Five impossible things before breakfast
I've been having the most ridiculously awesome time lately. My writing is being well received, I feel like people listen to me and that I don't make a fool of myself when I talk. I'm being genuine, intimate, and open with people, and people like it. They like me. I'm finally not hiding my light under a bushel, shining it the ways I know best, and I'm not being ignored as I feared.
This evening, we went to the Weston A. Price potluck again, even though we had a small meltdown before the event, and were neither of us feeling too energetic when we set out. It was a small group but we really connected well. I'm always glad I go because I network with people who have many of the same concerns, I always learn something new and meet people I'm glad I ran into. This time I talked to a woman about Waldorf, the GAPS diet, ayurveda, our kids, and food, and it was all one lovely conversation. Kevin had to tell us to eat.
I told our host, who is a DV expert, about the article I wrote for the Good Men Project, and how I responded to a commenter who couldn't stop talking about men as victims of abuse by inviting him to talk to me privately about his own history with abuse. There's a new call out to write on gender, so you know I'm all set to tackle that next. My series with the Boston Local Food Festival is over, and I'm on the hunt for something new. I applied for what could be a very cool sales job that I would be able to do from home, as well as what I'm doing now.
I'm talking to someone about a commercial kitchen that may be opening up across the street from where I live, practically, and it sounds amazing. I hope they're not actually clueless. gwendally, you and I have been reading each other's journals for years. You know I'm a grasshopper. These people have already got it worked out how much to charge for membership, but they have zero financials in their business plan draft. Not even rent. I'm hoping this just means I'm getting in on the ground floor, not that no one involved knows enough to make this really happen. This being Northampton, we can probably guess what the real answer is. But I'm such a goddamned grasshopper that I'll go anyway. I have a dream, and it currently involves selling frozen meals catering to all kinds of special diets, from raw foods vegan to strict Paleo. I think it could be awesome, and I don't take "that's impossible" for an answer. It used to be impossible for me to change my sex. All my best ideas are for impossible shit.
I think I'm actually getting somewhere with the writing. I really do. Things feel like they're getting so much more alive right now. Kevin's diet change has made him so much happier. I have a new girlfriend and a wonderful husband, and they have each surprised and delighted me recently. Kevin made me dinner last night and cleaned up everything. He made everything I love, without me telling him what to make.
Seriously, my life is awesome.
If I could give you some awesome, friends, I would. Some of you really need it. Some of you in particular, I would move back to the Valley so I could regularly spoon-feed you locally raised awesome that I braised in its own juices. I know, I know, you have your reasons.
I wish my sister read LiveJournal. We texted today and she cracked me up. She told me that the birthday card that she got for my birthday was returned to her for being short on postage. I tsked at her, daughter of a postman, for her insufficient postage. Her response was a reminder of our childhood, when we never put stamps on anything: we just left them for Dad to take to work. She said, well, I left it on the kitchen table for days but the postman never took it.
This evening, we went to the Weston A. Price potluck again, even though we had a small meltdown before the event, and were neither of us feeling too energetic when we set out. It was a small group but we really connected well. I'm always glad I go because I network with people who have many of the same concerns, I always learn something new and meet people I'm glad I ran into. This time I talked to a woman about Waldorf, the GAPS diet, ayurveda, our kids, and food, and it was all one lovely conversation. Kevin had to tell us to eat.
I told our host, who is a DV expert, about the article I wrote for the Good Men Project, and how I responded to a commenter who couldn't stop talking about men as victims of abuse by inviting him to talk to me privately about his own history with abuse. There's a new call out to write on gender, so you know I'm all set to tackle that next. My series with the Boston Local Food Festival is over, and I'm on the hunt for something new. I applied for what could be a very cool sales job that I would be able to do from home, as well as what I'm doing now.
I'm talking to someone about a commercial kitchen that may be opening up across the street from where I live, practically, and it sounds amazing. I hope they're not actually clueless. gwendally, you and I have been reading each other's journals for years. You know I'm a grasshopper. These people have already got it worked out how much to charge for membership, but they have zero financials in their business plan draft. Not even rent. I'm hoping this just means I'm getting in on the ground floor, not that no one involved knows enough to make this really happen. This being Northampton, we can probably guess what the real answer is. But I'm such a goddamned grasshopper that I'll go anyway. I have a dream, and it currently involves selling frozen meals catering to all kinds of special diets, from raw foods vegan to strict Paleo. I think it could be awesome, and I don't take "that's impossible" for an answer. It used to be impossible for me to change my sex. All my best ideas are for impossible shit.
I think I'm actually getting somewhere with the writing. I really do. Things feel like they're getting so much more alive right now. Kevin's diet change has made him so much happier. I have a new girlfriend and a wonderful husband, and they have each surprised and delighted me recently. Kevin made me dinner last night and cleaned up everything. He made everything I love, without me telling him what to make.
Seriously, my life is awesome.
If I could give you some awesome, friends, I would. Some of you really need it. Some of you in particular, I would move back to the Valley so I could regularly spoon-feed you locally raised awesome that I braised in its own juices. I know, I know, you have your reasons.
I wish my sister read LiveJournal. We texted today and she cracked me up. She told me that the birthday card that she got for my birthday was returned to her for being short on postage. I tsked at her, daughter of a postman, for her insufficient postage. Her response was a reminder of our childhood, when we never put stamps on anything: we just left them for Dad to take to work. She said, well, I left it on the kitchen table for days but the postman never took it.