In 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.

This week absolutely zooooomed by.

I’m not even sure how that happened.

And it felt like a pretty good week after these past few extra-extra-challenging ones.

(And everyone breathes a sigh of IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME.)

Anyway, let’s do this. Let’s see what happened.

The hard stuff

So much going on.

The mind. It boggles.

Endings.

They’re a big deal.

Even when you think you’re ready.

Transitions can involve a lot of work.

This weekend was the end of three years of running my Kitchen Table program, an amazing online community of smart, creative, good-hearted people.

Surprisingly, I felt really comfortable and unconflicted about the ending: I am ready for the new thing, and the new thing holds many of the beautiful qualities of the old thing, but it is new and different. And this is the time for exiting.

But transitions are still hard. And sometimes exhausting. There was also a lot of work involved with this particular ending.

Related: I worked the whole weekend, and that sucked.

I try to not work weekends, and last weekend was nothing but work.

And this was not a good way to enter the week, so…. never doing that again. You heard it here first!

Oh, iguanas. Why must you be so iguana-like?

This week had giant piles of iguana and doom, except without the doom.

But definitely iguanas. Or things that were not iguanas but I feared that they were, and so I kind of accidentally turned them into iguanas.

Anxious about a meeting.

The meeting actually went brilliantly, but I had to work through a lot of my own crap to get to the point of being ready for it.

Lots of preparing for the voyage, which was lovely and important. But I got to see what I’m afraid of, and that wasn’t always pretty.

A very tiny misunderstanding.

It got sorted out quickly, but in the moment when it happened… so painful.

Ugh buying clothes is the worst. For me!

So I went out to get clothes for the Director (who is a version of slightly future me).

Gaaaaaaaaaaah. I am so disastrously bad at this.

I never know what to do. Or what anyone is saying.

And it reminds me of my first semester of university in Tel Aviv when I took a course on archaeology and didn’t understand half the class because guess what there are a ridiculous number of words for types of pots.

So of course people at shops always want to know if you prefer a skinny-leg something-something or a slouchy wocka wocka or a boyfriend-style foo-foo-foo, and I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT.

And then I feel stupid and lost. It’s horrible.

Also why have shops been full of ruffled things for the past however many years? When will it stop?!

I generally tend to self-identify as kind of a low-to-medium femme (maybe even someone who could pass as high femme under duress?), but really I would rather walk around in my underwear than be covered in ruffles and frilly bits.

Although my Partner-in-Crime lent me her sweater so I could look like a grown-up at a meeting, and it had ruffles and I was the cutest grown-up ever, so possibly I need to be less harsh in my anti-ruffle stance.

Anyway, feh. Clothes-buying. I just want to have them magically appear in my closet and skip the whole process.

The good stuff

I got four incredibly hard things done on Friday and Saturday.

Things that I wasn’t able to do over the past several weeks, even though they were really taking up a lot of space in my mind.

It felt so good to have that piece finished.

Coming to a decision about something that had been stuck.

I know what I want now.

And I’m okay with wanting it. That feels great.

Bryan!

Remember when I put out a very personal ad post asking for Long, Slow & Deep? And Gaye sent it to me!

This week was the week of doing yoga with Bryan in my living room.

And it was exactly, exactly, exactly what I needed.

Actually, there was lots of yoga this week. Paul-style non-sucky yoga. Some psoas-intensity with Jill. And of course old Turkish lady yoga at the Playground.

Massive progress on the Wish Room.

My much-neglected home office now has lovely periwinkle walls.

And lots and lots of cushions.

Progress!

Congruence. Tiny, baby steps count. For a lot.

I threw things out.

Moved them around.

Change. It’s time.

Many steps closer to the director.

There was an outrageously fruitful meeting with our magical and aptly-named realtor Hope.

I noticed some apologetic shoulder-shruggy appeasement patterns from then that were getting in the way, and this helped me rewrite a letter to make it much more sovereign and in present time.

And now the Director has something to wear. Also a new wallet. Plus her winter boots arrived.

