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.
Friday Check-in #33: “out of town” 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.
Oh, yet again one of those weeks when the hard is the good and the good is the hard.
The four days I spent in Austin at SXSW were the most fun ever. Delicious, heartwarming, insanely goofy fun. And also gah! Challenging and super-hard.
Not to mention that I’ve spent every minute since then in full-on recovery mode. But I don’t want to talk about that.
Actually, it’s quite possible that all sorts of things happened this week, but they were all zapped out of my brain as a result of the crazed revelry boring conference. This is going to be the most boring Friday Chicken that ever was.
The hard stuff
SXSW.
I’d been kind of worried about getting roped into a bunch of stuff I wouldn’t want to do. You know, what with a gazillion people being there, and everyone wanting to meet up.
So I was all ready to say no when necessary and generally do what I needed to do to take care of myself.
But of course I totally didn’t count on the fact that there would be all sorts of tempting and wonderful things that I would want to do.
Turns out it’s way harder to say no when it’s stuff you really do want to do.
So it was exhausting and hectic and crazy … and I didn’t get to do things like sleep. Or yoga. Or sleep. Yes, sleep deserves to be mentioned twice.
Speaking of conferences…
I don’t like them.
Yes, I may be to pass as an adult — but am still not enough of one to ever want to hang out in a convention center again. Just not cut out for wearing badges, riding escalators, or shaking hands with people.
Blechh.
Also, Selma doesn’t like crowds. Or duck fetishists, of which there are an astonishing number.
Routines interrupted.
What with all the staying up until dark-thirty every night of the conference, and the general decadence and carousing, all my normal little structured, ritualized routine-ey things got thrown out of whack.
Very distressing.
And then you have to do that much more work to reinstate the structures that are supposed to support you.
Grumble grumble.
Piles of work!
The behind-ness: it is not pretty.
Doing my best to take it in stride and not get too overwhelmed, but definitely feeling the urge to crawl into bed and ignore it all.
The good stuff
SXSW!!!!!
I really can’t do justice to how epic it was. No amount of exclamation points can do that.
Getting to hang out with all of my favorite people — in “real life” — is absolutely the best thing that’s happened to me all year.
There was much collapsing in giggles, generating of goofy business propositions, and eating of melted cheese. Sometimes all three at the same time.
It turns out that my friends really are that great. Getting them all together in one room? Could not be more perfect.
Selma had a blast. As did my gentleman friend. And, amazingly, nothing in my business went kablooey while I was gone.
Friends: I like them.
Breaking bread with people you like … pretty darn great.
So having everyone I like all appear at the same random, spontaneous party (thanks, Sarah!) was the happiest of happy accidents.
Yes, we did all converge on the same city at the same time, but to have it all come together like that — so perfectly — was like a big crazy happiness infusion.
It takes a village.
So I still don’t have the use of my hands. And I can’t even tell you how many kindhearted people came together to make that not be an issue.
Most of the time I was glued to Naomi at the hip. So that was handy.
Though the rest of the time, I had friends (and the occasional total stranger) write text-messages, send Twitter updates, and look up phone numbers for me. It was brilliant. I barely felt incompetent at all.
Back in Portland!
People in Austin will go out of their way to tell you how much Austin is supposedly like Portland. It’s not.
Not that Austin wasn’t lovely, because it was. But getting back home was the best.
Ez lives here!
My not-a-kid-anymore brother is still living with us. And I’m still overjoyed about it. Especially now that’s he’s learned to make pasta from scratch.
Also he cooked and cleaned and kept house while Selma, Stu, my gentleman friend and I were in Austin.
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.
Three words to drive your Right People away
Seriously. Don’t say this.
I have one point today. And I’m going to hammer it in until you’re sick of it. And until you never say these three words again. Because this is so incredibly important.
Shameless. Self. Promotion.
