Know It All Neighbors, Sheesh!

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

It's not been a bad week. Of course, I speak of what is now the past week, it being Sunday and all. It wasn't bad and it wasn't good. We took my car in for service, at the beginning of the week, and I haven't seen it since. I went to Cracked Pots, had a head-slapping, feet stomping moment with my neighbor, walked all over town (no car), rode in a boat up the Columbia, and womanned the wire sculpture table at Summer Celebration with my husband. The not good parts were not feeling great, and missing out on the dancing in the streets that happens every year in my town. 

I have walked up and down the bleeding, ridiculously steep hill that exists between me and downtown every day for a week. It is quite a triumph actually. The first time I ever did it, I was in tears by the time I reached the top. Did I mention that this hill is ridiculously steep? I remember being so excited to finally live close enough to town to walk in, only to curse the day we exchanged our seven mile, flat surface bike ride, for a one mile climb up Mt. Vesuvius minutes into the first walk home. The people around here call it a 'hill'. They drive cars.

Wednesday saw me at Edgefield, wending my way through the miles of yard art, and a hundred hopeful artists. It was pretty amazing. I started drinking a couple of weeks ago, and helped myself to two glasses of wine before the excursion. Mmmm, black rabbit red. It didn't really help in the energy department, but it sure tasted yummy. It was pleasant to be on the wending end of the event. As I walked through, I couldn't help noticing how tired, hot and bored the artists were. I have certainly paid my dues there. We leave the sales all up to the galleries now, but I remember a time when my husband liked to do the shows so that he could interact with the clients. It is way more fun to look than to sell, especially when you are at a place that lets you carry your wine  glass around, and get it refilled at every corner. 

At some point during the week, oh wait, on THURSDAY, at 10:50 am, my end of week funk started. Well, I'd had a booster each morning that week, but Thursday was  evil day. It was my physical. I got on the scale, the scale at the doctor's office, the accurate one. For years and years I have not had a scale. It seems sadistic. Why ruin a perfectly good day by looking at how much more you weigh now than before the gods started playing their little jokes? However, I was told to weigh myself everyday to check for sudden weight gain. Apparently that is a bad sign of something, and that something is something I'm supposed to be on the alert for. What that means is that I have stepped on a mini torture machine every day for three months. First I was horrified at how much I had  gained. Then, I was horrified at how much I had gained, and finally, I was slightly relieved at a little weight loss. uP, uP, DOwn. This trend does not bode well. . . 

Despite walking EVERYWHERE, with the daily trip up and down the ridiculously steep hill, and the cardio at the gym, AND not eating very much  there had been a little weight gain on my scale. The doctor's scale wasn't as polite as mine. It was very, very rude. It told a different story; the story put me in a funkish mood. Upon returning home, I immediately leashed up the dog, and headed down the hill. (Immediately after spending the entire day in the recliner, going to bed, and getting up the next morning). 

It was Friday by the time I rallied myself for the immediate walk. I was almost home when my across the road neighbor pulled alongside me. She commented on how she sees me walking everywhere these days. So, brandishing my humorous bravado, I told her how the dog had lost weight, but I had been gaining  -- a lot. I asked her opinion, hoping for a response along the lines of , "Oh no, you look great!" (Which I do no matter what the scale says). Instead she asked me a question. She asked if I'd been drinking. No, not because she thought I was drunk. She just said how her daughter always  complains of gaining weight, but the minute she stops drinking the weight comes off. This is the head-slapping part, or should have been. I responded that yes, I had given myself permission to start drinking again two weeks ago . . .        Hmmm. . . about the same time I started to pack on the pounds! First I wanted to deny it then, I started stomping my feet in hot anger. It's not fair!! It is summer, I should be able to suck back a few margaritas and mojitos without having to shop for bigger pants! I  stomped home as cold reality sunk in. I had barely gotten the leash off of my slim, little princess dog before I not so drunk dialed my neighbor. She'd barely had a chance to get inside her house to answer the phone.   "Damn you, Karen!", I stormed, "It IS the alcohol!"  She laughed at me. LAUGHED. See if she gets her plate of Christmas cookies next December!  Well, I told her off a little bit, ranting about how I was certainly not going to give up drinking before Helen's birthday dinner that night, or the white russians a certain friend always sneaks into summer celebration,  or the wine and gab fest set for Sunday. Sheesh! 