She is closer! it’s all closer!

The boots. Ohmylord the boots.

Guess how many women were in the bathroom on pub night? Guess how many asked me where I got my boots? Yes, it is the same number.

Seriously I cannot even describe how amazing — and Director-like! — the new boots are. The ones that I have been trying to work up the courage to get for her since August.

They’re here. They’re incredible. And I’m not sharing pictures yet because I can’t bear the thought of anyone else ever having them. Sorry.

Getting HELP with the clothing thing.

My friend Rebecca does not find clothing-buying traumatic, but thinks it’s fun. Yet again I am reminded of that familiar piece of Paul-Grilley-truth: people vary!

Anyway, Rebecca is the best. Rebecca took me out on a shopping excursion.

And this was marvelous because she translated for me and told me what to try on and knew all my sizes and was right about everything. Everything.

Plus I knew she was enjoying herself and not suffering along with me.

Also I discovered that it’s actually fun to get clothes for the Director, because my monsters actually want me to be investing in her (if anything, they’re upset about how I don’t respect her enough, even though of course they’re still against the purchasing of clothing for regular me).

Another lovely thing to discover: the Director has fabulously strong opinions. So everything is a clear yes or no. This is great, because when I get stuff for myself, the whole process always feels so doubt-filled and unsure.

Triple-yay.

Saved by the OOD.

Every time I hit a wall this week, the OOD made a new door.

The walk-through.

We did a more formal walk-through of the new Playground space.

With a giant entourage. Me, the First Mate, Partner-in-Crime, Hope the realtor-of-love, architect, plumber, electrician.

And some significantly-more-invisible friends.

It felt really good.

I know a lot more now about how this is going to work, and I’m excited!

A thing I’d thought was going to be crappy turned out to be fine.

That’s all I want to say about that, but yay.

(Also many thanks to Robin for giving me the word egregore, which is such a more beautiful and efficient way to describe something that generally takes me several paragraphs to sum up.)

End of an era.

After three years of running my Kitchen Table program, it came time for deconstruction. As in: taking apart the old and letting the new patterns come into form.

It was time. I was ready. And it feels right.

Also this meant that I had TWO EXTRA HOURS EVERY DAY THIS WEEK!!! Sorry that I’m shouting. It was a really big deal. And way, way, way less of people’s stuff being projected into my space.

I feel the same way I did when I first went on email sabbatical three years ago: Everything is different now.

And also: Who knew there was so much space?

Sweet sweet sleep.

No waking up at 3am this week. Except once.

HUZZAH!

I did it.

My imaginary personal trainer took me through her hardest workout, threatening-promising to break me in half.

And I made it. Bruce Wayne is proud. It was an awesome moment.

Rally starts on Monday!

There is nothing in the entire world that I like better than Rally (Rally!), and we are about to set off on that crazy gorgeous hilarious voyage again.

I can’t wait to find out what’s going to happen there.

The fun part of the Chickening happens here.

From the archives.

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

• A letter from future me to me on my birthday, and now I’m almost there again.
• You don’t need to take the leap. (May, 2009)
• This one about planning without planning — it’s important.
• Also: we don’t need to be big. People forget this.
• Preparing for the arrival of a thing you really want.

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:

Subterranean Power Grab

Though, of course, it’s really just one guy.

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

Picture me wearing that crazy hat…

1. I can always tell when people have the monster coloring book (and manual!) by the way they self-destuckify as their stuff comes up. It’s a combination of graciousness, curiosity and permission that is absolutely amazing to watch. I recommend this.
2. The whisper-brunch is happening for October’s Crossing the Line: the 8 Day Voyage! (password: haulaway). I still need to put up the Over-the-Moonials from last year. Though it’s probably going to be full before I get around to that.

That’s it for me …

And of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments if you feel like it.

Yes? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?

We let people have their own experience, which means that we’re supportive and kind, and we don’t give advice (unless people specifically ask for it).

And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious day, a restful weekend and a happy week to come. Shabbat shalom.

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