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.
Destuckifying when the shoes are flying overhead.
So. I have stuff to say.
We’ve talked a lot here about the basics of destuckification work.
And about some of the situations that come up where our stuff gets in the way of destuckifying.
Like when people throw shoes at us, something which definitely happens.
(Or when we perceive that shoes have been thrown, which also happens.)
Situations come up, something gets triggered, and then we start disconnecting from the very things that normally help us come back to ourselves.
Here’s what I know.
1. When something happens to set off our stuff — we jump to conclusions.
2. We make it all about us. (“Uh oh, I screwed up again.”)
3. Or we make it all about them. (“Man, people are mean/stupid/hurtful.”)
4. There is definitely a progression … and it looks like this:
it’s all about me → it’s all about them → this actually has nothing to do with me → It doesn’t even affect me.*
* See #10!
5. But the progression is not necessarily linear. It’s not like you finish up with one and move onto the next one for good.
6. Most of us end up hanging out in each of these places some of the time…
7. …and there are a lot of different factors that can contribute to where you happen to be in the progression at any given moment.
8. It’s not at all a negative thing that you are where you are in that moment. It’s just where you are. It doesn’t say anything bad about you.
9. God knows I’m not perfect. And I certainly haven’t mastered this stuff yet. It’s a process.
And a bonus point (an important one).
10. I just want to be clear:
Arriving at the point where someone’s hurtful behavior doesn’t hurt you doesn’t mean that you just let people throw shoes.
You’re totally allowed to stand up for yourself and explain to people why shoe-throwing is not cool. In fact, because you know it doesn’t have anything to do with you, you feel safe and comfortable saying, “Hey, we don’t throw shoes here.”
It’s just that at the same time, you remember that this is about their stuff, that people are allowed to think what they think, and that you don’t have to interact with the ones who are into tossing shoes around.
Let’s have some examples, shall we?
Two examples from my own life from this past week.
One follows a particular kind of situation that’s come up a lot during my life. You can see how — over time — I was able to change my reactions to it because of the work I’ve been doing on my stuff.
The second one demonstrates just how many factors are involved in the ways you might possibly react to a shoe — or a perceived shoe. Even when you’ve done a ton of work on your stuff, some of these can push things way out of balance.
Situation example 1: the non-rejection rejection.
The thing that actually happened:
I was teaching a workshop. A guy got up in the middle and walked out.
What would have gone through my head four years ago:
“Ohmygod. I’m messing up. Not-good-not-good-not-good-not-good.
“I should have explained that last concept better. Is he bored? Is he miserable? Is this the worst thing he’s ever experienced? They all hate it. This is a disaster.”
What would have gone through my head three years ago:
“This is a shoe! A shoe! How dare he? What an ass.
“Clearly he doesn’t get how fantastic this material is. Doesn’t he even know who I am?!?!”
What would have gone through my head two years ago:
“Huh. I notice there’s a part of me that wants to make this about me, but you know what?
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that he probably has a perfectly legitimate reason for doing what he’s doing and it most likely doesn’t have anything to do with me.
“I’m definitely allowed to feel uncomfortable about this, and I will see what I can do to get what I need here, because I’m definitely noticing that I’m needing reassurance and comfort.
“I’m going to try and trust that he has gotten what he needs from this experience and that I will end up getting what I need.”
What was in my head this time:
“Alright. I’m sure there’s a good reason for this … and that it has nothing to do with me.”
(And yes, as it turned out, I was completely right.)
Situation example 2: someone telling you how they think you should react to something.
The thing that actually happened:
Someone sent a note saying that I should stop complaining about stuff because my life is at least interesting and could I please shut up already.
What actually went through my head the other day the day I hadn’t slept, was jetlagged, sick, and had been running around all day with my bags trying to find a place to stay where there weren’t jackhammers outside the bedroom:
“Nice.
“I bet if this person had also experienced abuse, poverty, being assaulted, having nowhere to live, friends killed, vodka bottles thrown at them, witnessing terrorist attacks and any of the other things that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy … they would LOVE it if someone else told them they didn’t have the right to express their pain.
