Have a Relaxing Weekend.

My husband (so crazy to write that–we were just married 3 day ago!) and I often have silent dinners without even realizing it. He’s the chef of the house and makes these INSANE meals that are so mind-blowingly good that talking would be an interruption. We call silent dinners “the conversation of hungry people.”

I’m a wuss for tattoos, too – but I follow like 400 tattoo Instagram accounts.

I really really hated that “clueyness” article. Anyone else? I actually think there are valid reasons to feel badly in those situations…”cluey” is just a word that diminishes the actual feelings of the other people involved by saying that they probably weren’t that affected by your actions. Maybe that guy should have just gone back and opened the door for the fed ex man, or taken a few minutes to play with his dog, or should just generally do nice things for people and step outside of himself and his needs for others. It felt like he was patting himself on the back for being nice because he feels bad about something that doesn’t matter, instead of taking some time to think about how those tiny things actually do matter, because they add up and can make a huge difference. Yuck! it left a really bad taste in my mouth. Sorry for the diatribe…

My cluey story is one passed down to me from my mom, and I STILL feel guilty.
We lived far away from my grandparents, so on one visit, she’d arranged to meet my grandfather (with me – I was a toddler) in town. Apparently he was really excited about bringing his daughter and granddaughter in to meet his colleagues, but apparently I was acting up so my mom took the bus home early instead. It still breaks my heart, the thought of my grandfather waiting for us to turn up, but to no avail (even though I have a toddler now and can TOTALLY understand giving up and going home)

For the take a knee article… I know people who seem to be more upset that it’s happening during a sporting event than about it being disrespectful.

I’ve heard them say, “football players are there for my entertainment and I don’t want to have to watch them protest. Can’t they just play the game and leave politics out of it?”

I never know what to say back! I just get incredibly steamed.

Oh my gosh yes to the clueyness. So well said about a phenomenon I experience all the time – never even occurred to me other people might too. I’m not even that much of an animal person but my heart breaks into pieces and I feel sad for much longer than I should whenever I see a dog try to drink out of a bowl that no longer has water in it. What a horrible feeling to be thirsty! How many times has this happened to this pour innocent soul?

Thanks for all the link Joanna. Now, one more thing, I do really value your blog as a place that does not shy away of current events. I wish you would have mentioned Puerto Rico lately, or give us a website where we can donate or so. Please do it. Our compatriots need all the help they can get. THANKS!

Cluey! Yes, add this to the dictionary right away! I have always felt this way and recognise this trait in my nine year old daughter. Recently the family was watching a YouTube clip that showed a young child, presumably on Christmas morning, playing with a flying fairy toy that flew straight into the fireplace and was lost. We all laughed and passed the clip around. When my daughter watched it she gulped back a tear and said ‘I can’t laugh, this is just so sad’. Oh my love, you have a bad case of the Clueys!

Yes! Thank you for the word “cluey!” When I was a child, my dad told me a story about when he was a little boy. He described how, as his sweet mom was tucking him into bed, he told her he was thirsty. So after tucking him in, she went to the kitchen to get him a glass of milk, and when she returned my dad was fast asleep. Even though many years had passed by the time he was telling me this story, he still felt sad or, “cluey,” about the thought of his loving mother returning with a full glass of milk but no one to give it to. Being the sensitive child I was, I too felt “cluey” for my grandmother. Sadly, she passed away before I was born so I never got the honor of meeting her. My dad says I would’ve loved her and I have no doubt he is right.

My god! Re-reading “Sad Paw Paw” made me cry and then laugh all over again. I feel very cluey right now ;)

A+ weekend roundup this week!
The tip about interviewers being real people is such a good one. I recently had to interview people for an open position in my practice and it felt like such a joke. I mean, yes I’m 30 years old, but they let me deliver babies and conduct interviews? HOW?? I had no idea what I was doing but found that I really enjoyed the process. I basically just got to have conversations with bright, professional women who share my interests. The question in the back of my mind throughout all of my interviews was, “would I enjoy working with this person?” and my favorite candidates were those who seemed relaxed and sincere.

Your Friday posts are one of my favorite ways to start the weekend! I always have a good laugh, tell my husband about at least one of the posted links that I find fascinating, and then I go start making supper with a smile on my face! Have a fantastic weekend!

Oh my GAH to the clueyness article. Dagger in the heart.

A few other folks said this was co-dependency. I think it’s a result of being a “highly sensitive person.” This is a real thing! Here is a quiz to determine if you are: http://hsperson.com/test/highly-sensitive-test/. Once I realized I am, everything made perfect sense: why commercials make me cry, why action and horror and thriller movies make me so anxious, and why sirens and balloons popping make my skin crawl!

I’m not against peaceful protest. That’s what this country was built on- the freedom to oppose or speak out against anything or anyone you deemed unjust. I do take issue, however, with protesting whilst “on the job”. I’m a physician. I can’t imagine “taking a knee” or equivalent in protest during surgery. That would be incredibly inappropriate. There’s a time and place to make your voice heard. And a stadium full of patrons that paid to see athletes do their thing is not it.

I have an interview for medical school on Tuesday – which I decide to finally pursue after reading “When Breath Becomes Air,” based on your recommendation and familial ties! – so these interview tips are super well-timed. Thank you!

Hi Joanna,
Have you seen this?
https://www.instagram.com/p/BY9tQn5HEXH/
The caption made me laugh so much!

Sara

Don’t you feel like cluey-ness only works for kids, as they’re learning what’s socially acceptable and the nice thing to do? I definitely remember having that specific feeling from things I did to my parents as a kid, but the author’s story of not getting the door for the FedEx man just made them sound like a jerk! Once you’re an adult you should know better, and I would argue you really should feel a bit guilty about behaving that way.

I too am afflicted to a life of clueyness. The other day I saw an awkward preteen walking up a hill alone carrying a heavy backpack and I burst into the tears. How do we get over this??

The Clueyness one is so good! It made me nauseous, with an anxious stomach ache and I started audibly crying at work. It is such a visceral emotion that I could never fully describe until now. So good, but yikes rough on the ole psyche. Gonna head to my grandparent’s house then some art shows at the library and offer to play clue with everyone.

The Clueyness really got me too. Yes, yes, yes. :( I’ll probably spend the whole weekend thinking of examples of this.

How exactly am I supposed to have a relaxing weekend after clicking on the Clueyness link?! Oy, my heart is bleeding. When I was in my early 20s and broke, I would take my Ford Escort to a local mechanic named Jed who was super sweet and, despite not having much money himself, always cut me a deal. One Saturday he invited local folks to come to his shop, have some BBQ and learn the basics about car care – all his treat. Well, my mom and I were the only ones to show up. I’m 45 and it still creeps back into my memory. It’s almost unbearable. And very cluey.