What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Item! The meme beach house rides again!
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
I’m having the crappiest week in recent memory.
And the post I’ve written for today is no longer relevant. So I’ve been trying to think of what might cheer me up.
And the only thing I could come up with was pretending it’s Wednesday. So even though, last I heard, it was definitely TOOZDAY, we’re Itemizing.
Because pretending is where I’m at today.
Plus, you have no idea how much fun it is to run around yelling Item!
Highly recommended. Shall we?
Item! Post No. 41 in a series that allows me to justify the time I spend following links for ridiculous things I find on Twitter.
Item! Ohmygod! There IS a meme beach house!
Okay.
So. You know how every Friday Selma and I do a Friday Chicken post … and there’s always the fake band of the week?
And we pretend that the fake band of the week is playing live at the Meme Beach House?
The meme beach house thing is because Stu (my stupid voice to text software) stupidly brilliantly translated “people will hate me and be jealous” to people will hang at my meme beach house.
Anyway. Get this.
There is a Meme Beach House. It’s called … Meme’s Beach House. And it’s in South Carolina.
It’s “a relaxing get away located in one of the most kid-friendly, family-oriented vacation spots in Myrtle Beach.”
Plus there’s apparently great fishing. Hilarious! Heard about it through my friend David who is the one who introduced me to Selma.
Item! Cask conditioned ale, people.
This isn’t such a big deal if you’re lucky enough to live in the UK.
Here we have to take it where we can find it.
So imagine my excitement to find this nutty, wonderful guy named Ted Sobel.
He’s in Oakridge, Oregon (which is tiny and nowhere), but wasn’t going to let that stop him.
From anything, really. But definitely not from opening an awesome pub called Brewers Union Local 180, and focusing on cask ale. Swoon.
He blogs about his trials, travails and pretty much anything else even slightly related here.
Support this guy in any way you can. He needs it.
And expect to read a Friday Chicken that’s all about my adventures in Oakridge, because I plan on having some.
Item! People suck.
This is not so much news as the title/concept of Troy’s great post.
I adore Troy. He’s one of the funniest people at the Twitter bar. He’s pretty much always either annoyed or appalled, and for all the right reasons. He is a gleefully terrible speller.
Oh, and his tagline is “Swimming through sarcastic surf where digital waves crash violently on the beach of all that is good and pure.”
What’s not to like? Just thinking about him and his particular brand of determined bitterness makes me happy. What can I say. Sarcasm loves company.
This particular post, though was especially sweet, somehow.
“Yesterday my son once again protested the necessity of scholastic boredom. However, what caught my attention was that instead of the familiar ‘school is not fun’ critique, my son didn’t want to venture into the land o standardized testing for a more disturbing reason……”
He’s @tdjensen on Twitter.
Item! A completely delightful tale of a very odd cafe.
This post is called Kashiwa Mystery Cafe and you absolutely have to read it.
It’s marvelous.
The bit I’m quoting has nothing to do with the actual post, but I’m quoting it anyway because it made me laugh. Which, sadly, does not happen as often as it should, given that there is not really a shortage of funny in the world.
“In some regions of China, for example, it’s normal to be followed for blocks by plucky street vendors, with sooty caps and using the Chinese word for “guv’nor” (??), trying to sell the hapless tourist genuine 24k goldique watches, small angry turtles, expired pudding, and the like.
But that simply doesn’t happen in Japan — just like it also probably doesn’t happen in China either because I’ve never been there and this entire paragraph is based only on bad movies and stereotypes.”
And now you have to go read about that crazy, wonderful cafe.
Got to this from the lovely @relsqui on Twitter.
Item! A call about Sovereignty! Awesome.
I’ve written quite a lot about Sovereignty — the sometimes elusive quality of not giving a damn what other people think and just being who you are.
Hiro is teaching a class. On this. On Friday. And not charging for it.
“Dear trolls, trying so hard to be good friends, to keep us travelers safe from harm. They are loyal. And notoriously short-sighted. They can’t see much beyond the ends of their noses.
