Category — Virtual Lushary

I didn’t time this Virtual Lushary to coincide with St. Patrick’s Day (which is generally celebrated in America with a lot of green beer) but since we’re here, can we turn to one of my favourite Irish traditions? The wake.

Apologies; I know that was sort of a buzz kill.

It’s not that Jewish funerals are so different–we use Shiva to reminiscence about the person. But today is St. Patrick’s Day–not Pesach–so we’re going to go with the Irish tradition of toasting the person after their death, remembering every good point about them.

I hate the idea of people saving their best words for when the person can’t hear them.

I know it is helpful for the mourners–after all, funerals are for those left behind, not those already dead. But I read something this week that really struck me. I was reading about the Hudson River plane crash in People (and I swear that I read more magazines than just People; it’s just that I find so much to quote in there) and it said, “she’s heard from friends who have been out of touch for 20 years. ‘It’s as if I went to my own funeral and didn’t have to die to go,’ she said. ‘There’s been such an outpouring of love’.”

No one should have to die to go to their own funeral. I can’t tell you how good it feels when someone writes a kind comment or simply tells me how LFCA has positively affected their day. You carry those words with you all day.

Therefore, I propose today, in addition to catching up everyone on your life, you take a moment to write something kind about another blogger. Why another blogger? Because they’re most likely to read it here vs. your Great Aunt Mildred who probably isn’t skulking around on blogs. And the point is to make sure that they know your words. I don’t want to call this a massive funeral for the non-dead because that just feels…wrong. But I think you all understand the sentiment.

Let the world know–very publicly–how much you appreciate the other person. Because that is part of the wake too–that the words are spoken in front of others. Please link to the other blogger in your comment or give the title of the blog so people can find them via the blogroll. And to make this clear, let’s all start with our compliment and then finish the comment with our own news. You may leave as many compliments to others as you wish. The more, obviously, the merrier.

Because isn’t there some saying that on St. Patrick’s Day, we’re all Irish?

As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life and a compliment for another blogger. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

This thought occurred to me when we were driving home from Berkeley Springs this weekend:

Can you get maple syrup outside North America?

In other words, do other countries beyond the US and Canada have sugar maple trees and produce maple syrup or is it always an import or is it not imported at all? Do you have real maple syrup, or do you only have pancake syrup made with sugar or corn syrup?

It literally occurred to me that I’ve never noticed it when traveling because I’ve never eaten anything that would necessitate using maple syrup while traveling.

And what about root beer?

I asked this a year or two ago and received only a few answers so I’ll try again. A camp counselor once told me that if you haven’t had root beer by a certain age, it is a taste that you can never enjoy. Why? I’m not entirely what the scientific process is behind this possible-fact. But it was his explanation for why non-Americans rarely like root beer–because it is a drink pretty much only found in the US and therefore, most non-Americans do not encounter it until they are beyond the magical age line. Is this true?

There actually is a point in wondering what you can’t get outside the US.

What products have you wondered about in terms of foods you associate with your own country? I’ll tell you if we can find it here.

As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

Actually, wait, before we begin, you voted for Stirrup Queens in the Weblog Awards, right? You haven’t? Go over and vote and then come back. It’s two clicks.

The second week of January is traditionally National Delurking Week, which I took to be this week. Then, last week, I saw people asking for everyone to delurk. And on Sunday, I saw people saying that the delurking has just begun. So a brawl broke out, punches were thrown, eyes were blackened. And look where we are now.

The cusp between the two possible weeks?

In order to be the perfect middle child and appeal to those in the January 4–10 camp and those in the January 11–17 camp, I am placing my delurking request on January 12. At the mouth of the second week and somewhat at the ass of the first.

See, middle child.

Delurking Week is a time for people to come out and admit that they’re reading and not commenting on someone’s blog. It’s a little wave from the ether and then you can go back to your other 51 weeks a year of reading silently. Personally, I think it’s a good idea to sign in as yourself and leave a normal comment so I can go over to your blog and find it and begin reading. But if you are nervous about having readers (I’m not even going to ask you the question: why are you writing?), you can use the anonymous function, tell us a bit about yourself, and sign your first name at the end of the comment.

I’ve combined this delurking request with our normal bar so the delurking will mingle with the general updates and everyone shy can hide behind their imaginary drink.

It is also the two year anniversary of the Virtual Lushary. We first kicked open the doors on January 17, 2007 and we’ve been serving imaginary drinks once a month since. Isn’t that amazing? I still stand by what I said last year about community on the first anniversary.

I wrote this last year, but I think the game is still interesting: If you commented at the first Lushary, I’d like you to click here and read what you had to say two years ago this week. And then click here and read what you had to say a year ago. And then, as you update the group below on your current situation, add what was happening this time last year (or two years ago) and how life is the same or different. If you joined along at a later bar session, the same idea holds. You can scan old sessions here and then state when you found the bar and what has changed since.

And now the words that I’ve been saying for two years:

It has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

Happy anniversary to the little Lushary and happy Delurking Week.

I thought it would be a good idea to open the Virtual Lushary this week before everyone heads into the holidays. For some people, next week will be extraordinarily painful. For others, it will be relief after a long period of wanting. And for Jews, it will be a to bitch about how nothing is open. Merry Christmas!

