nudle

Today I got an invitation to Linkedin with G.B., a boy I used to know (because back when I knew him he was a boy, and will likely remain a boy to me forever even though we did meet again as adults at a class reunion that is slightly foggy to me, which is unfortunate, and I promise myself I will not drink so much Champagne on the way to other, future, class reunions). G.B. was a nice guy and it gave me a tiny warm feeling that he wanted to Linkedin. I know that G.B. Linkedin me only because the algorithm suggested it because other girls and boys from elementary school and junior high and high school have Linkedin me. (I actually don't know if anyone from those days has Linkedin me. Must go check, further delaying accomplishing anything. No. No. I will not do that. I will sit in this chair and write for real now. Not for this blog. But first I must tie up the ends of this inconsequential missive.)

Why do I get a tiny warm feeling at G.B.'s digital-only invitation to simply show we are 'professionally networked,' even though he works for a toy company and I sit alone trying to put words down so I can finish this infernal novel? I suppose it's because we want to be noticed and we have a primal need to belong. Additionally, I'll take anything I can get when I feel alone and scared, picking up my manuscript after being away reveling among family and drinking Chardonnay like a footloose bon vivant. Now I find myself in a dim, dank, hard-edged corridor with many doors that stretches before me like that hallway in Poltergeist. And offspring pick-up looms...

There is a cafe close to school that we visit on our way home sometimes. Usually it's when Iona's had a bad day, so we can get her a chocolate chip cookie. Han gets something, too, and sometimes I even get a scone or biscotti. They are nice. It's an old house with an aura of friendliness and neighborhoodiness. The people smile and recognize us. All these are good when you weren't asked to play soccer at lunch recess and even if you hate soccer, it would have been nice to be asked, and you would have even played, had you been asked. So when we found ourselves standing outside the glass front yesterday, I realized that my wallet was sitting uselessly at home and all I had was my checkbook. We went in anyway. I hate asking for favors which is a weakness of mine but I am able to overcome it in a lunch-recess-no-soccer-invitation emergency, which is a strength. So I asked if they'd take a check. The woman said, "How about if you just bring the money in tomorrow and take the cookies now. Would that be okay?" It was okay. So today maybe we'll go back, take money, and buy more cookies.

Wow. Brené Brown on the power of vulnerability. Worth twenty minutes.