“Because ‘you have an interesting life’.
“What?!
“And even if that person was all, ‘Yay me, I have an interesting life’? So what? I’m not that person. Why should I have to be the person who can do that?
“And if this excessively critical person doesn’t like it, why can’t they go read someone else’s blog? In fact, please. Please go away and stop throwing shoes in my space.”
There may also have been some creative cursing in Arabic. Old habits die slowly.
Out of balance? Juuuust a little bit.
What would have gone through my head had I been mostly healthy and rested:
“Wow.
“This person must be feeling really frustrated when they perceive other people not expressing gratitude for what they do have.
“I can understand that frustration. And, at the same time, I also find it kind of weird that someone would actively try to change the way someone else chooses to express herself on a personal blog.
“But maybe that’s not what’s happening here. Either way, their stuff.
“The only part that’s my stuff is my reaction, and if I’m feeling a little hurt or frustrated here, I can work on my own part of this.”
What would have gone through my head had I been in top physical and emotional condition:
Well … nothing, really.
…………………………………………flatline…………………………………………
Right. It wouldn’t have even registered.
But that’s not what happened. Because guess what? Things happen. And they bring us out of balance.
There’s just no way we can always be in top form. And anyway, it’s a process.
The thing that helps. Well, one of them.
About six months ago or so, I asked Hiro what the spiritual concept or quality is that encapsulates … well, the thing I’m always working on.
You know, learning how to be the person who doesn’t give a damn what other people think.
And she said it was called sovereignty.
Sovereignty.
Sovereignty, as best I understand it (and I am not the expert on this even slightly) is the quality of owning your space so completely and fully that you can’t be shaken from being you.
You get to be the (pirate-ey or not) queen — or king — of your own fabulous kingdom. Or queendom. Or whatever.
In other words:
Your body. Your energy. Your physical space. Your emotional space. Your work. Your practice. Whatever else belongs to you. It’s all yours.
You own it. You feel comfortable in it. You inhabit what is yours and you belong there fully and completely.
It’s feeling so safe being yourself that other people’s stuff is obviously just that.
It means having the patience to interact with your own stuff with love, knowing that it’s constantly changing anyway.
And your experience of sovereignty doesn’t step on anyone else’s. It’s something that everyone gets to experience for himself or herself.
Comment zen for today.
This is a big, hard topic. It definitely deserves some follow-up posts to go deeper with some of this.
The usual caveats apply: I’m not perfect, I screw up all the time, I am where I am and … sometimes this place that I am is somewhat more impressive than at other times.
Here’s what is welcome:
- Thoughts/reactions about this process of working on stuff and learning things about how that process works.
What I would rather not have:
My commitment.
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.
Item! I am itemizing things!
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.
Really I just write these posts because I love saying Item!
Like this:
Item! I don’t know where I’m going with this! Not even slightly!
See how much fun? Okay.
Item! Post No. 33 in a series that used to have a point, possibly.
Item! A beautiful site with great stuff!
Do you know Fi? Because you should.
She’s talented and bright and fun and … really funny too. Oh, and she does lovely art pieces.
And she’ll probably be oh, somewhat less than thrilled that I’ve mentioned any of this, but that’s what happens when you publish a blog. And a gorgeous one. That’s really good. And … open to the public.
Your Right People can find it. And get excited about it. I know, it’s hard.
Aside from the gorgeous art, there’s also a nice piece about television and pre-Raphaelites …
“I have no excuse for not having seen these paintings in the flesh; it’s only a couple of hours to London (even if I do loathe the place with a passion). But even if you’re not so close, you can now take fresh look at these familiar images through the marvel of modern electrickery. I commend it most highly to your kind attention.”
She’s @fibowman on Twitter.
Item! Fantastic copy.
I pretty much never get to read website copy that I think is great. Most of it sounds decidedly like it’s been run through a machine that takes out all the human.
This totally surprised me.
“I am picky, and already pretty booked. So I have these criteria: One is being fun to work with, and having a cool idea. I love working with authors, curious niche bizfolk, fanciful nonprofits. “
He teaches you how to do your own video marketing.
I kind of want to hire him just because.