Every single time I interrupt what I’m talking about to parenthetically insert the words “shameless self-promotion”, I’m making it all about me when it’s really about you.
Which is so not fair to you.
The world’s worst doctor.
Pretend for a minute that your friend just found out she has skin cancer. Tfu tfu tfu, god forbid, may it never happen, etc. But let’s pretend.
You go with her to the doctor’s office, because you’re a really great friend. Your friend is feeling distraught, and is desperate to know how quickly she can take care of this thing. You squeeze her hand.
Your friend: “I’m kind of freaking out here. What are our options?”
The doctor: “Well, there is a procedure, but — oh god, this is so embarrassing, I’m such a whore for even mentioning this — we do a thing here at the hospital that has a — total shameless self-promotion here — 99% success rate. You probably don’t want to hear about it.”
Your friend: “No, tell me! I want to live! It’s cancer!”
The doctor: “Okay, well, it’s this thing we do that — shameless plug for my own services — takes three hours and then you’re fine. It — I’m sorry — can be kind of expensive sometimes though. So you’re probably not interested and I totally understand.”
Your friend: “No, I am!”
The doctor: “You know, if it were up to me, I’d never take money for this because really I just want to help people. But you know how it is, I have to make rent and stuff. I shouldn’t even have brought it up.”
THE POINT: Don’t be this guy.
Whatever it is that you do, it helps someone.
Your art or your music or your life coaching may not cure cancer, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not vital and necessary to the people who really need it.
Your Right People.
You make something beautiful that eases someone’s pain. Or reminds them who they really are.
You listen to their hurts and witness their experiences. You give them what they need in the moment that they need it most.
You make them laugh.
The specifics don’t matter. Your Right People need whatever it is you have in whatever form you give it. It’s not fair to them when you shift the attention from their pain to your discomfort around mentioning the fact that you can help.
THE POINT: It’s not fair to make it about your discomfort when they’re the ones who need you to help them with their discomfort.
What’s really going on here.
I get that you don’t want to be all “me me me”.
I get the embarrassment and the “What if they think I’m an ass?”-ness of it all. So yeah, of course we have make an awkward joke about how embarrassing it is.
Problem is, now the focus is on us and not them. The irony is that it’s actually more “me me me” to ramble on about how shameless it is than it is to just tell them what you do that might help.
Your intention? Completely honorable. You want to make it clear that you’re not an ass, and you aren’t.
But in practice… I don’t know how to say this in a way that’s not obnoxious, so I’ll just say it.
You just (accidentally) came across as a total ass.
Yes, it’s unfair. I know. It’s just that we all need a better way to not come across as an ass.
And the way to do that is to focus on the other person’s pain and the other person’s problems, and not on how awkward we feel about the fact that we might have a possible solution.
THE POINT: When you mention the thing you do, it’s not talking about the thing, it’s brainstorming solutions.
Stop implying that telling me how you can help is shameful.
Someone who’s a total ass is going to be a total ass, regardless of whether or not he apologizes for it.
It’s not like you’re going around yelling “buy, buy, buy!” or telling me in the middle of a chatty conversation that prices go up on Tuesday and I should “act now — before it’s too late to save 50% off!”
All you’re doing is telling me more about the thing that can help me. Putting a link in your sidebar to a product I might find useful — especially if it’s yours — is just a nice, considerate thing to do. That way I don’t have to look for it.
But when you insert the requisite “look how obnoxious I am” bit, you’re making everybody uncomfortable. And every time you imply that helping me is something to be embarrassed about, we all lose.
THE POINT: There is nothing to be ashamed of but shame itself. And even that? Completely unnecessary.
Always on my mind.
I just spent four days talking to some of the most smart, interesting, creative and reassuringly wacky people ever. Entrepreneurs, writers, musicians, and helper mice.
People with good hearts. People with something important to share with the world. Sometimes with something important to share with me.
And instead of just sharing it, we all manage to screw it up. Not by being embarrassed, but by making that the focus.