So, to them, that path to freedom that feels so solid under my feet is a blur of what-ifs and yes-buts, of thorn and thistle, precipice and danger. “
Read her post about it and sign up.
She’s @hiroboga on Twitter.
Item! Professional jealousy.
This post is from Luann Udell.
“There’s something no one will tell you, when you start your journey pursuing your art.
It can get lonely out there.”
She’s @LuannUdell on Twitter.
Item! Everything is (still) a bar.
My wonderful friend Nathan Bowers who was one of my first friends at the Twitter bar shares my propensity to turn everything good into a bar.
Only because it’s the best metaphor there is. If you’re me.
His post called Customer Support + Product Registration is my favorite circle of user experience hell: totally great.
“My ideal customer/vendor relationship is like the bar where everyone knows your name.
What big companies miss is that instead of using technology and bureaucracy to shield themselves from relationships, they can use technology to approximate the Cheers experience.”
Yay.
He’s @nathanbowers on Twitter.
Item! Update from the land of the Peculiar & Hilarious Shivanauts!
The “peculiar and hilarious” thing comes from Melynda’s sweet bit about Butterfly Wishes.
I wrote a post about the value of not practicing.
Or at least about how it’s not even slightly the end of the world.
It’s about deguiltifying and remembering that the practice will be there for you when you need it. And about how flailing around is still a good thing.
Also a terrific post from Bill about doing Shiva Nata (“it’s like kung fu, but without the killing“). Awesome.
And wise words from Amy about how the not-failing kind of flailing is helping her feel less like an uninspired poo-poo head. Which just made me so happy to read.
Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- Things that are good for up-cheering aside from pretending it’s Wednesday even when it isn’t.
My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and I will interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible for me.
Even though asking for what I want still feels awkward for me, I’m just going to remind myself that this is a thing I’m practicing.
That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy (eventually, like tomorrow) Blustery Windsday. Back to real posting soon.
Very Personal Ads #20: no love letters this time.
Personal ads! They’re … personal! Very.
So my itty bitty personal ads made me realize that it’s time to make a regular practice of trying to feel okay asking for stuff.
Even when the asking thing feels weird and conflicted.
Ever since I posted the first one asking my perfect house to find me, which united me with Hoppy House, I have been a fan of the madness that is personal ads.
And now it’s my Sunday ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do it.
Thing 1: Rest and recovery.
Here’s what I want:
This week of mad retreating with the fabulous Barbara Sher has been all kinds of amazing. And also completely exhausting.
I need some sleep-catching-up time. And a long bath or two.
And whatever else will help me ease back into my regular routine with fewer aches and pains, whether physical, mental or emotional.
Ways this could work:
I can try to remember that resting is investing in myself and my business, because a clear head is the best thing I can give myself.
I can give myself permission to grumble, throw things and generally fall apart when I need to.
Oh, and I can learn from stupid past experiences, and remember how important it is to treat recovery time like it’s a superstar.
People can remind me in non-annoying ways.
My commitment.
To remember that recovery is pretty much always crappy and miserable, so this isn’t a sign that my world is falling apart. It just is what it is.
To notice how much support I have (a lot).
To ask my gentleman friend to be the Voice of Reason for me when I get overwhelmed.
Thing 2: A resolution to a problem.
Here’s what I want:
I have a couple uncomfortable conversations coming up.
Right now I’m too upset to do the talking. Too upset to NVC-it, other than with myself. Too much hurt.
I need a way to stay in sovereignty, and still resolve things.
Here’s how this could work:
A mediator.
An understanding.
Magic. I don’t know.
My commitment.
I’m going to cry a lot, so I’m going to try to give myself permission to cry a lot.
I will try to be fair.
And to ask for help.
Thing 3: Right People for the Kitchen.
Here’s what I want:
My kind of people for the 2010 run of my fabulous Kitchen Table program.
A big chunk of the 2009 people are signing up for another year, so we won’t have a gazillion openings, but there will be some.
