tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4560089614329646492024-03-07T20:24:16.987-08:00The Goddess SpeaksAll about me all of the timeGoddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-63928824329079134932019-01-18T06:21:00.001-08:002019-01-18T06:24:33.069-08:00Trump Collusion: Buzzfeed Breaks the Big News, Again<span style="font-size: large;">It's Felony Friday and Buzzfeed has the exclusive, again! I'd love to stay home from work today to see how this all rolls out. It's a sick cloud of anticipation that's been hanging over our heads for the past 2+ years. Will it rain or will it storm? It looks like it will storm after all. Get your galoshes on. It's time to splash through the puddles and squish through the mud. Click on it. You know you want to: <a href="https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/jasonleopold/trump-russia-cohen-moscow-tower-mueller-investigation?ref=hpsplash">Buzzfeed </a> </span>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-52476596516627118722019-01-12T10:09:00.000-08:002019-01-12T11:08:16.802-08:00The GoFundMe Wall Fundraiser Was Always Bullshit<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.8);"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">So, Brian Kolfage is refunding all of the donations for his Build The Wall fundraiser. I made a joke on a social media thread that the man had no number sense. It would take a decade to raise a billion dollars on a GoFundMe. It was pointed out to me that he has publicity sense."</span></span></span><span style="background-color: #eff1f3; color: #1d2129; font-family: , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The guy is a right wing conman who has run propaganda sites, a conspiracy theorist looking for his next score."</span></span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.8);"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> I totally agree with this account of him. I wish I didn't have the background information to agree. I wish I'd never heard of him. His penchant for diabolical schemes is off the charts. Wouldn't it be nice if bottom feeders like this were reduced to staying on the bottom instead of being elevated in our current reality. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.8);"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I was just making a 3rd grade teacher joke. I feel like I've been teaching since wiglets were a thing. I can't afford to retire due to my need for a cadillac health insurance policy. I have to amuse myself somehow while these morons take apart everything I believe in. I'm fighting racism one eight year old at a time. It's disheartening how deeply some of them are already invested in hating brown people. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.8); color: #1d2129; font-family: , , "blinkmacsystemfont" , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.8);"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I met a guy recently who spends several months a year living on the cheap, in Mexico. He loves it and couldn't stop talking about all of the perks and how everyone should try it. Then he glibly stated he had donated money to the build the wall. What a head-slapper, right? I can't even with these people. Their blinders are of superior quality. Where do I buy some? I could use a respite from my own intellect, too. Couldn't we all use a break from having to stay so informed and constantly reminding ourselves that THIS IS NOT NORMAL. None of this is normal. (But, it really is now, isn't it?)</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.8);"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></span>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-87794869833167797432017-01-23T19:06:00.002-08:002017-01-23T19:06:39.098-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today The Goddess Finally Speaks:<br />
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It's been a veritable ocean of time since I last posted anything to my blog. After the election of Voldemort to the highest office of our land, I have developed a kind of manic schizophrenia, waffling from the world is ending gloom to stay positive/don't let evil get the better of you mindset. The emotional rollercoaster is not my favorite ride on the midway, but here I am, alternately hanging on for dear life and fearlessly throwing my hands up on the biggest drop.<br />
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May you find your voice without losing your mind. From, The Goddess of Everything.Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-79811235358457967552013-06-29T13:42:00.001-07:002013-06-29T13:43:17.477-07:00Doing Nothing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I could be doing anything, and I am doing nothing. Well, next to nothing. I am switching between reading and browsing the internet. I can't seem to move. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am reading, <u>The Dovekeepers</u>. It's a book rich in language and imagery. Normally, a novel like that would keep me engrossed until the absolute final page. Not today. </span>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-12483418231991196182013-06-25T11:40:00.000-07:002013-06-25T11:40:05.067-07:00Little Things<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's the little things: a ketchup bottle on the couch bespeaks an adult child is living at home. The spouse's dirty laundry on my side of the bed is an alert that he is wanting to be taken care of. And, the dead mouse on the front porch tells me that a cat is requiring praise. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What little indicators do I leave about? It is much harder to say what messages I leave. I do feel the need to announce every little thing I do. Whether it is for validation, or just an opening for conversation is up for interpretation, I guess. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have a mammogram today. Not excited. I have taken three yoga classes in preparation for my first breast squishing visit, as well as, my annual trip inside the MRA machine. That's an MRI for people with metal in their bodies. The noise the machine makes, the feeling of isolation, the artificial light in the hospital, the quiet concern of the staff all set me on edge. I have to carefully practice self-calming throughout the entire procedure even with a prescribed anxiety drug. Ugh. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My girlfriend is accompanying me to the mammogram. She is going to hold my hand, and reward me with dinner after. It helps. My mom is taking me to my MRA. She will wait, reading old magazines, while I go through my ordeal. I imagine it is also an ordeal for her. What anxiety does she feel being in the hospital where I have received so much bad news with her by my side? Will she be remembering how she went all Shirley MacLaine, in Terms of Endearment, when I needed better pain killers? "Give my daughter her pain pills!! She needs her pain pills NOW!!!" It makes me laugh, now, to think of it, but it must have been horrible for her. Maybe she will think of the last time she went to an MRA follow up and I was told I would need another surgery very soon. She had to stay calm and brave while I completely fell apart. How many years did that age her? Not to mention when the hospital nearly killed my son, and she came prepared to do whatever it took to get him the help he needed. I am so thankful she wasn't present when they almost killed me at the angio. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I honestly considered not asking her to go with me, but selfishly did anyway. I want my mom at this appointment if my husband can't be there. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hospitals. Not my favorite place. I must remember that, in the end, they did save my son. They didn't let me die, and maybe they couldn't help causing this aneurism when they were replacing my valve; the reason I have annual MRAs and another heart surgery in my future. Breathe. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">May you breathe through the scary bits with a loved one at your side. From, The Goddess of Everything. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-12086815334814254422013-01-12T07:51:00.001-08:002013-01-12T07:56:28.874-08:00Waaaa....