When our discomfort comes up, it’s there for a reason. We can talk to it. We can acknowledge it. We can do stuff to work with it and destuckify it.
But it’s not fair to pass it on — even unintentionally — to the people we’re trying to help.
Sneezing shame and embarrassment and self-loathing … I know it sounds very sexy, but it’s not.
So I’d love it if we could take the “shameless” out of shameless self-promotion. And the “self”. And the “promotion”.
I survived SXSW.
And all I got from learning things the hard way was this lousy t-shirt.
If you’re not up to speed, I just got back from four wild ragtag days in Austin, Texas, where I was supposedly attending that one internet conference.
I have a conflict here. On the one hand, I have a vested interest in not boring the hell out of you. Which means I probably shouldn’t keep talking about SXSW.
On the other hand, you know I always tell you what’s on my mind … and what’s on tap at the moment is about a hundred ideas, thoughts, wonderings and insights. All of which (sorry!) have to do with the crazy four days I spent in Austin.
So here’s what I’m going to do. Quick verbal snapshots of some of the stuff that’s percolating in my brain right now, and we’ll see how it goes from there.
People are intimidated by my duck.
This was definitely news to me. I tend to think of us as being fairly approachable.
One of the things I learned on this trip, though, is that there are a number of people whose fear of meeting me actually outweighed (or nearly outweighed) their desire to meet me.
Nothing could be more surprising to me than hearing from one friend or another, “hey, I just ran into a huge fan of yours and said you were right over here — and then they freaked out and ran away“. Weird, right?
I get how awkward and potentially uncomfortable it is to march up and introduce yourself to a semi-stranger, especially one you madly admire.
I mean, I’m the one who spilled water all over Derek Sivers.
It’s just that … I’m really, really nice. My niceness is not even “oh, that’s my brand” or anything creepy like that. It’s really me. And my duck is even nicer.
No kidding. Everybody loves Selma.
So I had a lot of trouble wrapping my head around this. That there were people excited/terrified to meet me — people I was totally cool about meeting and talking to — who ran away.
I have no idea what I’m going to do differently now that I know this — but this was definitely the big surprise of the whole trip.
Fear: it lives in televisions.
In Austin I was mostly hanging out with my friends and colleagues who, like me, are fortunate enough to (knock on keyboard) not be affected much by the current state of the economy.
And at the same time, I had a number of conversations with other people about to launch a new business or break out on their own, people who are so capable, talented, and inspirational that their chance of success seems — if not inevitable — then at least a pretty safe bet.
But their anxiety about the economy is keeping them absolutely paralyzed.
There is an economic crisis. Obviously. But some of us are are soaking in this atmosphere of crisis, and the rest seem to be immune to its effects on our mood and well-being.
So I was puzzling over this, and then I was sitting in the Dallas airport and I felt myself also sinking into that awful, dark “everything sucks” depression. And then I noticed that there were television screens everywhere.
All you could see and all you could hear in all directions was doom doom doom.*
*Like the dodos in “Ice Age”. Doom on you, doom on you!
Oh.
I don’t have a television. So I’m not breathing daily infusions of hyped-up horribleness.
No wonder everyone’s scared. Of course they are.
Television* is a 24-hour fear generating machine.
*By “television” I’m referring specifically to the genre of “news infotainment”, yes?
I’m not saying stuff isn’t going seriously off-track in the world these days, because it is.
It’s just that it’s not always the economy. It’s just that fear is the greatest cause of stuck. It’s just that the people who could totally be doing amazing things and making money right now are just kind of treading water.
Kill Maim your television.
Next year in Greece.
I need to make a confession. I just spent four days at an internet conference and didn’t actually go to it.
Well, I was there. But I didn’t attend a single panel. Not one discussion, not one keynote.
Not just me. Naomi, too. That might have been my fault. Possibly.