And I want my Right People in there. I don’t want to have to actually promote this thing, because I don’t do stuff like that. So they need to just show up.
Ways this could work.
The waiting list of people who want to be notified is already pretty substantial, but maybe there are people who have been thinking about getting on the waiting list.
And they could remember that this is it. This is the thing.
And they can get all excited about the idea of spending a year getting support, help, biggification and encouragement from me, Selma and some of the brightest, kookiest people ever.
And then they apply to get in. And we all jump around.
My commitment.
To remind myself that the people I get in my programs are always refreshingly great, and they’re my Right People and I adore them.
And that this new year of the Kitchen is going to be just as life-changingly fantastic as 2009. Probably even better.
To keep having fun.
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
Last week I wrote a love letter to the Kitchen Table. It wasn’t an ask. It was just a love letter. And writing it was really helpful for me.
I’m so glad I did that. It just gave me all kinds of clarity.
The other part was about getting help staying grounded while on this retreat thing.
And that was hard. But I also had help.
Amna was there, and she was a lifesaver. I did yoga every day. I got through the hard parts. It wasn’t always smooth, but I was working on it.
The next time I have an ask related to surviving something, I think I’m going to play around with how I ask it. Maybe it needs to be more about support and less about surviving. We’ll see.
Comments. Since I’m already asking …
I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about what I would like to receive in the comments. And that way, if you feel like leaving one (you totally don’t have to), you get to be part of this experiment too. 🙂
Here’s what I want (just leave them in the comments):
- Your own personal ads, small or large. Things you’ve asked for. Or are asking for. Or would like to ask for. Or updates on last time!
What I would rather not have:
- Reality theories.
- Shoulds. As in, “You should be doing it like this” or “That’s not the right way to ask for things — instead it should be like x, y and z”
- To be judged or psychoanalyzed.
My commitment.
I am committing to getting better at asking for things even when asking feels weird. I commit to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and to interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible.
Thanks for doing this with me!
Friday Chicken #67: the progably edition
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.
The word for this week is progably, which is how I keep spelling probably.
As in, Selma and I will progably be back from North Carolina by the time the Chicken goes up. Yes. Well.
I keep hoping that if I just bring enough attention to this particular pattern, that it will resolve itself.
But … progably not.
The hard stuff
Brain overload.
The Barbara Sher retreat was pretty amazing (see under: good stuff).
It was also very intense. I got too full.
Body pain from sitting. Brain pain from thinking.
Too much.
Introvert pain.
I don’t really think of myself as an introvert most of the time because I’m too busy thinking of myself as a cranky misanthrope.
But yes. Being around people for more than short periods of time drains me rather than energizing me.
And the retreat was five days. At any given point Selma and I were in a room with five to fifteen people.
Here’s the thing. I absolutely cannot do the people thing for more than a couple hours. And if I do? I need loooooong periods of time to recover.
But there were no periods of time to recover in.
So I went into highly sensitive introvert panic mode and had to keep running away.
I just need so much more alone time than what I was able to get for myself this week. A lot of discomfort there.
Oh, and I lost my wallet.
Luckily not the one that had my all my co-op member cards and stuff. Jeez.
But driver’s license and credit card. Ugh.
Scrapes and scars.
Somehow I managed to get four different cuts on my right hand. Ow.
Completely irritating. It’s the spacing out that annoys me more than the cuts or the lost driver’s license.
How did I not notice any of this stuff?
And that’s where the brain overload thing goes from annoying to scary.
And wear and tear.
Last week I mentioned how all my clothing is falling apart? I get to the retreat and my socks have holes, my favorite dress gets an olive oil stain, and my one pair of pants get a rip.
Lovely.
My outsider complex.
I know. Everyone has one.
But it still seems that I am invariably the odd one out.
Because as always — this is true for every retreat/seminar/whatever I’ve ever been to — I’m the youngest, the most biggified and the only one who is accompanied by a duck.
Which is a weird combination. You think we’d be used to it, but we’re not.
And then this: Aside from actually being young, I look younger than I am. I know that, but apparently everyone thought I was more like ten years younger.