<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It's official. I'm sick. Bring on the chicken soup, and lemon and honey tea. Where's my mother? Dad used to come home from work, when we stayed home sick, and bring us 7-Up, saltines, and chicken noodle soup. I want THAT. Oh, yeah, I'm old. The HFCS in 7-Up spikes my insulin. The gluten in saltines makes me more congested, and the Campbell's we used to eat has MSG that triggers migraines. I miss the 'good old days' of being sick. May your memories make you happy if not well, The Goddess of Everything.</span>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-55287565062473247922010-12-20T16:28:00.000-08:002010-12-20T23:26:01.944-08:00I Don't Get It<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I don't get it; I really don't. This whole men-o-pause thing. I'm not pausing from men. What if I was never into men? Where does this term come from and why must I acknowledge it? It is time for this goddess to do a little research in this area. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Four months ago I skipped a period. I have never skipped and NOT been pregnant. I have never not known when I was pregnant about thirty seconds after I conceived so..... OK, maybe I played a little denial game with myself for a couple of weeks that first pregnancy, but I KNEW. And, I knew four months ago that I was not pregnant. I played a little game with myself then too. Two months ago I skipped again. The game I played then was the 'maybe this is it, and I'm done with this business forever' game. I really don't know what women are complaining about here. It's not so bad. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Not so bad to have a full beard that I spend hours plucking, shaving, covering and fussing over. Not so bad to retain every ounce of fluid that I take into my body. I really don't know where the liquid for my urine comes from. How can I be this bloated and still pee? I don't get it. I don't. But, it's not so bad. I'm not all hot and sweaty or cranky or whatever it is in all of those magazine articles that I skip past with a nonchalant flick of the wrist because I am too young for that yet. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">So, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">anyhoo</span>... back to the why this name for this condition. Upon referring to my handy dandy etymology handbook I am now clear about the term. It's from the Greek. That is why it is all Greek to me. Ha ha. Get it? It's all Greek to me cause I don't get it? ha ha? Not with me on this one I guess. I've been on the floor for a good five minutes guffawing, but oh well... (This lack of ability to be funny must be the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">meno</span> thingamajig. My memory's not so good in my condition). <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Menos</span>=month, pause=pause. Thus, the pause of the monthly cycle. That would explain the off again, on again nature of my monthly 'friend' (I use the term lightly--that's kind of a menses joke there too. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Sheesh</span>! Keep up people). </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Due to my game playing, something I have done my whole life with my period by never acknowledging that it was upon me each and every month since the middle of 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span> grade before I even had a chance to turn 11, my god, so unfair, I was completely in the dark as to why I was carping at my beloved all day, and feeling a bit achy. Two symptoms, I might add, that I also refuse to acknowledge <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pre</span>-in need of feminine product. It is only after I have moped about, lopping off heads left and right, and Aunt Flo has truly stepped through the door, that I am all... "G.D. F-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ing</span> hell, it was the PMS!". It really is unfair that it was all my fault and NOT the sole fault all of the headless people who got in my righteous way. I heartily despise the moment that realization hits and I know that I am going to have to make some kind of reparation. I really, really hate that. At any other time I don't care that much about being right. I don't get it!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Today was another such day. I've been going merrily about my head lopping day with a slight headache. I thought it was from drinking too much coffee, or not getting much accomplished on my 4 days before Christmas and I am nowhere near ready list. But, no. One trip to the Ladies... What a pisser. This shouldn't be called a pause. It should be called an interrupter. The pause is good. The interrupter is what is making me crazy. I would rather be hairy and bloated than cranky and achy. Why don't we call this thing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Menointerruptus</span> instead? Also, why can't one of the symptoms be bliss? I don't get it. Why do all of the symptoms have to be so mean spirited? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">May peace and blissful ignorance be yours from, The Goddess of Everything. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#CC0000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-18021180153381052872010-06-21T11:15:00.000-07:002010-06-26T14:07:02.000-07:00It's Still Looking A Lot Like Christmas... In June<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpZMC4JCJ9n3wceeQVZcNFNL-yetqocXrHPdlnRYmdzgvVrsz7qI-EUWPb2omwp_COvvP6qkxLFaOrX_vWdNmsm7mGWd7VLcUW7dHeKGbjGZKppxpag-0Nq6aGja7qkNzSYmSGocnTsqvp/s1600/667381965_0b2959a58b_o.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpZMC4JCJ9n3wceeQVZcNFNL-yetqocXrHPdlnRYmdzgvVrsz7qI-EUWPb2omwp_COvvP6qkxLFaOrX_vWdNmsm7mGWd7VLcUW7dHeKGbjGZKppxpag-0Nq6aGja7qkNzSYmSGocnTsqvp/s320/667381965_0b2959a58b_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485292414796646226" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The Christmas music emanating from my CD player is indicative of what my summer break holds for me. The solstice may have been yesterday but you wouldn't know it from the weather outside, nor the cloud hanging over my head inside. My brain, and "OH GOD", my body are ready for a seasonal shift. If the past strewn about the house would just stop nagging at me I could get on with it. I know from experience that unless I deal with things like putting away the Christmas music and stuffing the winter clothes in a trunk I will not be able to fully embrace strawberry shortcake and lazing in the hammock with the newest Janet <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Evanovich</span> novel. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">My job list includes a topic titled, "Little Bits". I have little bits of clutter all over the house that need to be helped along into their proper place. Nearly every room has what I call a clutter corner. The one in the family room has an assortment of magazines, books, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dvds</span> that no one knew what to do with. The corner in the kitchen reminds me of all the things that were broken these past months, with everything from wood glue to a hacksaw peeking out from under old egg cartons, take out menus and piles of greeting cards. Each room is pretty much the same story, different verse. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The clutter creates a stagnant energy all around everyone in the house. It needs to be removed to enervate chi, but it has a paralyzing effect. This catch-22 is hard to get around. I try to tell myself to just power into a project, get it done quickly with some kind of reward waiting for me at the end like a dangling carrot, to no avail. My feet are stuck in an imaginary tar pit. OK, more like my derriere is cemented to the couch... you get the idea, I'm sure. My readers are not idiots. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Why oh why couldn't I have magical powers? It is so NOT fair. I am sure I had them in a past life, that or servants. I keep thinking that I should be able to snap my fingers, and the debris of yesterday will fly into its proper place. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hmmpf</span>! It's not working. It's not working and my fingers now have a cramp. Well, I CERTAINLY can't put anything away with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">crampy</span> fingers. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">May oblivious housemates and magical thinking be yours from, The Goddess of Everything. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#006600;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-55655966584427749832010-04-25T09:47:00.000-07:002010-04-25T09:53:56.993-07:00Stop Projecting Onto Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8HZTuRJ0KZjOxk28r1_fz5VGNntzhrjnluElzLXUutRfYGnTjU1bEGXJ6is60r5BaOKer2i6QkshIriTBGBQLzmRj5pOlnGcBp2TBUUhrTajPNuZGOrGJn3JFAHDL1XpTB_V-b7-E2EE/s1600/images.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 103px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8HZTuRJ0KZjOxk28r1_fz5VGNntzhrjnluElzLXUutRfYGnTjU1bEGXJ6is60r5BaOKer2i6QkshIriTBGBQLzmRj5pOlnGcBp2TBUUhrTajPNuZGOrGJn3JFAHDL1XpTB_V-b7-E2EE/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464117701909342754" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Yeah, I'm in a crank mood. What about it? You want I should stick my head under my pillow and stay there until I'm in a mood that pleases YOU? Forget about it. I've had it with you people. Me, me, me! </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">May you have a little respect for those of us who give of ourselves 23/7 from, The Goddess of Everything. </span></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-57851620570868587012010-03-06T14:38:00.000-08:002011-06-14T08:35:17.475-07:00S.U.D. (Status Update Disorder)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Due to Facebook, I find my mind participating in status update think. As every thought I have does not belong on Facebook, I have decided to post these updates here. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I cannot promise this will not be annoying. You may choose not to read this post.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I will not be offended. Much. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">1. feeling bitchy </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">2. the sunshine is getting on my last nerve</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">3. i am just a snot machine, and i make snot for nobody but me</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;">4. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">eating barbara's baked cheese puffs in the dark, and watching Kathy Griffin on YouTube</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">5. how many more narcissistic sociopaths can my life accommodate? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">6. people who create constant chaos and drama need their own island far, far from the rest of us.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">7. ooh, a yeast infection AND my period--what a happy day for me. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">8. I am so full of crap!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">9. If I tell, something bad will happen...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">10. shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">11. no longer able to feed my angel addiction (the tv series, that is).</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">12. watching another Lifetime movie until the Xanax kicks in. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">13. Strike me down and I shall rise again.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">14. I am so beyond unhappy.<br />15. Furlough day 4 of 5, yet I still have to go to work. Oh right, I'm supposed to be happy that I HAVE a job.<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>to be continued...</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;">May you be indiscreet in private from, The Goddess of Everything</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-75956310751814741292009-11-08T16:28:00.000-08:002009-11-08T16:41:27.559-08:00Making It Better<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhb86eToNZG9yvy03qllHT7B9C3s0XqFdG_ZE7kKscnuWzfey1wMOG862FZWpyTs4W-AR8qIk6dbaj4V7uoArNMZGJNnXNFzTClxvUpbTRarql8LGpU6JwG8BrXsvM6nsUMWxqCtd-WKf/s1600-h/Copy+of+Butterfly_Monarch_Male1.JPG.jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhb86eToNZG9yvy03qllHT7B9C3s0XqFdG_ZE7kKscnuWzfey1wMOG862FZWpyTs4W-AR8qIk6dbaj4V7uoArNMZGJNnXNFzTClxvUpbTRarql8LGpU6JwG8BrXsvM6nsUMWxqCtd-WKf/s320/Copy+of+Butterfly_Monarch_Male1.JPG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401894459543618274" /></a>Today the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /></div><div>I've been in an angry, transitional phase for over a year now. Nearly two, truth be told. First there was 'acceptance' then came anger. Not how it is supposed to work. </div><div><br /></div><div>I accepted that I needed heart surgery. What followed was a brief time of healing the immediate wounds, and a long time of dealing with the scars. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not done with the scar healing thing, but I am beginning to deal better. </div><div><br /></div><div>At first, I was angry about the medications making me gain weight. Then, I was really angry about having to go back to work before I felt ready. Later, I was really, really angry about the scars AND going back to work full-time. I don't know that I can do anything about working. Life requires money. Money requires work. I<i> could</i> do something about the scars.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week I got a beautiful tattoo that covers one of my scars. It is a monarch butterfly. Now instead of looking down and seeing an ugly scar, I look down and see a beautiful butterfly. It's a start.</div><div><br /></div><div>May anger lead you to take charge from, The Goddess of Everything.</div><div><br /></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-81799773464720823862009-04-18T07:58:00.000-07:002009-04-19T12:10:25.840-07:00It's In The Cards<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">My Tarot card of the day well describes my state of being. So, I'm just going to cut and paste.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';"><table width="100%" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="2"><tbody><tr><td width="350" valign="top" style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span><table cellspadding="4" cellspacing="4" width="350"><tbody><tr><td valign="top" style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><img src="http://img.astrolis.net/tarot_logo.gif" alt="Daily Tarot" width="16" height="16" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; " /></span></td><td width="100%" valign="middle" style="text-align: left; "><b><span style="font-family:tahoma;color:#586B84;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Your Daily Tarot Card</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table border="0" width="350" cellspadding="4" cellspacing="4"><tbody><tr><td width="100%" style="text-align: left; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Saturday, April 18</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span><img src="http://img.astrolis.net/9th.jpg" alt="The Hermit" align="right" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; " /><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The Hermit</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br />The Hermit represents the need to distance yourself from the people and events in your life that are causing undue strain on your emotions. There are times in your life when seclusion and isolation are warranted. The Hermit is a card of discovery and enlightenment, which can only develop by spending time alone with your thoughts. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Your energy will be depleted quickly in social situations</span>.<br />(The last part has been so true for me)<br /><br />Please don't take that first part personally. <br />My emotional state is a rollercoaster, and it is all about me.