Yesterday, I decided that our shy cat Harley could probably teach people a thing or two about social distancing, so I started taping this tutorial:
However, Harley didn’t teach the way I expected him to. Based on my past knowledge of Harley, I assume that Harley’s behavior was different because his best friend Michael was in the room.
This morning, when Michael was not in the room, I tried again:
Somebody can teach me something about how to hold the camera and Harley can teach us all this about social distancing:
Maintain a distance of six feet from people.
If somebody gets too close, move away, if possible.
If not, ask the person to back off.
Harley also teaches us that fear can make us very catty.
What can these other recent images teach us?
That teabag can teach us that our strength is our own knowledge.
I hope our knowledge and our strength help us all get through this. I look forward to the teachings in the comments section, below.
Yesterday, in my Coping and Healing group, the members talked about what’s going on in the world, expressing the wish that different people could be sitting down, sharing, and getting along.
What’s the secret to getting along? According to the group members yesterday, it’s listening to each other with respect.
I need to be getting along to work early this morning, so here are all my other photos from yesterday:
In the 1970s, I had several anxiety’s moments, including when I heard about Chicago’s wonderful singer-guitarist-songwriter Terry Kath‘s untimely death from “an accidental gunshot wound to the head.” That still causes anxiety’s moment when I think about it in this moment.
That’s a sign I saw yesterday at Designer’s Circus in Boston. At Designer’s Circus, I found Therapy and Joy.
That’s Joy, who was one of the many people at Designer’s Circus who heard that I was there to shop for a dress for my December 27 City Hall Wedding and who wanted to be involved in the process.
That’s Kathleen, one of the owners of Designer’s Circus, who helped me find two great dresses. Spending time with her and the other wonderful people I met at Designer’s Circus was definitely therapy for me.
One thousand, five hundred, and fifty-three days ago (but who’s counting?), I published Day 1005: What is success?Because I’m feeling self-confident today, I think it’s time to revisit success.
When things are challenging at work and elsewhere, I like to share my personal epic stories with my fiancé, Michael.
Michael (who until recently was just my boyfriend) used to respond — after I had finished weaving my latest saga of ups and downs, twists and turns, backs and forths, and tos and fros — like so:
Maybe because we’re all sadder and wiser these days (as we realize that not EVERYBODY loves us), Michael’s go-to response to my personal stories is now this:
It all worked out.
“It all worked out” as a response to my stories evokes ups and downs, twists and turns, backs and forths, and tos and fros in me, including:
laughter,
annoyance,
calm,
mind-reading,
agreement,
worry that my story might not have been as riveting in the telling as I had hoped,
acceptance,
sarcasm,
epiphanies, and
often a resolution to tell the same story to somebody who was there or who knows the people who were there (because, as they say, “you had to be there”).
Yesterday, I told Michael that my next blog post was going to be titled “It all worked out.” We’ll see how that works out.
Last night, I went to the 25th anniversary of Cam Neely‘s huge charity event, Comics Come Home, at the Boston Garden. I had some anxiety and worry about parking and getting to the venue, where I was meeting Julie, one of my co-workers.
This anxiety and worry seemed well founded when I encountered troubling signs at the parking garage where I had pre-paid for a space through the app Park Whiz.
It appeared that I was going to have to pay $36 – $48 to get my car out, after paying $17 last week to Park Whiz to reserve a space at this garage. I called the phone number in the Park Whiz app and reached a nice human being who told me that, when I returned from the event at the Garden, I should buzz the attendant who should let me out. SHOULD, I thought, wondering how this was going to work out.
I then worked my way over to the Boston Garden through twists and turns, backs and forths, and tos and fros, as Google Maps gave me confusing and sometimes incorrect information. (I am thankful there were minimal ups and downs, because I do not like working out on hills.) When Google Maps was telling me that I was still a five-minute walk away from the Garden, I asked two nearby policeman, “This may be a stupid question, but where’s The Garden?” As I expected, they pointed and replied, “It’s right here.” Then, when I told the security people at the doors that I had a pacemaker, they worked it out so I could avoid the metal detectors, which can make pacemakers stop working correctly. Soon I was back inside the Garden, where I had seen Larry Bird, Robert Parish, and the other Boston Celtics work out so many wins during the 1980s.