Take notes, people.
Item! A big huge understanding about why saying yes is scary.
A lot of people have been reading my Very Personal Ads and started posting their own.
They’re all interesting to read, but this one really hit me.
A really powerful understanding about how an old, old situation created a stuckified pattern that she’s working on untangling now. Amazing.
“Ever since then I have been afraid to say yes, in case “something better” would come along later that I would have to say “no” to. “
From Andi. Who is lovely. You should read it. It’s beautiful.
She’s @annaline_39 on Twitter.
Item! Scary!
This is a really scary story about a rattlesnake. That, amazingly, ends well.
The story ends well, yes? Though the rattlesnake is also fine, for those who worry about things like that.
“The canyon was too steep to consider leaving the trail to go around the snake. My only way out was on the path, past the snake. And that snake didn’t want me anywhere near it.”
Wow.
She’s @barbarajcarter on Twitter.
Item! My chickeners are biggifying each other!
Speaking of Barbara, did you read the comments in last week’s Friday Chicken?
Because that’s where I learned that someone who comments on the Chicken posts bought one of her paintings.
First of all, how cool is that?
Second of all, lucky person. Because I also have one of Barbara’s paintings and it’s gorgeous.
Third, talk about the magic of the internets. This is why I always tell people to hang out on blogs that they enjoy and not just (or even at all) in “strategic places” where your “target market” (ew) supposedly is.
But definitely leave comments (once you work through your gah I don’t have anything interesting to say bits or whatever your “stuff” is saying).
Because planting seeds in unlikely places in a non-strategic way is a great way to symbolically support a habit of organic biggification.
Item! Freedom from Self-Improvement Week!
My beloved friend Jen Louden is hosting Freedom From Self-Improvement week on her blog. And it’s going all week (started Monday).
Here’s how she described it (because then you’ll instantly get why I adore her, if you’re not already a Jen fan):
“It’s about acknowledging you don’t have to do anything to be worthy.
Not only that, but you can make mistakes and yes, you are still totally lovable.
It’s a shot across the bow of everyone who markets to our fear that we aren’t good enough.
It’s a bath of relief from endless shoulds, have tos, and get somewheres.
It’s a breath of self-mercy. “
So there will be posts and videos and give-aways and lots of reassuring kindness and probably some bonus smartnesses, because that’s my Jen.
She’s @jenlouden 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.
An amazing story about an artist (I heard about it from my friend Andreas and had to write about it).
“I want to leave you with this image of my artist friend, buzzing into stillness, going straight from shavasana into the studio, fearlessly mixing colors. And letting her art happen. “
Item! Comments!
So it was really cool the other week when I got to work on my practice of how I ask for stuff and you guys gave me the best reading recommendations ever!
So I’m going to try it again.
Here’s what I want:
- Things you’re thinking about.
- Music recommendations! Or really, the stuff that you like. We don’t have to call it a recommendation. 🙂
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.
Coming up with prices. Wanted: ninjas.
Making the whole Pricing Resonance thing work for you.
Remember the art and science of pricing?
Where we talked about the fabulousness that is pricing resonance and also about Mark’s excellent resonant pricing exercise?
So I’ve been doing this stuff with my clients and my Kitchen Table people (and of course with myself) for a while now.
And I really want to talk about some of the crazy-important stuff you want to make sure you keep in mind when you’re trying to figure out what your prices are.
Whether you’re using this concept of pricing resonance or not.*
*You should, though. It rocks.
Things to take into consideration when you come up with your prices.
Thing #1: The invisible time.
When you meet with a client, it’s not just the number of minutes that make up a session.
It’s the prep time. And not just the “reading over your notes” prep time, but the emotional prep time and the energy prep time. And the recovery time.
It’s setting the space, in every way possible.
When you teach a workshop or a course, it’s not just the hours teaching.
It’s curriculum writing and planning and strategizing.
When you create a product (whether it’s an ebook or a business system or an actual tangible thing, there is the big, huge creation process which no one pays you for. You want to build some of that in too.
Plus when you do in-person work, it’s the getting there. Not to mention the returning and the emotional recovery.