At first it was just because I was having too much fun. And then it was because I was meeting people and making useful connections.
And by the end, it was kind of “well, I’ve come this far”. Like, attending an actual event would be over the top.
I talked to so many people who did a. pretty much the same thing, b. almost the same thing, or c. wished they’d done the same thing.
So I’m thinking … these completely fascinating conversations with like-minded thinkers, helper-mice and fellow goofball entrepreneurs were so valuable and so inspiring that I can’t wait to do it again.
Just maybe not at a convention.
What I really want to do is hang out more with Naomi and Pam and Chris and Nathan and Sonia and Colleen. So now I’m thinking Greece.
I hear you don’t need to wear a lanyard with a nametag to get in.
But if I were going back and I didn’t already have people to hang out with? I would plan plan plan. I’d figure out exactly what needed to happen to hook up with my people from Twitter. I’d be Karl, who made it really easy to say yes to having lunch with him. I’d be Sarah, who went out of her way to make me want to meet her.
Which reminds me: we need to talk about how to stalk people in style without being creepy.
How to stalk people in style without being creepy.
I actually have quite a rant on this, but I know Naomi will be covering that subject this week.
I will say this, though:
Imagine that you are me, and there are a hundred people who want to meet you.
Or, better, imagine that you are Chris Brogan and there are a thousand people who want to meet you.
Now imagine that you’ve received — for the purposes of this experiment — ten text messages. Nine of them go like this: “Hey, are you around? I’d really like to meet you. Where are you?”
The tenth one says “I’m at _____________ at the corner of X and Y from 2 to 4 today. Amazing people here. Would love it if you dropped by.”
Which one are you answering?
There you go … free business advice. 🙂
That’s where I’m at.
No brilliant conclusions or anything. I’m just sitting with all of this, and watching it sift through my sleep-deprived brain. Getting excited about where I might take these ideas, without having to take them anywhere just yet.
I can definitely say that I’m happy to be home. And even happier to be here. I missed you guys.
Havi’s Insecurities: blogging live from SXSW
And other stories…
Thought bubbles.
Havi and her insecurities are sitting together on the plane. Selma the duck is hiding in the red bag, uncomfortably nestled against a paper bag of cashews and his moments hazelnuts.*
*Yes, Stu. “And his moments” was pretty funny. As was “and his laments”. Next time, please just say hazelnuts.
And Stu — because, how could I forget him? — was folded up neatly in the suitcase. Well, his microphone was.
Interesting philosophical question there. If Stu lives inside of my computer but I only see him when the microphone is plugged in, who is Stu really?
Yes, I’m trying to distract you from my insecurities, except that I promised to let them guest post today.
Alright then.
Thoughts bubbles part 2.
Havi: “Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Going to Austin to meet all of my friends!”
Havi’s Insecurities: “Are you really ready for this?”
Havi: “What are you talking about?”
Havi’s Insecurities: “Don’t you know about the thought bubbles?”
Havi:???
I didn’t know about the thought bubbles, but as soon as this idea was introduced into my consciousness, I saw them everywhere.
Havi’s Insecurities: “You know. You meet someone that you know only by picture or voice and then you’re thinking “Wow. They’re so much taller than I thought they’d be.” But you don’t say it. It’s just in the thought bubble.”
Havi: Okay. So what?
Havi’s Insecurities: So you know what they’re going to be saying about you in their thought bubbles?”
Havi:???
Havi’s Insecurities: “What they’re really thinking is, ‘Oh my god, I thought you to be Lisa Kinnear.’
Havi:???
Havi’s Insecurities: “Sorry. That was Stu. What I meant to say was that everybody will be thinking about how they thought you would be way skinnier.”
Havi: “Oh.”
Meeting people.
I’ve met so many people here since Friday evening.
And so far four of them have said “Oh my god, You’re so much taller than I thought you’d be. I thought you’d be way shorter.”
Which my insecurities instantly translated to “skinnier”. Until we had a little talk.