Which is progably flattering. But also really weird. Yes, I started my successful coaching and consulting company when I was seventeen. What?!
Not to mention the incongruity of being in a world where hardly anyone knows who you are.
Yup. Have been coasting on the internet fame for far too long.
It’s been forever since I had to tell someone what I do (I have no clue) or who Selma is.
Very odd. Not bad. But anxiety-inducing. A little. Yes.
Shoe-throwing.
Every once in a while, someone who has no business being anywhere near my business finds their way in.
This person thought they could take advantage of a system loophole, and when I called them on it, they started throwing shoes all over the place, and we had to show them the door.
I mind the shoes a hell of a lot less than I used to, but I really don’t like the fact that anyone other than my Right People can show up in the general Fluent Self orbit. Working on that.
Missing my gentleman friend.
No more of this retreating nonsense! I want a hug!
Way way way too many fake band names.
They just won’t stop. How am I supposed to choose the fake band of the week with this massive run of ridiculousness?
And onward to the good.
The good stuff
The retreat.
Barbara Sher! Barbara Sher! Barbara Sher! She is absolutely amazing.
And really, really funny.
And man, does she have a dirty mouth. It was awesome.
I will follow her anywhere.
Got a room with carpeting.
Makes it way easier to keep to the morning yoga with all this traveling.
My tiny bag.
Sure, I write about traveling light.
But when people see it, they’re totally impressed.
It’s a small thing, but I like it.
I got to meet Amna!
You probably know her as @Germinational if you’re on Twitter.
I like her!
A lot!
Expect to hear plenty more about her. Because she is going to be doing great stuff.
Amna made me foods!
Really good foods.
I love it when people make me foods.
Mmmmmm. Foods.
Huge biggification steps.
The stuff we were working on at the retreat was super helpful.
I know a lot of things now that I didn’t realize I knew/needed/wanted. And I’m running with them. And it’s very exciting.
Nothing crashed and burned while I was gone.
The pirate ship is still running smoothly.
The Kitchen Table is still the best place in the entire world.
I managed to write a few blog posts despite having no time and being exhausted.
And this is proof that my systems are working. Because I was able to step away — not on Emergency Vacation — and everything ran like clockwork. Phew.
I got to see the Blonde Chicken again!
I know you’re thinking, didn’t we just have the Blonde Chicken Chicken Chicken? And no, it was a while ago.
But still.
So cool to finally meet an internet friend in person and then … see her again a few months later.
Massage.
Some wonderful people at the Twitter bar recommended places to stay in/near Asheville (especially @robknapp who is the most generous, helpful person ever) and I ended up with gorgeous accommodations.
And got upgraded to a suite. You’ve probably never seen a duck in a suite before. It was cool.
And we got a massage from a woman named Diedre. And there are no words to describe the happy.
I’m apparently over my massage trauma.
Back home.
As of … late late late last night.
But it’s home. Hoppy House! And this crazy, wonderful, complicated, exhausting, biggifying week is over.
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’s band is:
Begging For Parody.
It’s really just one guy.
And yeah, Stu will be back next week when I’m not all retreat-ey.
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 Business Savant.
I am one.
Which is weird, because I spent the first couple decades of my life thinking anything even remotely business-related was extremely icky. At best.
But for reasons that I don’t understand*, I am like Rain Man. But for business.
*Actually, I kind of do understand, because I’m pretty sure it’s all the years of having Dance of Shiva restructure my brain.
It’s kind of creepy.
I don’t know how I know these things. I just know them.
Like this week at Barbara’s retreat. I knew what every single person needed to be doing in her business.
And it’s not like …. oh, the normal, conventional things. Most the time it’s not even things I’ve ever heard before. I just know.
Of course, I also know that most people aren’t going to apply it, but that’s more of a Cassandra thing than a Rain Man thing.
That’s not important right now. What’s important is that even without having bizarre intuitive superpowers, you can grow your thing.
You can grow your thing through the kind of biggification that happens in a really mindful way. Through the growth that comes from having agreed to work on your stuff.