A lot of invisible time in there. But there’s actually more invisible time.
Thing #2: The really invisible time.
Otherwise known as Administrative Crap.
(Unless you’re my beloved Cairene who has sweeter, more love-centric words for this process.)
But either way, there is a lot of it. And more than you can necessarily prepare for.
Types of admin stuff that takes time (and money):
- figuring out what the product/service entails, plus all the details of how people will get it
- endless email questions
- credit card processing
- shopping cart costs
- customer support craziness
- returns and cancellations
Someone is going to be doing this stuff, whether it’s you or an assistant. Assume that someone is going to need to get paid for this, even if it’s just you.
Also, keep in mind that over-estimating is not a bad thing.
You might remember that with the three-day workshop I taught in North Carolina last month, for example, I’d estimated admin costs to be 5-7% and allowed for that.
They ended up being a startling 17% of the total intake. Uh huh.
Since I hadn’t built that into my mental assessment of what I would be paying to make this workshop happen, it wasn’t part of my headspace when I went into pricing resonance.*
* Obviously, I couldn’t have known that this particular project would be so complicated, but it gives me information for next time.
Thing #3: The invisible past time.
That hour of service you’re giving isn’t just that hour.
It’s everything that has come together in your life to make you the person you are.
It’s all of your acquired wisdom. All of your experience. All of your insight. All of the abilities and qualities you’ve been developing in a lifetime of being you.
That’s your schooling. Your education.
And just as doctors (in the United States, at least) charge what they do in part because they’re paying off ten years of student loans … you want to at least symbolically acknowledge the complicated, time-consuming path of learning and growing you took to get to where you are.
Because you invested in yourself in big ways to get here.
And you’re still investing in that biggification process with everything you do.
Thing #4: The invisible expenses stuff.
When I did the pricing resonance exercise for my workshops this year, I didn’t have enough information about how much the whole thing would truly cost to set up.
Not the obvious “we need to pay for the space and a plane ticket” bits but other stuff.
So I got resonance on the price, but the number wasn’t enough to actually adequately cover expenses.
Again, you won’t always be able to make an accurate assessment of how much you’re investing to make a thing available to the world. And that’s okay.
Especially not the first time you do a thing.
Flashback to three years ago: Oh! Ebooks need covers! To be designed! By people who can design stuff! Otherwise known as designers. And let’s not mention the formatting. Ohmygod. The formatting.
Normal. But it might help to have in mind the concept of “yeah, we need to build in some extra cushioning here” when you get ready to play around with prices.
That way, before you go into the resonance exercise (you can get Mark’s PDF here if you haven’t already), you have information about what the true minimum is.
The really important bits!
- Know your resentment number (kiss to Mikelann Valterra for this excellent concept).
- Remember that systems are fluid. They change. All this stuff you’re learning is more information to help figure out how to make them work better.
- Ninjas! You need some. An assistant (even for just a couple hours a month) is a Very Useful Thing. Also, people who believe in you. Also, people to remind you to stop working. And who provide you with a safe, comfortable place to hide and cry whenever you need it.
And … the actual point of this whole thing.
Pricing doesn’t happen in a vacuum.
And neither does pricing resonance. It isn’t magic. It doesn’t come out of nowhere. It emerges from ingredients that are already in your head and heart.
So you want to be holding all this information about your project in your heart (administrative weirdnesses and all) when you tune in to find out what the right prices are. It’s a process.
That’s the good part and the challenging part, I guess. 🙂
Comment zen for today.
All this pricing stuff can be super trigger-ey, I know. So I apologize in advance if something I’ve said or the way I’ve said it has stepped on your stuff.
And I’ll add to that:
We’ve all got our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. We try to respond to each other with as much kind-hearted understanding as we can stand. Mensch-like: it’s how we roll. Lou Reed lyrics are always welcome. That’s it. I’ll be quiet now. Comment away!
Very Personal Ads #10: Brought to you by Smoove B
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 weekly ritual. Yay, ritual!
Let’s do this thing.
Thing 1: everything to go smoothly with the Berlin workshops.