OK, so I planned to have just one mojito at Helen's birthday dinner. Yeah, well, that first one  was just so darned good. Helen had  two . . . I had two. Then came the boat trip. Dinner was at the Puffin, which is on a pier in the Columbia. The people who own the Puffin have a boat at the pier. They are friends of Helen. It was her birthday. We went for a ride. Did I mention it was a party boat? It was peer pressure, man. Everyone was doing it, drinking that is -- embibing in the elixir of fat cell production. Oh sweet sabotage. Needless to say, I didn't get up early the next morning. I also didn't get on the scale. Why bother? I wouldn't have to be psychic to know ahead of time what the outcome of that little venture of just two steps would be. Funk, funk, funk all the next day. I drug myself through my volunteer stint at the wire sculpture table, put on a good face for all of the kiddies (didn't even notice my mother working at the table across from me for the  first hour) and had my son drive me home, before the dancing in the streets, and with a coconut popsicle in one hand and a Corona in the other. What the heck.

May peace and a trash can large enough to fit a bathroom scale be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

 

Mamma Mia!

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

Ho Hum, Karma Coins and Coconut Popsicles

    Today the goddess speaks about herself:

It is a day of ho hum, stay in bed, don't face the music. I tossed the coins earlier, and my I-Ching told me to tip toe around the dark forces -- don't stir anything up. My horoscope said to ask what others want, and my relationship tarot told me to be patient. As you can tell I have had nothing better to do than visit the tarot website and spend  all of my free karma coins. I don't know how people who follow these signs get anything done. I am so confused I don't know if it is safe to get out of bed, but I really have to pee.

One of my former students is in charge of complaints and questions at the tarot site. She intimated to me, while we were both waiting for Eddie Izzard to take the stage, that she could bank some karma coins in my account; wink, wink. I don't know if that is kosher. Can it be good karma to gain karma coins in that manner? She is half Jewish; she knows from kosher though.

I'd like to think she understands the depth of my integrity also. I wouldn't want a sudden abundance of karma coins to stir up any of the dark forces that I am supposed to be tip toeing around. The question I asked, when I tossed the coins, didn't have anything to do with karma, or karma coins however. Maybe I am safe in that department. What I did ask was if I should have a certain psychic I know do her woo woo thing on me.  OK, my question actually was framed more like, "Should I work with the psychic?"  Then, I get this long and kind of scary response about being surrounded by dark forces that I should not disturb. But, if there are dark forces the psychic is supposed to get rid of them. That is what she is good at anyway.  Once again, I don't know how people who follow these precepts live their lives without constantly looking over their shoulders. I think I will follow my relationship tarot of, BE PATIENT. 

No really, I am very curious about this psychic thing. I am also curious about tattoos. I think I'd like to get one. I am considering some kind of sun art. Not the one I have posted, but something along those lines. I've been thinking about getting a tattoo for years, but I am a pain chicken. The place I want to put it would be painful, and pretty private. I once went into a shop to get a tattoo with our friend, Lance. He got the good artist, I got the creepy one. Needless to say, I walked out without a tat as my skin is as virgin as the day I was born. Well, except for those stretch marks and age spots. Wouldn't that be cool if age spots grew into beautiful, artistic designs that reflected our inner desires? Whatever . . .

I have a feeling I am not going to be very patient in my relationship area today. I've already been snippy with my beloved. He is running a giant yard sale down at his shop. I will not go near it unless I have an overwhelming craving for a coconut popsicle. I'm happy that he is getting rid of all of that junk. Junk makes me crazy. Junk makes him happy. Of course, it is not junk to him. Every piece is special, and valuable to someone. Oh, and it was a good deal at the time. Once again, whatever. . .  As  comforting as junk/stuff is to him, it makes me feel disoriented. It is one of our only areas of incompatibility. There is the junk collecting and the toilet seat issue, and the whole clothes hamper thing, and oh yeah, he likes to watch Stargate. I would almost rather scratch my eyeballs fuzzy than watch a show with no compelling relationship developments between ANY of the characters. The movie was great. I've seen it multiple times. The syndicated show, however, is deadly awful. If only it were the slightest bit campy I could tolerate it, but no. How that show stays on year after year, and Firefly only lasted one season, I will never know. This is why I don't know about the whole astrology thing.  How can there exist in this world one thing that is so bad, and another that is so good, and the bad thing gets to stay on television for ever! Maybe Joss Whedon, the creator of Firefly, should have consulted a psychic. 