Meeting people part two.
Unsurprisingly, I spent most of my time with Naomi. Glued to the hip, practically. Harder than it sounds.
Also: surprisingly useful when your arms don’t work and you can’t text anybody. If I’ve said anything untoward to you on Twitter or via SMS in the past couple days, it was probably her.
Here’s who I’ve been hanging out I with (aside from Naomi):
- Pam.
- Sonia.
- Colleen.
- Nathan.
- Jeff.
- Marie from distinct charmers. Cut it out, Stu. You know she’s from Snakecharmers. They’re practically my favorite band.
- Charlie.
- Steve.
I also got to meet Derek Sivers from CDBaby — someone I wanted to meet for years and years — if by “meet” you mean “interrogate, harass, spill water on, belatedly identify as the person you’ve wanted to meet for years and then be reduced to a gushing, water spilling pile of googly-eyed fan girl”.
That is what you meant, right?
Realizations.
Of course any “venturing out from the place you think of as home” is fraught with all sorts of things.
Yes, I have problems with the word journey — Juana make something of it? That was “wanna”. I hate Steve. But I love how Stu won’t let me disparage him, and calls himself Steve instead when I say something unflattering. Can’t imagine why that would happen.
You take yourself somewhere new and you watch yourself interact with ideas, people and your own perceptions. And I got slammed with a huge epiphany this morning.
Realizations, part two.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about it, yet. But I’ll plant some seeds.
This whole time that I’ve been dealing with the pain in my arms, I’ve known that there was a significant emotional component to it as well as the physical.
A huge part of my healing process thingy has been focusing on those angles as well. Given the timing and some of the stuff that was going on right before it started — and my body’s being very clear about stuff he wants me to change in my life — this is not exactly news to me.
But this morning I realized EXACTLY what’s going on here. What the root of it is. And what the next steps are.
So I need to do some more work with this before I’ll be ready to talk about what I’ve learned and where I’m going with it, but this is the most optimistic I’ve felt so far.
Totally worth it.
This uncomfortable flash of insight — this astonishing (to me, at least) realization — is so useful to me and so powerful, that the whole trip to SXSW was worth it.
Even if I hadn’t gotten to see all my friends.
Even if I haven’t gotten to go to a bunch of panels (wait, I still haven’t gone to any panels!).
Even if I hadn’t gotten to spill water everywhere in my excitement over meeting Derek.
All in all, a pretty great trip. I’m here until Tuesday, so we’ll see what else shows up. I’m going to go get Naomi or someone to post this for me.
*blows kiss*
Friday Check-in #32: “take that!” 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.
I’m kind of running around like a headless chicken, which is oddly appropriate, given that this is the Friday Chicken.
Because I’m on my way to Austin for SXSW, dragging my gentleman friend with me. And Selma too, of course.
And some Selma decoys, bodyguards and such, to thwart any attempts at a celebrity ducknapping. Take that!
And in case you’re not one of those people who has an overly obsessive relationship with my duck, but you are my twitter stalker burglar, my brother is going to be home all weekend. Take that!
On to this week.
The hard stuff
Still the arms.
Still in pain. Still trying to find solutions to the “I can’t do my work” thing — preferably ones that don’t drive me crazy.
The good part of that is that Ez and my gentleman friend are slaves to my will donating a lot of time and energy to helping me in my business.
But that’s hard too, because I hate receiving help almost as much as I dread asking for it.
Working on that. Yuck.
Snow!
Seriously, Portland. It’s practically the middle of March. I can handle frost and stuff, but full-on snow? Don’t make me move back to the Middle East.
It was freezing this week. And since I regularly have to stick my arms in either hot or cold baths, I can’t even bundle up properly.
Grumble, grumble, grumble. Grumble.
Not being able to write.
Dictating posts, or talking them out with Stu (my arch-nemesis in software form), is just not the same as sitting down to write.
