Faucet on Full Blast

Left Foot, Right Foot, Girlhood! Womanhood!

Goooood morning campers! Here we are! I said this would be out and about into the world on Wednesday and it is, in fact, out and in the world on Wednesday. Left foot, right foot and bonus points for meeting a deadline (or starting line?). Welcome, again, to my newsletter “That Said,”. I feel like I’ve waxed on enough about what this is all about so I’m just gonna keep movin right along into…whatever this is all about.

And for all that waxing, I still didn’t really know what to say on this officially official first post. Part of me is still cringing at the fact that I don’t have graphics! A banner! A funky fresh typeface! I want to do interviews! At the very least pictures! The marketing and branding persona that somewhat confidently exists on my resume is shaking her head and furrowing her brow.

But with this inner dialogue still hammering away, I came across a timely phrase via Leah Melby Clinton and Hannah McKinley, the ever-inspiring ladies behind the ever-inspiring magazine, In Kind, and it’s accompanying newsletter. Right when I needed to hear it and/or was thinking ehhh maybe no one will notice if I just DON’T publish anything at all, Leah and Hannah encouraged me to “Build the plane while it’s flying.” They argued that yes, perhaps the sentiment could come off as a rushed execution or an ill-fated scramble to take off, but that actually, “If perfect is the enemy of done, a fully fleshed-out plan is kryptonite to just getting started”. Amen.

A nudge to willingly wing it and everything will fall into place thanks to In Kind

So with that, buckle up and prepare for take off. The grammar is loose, the run-on sentences long and the presentation has room for growth. But the enthusiasm! Is! There! Left foot, right foot and bonus points for ignoring the back seat driver (pilot?).

With missing parts and little to no plan, here we really are. And as I sit here typing into a screen talking to myself not quite sure where to start, an office water cooler lay-up feels appropriate. How was my weekend, you ask? Well, it was one thing and then so many others things. As they usually are.

On Friday, I was the luckiest of ladies finding myself on a work trip to the Fenimore Lane Design Summit at The Mayflower Inn & Spa. If you were taking it in live via Instagram stories, you know what’s up. Hosted by my dear friend and brilliant interior designer, Ariel Okin, the weekend was a design-lover’s dream with an intimate candle-lit kick-off dinner, inspiring design panels, flower arranging workshops to your left, craft cocktail classes to your right and a renowned spa slash THE most relaxing of relaxation rooms right around the corner. And then the reason for the season: a shopping bazaar featuring over 30 vendors filled to the brim with block-printed linens, easy summer kaftans, perfect pastel candles and every hand-made whoitz and vintage whatzit your heart could imagine.

The whole scene was buzzing with energy- female energy! Both grounded in that womanly calm, cool and “we’ve seen some shit/know how to run shit” collected way but then it was also all fizzy and humming with real deal hugs and pee-your pants laughter and genuine how are yous? and lunch then shopping then naps then cocktails but let’s raid the mini fridge m&m’s and be in bed by 9. Ya know? You know.

I was so proud and in awe witnessing Ariel, who has work ethic and style in spades, bringing this long-ideated weekend finally to life with the help of her fabulous team and vendors. And if you could bottle up the scene of shopping and sisterhood and chilled Sancerre, I’d buy a case and sign away my soul for the year-long subscription.

I realize I’m not describing a Peace Corps conference here but seeing the many talented (female!) makers and founders showcasing their businesses and finally getting to put faces to the names of their counterparts and supporters was SOMETHIN. And the ladies who booked a weekend to get away, get together and get some them time in was also heart filling. Sometimes the world gives off a vibe that nothing can just be enjoyed and celebrated and just be what it is- something la la la lovelyyy for the mind body and soul. But surrounded by spa cookies and fresh sourdough and that divine Celerie Kemble design eye, the sipping shopping spa-ing was lovely (And yes, I know all to a not cheap tune. Let us live/spend.) And when you add in the endlessly creative and relentlessly hardworking women chasing a dream and sharing it with others, it painted a multi-hyphenated portrait of womanhood that brought a smile to my face, a skip in my step and a fire in my belly.

And yettt to eat my own words, all that cackling and canapés and cash or card? did have a bit of double sided SOMETHIN for me. I was originally supposed to be involved with the event on a bigger professional level; but, when my mom passed away unexpectedly in September (the way I just wrote and rewrote and sat staring at those words- oy), I had to step away from the opportunity (to everyone’s full and omg duh bye love you understanding).