I have posted a most obnoxious amount of photos from our DC get together so I will understand completely if you need to scroll quickly to the comment section and place your drink order. But below is many (though not all–only 14 of us) of TOOTPU.

What is TOOTPU? It is the Order of the Plastic Uterus so named because of this little sweetie:

We kick more ass than Harry Potter and could take down Voldemort with a single blog post. We convened at Leah’s house who is the procurer of said uterus (oh, it is a story worth hearing and perhaps, if you ply her with many a drink, it will come spilling out). We ate a lot of cookies and cried and teased each other and fuck, it was really hard to go home. I knew Josh needed to leave for work, but how many times do you get to hang out face-to-face with all these incredible women all in one moment? We get together once a month as a group, but it’s always magical when so many people attend all at once.

Top Row (L–R): Sell Crazy Someplace Else, Our Family Beginnings, In and Out of Luck, A Little Sweetness, Yummy Sushi Pajamas, and Antigone Lost.
Bottom Row (L–R): A Sibling for Celia, Chez Perky, Stirrup Queens, My Journey Towards My Little Miracle, Tales of My Dusty Ovaries, and Hoping for Another Lovebug.

Jen and Lindsay and Meghan relaxing on the sofa

B, J, and Shelby chatting by the tree

A hug between Lindsay and In

Bean, Meghan, Leah, and Sunny

And then laughing hysterically

Sunny and Karen chatting about multiples (I was not included in the conversation after I told Sunny that every time she called me in the first few months, I was going to remind her how much sleep I’m now getting. I wish there was a job where I could get paid to tease Sunny).

Standing at
a strange angle + wearing a sweater that draws many a comment = most unflattering picture ever

Bean and Leah laughing while Antigone looks veeeeeeeeeery serious

Yummy Sushi Pajamas chats with Antigone

Sunny and Karen

A sidenote on the post’s title: for some reason, I thought the drink we had at Leah’s was called ruby slippers and not ruby sippers and I really like it better that way. Everyone could use a pair of red shoes to click together under the table when they’re chanting to themselves, “there’s no place like home.” So, if you are sad or frustrated this holiday, pour your heart out below. And if you are joyous, pour your heart out below. And know that you have a world of people who have your back even when you’re far away from the screen.

It has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.

Do you need a drink?

I really need a drink.

It’s interesting–I am usually quite a messy person emotionally. I need to deal with things NOW. I need to talk about things NOW and know the answer NOW. I sort of disregard setting, time, and situation just to deal with things that are affecting me emotionally in the moment.

And this has been a very male moment for me. A sort of compartmentalization. When we woke up this morning, Josh wanted to talk about it more and I just felt sort of settled about the whole thing. Like it is a box currently on the table and I’ve not only decided not to open it for the moment, but I’ve also stacked a few magazines over it and yesterday’s mail and it is quite obvious that I’m simply not dealing with it right now.

Maybe because I know the box is empty? What is the point in opening it?

I guess it is like this: when I was leaving Massachusetts, I overpacked the car and started back towards Maryland. I decided to stop off in Northampton even though it wasn’t really on my way to grab a cup of juice at the Haymarket. It had been a really happy space for me in this really unhappy place and it was like grabbing an old sweater out of the donation box to try it on one last time before Goodwill came to pick up your clothes.

When I got into the Hay, the person who was the reason I was completing the rest of my graduate degree from Maryland instead of staying in Massachusetts was sitting in my coffee house. He saw me and I saw him and he gave me this completely self-satisfied look that made me want to (1) kick the pretentious book he was reading out of his hands and then (2) kick him in the face and then (3) as he held his face, knee him in the balls.

Or scratch all of his skin off. Either/or.

It was my choice to leave Massachusetts and it was my decision how I was choosing to react to him or see that moment. But by fuck–you have got to be kidding me–I couldn’t believe he was going to be the last person I saw as I left town. I grabbed my orange juice and went back to my car and sat in it crying for a bit. I was kicking myself for stopping for the drink because if I had kept driving past Northampton, the last person I would have seen would have been my roommate. I kept waiting for someone to walk by that I knew so I could count them as the last person I saw leaving the state. Finally, I had to leave–I could not spend my whole day waiting in my overpacked car (and, knowing my luck, I would finally see someone and then he would walk out of the Haymarket ruining it yet again!).

As I pulled away, I finally saw someone I somewhat knew. She was this woman who worked in a candy shop. She was divorced and gave us relationship advice when we’d stop in to get candy before going to the Academy to see a movie. I really loved talking to her because she was very bitter and sometimes, you need to spend time with someone who is harsh and holds you to reality instead of allowing you to float away. I decided to count her as the last person I saw and I felt like I could finally leave Massachusetts in peace.

Had anything really changed in seeing her? Of course not. I was still leaving and everything that came before that point still remained. But I will always be eternally grateful for seeing the candy shop woman walking down the street as I left town. It simply flipped a switch in me and allowed me to see the door firmly shut instead of visualizing his boot-clad foot wedging open the door.

That is the best way I can describe last night. It was like seeing the candy shop woman.

I really do need a drink.

It has been a little under a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.

I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.

So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.

For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.

So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.