After the amazing show, my co-worker Julie accompanied me back to the parking garage because neither of us were sure how this was going to work out. We buzzed the attendant, who said he could NOT let me out and that I was going to have to pay full price and settle up with Park Whiz. When we argued with him, he hung up on us. I called Park Whiz again and when I started to explain the situation, a different nice human being on the other end asked, “Is this Ann?” She apologized for the hassle and told me that they had spoken to management of the garage and that they were supposed to let me out. Then I lost phone reception with her. Julie contacted the attendant again and the nice Park Whiz person called me back and asked if she could somehow talk to the attendant. As I was trying to work this out, I heard the parking attendant say this to Julie through the intercomm:
You know what? I’m sick of this! People are telling me different things. I’ll just let you out. Okay? Bring your car around. I’ll recognize you.
I got into my little yellow car, drove to the exit, and, after a few moments, the unseen parking attendant lifted the gate so I could work my way out. After driving into better phone reception, I called Park Whiz again. It was after midnight, past the time the first nice Park Whiz person had said they would still be answering the phones. However, I easily reached more nice people, who apologized for the confusion and the miscommunications and who gave me a credit for future Park Whiz bookings.
Julie insisted on working her way home via an Uber, refusing my offers to drive her there. Later, I texted her this:
Thank you so much! You are my hero!
She replied:
Thanks for a fun night!
I look forward to seeing her tomorrow, back at work.
When I got home to Michael last night, the first thing I said to him was, “It all worked out.”
Here‘s Denis Leary working it out in a song he performed last night with The Enablers.
That’s how they work things out in Boston.
Thanks to all who help me work things out at this daily blog, including YOU.
two retreats about group therapy on Saturday and Sunday.
While looking forward to events in the future can help one feel hope, it can also trigger worry and fears about that future, like “Is this too much?” “Will all these activities next week interfere in my self care?” “Will the absence of the late Walter Becker get in the way of my really enjoying the Steely Dan concert?” “What’s the weather going to be like?” “Am I ready for November?” and “Where the hell am I going to park?”
The cure for future-oriented fears is refocusing on the present moment. And in this moment, I have several new photos to share with you.
To make this my day, my way, I’d like to revisit and clarify one difficult-to-read photo above:
History is a relentless master. It has no present, only the past rushing into the future. To try to hold fast is to be swept aside.
tickets for the last pre-Broadway performance of American Utopia,
a reasonable parking space in Boston,
sushi at our favorite sushi restaurant,
time at a Halloween pop-up store near the theater, and
the chance to witness and enjoy an incredible show with amazing musicians in a miraculous theater.
Every day that I took each of these previously unshared photos was a miracle.
Every one of those photos is a miracle.
Every moment of American Utopiawas a miracle, including “Every Day is a Miracle.” Here‘s a miraculously clear recording of a 2018 performance of that song in Houston.
Every comment you leave is a miracle, for me.
Thanks to all who make my every day a miracle, including YOU.
Yesterday, when I was helping people feel safer in a Coping and Healing group, I wrote and shared this:
I helped myself feel safer yesterday by changing how I visualize a judgmental and critical person. I used to call them my personal dragon. Which is scary! I imagined them as a little yappy dog. And that helped!
I helped myself feel safer, after the group, by walking around Boston during a beeoootiful day and then going to see a play with my friend and real estate agent, Jane (not pictured, because my phone was running out of juice and I wanted to conserve some power so I could feel safer when I walked back to my car). Do any of my photos from yesterday help you feel safer?
Knowing that this is “Thinking of You Week” helps me feel safer, as does Boston’s Christian Science Center, book stores, cakes, animals, friends, and people trying to solve world problems.
I helped myself feel safer yesterday while I was waiting for Jane at a restaurant by starting a new original song, called “Who Cares?”