The whole meditative process has become something else for me. It feels sluggish and awkward. My words don’t come as fast. The writing process is less playful and more labored.
It’s a lot of hard for right now.
If I didn’t have Stu’s Bolsheviks for comic relief, I don’t know what I’d do. He’s an acetyl, but he’s a funny acetyl.
The good stuff
Getting help.
Aside from all the time, love and energy that members of Hoppy House are donating to the “Keeping Havi From Falling Apart” fund, lots of other help is showing up, too.
Of course, there is the fabulous Marissa, my kooky and marvelous personal assistant and can-do-ologist. And Peggy, who does all the behind-the-scenes magic. And Denise, my new project manager.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, so many of my friends, clients and students have been asking if they can help, or volunteering an hour or two to type while I dictate (so much faster than Stu!).
I’m in awe. It’s really amazing. And I am so grateful.
Purim!
I already wrote about baking cookies, screaming madly and all that. But it was definitely a highlight of the week, and worth mentioning twice.
This actually belongs in the “hard” section, too, because we had a completely miserable time at this insane synagogue that we wound up at accidentally.
It was super noisy. Selma hated it. They skipped most of the parts we had actually come for. And they — I’m not even making this up — had a song called “I Love My Big Jew Frog.”
I love my big jew frog. What?!?
This exceptional phrase, despite making no sense in any context whatsoever, has ended up providing hours of entertainment for me, my brother and my gentleman friend.
We’ve been coming up with absurd rhyming couplets featuring this line, which still is completely incomprehensible to me. Or to anybody, really.
Buenos Dias, Guten Tag! Oh how I love my Big Jew Frog!
I avoid LA because of all the smog! Tell me, are you my Big Jew Frog?
And so on.
Yes, we have fun at Hoppy House.
I was curious enough about this hysterical, yet completely inappropriate song title, and so I did a little creative googling. But the only search result for “big jew frog” is my post from Tuesday.
You know the XKCD list of phrases that return no Google results? And the resulting paradox that as soon as you post a phrase that is not Google-able, it suddenly is, because your result has made it so?
Right. I can’t believe no one else got “big jew frog” first. That’s totally going on a t-shirt. Except it’s not.
Birthday!
I don’t have much to say about it, but yay! Birthday!
Lots of contemplation, reflection, thinking about stuff. And, as threatened, yoga and meditation, and some time in the sauna.
I also got an astonishing assortment of cards, and odd/ wonderful little gifts from various friends and readers around the world.
Thanks especially to Lori, Janet, Fabeku and our very dear Wormy.
My gentleman friend surprised me with an enormous box of Fansocks from the best sock store in the entire world. I’m sure there are many women who would rather not get socks for their birthday, but clearly I am not one of them because I am overjoyed. Socks!
Wooly ones and stripey ones and stripey wooly ones . . . best birthday ever.
Ooh! And the best birthday greeting ever:
Happy Birthday Oh Shiva One, Selma’s Pimp-In-Chief, Supreme Yogawhore and Creator Of The Best Wacky Hippy Crap Ever!
I love my students and clients so much.
Just saying.
Helper mice.
Chris is my massage therapist, and I’d link to him except that he has issues with biggification to the point that there isn’t even a website to link to.
But aside from that, he’s just the loveliest person, and I’m so lucky to have him on my team of people who are doing stuff to make me get better.
I also got an astonishingly great session from Hiro, that gave me considerable insight into some of the deeper stuff happening around my pain, and a new hope for improvement.
Between the two of them, I’m feeling a lot more optimistic, just in general. It’s about time.
Ez lives here! And I’m still happy about it!
So if you’re sick of hearing about it, too bad. Take that!
Actually, we have a little “take that!” dance that we made up. If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll show you sometime.
He also made the most amazing cauliflower-paneer-lentil spicy something-or-other (homemade paneer!) and I could not be happier.
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.