While I know there was truly no way I could have or even would have wanted to have taken it on, especially with much of the work coinciding with the early days of my grief and grappling, it’s only human to be swimming around in a sea of “what could’ve been” or more so, of just a reminder of the reason I had to miss out. It was a small feeling…nothing spa cookies and lively conversation and a comped king-room can’t certainly soothe, but it was a feeling. One that was doubled down by the fact that the last time I was lucky enough to be at The Mayflower, I was with my mom on a mother-daughter getaway this time last year. It was, in fact, the last mother-daughter trip we would take. The last shuffle to the spa in funny-fitting robes and slippers together. The last time swapping clothes and opinions in a hotel room as we got ready for dinner together. The last time we would share a bed together, dog earring decor magazines and laughing like 3rd graders while wearing matching pajamas. As I type this, it sinks so very much in that it would be the last time I would have an uninterrupted 48 hours of just me and my mom alone.

And yet, those 48 hours were still full of reality. My mom was exhausted and nauseous from chemo, putting on a brave face (and still looking as fabulous as ever). I was anxiously trying to check off work tasks-stressed about the work and stressed about the stress. And we arrived only to realize I forgot my good old breast pump- leading us to drive an hour away to buy one of those manual hand pump things that we all know doesn’t do shit other than take the edge off, if that. We laughed at that last bump in the road. But I now wished I laughed more. So much more.

A both/and of present day was filled with memories of a both/and from the past, which all is a both/and in an of itself, is it not? I shouldn’t be surprised, as this is life, but somehow, it is always a bit of a punch to the gut that the sweetest moments are typically incapable of not having some sort of SOMETHIN mixed in. Yet at risk of sounding like a bumper sticker or a sign above your grandmother’s kitchen sink, the both/and, the double-sided experiences, the SOMETHING shouldn’t stop you from booking the trip, building the business or giving space for both the positives and the negatives. And once you get a little more comfortable with accepting the fact that sometimes a gut punch happens, sometimes its inevitable, I’d argue that it allows you to be a little more steady going through life. A little “We Can Do Hard Things” a la Glennon Doyle. And a little more capable to lean all the way into the moments that just feel straight up GOOD. Or happy or motivating or right. Because the Hard Things can be Great Things too. And vice versa. Fill that cup all the way up. At some point, it will spill out and over- leaving you with a little less. You’ll be glad you let the faucet run on full blast while you had the chance.

And speaking of full blast of happiness- the end of my weekend was just that. My schedule either aligned or misaligned however you choose to look at it (ahem, aligned), to where I had to graciously depart the luxe Mayflower and all it’s manicured womanhood bliss and make my way head-on into a bachelorette that was nothing short of a glee-filled 24 hour celebration of girlhood. Taking place at the all-girls sleep-away camp the bride and her sisters attended, Nancy Meyers couldn’t have directed it better if she tried, God bless her. From bunking up in open-air cabins (lovingly adorned with pre-teen camper graffiti of years past), to field day competitions, to the nostalgia and history of a 116 (!!!) year old camp and to, but of course, celebrating the kind, funny, friends-with-literally everyone Bride- it was straight up fun and fizzy and all of the things you feel when screaming “Man, I feel like a WOMAN” at the top of your raspy lungs surrounded by 30 chicks. Half of whom you met 6 hours and 10 beers ago. Perhaps it was the small but poignant gut punches I stomached the day before but this was a “faucet on full blast” experience and I appreciated every last drop. Sometimes, things can just be la la la lovely. Or at least your mindset can allow you to view it that way.

On paper, this weekend was made up of a bougie work trip and the time-old/often exhaustive tradition of a bachelorette. How funny and perhaps a bit far reaching that it was so much more. It left me with the reminder to appreciate the two ends of an experience: the reveling and splashing around in the joy and also the swimming against the current of loss and comparison and in tribulations (or even just a few bugs in your cabin). Splashing and swimming. Sometimes separately, sometimes in the same instant.

So I sit here typing into a screen talking to myself, spa-cookie crumbs in my purse (like you've never!!??) and a fading cheeky bach-tattoo on my arm. Womanhood and Girlhood and Sisterhood. Loving it, losing it, latching onto it, longing for it. Letting it fill my cup and having the faith that even when it spills out and over, a refill is on deck. Some weekends it’s the both/and of being a woman. Other weekends it’s parenting. Or working. Or growing. Or rooting. Or, or, or. Left foot, right foot.

As I finish this, I can’t help but laugh as I told my husband this first post was going to be short on words. They’ll just want some shopping! And maybe so. But that said, if I’m going to try to enjoy and explore feeling all the things all at once, a good place to start is worrying that no one will want to hear what I have to say and sharing it anyways.

Alright, time to land this half-built plane. Shopping (lots of- I promise!) to come next week. And paid subscribers, be on the look out for a vintage round up before then. Talk about whoizts and whatzits galore.

Thank you! Thank you!

Amanda

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