Here’s what I want:
I’m teaching oh, possibly a million classes while I’m here? At least, that’s what it looks like.
There are so many people to coordinate with and unexpected things to take care of.
And even though I have a designated workshop coordinator, there are still all sorts of things which can go horribly…interesting.
I really need some smoothness and lightness to all this coordination stuff.
Which is ironic (or just weird) given that I’m teaching coordination techniques. We can laugh about that some other time.
Here’s how I want to this to happen:
Just like last week — with tiny moments of grace.
Maybe somethings can just work themselves out.
I don’t really know how this will work.
I just need some tiny miracles and some help remembering that even when stuff has gone weird, I’ve always handled it really well.
Except for that one time in San Francisco four years ago. But aside from that.
My commitment.
I will practice patience and appreciation when I can … and noticing that I can’t when I can’t.
I will check in with my body before making decisions or agreeing to new things.
And I’ll do what I can to trust my programs guy to do his thing and do it well.
Thing 2: … also back on the mother ship.
Here’s what I want:
Smoothly? Things going … smoothly? Yes, please. While I’m asking.
If last week was all about harmony and ease, this week is about the smoothness. And my relationship with the smoothness.
But even while my attention is here in Berlin, I still need my whole Fluent Self business (a.k.a. the pirate ship) to run the way it’s supposed to.
Even without the Pirate Queen (me) actually being around.
I want to be able to log-in to Basecamp and not discover that things are overwhelming and chaotic.
Here’s how I want this to work:
Actually, I don’t know what to say for this one either.
Not even slightly clear on how this might happen. It’s just a wish. A very heartfelt wish.
My commitment.
To appreciate the smooth.
Which, by the way, I’m calling smoove. As in Smoove B, the best columnist in the history of people who write columns about … something.
To let things be when they’re not smooth. To notice what I need and make sure I get it in some form or another.
To practice patience. Or try to.
Thing 3: German.
Here’s what I want:
I need my German to do its thing and come back quickly.
Yes, this happens every single year, so I know that within a week or so I’ll wonder how I ever thought I’d forgotten it.
I’ll be happily giving a lecture and not even noticing that this is my third and least-polished language (by a lot).
I just want the transition to happen quickly.
Ways this could work:
Normally I would just call my friend Tino and we would talk for hours, and somehow by the end I’d be back to myself, but in German.
Except that he’s in England right now.
So I need something else. Maybe I will listen to one of Annik’s podcasts. Or sit with Andreas and complain about stuff. That’s always fun.
My commitment.
To be ready for the opening and jump in!
Progress report on past Very Personal Ads.
Just to update you on what’s happened since last time.
So last time I asked for harmony and ease. And for a comfortable trip to Berlin.
Definitely feeling good about both of those.
Three consecutive plane rides without screaming babies or anyone kicking me in the back = pretty spectacular, at least in my experience.
In fact, between Minneapolis and Amsterdam we were sitting near two very tiny people (maybe three and five years old?) who were just adorable little pink-shoed elves and we fell madly in love with them.
There were still the kids running around shrieking “You want it? Come and get it!” at the top of their lungs but somehow they got put in a different part of the plane. Awesome.
For me, at least.
It feels as though things are going relatively smoothly and comfortably. And when they’re not — like with the mailbox debacle — I’m handling it with more grace than would normally be expected under the circumstances.
So that counts as at least semi-astonishing. I’ll take it!
Comments. Since I’m already asking …
I am adding to my practice of asking for stuff by being more specific about 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.
- Thoughts or ideas about ways any of the personal ads listed here could come true.
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 Check-in #57: Brötchen! 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.
Right. So this was the week where we left for Germany.
This week’s Chicken is pretty much all about that.
And getting the house ready.
And reassuring people that of course, my brother will be home and there are only like, two people in the world who know my actual address, so we can really, truly stop worrying about the nonexistent Twitter Stalker Burglar. Yes.
And about the fact that I need to relearn how to speak German before my first class tomorrow.
The hard stuff
Note to self: don’t set up a class for the day after you arrive.
Not sure how I haven’t figured out that one yet. I remember the concept of jetlag, but not the experience of it.
