Hookey

Yes, that's hookEY and not hookER. Bad reader!

So, today I played hookey. Not really. I did have to go into the office at one point (because in addition to decorating our office like a B&B, the other way we'll sell software is to change a verb on our Web site to something more IMPACTFUL. Ugh.) And I did start doing email at nine a.m. like a good little keyboard monkey. But, I did manage to stay in my jammies until noon.

And this always throws me off. Those days where you don't really have any schedule or any time constraints. I always think I'm gonna get tons done. And yet, I still haven't cleaned my damn apartment (are we noticing a theme here? Please PLEASE let me one day be independently wealthy and hire a cleaning crew...)

It's making me wonder what I'm avoiding dealing with. Is there some thought or emotion I've been blockading that gads of quiet, non-BurgerTime-playing time will allow me to experience? Is this, perhaps, why I've felt the need to sob uncontrollably for days? (No, I haven't actually yet shed a tear. So beware. The tidal wave is coming).

It's probably a good thing that I scheduled an energy work session for next week. I do loves me some reiki.

And, thank Shakti, this weekend is a yoga weekend!

PS -- Speaking of which, I got cornered whilst at home working in my jammies, by some Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses folks today, inviting me to come to a meeting on the anniversary of Jesus' death (which apparently is April 2.) Do you think they'd really welcome a pagan, bisexual, yogini into their midst? Maybe I should go................

Empathy and the Art of Listening

It's been a rough couple of weeks. (When isn't it, you ask? High maintenance anyone?) In addition to the rough patches Mr. Zips and I have been going through, there's the hormonal imbalances of yours truly, Napolean's in town, I have to have surgery in a few weeks and, oh yea, I don't have an empathetic friend to speak of.

To recap: this week was much better for Mr. Zips and I. Probably because I finally got "My Dear Aunt Flo" this week. Only about three and a half weeks late. So, there were many tears but also some serious emotional sharing and heart opening. So, we're doing good.

Napolean is in town again and that means my mornings are in danger. He is a man who does not understand that you do NOT talk to me before I've had my coffee. And so, yesterday, he corners me and starts talking about DECORATING the FUCKING OFFICE before I've finished my coffee. So, I graduated phi beta kappa magna cum laude and have seven years industry experience (and the awards and merits to back it up) and I'm picking out dried flower arrangements. Because you know what will help us sell more enterprise software? An office that looks like a B&B.

I got a call today from my doc's office. Results from last week's procedures came back and we're not happy. So, on April 27th, I get to go under the knife. OK, technically laser, but it still hurts. A LOT. Plus, I won't be able to have sex or exercise! for two months. How horrible is my life. (The only thing that makes this feel better is that I told Mr. Zips and his response was to tell me, "I'm sorry I caused all that Cancer. NICE!)

So, the point of this whole honking post. I have a friend. (Are you shocked?) She's going through a rough time. And I've tried my best to help her, listen to her, support her. But these last two weeks, I've really -- REALLY -- needed a friend. Not only to listen to me, but to hear me. Not best me with a reaction of, "well, you're problems are bad, now let me tell you about mine." And that, in the long and short of it, is what I've gotten.

I shouldn't be surprised. Every person I've ever tried to talk to - friend, parent, lover - has "one-upped" me. I have a headache, they have a brain tumor. I had a bad day, they had a bad life.

But, for some reason, I'm really hurt by this recent turn of affairs. I've become passive-aggressive in my emails to her and that makes me dislike myself. But I can't bring myself to put myself out there for her again. Not after getting Jack in return. I know friendship isn't tit for tat, but I really -- really -- needed a friend to listen. Just once.

And, this, dear readers, is what you get when you have one overtired, overworked, hormonally imbalanced female who's had two rough weeks in a row. Sorry.

A Moment of Silence

Comfortable in My Skin

Despite the Nor'Easter that hit us on Friday, it is almost spring here in New England. And so the spring catalogues are arriving in the mail.

Mr. Zips and I had a near argument last week (you're shocked, I know) about these catalogues. I was showing him a shirt in the Lands' End catalogue I really liked. It's a white, eyelet Oxford button down. It looks a lot like a shirt I finally had to part with during the last move.

Mr. Zips thinks I dress like an old woman. Probably because I dress like an old woman.

He says, with my figure, I could get away with a lot more.

I say, why do I need to get away with anything?

I dress the way I do because I feel comfortable that way. Not because I'm trying to hide - or show off - my figure. But because my personal taste in fashion runs to the conservative and classic. The sad, disgruntling truth is, I like Talbots.

No matter who we think we should be or who other people think we should be, well, sooner or later who we actually are is going to come out.

For example, I felt like I should be going out partying last night. It was Saint Patrick's Day. I'm so Irish I even work for a Dublin-based company. But I wanted to go to yoga today and so I wanted to get to bed early.

So I got to yoga and, lo and behold, the class was filled with people I knew. And I mentioned something about listening to WeSun before class this morning. "Wasn't the puzzle fun today?" one woman piped in. "Yeah, but the challenge was way too easy" said another. We had a good laugh, walking out to our cars, each one adorned with anti-war, anti-bush, pro-environment bumper stickers.

We are who we are. And even if Mr. Zips would love to see his galpal in skintight spandex or supershort mini skirts, I'm gonna keep shopping the Lands' End catalog.

Diesel Sweeties

My friend Tomkolson turned me onto this comic strip, Diesel Sweeties. Check out this strip. It's relevance to my life is a little astounding....