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br />May you enjoy peace, and be free from undue strain: The Goddess of Everything.</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-42349474295719558242009-04-15T01:08:00.000-07:002009-04-15T01:29:52.476-07:00Whirled Peas<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRHz5sTP0l0oJ6MOqlv1iPj3goQ1h7fgBoD-HNzjVCsmrnVkMxSY9KKA7ZugV2gUJqje2MVHg7G2ZsrKbsu3fEuWj0j3BHDHIssBBiQD1zBRdx-p3uEhENaPpC2_7_PG7Mt1hJ4TDvPA1/s1600-h/goodnightmoonart.gif" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 166px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRHz5sTP0l0oJ6MOqlv1iPj3goQ1h7fgBoD-HNzjVCsmrnVkMxSY9KKA7ZugV2gUJqje2MVHg7G2ZsrKbsu3fEuWj0j3BHDHIssBBiQD1zBRdx-p3uEhENaPpC2_7_PG7Mt1hJ4TDvPA1/s200/goodnightmoonart.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324827705066909346" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:large;">Tonight the goddess speaks about herself:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">I cannot sleep, again. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">My mind is whirling like the peas foretold on the car bumpers of old yuppies.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">My body temperature does not regulate. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">I am too cold to fall asleep.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">I can feel my toes</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">As if they are a separate part of my body.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">My brain is a pool.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">All thoughts are precariously balanced. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">They sit staring at the water</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">Hesitant to jump in case the water is intemperate. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">But, the water is nothing. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">It's just water.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">Inside my chest, I can hear my heart.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">It is annoyingly loud. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">Something is foreign in there. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">I can't seem to get my mind away from the edge of the pool</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">to</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">stop the</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">precarious thoughts, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">the cold toes, </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;">the too loud heart.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">May peas and quiet be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-21181497705007491492009-03-31T00:40:00.000-07:002009-04-06T17:04:15.939-07:00Not In The Mood<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZl0anr9CbITwcNoFoEzQg79WkKA_r9lE9MEfCpxc5p6kayEKUaUi7TQJjRw_weUyo_8Pn0T6INL8t88G6hy8eJ9NptjfYB1CGy-9jfcsobPacdhPMw-5xuI7bonQsLYdjFM3IMTi0IqJu/s1600-h/475907543_c90111f8a4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZl0anr9CbITwcNoFoEzQg79WkKA_r9lE9MEfCpxc5p6kayEKUaUi7TQJjRw_weUyo_8Pn0T6INL8t88G6hy8eJ9NptjfYB1CGy-9jfcsobPacdhPMw-5xuI7bonQsLYdjFM3IMTi0IqJu/s320/475907543_c90111f8a4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319253991904748242" /></a>Today the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /><div> (Dear Reader, it's not you; it's me.) With that little disclaimer out of the way I can get started on my purely, self-indulgent whine fest.</div><div><br /></div><div> I have not kept up with my blog because I have not been able to step out of myself, and see the humor beneath the cloud of gloom I have created all around me. Maybe it began with the bad haircut . . . maybe it began with the prescription pill weight gain . . . maybe it began when I had to go back to an overly stressful work environment before I was fully recovered from major surgery . . . maybe, maybe, maybe. Who cares. I'm so sick of myself it's ridiculous. There is NOTHING hugely wrong with me. N.O.T.H.I.N.G. That is why I say I created my own gloomy cloud. BORRring.</div><div><br /></div><div> I did get a bad, bad haircut. It was a home job. Chop, chop. It is only now beginning to look good to me three months later. I kind of like how it has grown out. To maintain it I could use another haircut. Problem is, I'm afraid of 'hairstylists'. They scare me more than going back in time to visit a sadistic 60's dentist. My hair has become the least of my worries. It, at least, is tangible. The rest of me is steeped in negative joo joo; bad energy; cloudy karma; wrong firing neurons. </div><div><br /></div><div> It is way past time to hunt down a mule for a good kick to the head. All around me people are having real problems while I grump about my day. But, here's the thing. I have done my best to protect the general population. I have been in deep hibernation. I don't go anywhere besides work. I stay home, I go to work. I keep out of every one's way. When I do have to go out in public people feel the need to remind me how long it has been since they've seen me. Then, the dreaded question, "What have you been doing?" Argh. Nothing. I've been doing nothing. Beyond that I am empty of small talk. I cannot for the life of me exchange pleasantries. When asked how I am, I exert herculean self-control to keep from telling them e-x-a-c-t-l-y how I feel, and it's not 'fine'. Avoiding engagement, I don't ask how them how they are doing either.</div><div><br /></div><div> My doc wondered if I had a hole in my aura. God almighty, that's all I need. I don't know if I have a hole in my damned aura. I'm not sure what my aura does, or if it exists. One time some stranger walked up to me, and told me my aura was hot orange, and I must be in a lot of physical pain. Duh, I was rubbing my neck and wincing in -- wait for it -- pain. OK, so if you know me, you know I am open to all of that woo woo stuff. It's just that my bad mood precludes me being able to deal with any other realms of consciousness right now. Here, now, and three dimensions is about all I can handle. </div><div><br /></div><div> I did work with a psychic/energy cleaner outer/woo woo expert recently, and it just made me mad. Apparently, I had some hitchhiking old woman stuck to me like glue for the last two years. I guess she's gone now but, I'm pretty upset with her for dragging me down. Just who did she think she was sucking up my good energy because she was too afraid to move on to her next destination? Didn't I have enough to deal with with a failing heart, a stressed out spouse, and a sick kid? The woo woo lady told me to write the hitchhiker lady a letter. I was supposed to put all of my bad feelings in the letter, and burn it. I've heard of adult children of screwed up parents doing that. It's supposed to be cathartic. I haven't done that yet. I guess it couldn't hurt but it's one more thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>May peace and an intact aura be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-35633311061191086702009-03-07T06:08:00.000-08:002009-03-07T06:14:46.440-08:00Day Light Savings Time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0n-Eg-FD_Tk6I-U-QY6QlvYIpJjSmKTcYCjcyC9LknuMNBD5UAsXRcQBF2yZnyxVQEY0BpPMx3J6YofrVcIvIu3LGI7ZGWPg7GBl5xyWHjpxqTHUa0IaEeB8lmBPpi-nhXBLveulfKmH1/s1600-h/s-SLEEPING-large.jpg"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0n-Eg-FD_Tk6I-U-QY6QlvYIpJjSmKTcYCjcyC9LknuMNBD5UAsXRcQBF2yZnyxVQEY0BpPMx3J6YofrVcIvIu3LGI7ZGWPg7GBl5xyWHjpxqTHUa0IaEeB8lmBPpi-nhXBLveulfKmH1/s320/s-SLEEPING-large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310447902317642034" /></a><br /><br />Today the goddess speaks about herself:<br /><br />The Goddess HATES Day Light Savings Time. She really really hates 'Spring Forward'. I don't need to lose one more hour of sleep, in my life. If I could gain an hour every month, now that would be worth changing the clocks for. <br /><br />I will not get over this. I will not go with the flow. I will not ignore it (well, maybe just a little). If I were braver, I would rebel. I would refuse to acknowledge the change, and show up everywhere an hour later. So there!