Technical catastrophes aplenty.
The moving-of-all-my-sites to the new server has been less than smooth. Thank god we have tech pirate Charlotte on our side or I would have had to throw major temper tantrums.
The site was down. A lot. Actually, all my sites were down. And since this is … how I pay rent and support the Hoppy House family, having stuff not work was full of hard.
Also setting up the email thing was a total nightmare. As you know, I’m on
But I do have a top-secret account that only my gentleman friend and my First Mate know about and aren’t allowed to use except under very specific circumstances.
And so I didn’t notice when I wasn’t getting any email, because really, I only get about three a week. But then an important one didn’t arrive.
I wasn’t a good explainer mouse when it came time to fix this, so the tech team hooked me up with the regular accounts and not just my secret one. And then I got four hundred and thirty messages in an afternoon.
Which is why I don’t do email. Because it’s overwhelming, depressing and full of all sorts of things that I would really rather not see.
The mailbox debacle.
The way my mailbox disappeared the day before I left for Germany was beyond annoying.
Hassle hassle hassle! Still not liking it.
Travel. Stress. Ack. Eek. Etc.
Repeat as necessary.
The end of an era.
Well, not really.
But I did run out of all usable thread in my sewing kit.
This is the sewing kit I’ve had since 1994. I got it in Poland. The same trip where I got stuck in an elevator. Or as I tell it, stuck-in-an-elevator-in-Poland.
Which is totally not the same thing as getting stuck in an elevator in Switzerland. Which, for the record, has never happened. To anyone.
That might only be funny if you’ve been to Switzerland. Moving on.
The only thing left is pink thread. And light blue. All the black, brown, navy (colors that I have apparently been wearing since 1994) are done for.
It was almost a disaster, but I was saved by the fact that my gentleman friend is enormously well-prepared. And his mother is a seamstress.
The good stuff
I got to see my oldest friend!
Well, not my oldest friend. Because that would be Douglas, the 80-year old reader of this blog and most favoritest of persons.
But the friend I have had for the longest. My friend Noah, who is one week older than me and lived right down the street from me.
We run into each other every few years. Once in Madison. Once in Tel Aviv. And this week in Minneapolis.
And it was wonderful. We ate Indian food and I got to meet his ladyfriend, who is fabulous.
And more friends!
I got to see Susan Marie. I adore Susan Marie.
What a treat!
And now we’re (we = me, Selma and my gentleman friend) in Berlin with Andreas and Lars.
And making little arrangements to see all sorts of different people that we only get to see once a year, all of whom are absolutely lovely.
Improvements! Whee!
The place we stay every year is now hooked up with wireless internet, which means that my gentleman friend and I don’t have to take turns plugging in to get online.
We’ve always managed okay with the back-and-forth, but not having to do that makes internet work-life way easier. Hooray for ease. I love it.
I have two new workshops in the States.
I can’t give you details yet (soon!) but there’s some really exciting stuff coming up.
So just twirl around the room with me in the meantime.
Brötchen!
The real reason I go to Germany every year. Yum.
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.”
So this week, straight from Twitter, I bring you:
Interdimensional Mailbox
Me: “Went to pick up mail and my mailbox (the one I paid for 14 months in advance) no longer exists. Interesting. And by interesting I mean ‘give me back my mail and my money, you ————-!’ and then a lot of creative cursing in Arabic.”
Shannon: “Eep — your mailbox has gone interdimensional! (Of course, I hear that Interdimensional Mailbox is just one guy).”
Nice.
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.
Stu got kind of beat up on the airplane. The earpiece is now a bit uncomfortable.
But he did just say, “Stew that kind oh feet up on the hair train” when I tried to tell you that he got kind of beat up on the airplane … so apparently he’s back to himself. Whew.
- “it’s so Cisco” instead of in San Francisco
- “Why I’m aging oak or impossibly 1 million causes” instead of I’m teaching oh, possibly a million classes
- “the tree point rites” instead of three plane rides
- “hand authorities” instead of and for a smooth
- “you ass” (!) instead of new paragraph
- “under the host’s mists” instead of under the circumstances
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.