And through knowing where you come from.
Beginnings.
As you know, I started my business from nothing.
But really from nothing.
I’ve posted about this all over the place, so I won’t bore you again with the details (no, wait, I will, living-in-a-semi-squat-in-Berlin-with-no-heat really is not fun), but yes.
I started the whole thing with my last 15 euros and they weren’t even mine.
And since I thought that making money was gross, there were possibly some problems with my plan.
The thing about coming from poverty that is really, really good is that it made me a fierce risk-taker. I see some of my clients terrified to do anything until they’ve built up say, a $30,000 cushion, and I think cushion? What’s that?
But the thing about coming from poverty that is really, really hard is that it’s very difficult to have a biggified perspective about anything.
Because what you know is so very, very small.
You have to have a sense of what’s possible before you can start biggifying.
It’s pretty hard to accomplish anything in business when your conception of what is possible is narrow, stuckified, and limited as hell.
When I started my business, I couldn’t imagine earning more than two thousand dollars a month. EVER. Like, at the peak of success. And even that seemed like a completely obscene thing to want. A guilty wish.
All those years working behind a bar in some dive in south Tel Aviv had created … narrowness.
There is nothing beyond survival. You either sell your soul or you don’t, but if you don’t (and I couldn’t) you can’t do more than tread water. And that is the entirety of what is real.
Flash forward five years. Not only is my own business thriving to the point that my gentleman friend was able to quit his job, but the limits on what I can imagine possible are pretty out there.
Not just financially, but in every way. Not just for me and my duck, but for my clients, my students, and all the neat people I meet.
Biggification without mindfulness is pretty useless, though.
If you ask me, the most important thing you can do in a business situation is work on your stuff.
This is also true if you’re growing your thing in a non-business-ey way. Like, if your thing is your poetry or your art or your teaching, and you don’t think of it as something that might become a business.
Either way. You have a thing (your thing!) and you want it to grow (even if some of the time you don’t because it’s scary).
Pretty much none of the stucknesses that come up in this process of growing your thing are connected to the thing itself, or to the practical aspects of making the thing happen.
Most of the stuckness is about your stuff wanting attention.
Which is legitimate, yes? That’s what your stuff does. And that’s why interacting with your stuff in an intelligent, conscious way is the best way to start biggifying.
Or to start being slightly less afraid of eventually biggifying.
Mindful biggification is way, way better than any other kind of biggification. Because you’re destuckifying as you go. You’re taking care of yourself. It’s important.
Where I’m taking this right now.
I’ve been thinking a lot this week about what I can do to give other people what I know.
Not the intuitive stuff — I don’t know how to teach that yet.
But I want to give people more than just go become a Shivanaut! Though yeah, that’s an important part of it too.
I want to contribute to the essential vocabulary of how business is done. Good business, non-icky business of the kind that my right people are interested in.
And I’m feeling both anxious and excited about that.
Because the stuff Selma and I have to teach is really freaking counter-intuitive. What I know to be true goes so completely against the grain. Against what all the boring experts say.
And even against what some of my friends-who-are-experts-and-not-even-slightly-boring say.
Anyway.
Expect that we’ll be talking a lot, as always, about working on your stuff and how that relates to biggification.
Expect some manifesto-ing it up for the dammit list.
And don’t expect any explanation of how I know this stuff. Because it just comes into my head. And then I do it. And then it works. And then I make my clients and students do it. And that works too. I can’t explain more than that.
But I’ll share what I can. Because it’s important.
Comment zen for today.
Hmm. Biggification = full o’ triggers. I hope it’s been really clear that I have my own share of stucknesses around this, and that I really do recognize how scary it is to work on this stuff or even to talk about it. That’s it. We’re all practicing.
Item! Where is my fort?
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. Items!
I’m Itemizing all over the place this week.
Item! Post No. 40 in a series that would get you through exactly that many days and nights in the desert if you clicked on everything I’ve linked to, which you shouldn’t.
Item! I need this.
It’s a fort.
