If I began this issue with what’s on my mind, you may never read The Letter again. But you trust me to be transparent (is that what you trust me with)?
I’m a wildly independent woman… except in a relationship. I don’t know what it looks like to be a whole person while sharing time and space with a partner. The muscle is weak.
The muscle with the most bulk is the alone muscle—it does one-handed push-ups!
The one that fights to grip a pencil is the banana muscle, the one that understands how to be separate and whole, yet connected and together—like bananas 🍌. (See what I did there?)
Many of us could use help on being separate, yet connected. Our early life experiences define our future attachments, and many, many of us felt insecure—whether emotionally, physically, or both—despite our parents’ best intentions. Early insecurity causes difficulty attaching, which makes adult partnerships tricky (though not impossible).
I’m grateful for my partner Stephen, who is alongside me as I strengthen my banana muscle. It’s glorious and difficult—it’s both. (And that sentence is weird.)
When I told John* what I was experiencing in my relationship and in life, he responded with this:
A kind message that gave me a twinge of “you’re okay.” Thanks, John.
And, here’s your “you’re okay” message, dear reader. You’re okay!
Organized Chaos
Consider this book if you, your child, or both need help getting it done. The title is good—How to Do It Now Because It's Not Going Away: An Expert Guide to Getting Stuff Done—and speaks to most of our hopes: Maybe if I ignore it, it will magically get done without me.
It never does.
Check Your 6
Do you know what the phrase means? I didn’t, until I asked John, who often ends his notes to me with “check your 6.”
It means checking your surroundings. Being vigilant. It’s a military term for knowing what’s behind you in the 6 o’clock position.
I told John I don’t check my 6, though it certainly makes sense that a man on Death Row would advise such a thing.
Don’t Get Rit of It
I’ve reconnected with an old drugstore friend, Rit. I borrowed a lobster pot from a neighbor, and I’m dying everything I can get my hands on.
I’m not going to lie, it’s hit-and-miss. Sometimes, dying your bath towels turquoise sounds like a good idea when it’s absolutely not! However, their color remover is there to reverse poor choices.
I haven’t tried it yet, but my travel onsie* is dying for the back-to-black treatment, which is for precisely what you think—dying those now-faded black items back to jet-black perfection.
Have fun breathing new life into your goods. The earth thanks you.
Reclaim Your Soul in Six Weeks
Sign me up! It only takes six weeks to reclaim your soul, according to the book Free to Be: A 6 Week Guide to Reclaiming Your Soul. While I haven’t read it (as if I need to reclaim my soul!) it has 59 5-star reviews. That’s got to account for something, no?
(Perhaps, though unlikely, I’ll organize a book club, and we can reclaim our souls in six weeks—together! :)
Hey, my birthday is around the corner. I’m staring 47 in the face, and let me tell you, it’s interesting. Next time you stare you in the face, give a wink and a smile. You’ve never looked so good. Speaking of…
Two of my already-47-year-old friends looking like a million bucks. Hi Anna and Molly!
Until next week, friends. ❤️ Simone
*John is my pen pal who lives on San Quentin’s Death Row.
**Travel onesie is the name I gave my black twill jumpsuit after finding it’s the perfect outfit to travel in. I’d link it here, but then you’d think I was a high roller. It wasn’t cheap, but it will last foreva. Fine, here’s the link, but don’t judge.
How have you, Molly and Anna (hi gals!!) not aged in …gasp… 30 years?!?!?!?! Looking fabulous, all three of you.
I can’t even remember my other comments I had reading the letter… oh well, maybe that’s because I’ve already ventured into 48…
Like the onesie but hate metal zippers. How does it not cause you grief when you travel, snagging other pieces of clothing? 🤔