday was hellish.

I spent most of it under the covers feeling sorry for myself.

Leaving New Mexico.

Did I mention that New Mexico is my new favorite-favoritest state ever?

Because it is. Enchantment is exactly the right word.

So leaving that enormous sky and the smells and the green-chiles-on-everything (yum!) was full of sad and wistful.

The good stuff

Coming back to Portland.

In the airport this kid with long hair was skateboarding down the automated walkway people-mover-ey thing.

And my gentleman friend and I looked at each other and went, oh, Portland! We have missed you!

It’s a good town. Plus it’s full of berries. Berries! Really good ones. And Portlanders. So I really can’t complain.

And being safe at home in Hoppy House is pretty great too.

Also, my gentleman friend roasted chiles he brought back from Chimayo and made me the most fantastic chile rellenos de queso and I might be even slightly more impressed with him than I already was.

Traditions and rituals.

It’s just so good being back in routine.

We saw Mr. Pants!

Speaking of traditions, we (me and my gentleman friend and my brother, but not Selma) went out for our weekly non-Hoppy-House dinner.

And then we ran into Sparky Firepants (Mr. Pants!) and his adorable almost-two-year-old son who is just ridiculously charming.

I felt kind of bad that Selma wasn’t there, because kids love Selma. But I was also kind of glad that she’s such a loner sometimes because kids also drool on her and she hates that.

My pirate tech genius rocks.

Remember when I wrote a Very Personal Ad for someone to do mad moodling and various bits of magical tech wizardry for me?

So I just want to say that I am madly in love with Charlotte Bowen. Charlotte! I adore you!

Hiro is amazing.

I’m pretty much addicted to her particular brand of wackiness and healing (you know Hiro, right?)

And I try to do a session with her at least once a week.

But she just knocked me out this time. Just the most amazing everything-is-better-now thing that I can’t even describe.

Jaw-droppingly great.

I wrote a blog post in the afternoon.

Normally I can only write in the morning.

Any time between 5:30 am to sometime before noon works fine, and then I’m done.

For years I’d tried to force it, and then I just gave myself permission to be a morning writer. Which made life considerably better.

But on Wednesday? I wrote a blog post. At about 4:30 in the afternoon.

Even though it was waaaaaaay past my brain time, as Patsi would say.

Awesome.

And … new 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.”

So this week, I bring you:

Hardcore Heinzelmännchen*

Me: “I just dropped peas all over the stairs.”

My gentleman friend: “Is that a Hardcore Heinzelmännchen reference? Because you know … it’s just one guy.”

Yes!

*Thanks to the brilliant @westernworld_ (one of my german twitter friends) who came up with this one!

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.

I didn’t use Stu all that much this week because he kept getting stuck on capitalizing each word and I couldn’t find the command (not like he really listens to that many commands anyway) to make him stop.

And then at one point he actually said gay long instead of “internal”. I’m not even kidding. And that weirded me out so much that I actually went and pressed quit and started again.

My other favorite from this week?

but it’s not Qual instead of “but it’s not cool”

Uh, am I a valley girl? What is that accent?

Okay. The rest of the Stuisms:

  • Guinevere I see Harry instead of “whenever I see her”
  • I owe you say the fist thing instead of “I always say the first thing”
  • “Tom?” instead of “Huh?”
  • who are the Way more dignified than IM instead of “who are way more biggified than I am.”
  • un-entire weekend instead of “an entire weekend.”

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.

The Fluent Self