In one of my Kitchen Table program calls we were all hanging out in the chat room, and somehow we got onto the topic of wanting to make play forts. Or sparkly nests.
And in a fit of “oooh, is there such a thing as a fort for grownups?”, I realized of course there is, and promptly googled “portable forts”.
Which gets you to all sorts of interesting things but this is the one I must have in my office.
Awesome.
Also (semi-related), Julie hooked me up with some excellent tree house possibilities (!)
She’s @juliestuart on Twitter.
Item! The artistic funk.
Beautiful post from Pirate Fi (she’s not one of my pirates, it’s her own thing) about getting through an artistic funk.
“– doubt that I have enough passion to be an artist. Artists make art. I just think about it. A lot.
— fear that I’ll never have the requisite energy and stamina to earn an income doing this. Because you need perseverance and persistence and I feel I have neither. And I get so damn tired all the time — tired, tired, tired.
— fear that if I live the dream of being an artist and it doesn’t work out, what will I have left to dream about?”
She’s @fibowman on Twitter.
Item! Speaking of me not knowing what I do …
Okay, we weren’t speaking about that, but it’s the topic of the day in my head.
There’s been all this hubbub about Twitter lists.
Personally, I am liking them.
But my favorite thing is reading what lists I’m on and then cracking up at the hilariously bizarre collective picture you get from them of what I do.
Some of them totally make sense like “blogging” and “writers” and “helperish”.
Others are also understandable like “non-icky-biz-advice” and “people-worth-a-shit” and “interestingness”
But the funny part is when you see “woo-woo” next to “thought-leaders” next to “a-list” next to “real-bad-ass”.
Though I can live with real bad ass.
The ones that seemed completely incongruous were things like “stylish-people” (whaaaaaaaat?), “social-media” and “knitting”.
And the ones that made me gleefully happy were more like “sparkle-motion”, “fairygodmothers” and “non-sucky-marketing”
Fun. I totally want to be the sparkly godmother of non-sucky marketing. Who stabs people with her stylish invisible knitting needles.
Item! Speaking of Twitter …
I know, I know. I’ll stop doing that already.
But this was so so great.
Girl Detective dressed up as the fail whale for Halloween.
The fail whale, if you don’t hang out with us in the bar, is the image you (tfu tfu tfu, may it never happen to you) get when Twitter is overloaded and not working, right before you cry. It has its own fan club.
Never mind.
She’s @Girl_Detective on Twitter.
Item! The uterus edition.
Powerful, brave post from Jen, who gives one hell of an acceptance speech (in more ways than one) as she goes through surgery.
“I’d also like to thank (my own uterus academy awards)
To all the shamans and healers who healed me. Just because I’m having surgery doesn’t mean you failed.
To all the acupuncturists and herbalists and hormones specialists.
To all the yoga teachers and massage therapists and authors who wrote healing books.
To everyone who prayed, visualized, and gave smart (really) opinions.
To ME for trying so hard, as always, to be healthy.
And to modern science for getting me out of pain!”
She’s @jenlouden on Twitter.
Item! I am flattered by your title!
Remember a couple of weeks ago when we went on a Say Anything run while writing our dammit lists?
Lloyd Dobler is back. In the form of a … Lloyd Dobler flash mob.
Also known — wondrously — as a mobler.
Say what you will. I don’t care … because now the word mobler exists.
Item! Things going bad. Periodically.
Denise pointed out this excellent Table of Condiments that Periodically Go Bad.
I can’t even tell you how big my smile is right now.
She’s @deniseds on Twitter.
Item! Comments! Here’s what I want this time:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- A thing that is cuter than a Yorkie wearing a powder-blue raincoat. Poor Yorkie.*
*I knew him well.
My commitment.
I am committed to giving time and thought to the things that people say, and I will interact with their ideas and with my own stuff as compassionately and honestly as is possible for me.
Even though asking for what I want still feels awkward for me, I’m just going to remind myself that this is a thing I’m practicing.
That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy Blustery Windsday. See you tomorrow.