<br /><br />May peace and more sleep be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-70121258907980739172009-03-02T08:37:00.000-08:002009-03-02T08:58:05.980-08:00It's All Been Said BeforeToday the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /></div><div>I haven't written in awhile. Every time I come up with and idea, I read another's blog, who has already stated my point of view. EVERYONE is writing something these days. Good or bad, it all seems to be out there. Also, I haven't felt very funny, but that's another story -- I think . . .</div><div><br /></div><div>What's left to say? Well, I feel overexposed. I've been on Facebook for a few months now, and it seems like my business is like laundry hanging out to dry in the surburbs. I've done it to myself; filling out all of those surveys and lists about myself. One blogger likened it to the little morsels of pillow talk one usually spills out over months of dating. I've just upchucked myself all over the internet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cousin S admitted that it was a bit Narcissistic. This <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">had </span>occurred to me when I first set out on my little FB adventure. I deliberately chose to allow myself to be a narcissist in this particular environment. It's fun. Why not? </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, as I find myself, overexposed and wanting to pull back I have to think about how that is going to work. I notice my eldest son and his friends never post a status update. They rarely check the site except to post pictures of/for each other. That seems reasonable -- well, save for the one guy who always posts the pictures of everyone else drinking, drinking, drinking at parties. That's got to get old after a bit. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to leave the environment, I simply want to pull in a bit. The catalyst came when someone was suggested to me, as a friend, that I was not prepared to have know anything personal about me. I immediately went in and amped up my privacy settings. My next step may be to erase my most personal details. I've already begun that process by taking down some of my info. It won't be as much fun perhaps, but the landscape has changed. I am no longer surrounded by only trusted friends. There are all of these friends of friends, and neighbors, and former students, and their parents, and the checker at the grocery store. This will not do. Not for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Besides, who will want to read my blog, if they get tired of me over there? I'm kind of tired of me over there. If I think of all of the people in the world, is there anyone else left who I really want to connect with? Maybe. Maybe there is someone whom I have forgotten that I loved to be around, and we will find each other there. It will have to be through a friend though. I've gotten all private again.</div><div><br /></div><div>May peace and less exposure be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-86870797291602316392009-01-20T23:35:00.000-08:002009-01-20T23:54:14.101-08:00All Amped Up Yet Strangely TiredToday the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /></div><div>It has been a good and full day. I should be in bed, and yet here I sit. I'm not so tired, but too tired to trudge up the stairs, wash my face, and change out of my clothes. In fact, I still have my coat and scarf on. I have been home for 3 hours. If it weren't so cold, I would fall asleep in this chair.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today I got to say good-bye to someone I refused to say hello to. The outgoing president; "He who can't be named". Not a fan, never a fan, read the books and followed the stories when he was running for Texas governor. Why didn't half of the country do their research before they voted?</div><div>It is such a relief. I don't know what will change, but something has got to be better than the black cloud of fear and hate that this last dude perpetuated. </div><div><br /></div><div>New guy, new president, history being made, breath of fresh air for this moment. I am way too much of a socialist to think that the air will completely be to my liking. I don't think I will need my gas mask anymore though. Whew. </div><div><br /></div><div>I look forward to tomorrow, for my country. When was the last time I thought that thought? </div><div><br /></div><div>As my eyelids droop, and my fingers click away, I am reminded that the sooner I get to bed, the sooner I can wake up to a full day of new hope. It is almost like a childhood Christmas eve. Thank you, America. Thank you for not picking the political look-alike. Memories are short around here so I will savor these years while they last. Voters seem fickle. Today I say thank god for their fickleness, unlike eight years ago when I was railing against the stupidity fickleness brought. Fickle pickle tickle.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm amped and ready to go. I'm tired and ready for a deep sleep. All and everything. It's cold, so I will rush up the stairs rather than trudge. I will fling my clothes off, and tuck myself into bed with cozy pajamas on, and sweet dreams on my pillow. Oh, and a kitty or two at the foot of my bed. Cats on the bed were not allowed during the last presidency. It is a new and hopeful era. A cats get to sleep on the bed era. Nothing will disturb this goddesses sleep tonight, or hopefully for the next 4 years. </div><div><br /></div><div>May a confluence of energy and excellent exhaustion be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-60005137265310263362009-01-01T09:57:00.000-08:002009-01-01T10:26:48.663-08:00A New Year, A New (Old) Me<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Why do we feel the need to make big resolutions at the turn of the new year? Because it feels new, darn it. It is a place to start over, make a run at old and new goals. Some years I feel more inclined to participate in the resolutions game than others. This year is looking to be a goal setting one. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">I am a list maker. I operate so much better with a list in my hand, and a pen, with purple ink, to cross out each item as it is completed. I will even write things down I have already done to be able to cross something off right away -- just to get the ball rolling in the right direction. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">Mostly, I want to keep my household running smoothly, with less clutter, see that my family's needs are met, and that I am practicing regular self care. This year I have set a few bigger goals. I MUST travel. I MUST. Recently, I mentioned a class a friend is teaching in Italy, and my husband said that I should sign up for it. I have always wanted to travel in Europe with my husband so, have put off many opportunities. When I have been to Europe it has been with my sisters. That makes for a different kind of gondola ride, but oh well. So, I am going to do it. I am going to commit to the trip. If the man wants to join me, he may. I'm not going to worry about it. Once summer hits he is in the studio and I don't see him again until the middle of September anyway.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">I also plan to be on skis by spring. I had set a goal to be skiing this winter, but haven't felt ready (still healing from the heart thing). I heard myself turning down a ski trip for this weekend siting too much exertion for my energy level, and I blanched. I know I need to allow my body time to heal, but I'm thinking it partly a head thing. Anyway, it had better be snowing in March, because that is how I want to spend some of my spring break.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">I am in training people. Writing it out; making a list will inevitably help me keep my eye on the prize. I trained for heart surgery. Now, I am in training to reclaim an active life. This means more list making, and less <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MySpace</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Netflix</span> and Janet <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Evanovich</span>. Those were on my 'rest to heal' list. I have two gym memberships, and a host of friends and family past ready to have me reclaim my activity director hat. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">I would have liked to spice this entry up with humor, but I am just waking up (with a bad haircut). Next time. I'll be funny. I promise. It's on my next list. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">May peace and an active life be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';">{PS, writing is on my list ;)}</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-85040759677961769542008-12-30T05:08:00.000-08:002008-12-30T05:33:11.139-08:00Cr*p (I hate that word but, it so applies)<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">"You might try a variety of tactics to keep you from sliding into a funk today <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">and</span> the easiest one is to let others distract you from your complex emotions. Surrounding yourself with like-minded family, friends or colleagues is one way to avoid sinking into your feelings . . ."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">This is my horoscope today. It is spot on so far. I AM sliding into a funk, and I will be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">surrounded</span> by family today. I don't know about like-minded, but it will probably be a distraction. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">I am cranky. Ridiculous reasons for funk sliding:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">1. I hate my new haircut.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">2. I've gained a lot of weight.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">3. I don't want to have jury duty next week when I was snowed out of my classroom the last week of school, and I have no lesson plans prepared.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">4. I loved staying home so much, that I never want to go back to work.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">5. I haven't heard from my kids for three days, and I don't know if they know that we have to be in Sherwood by 11:30 this morning.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">6. I want to go to Seattle for New Year's but B has to work, and I don't know if Dunc can take care of the animals if we are gone, which we can't because B has to work.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">7. I wake up too early every morning. Usually I just go back to sleep until </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">9 or 10 o'clock, but today I have to be in Sherwood by 11:30 (whose idea was that? What's wrong with 2:30, or 3:30?).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">8. There's a 9 between my 7 and 8.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">9. I'm whining and that is never flattering. I can't afford unflattering whining when I have a bad haircut, and have to wear Big Girl jeans that I swore I would never have to wear again so, I got rid of all of them, and now I had to buy some new ones!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">10.<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH</span>!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (screaming inside my head to disturb the negative thinking patterns that are developing by writing this blog).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:18px;">May peace and only ridiculous worries be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-2042035449381514672008-12-29T21:36:00.000-08:002008-12-29T22:10:33.463-08:00Waa, Waa, My Hair Is GoneToday the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /></div><div>Sigh. I lost my mind this week. Saturday night to be exact. I am still trying to figure out what got into me. I cut my own hair. Never, never, never a good idea. I'm not talking a little trim. I'm talking massive hair lossage.</div><div><br /></div><div>I haven't had a professional haircut since April. My hair has just grown and grown, like Rapunzel. It was long and super shaggy. There was absolutely no style to it whatsoever. If I didn't curl it it was Mennonite hair (without the little white cap). That's fine if one is a Mennonite. I am not. I was feeling a little too country girl, I guess.</div><div>Also, I am not a fan of the super long hair on old women. From behind, they look all young and sexy then, they turn around and, BAM! It's hard to look away from such a dichotomy. Also, it is a bit scary, as if your very own eyes are playing tricks on you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wanted some sexy movement in my hair. So, I cut it short around my face. Poofta! My hair poofed up, framing my face with thick, brown apostrophes. Not my best look. Then, to alleviate this heavy look, I cut some of the hair in the middle, creating bangs. My husband told me not to, but a little devil possessed my scissor hand. Bangs. My super long hair in the back looked stupid now, kinda like "party in the back" 70's hair. So I wacked that off just below the shoulder. Five pounds of hair -- into the trash bin. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Agh!" I've never heard my husband scream before. He wasn't joking. That was his lizard brain response. Scream, cover eyes, quickly turn away. My lower lip trembled like it hasn't since I was about five years old. Twenty-five years together, and he couldn't control himself. I could tell he knew he had screwed up. Spouses have an arsenal of 'supportive phrases' that by a quarter of a century are as easy to access as excess ear and nose hair. (If I could cut that off and glue it on my head, I would).</div><div><br /></div><div>All I could do was crawl into bed, and hope that when I woke up, I would discover that it was all a bad dream. When it turned out to not be a bad dream, I swallowed my pride and explained myself to the hairdresser I hadn't seen in months. She told me she could make it all OK. But, after an hour it was another two pounds lighter, and much, much shorter. It's hair. It will grow back. I just wish I could stay in bed until that happens. </div><div><br /></div><div>When my husband saw my new do, he didn't hesitate, "That looks good -- it's sexy".</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>May peace and a true love be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-7909317437213536752008-12-27T06:18:00.000-08:002008-12-27T06:38:00.570-08:00Arctic Blast '08<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I think I have survived the biggest snowstorm anyone alive has ever seen in this area.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I am not tired of all of the snow. As it now melts away, I am actually kind of sad. It was fun being snowed in. Of course, my power never went out, and all of my family were warm and safe. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I didn't mind not getting any mail, but I was super surprised by it. I thought there was some post person pledge, "Neither sleet, or rain, or snow, or bunnies . . . " ya know, that whole thing. It wasn't our mail carriers. The mail truck didn't make it in from the big city.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">The roads were super dangerous. Many still are. I did miss my morning paper. That didn't get delivered for a whole week. The mail came one day out of 10. The paper didn't. The road to our house was closed for two days, and probably should have been closed for more. A propane truck slid down the hill and crashed into a power pole. Lots of people lost power, but not us. Lucky again. We ran out of toilet paper and coffee. Two things I never want to be without again, but it didn't kill me.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">The ground was covered in layers, like a cake. First, a foot or more of snow. Then, a half an inch of ice. Finally, another 6 inches of snow. One day I had bruised up my shins when I walked out to the mail box (which, of course, was empty). I would put one foot down, breaking through the crust, and when I didn't bring that foot back up exactly straight, my leg would knock against the layer of ice. Yow! The cat could walk across, like Jesus on the lake, but I'm a bit heavier. It really did hurt. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">This snow had to be seen to be believed. I would never have been able to believe it was this dramatic if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I wonder if I will remember it when I am older and grayer. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">So, I have been a shut-in, and liked it. In fact, I would really like to still be snowed in for a couple more days. Just a good excuse to stay in bed and read. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">May peace and an interesting season be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-86899211407241905562008-12-25T07:17:00.000-08:002008-12-25T07:41:19.586-08:00Smells Like Wet DogToday the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /></div><div>We've been snowed in for a week. WITH the animals. That funky smell that is seeping in around the edges isn't pleasant. No matter how much essential oil I sprinkle here and there, the doggie smell is taking over my house. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have been in a flurry of cooking while shut in. All of the Christmas cookies, sweet bread, hot apple cidar and yummy meals only provide short term bliss to the nose. I will be happily melting something in my mouth when suddenly I will get a whiff that spells w-o-o-f. I can't kick them out in these frigid temperatures either. Besides, they just frolic about in the snow for awhile, and pop back into the house all wet and more smelly. Plus, they are quite pleased with themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>We have four animals that can come in the house. A very large, and hairy shepard mix, a tiny (but oh so smelly) terrier/pug/shitzu/poodle/yorkie ball of bark, a big orange cat, and a feisty feral kitty that we have been taming. Three of the four are rescue animals. You would think that they would be more grateful to have a home, and try to keep it nice. The fourth (the terrier mix) was born smelly. She can't help it I guess. She is darned cute in her funny little way. She is the reason I am up writing. She took it upon herself to bark until everyone under our roof, and the roofs of people in the next county were awakened. I don't know what got her all excited, but here I sit instead of being cozy in bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is Christmas morning. I could be making the dough for the Christmas cinnamon rolls. I sort of lost my desire to cook a big breakfast, for Christmas, when my children jumped ship last night. The older one is working a double shift on the mountain today, and his brother hitched along to go snowboarding. They said it was a hairy, wild ride. Driving in a snowstorm makes it hard to see the road, apparently. Most people stay home when the snow hits, but not my little winter babies. The youngest one spent 8 months in Iceland, and the eldest doesn't know the meaning of the phrase, 'turn back'. They covered any guilt they might have at abandoning their parents on Christmas by giving excellent gifts. It's not so bad. We had a lovely Christmas Eve. It is just that between the smelly animals, invading my space, and the hole the younger generation have left in the house, I just feel like going back to bed.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, that's what I am going to do. </div><div>May peace and a heavenly smelling Christmas be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-35248125145986171232008-12-21T08:02:00.000-08:002008-12-21T08:48:16.253-08:00The Weather Outside is Frightful<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_Am11NOOsqU-nSPeZcHfATPUZi46DdaKuXSiVxoTydKbV-SkGYYmqMfKSOiTrRnKNwxIV-ELCYcht5hlAZUzQxWjp1uJco3AtN1tzlc_HeqnULcK8ZaytFeY-9uuLctCXfuhxcHkw0aK/s1600-h/1220081117.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY_Am11NOOsqU-nSPeZcHfATPUZi46DdaKuXSiVxoTydKbV-SkGYYmqMfKSOiTrRnKNwxIV-ELCYcht5hlAZUzQxWjp1uJco3AtN1tzlc_HeqnULcK8ZaytFeY-9uuLctCXfuhxcHkw0aK/s320/1220081117.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282284508968041954" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">It is a winter wonderland outside. As beautiful as it looks, it is mighty treacherous trekking for anyone who goes outside. There is a layer of ice over 7-8 inches of snow. Besides, the fire is the place to be today and I plan to be there. It is beautiful to look at. I may attempt an adventure to the road to see if our paper guy braved the trip to bring us our Sunday tome. Our mail lady didn't make it yesterday so I will be surprised if I get to read the Sunday funnies. The walk will give me a chance to peak in the goat barn.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Our goats are so cute this time of year. Our junior goats are so furry they look like sheep. They are all fat and cute. Yesterday, they ran into the pasture by the house, and the tallest one danced up onto his hind hoofs to pull down a fir bough. He was rewarded with a yummy treat, but the cost was getting snow dumped on top of him. He didn't seem to mind since he went around the entire tree pulling down bough after bough, getting a snow bath for his efforts every time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">The dogs are truly loving their snow play. They leap and dive, and then run around like wild things, barking for joy. When they are ready to come inside they are matted with snow and require a good rubbing down. The cats, on the other hand, go right under the house. They have no interest in getting their little paws wet. I don't know what they are doing under there; it's possible they are playing with spiders. They come in the house covered in cobwebs. That isn't so cute, or easy to clean off. Currently, the littlest dog, and the littlest kitty, are chasing each other. The kitten is chasing the dog, and then the dog will suddenly stop, roll over and they wrestle. Kitty never tires of this game, but the dog retreats to the top of the couch when she is worn out. My big dog is snuggled with me on the couch. He was up half the night barking at a VERY loud owl in the woods next to our house. I was a little nervous letting the smaller animals out this morning for fear that noisy owl would swoop down, and carry one of them off for breakfast. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">My plan for the day is to wrap Christmas presents. I convinced my husband to drive into town yesterday. I knew the freezing rain was coming in, and I hadn't done my holiday shopping for our children yet. The drive was spectacular. It was like being in an old fashioned post card of an idyllic winter scene. It took over and hour for a usual 35 minute trip; most of which we traveled without seeing any other cars. I felt like we were traveling in another time, or on another planet. I swear I could hear the trees whispering to each other when I rolled down the car window. We did finally run into other shoppers the closer we got to town. The mall parking lot was pretty sparsely populated, but the Costco parking lot was just as packed as any other Saturday. We only went to three stores. I usually like to assist Santa with the stockings by acquiring healthy snacks for my handsome snowboarders at Bob's Red Mill. No way were we going to try to go down the little lane to that groovy store. So, I overcompensated by buying way too many treats at Cost Plus. I just love those mini packs of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nutella</span> with the little tiny, individually wrapped scoops. So cute. So tasty. They are upstairs, in the spare bedroom, right this very second. I may sneak one while I am in there wrapping all of the socks, giant bags of hot flavored kettle chips, books, and cozy pajamas we got for the boys. I may be getting a little excited for Christmas -- finally. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">First, I think that I will tidy up the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, stick some bacon in the oven, and maybe thaw out some Amish Friendship bread for breakfast. My neighbor's hens are still laying, and she is letting me have whatever I can find while she and her husband whoop it up in Paris for Christmas. It is a toss up whether I would rather be in Paris or eating fresh eggs for breakfast. OK, Paris. I'm not that bucolic. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">May peace, a wintry wonderland, a warm fire, fresh eggs, and Paris be in your future from, The Goddess of Everything.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-70266362076962196612008-12-10T19:30:00.000-08:002008-12-10T20:40:22.061-08:00Live To Diet Another Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Today the goddess speaks about herself:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Despite my adamant resolve to lose weight with slim-fast and cigarettes, my convenience store dream never got off the asphalt of the local quickie mart. I was stymied by the "</span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">ick</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">" factor; my own gag reflex as it were. This story may yet have a happy ending, but first we must review. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The beginning of my little adventure/adventure to be little began with a perusal of the local one-stop down the hill from my house. It is there that one can buy single, chilled cans of slim-fast meal replacement shakes. Already my commitment was slim -- </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">haha</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">. If I had truly been all in, I would have gone straight to the big box store for a case. My plan was to purchase a can or two to 'see' how I liked it. I carefully coached myself to NOT look at the list of ingredients. Certain ingredients are a deal breaker unless they are in any of the following: cheesy poofs, </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">nutella</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">, hot chocolate, chocolate kisses, </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">fudgesicles</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">, brownies, red vines or kettle corn, and the original recipe M&M's (seriously, I can tell the difference from 10 years ago). However, my ADD kicked in just as I selected a cappuccino flavored, make me skinny, diet drink, and allowing my glasses to slip down my nose, I peered over the top of them to read the ingredients. 'Hydrogenated' peered back at me. I don't eat any kind of hydrogenated unless it is in one of the previously listed free pass items. 'Artificial flavorings' -- another deal breaker. Then, a list of several things I can't pronounce which I have learned from previous encounters are preservatives and fillers. Sigh, I couldn't do it. I couldn't walk out of the store with a can of '</span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">ick</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">'. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">With the first blow to my two part diet plan blown, I turned my thoughts to part II -- cigarettes. No need to look at the ingredients list on those suckers. They are full of poison. I don't watch movies with the devil in them, and I don't read horror stories for fun. My readers can rest assured I would not read the side of a cigarette box before sticking a cancer stick in my mouth. How would anyone ever take their first drag if they fell into that trap? Some other force was at work though. Suddenly, everywhere I looked people were smoking. Everywhere. Very large people. Really, really obese people (and I'm not saying I wouldn't qualify) standing outside of restaurants, movie theaters, and the entrance to the hospital. I could not avoid the evidence of my eyes. Cigarettes were not making these people thin. OK, maybe they had just started smoking that day with the same plan in mind that I had had. Seriously though, I doubted it. They all seemed expertly comfortable, and not the least bit furtive in their practiced respite. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I felt deflated, betrayed by my lack of resolve, and utter inability to ignore external sabotage mechanisms. Why is it always like this? I set a goal. It seems reasonable. I try to implement the goal. Then, I actively look for ways to enable my unhealthy habits. I was so close to beginning something that I think could have really helped me achieve my goal weight. With each passing day, we are all just one more day away from the pine box. Why couldn't I stick to my plan, and lie in that box wearing a size 8 Stella McCartney kick ass outfit? Why, oh why, oh why?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">May peace and the ability to turn off your inner '</span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">ick</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">' be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-456008961432964649.post-12627228061806530682008-12-03T20:30:00.000-08:002008-12-03T21:25:29.630-08:00Liposuck That!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ojCg8yrR16OWzeAy5HX4Ohuhxn6a9LufYa3bGKnhkC0LLm9Wc3uZllu2__BazTXnpPHtSoIlTNxcgyAMnMWcCnSNu0Pyst8UD-ukXlRleZo_b39EW-V2qVrsfXECdpQs_36Yvz6rLRst/s1600-h/Partridge+in+a+Pear+Tree-2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 211px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ojCg8yrR16OWzeAy5HX4Ohuhxn6a9LufYa3bGKnhkC0LLm9Wc3uZllu2__BazTXnpPHtSoIlTNxcgyAMnMWcCnSNu0Pyst8UD-ukXlRleZo_b39EW-V2qVrsfXECdpQs_36Yvz6rLRst/s320/Partridge+in+a+Pear+Tree-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275801722299053426" /></a><br />Today the goddess speaks about herself:<div><br /></div><div>The good news is, I don't need botox anymore. The bad news is, I may need liposuction of the brain. Something is pressing on my brain, and making me fuzzy. All of my extra weight gain has caused my face to plump up so that I no longer need consider injecting poison into my furrowed brow. However, I feel like there is a layer of fat around my brain now too. Fat = good for face = bad for thinking clearly.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know that I am not thinking clearly because I am enjoying my job. This time of year, I usually can't wait to rid myself of the little ankle nipping six year olds, known as my students, by escaping to a tropical beach. Now, I am planning fun, holiday activities with cinnamon and applesauce, curling ribbon, glitter and cookie cutters. AND, I am liking it. Something is not right.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know that my brain is not working correctly because I invited company over, for dinner, on a school night. I am cooking lasagna. Since Amy's has stopped making the family sized lasagna, I will be making my own -- FROM SCRATCH. Do you know how many flipping steps there are in lasagna preparation? More than two, which is one more than I usually care to be a party to.</div><div><br /></div><div>There have been other signs of fat brain malfeasance. For instance, I keep wearing heals to work. This is not that comfortable, and I am not that young. I am not Tina Turner for christ's sake. (sorry Jesus) But, heels are slimming, and draw attention to one's legs. My legs look great (in stockings;I have varicose veins). Heels also thrust one's buttocks out in a sexy manner. THERE IS NO REASON TO BE SEXY WHEN SURROUNDED BY TINY PEOPLE UNDER 30! Something is misfiring. Why am I drawn to inappropriate foot attire at this time? I have no idea. By the end of the day I am limping down the hall saying, "Ow, Ow" ever so quietly, to myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lastly, I have decided to KNIT my Christmas gifts this year. Christmas is less than a month away. I have 9 nieces and nephews, 8 siblings of varying kinds (four sisters, four brother-in-laws), 7 loved ones by marriage and birth (three mother-in-laws, two father-in-laws, my mother & my husband -- some people got married more than others), 6 gifting co-workers, 5 girlfriends, 4 pets a whining, 3 parent helpers, 2 children to whom I gave birth, and a partridge in a pear tree. I have truly lost my mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>May peace and abundance surround you (but, not necessarily around your brain) from, The Goddess of Everything. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Goddess of Everythinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10114172562685098943noreply@blogger.com3