I kind of am craving a coconut popsicle now. The best ones are sold at the little Mexican grocery next door to my husbands shop. They are soooo good. I could walk down with one of the dogs, just in case I encounter one of those dark forces that I am not supposed to be disturbing. I think dogs are probably good protection for that kind of thing. Also, my dogs like coconut popsicles. Perhaps along the way I will encounter a tattoo artist who is also craving a popsicle, or would like to trade her services for a bunch of really special junk.

May peace and good karma be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Ahhh, I Needed That

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

Finally, a day of wonderfulness after many, many not so wonderful days. This morning, I filled out a form that asked me to rate my stress on a scale of 1-10. I chose 9. I didn't chose 10 because no one is dead. I've been at a 9 for slightly over a month now.

My friend, Katita, has been talking about taking me to see her body work person since she first set eyes on my post-surgery, voodoo doll body. I was like, "Sure, whatever you say," but I didn't have a clue what I was getting into.

Had I known, I probably would have drug my contorted, scarred up body to NW Portland my first week out of the CCU. However, if all things happen for a reason (and I'm not saying I subscribe to that idea) then, this was probably the perfect time to go. I REALLY needed this day away from my stressful life to recharge, reflect, and be transformed. 

Katita didn't bother to try to describe what her friend was going to do to me, and I don't think I will attempt it either. Suffice it to say, the body worker gently shifted things that needed shifting. Afterward she stripped the sheet off of her massage table, handed it to me for a ground cover, and directed me to a nearby park to integrate, as well as commune with the earth. Everyone can use a little alone time surrounded by trees and grass, even if it is in the middle of the city. I joined the other nature worshippers for a half an hour of blissful introspection. 

When my tummy reminded me that it was time for another kind of respite, I rolled up my sheet, and strolled to a nearby cantina. I was drawn to the open windows, grown up drinks in frosty glasses and reggae music. There were singles sitting at almost every table enjoying the summer weather and quiet street scenes. I savored an amazing sangria for the next hour before returning to find Katita. She too was feeling wonderful. We finished off our day with a trip to the pet supply store and our favorite grocery store. It was a much needed, fabulous day. 

I was thrilled to return home to find that my guys had had a great work out at the gym. We all needed an Ahhh day. I'm just so glad we got it.

May peace and a day of Ahhh be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

It's Time

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

It has become abundantly clear that this princess thing has played out for me.

For now anyway. It is time to reconnect my goddess child with my goddess mother.  It's been a nice ride being waited on, and catered to, but that must come to an end for now. The family is way past ready for me to nurture them.

It isn't fair to my beloved husband to do all of the cooking when I am home all day long. I can put together a meal in the hours upon hours I have without stressing out my healing heart. However, it will take some overwhelming will power to make me feel happy about it; happy I must feel because cooking for one's family means cooking with love. I am a firm believer that the emotional state and intent of the cook is key to making a meal that truly nourishes the mind and body. There is a certain restaurant, in my town, that serves up dishes that look pleasing to the eye, but leave a hollowness in my soul and tummy. There is another place where the woman pours so much of herself into her sandwiches that I feel lifted up after every one. 

I am not the gourmet that my husband is, but I can make a tasty dish. My youngest son came home from overseas last summer, and he asked why everything I cooked tasted so good. "It was made with love, honey." That's all. That's everything. I'm not saying the task I have set for myself is an easy one. When my husband took over cooking two years ago, I walked away from the kitchen and never looked back. It was like when school gets out for the summer, and I locked that classroom door for the last time. Within minutes I become Summer Me, Teacher Me isn't even a faded memory. It's time. It's time to take on the task, temporarily. This isn't forever. Winter will come, the barnyard will quiet down, and the clamoring gallery owners will be easier to appease.

May peace and a chance to nurture be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Some Kind of Virus

Today the goddess expresses herself in a video:






May peace and a comfy robe, and a sister who loans you the robe, and who encourages you to video blog on YouTube, and keeps encouraging you to figure out the blankety, blank site be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.