Snow White

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

I keep staring in mirrors to see if I have any pigment left in my skin. A week of snow days kept me indoors and out of the light. There isn't one teensy tiny bit of melatonin left in my biggest organ. (No, not my goddess gut! Go skim your high school biology book now. I'll wait.)
I'm already one of the whitest girls on the planet. If I don't get some significant reys soon I am going to fade away completely. Yesterday, at the market, I noticed another white chick leaning against the bin of oranges with her face turned up to the sun. She had her eyes closed and looked very serene. I was tempted to join her but, thought better of it, when I realized the glare from our duel foreheads could permanently blind anyone walking toward us.
When I was a kid I had all sorts of melatonin. Some people even described me as being olive skinned. I could tan like a marshmallow over an open flame. Not anymore -- now I get very red before peeling, revealing even whiter skin; even my eye color is fading. I don't even want to talk about what is underneath my L'Oreal medium golden brown tresses.
I have to say that getting older does have its advantages. For instance life insurance companies stop bugging you. Also, doctors want to give you a lot of drugs. They just offer them unsolicited. It's very nice. When my dentist inquired about my jaw pain and, I told him it was still 24/7, he offered to write me a prescription for something that would RELAX me. Only a few years ago he was sending me to physical therapy, bio-feedback, and the acupuncturist. My MD was the same with my recent knee injury. When the MRI didn't show any damage, he prescribed me a life-time supply of a top notch pain killer. Score! When I was younger these same docs would have tried to get to the root of the problem so I could get back on the ski slopes. Apparently, I am now past the point of no return. At the ripe old age of 44 and three-quarters I get to look forward to a life of sedation. Now all I need is for my alternative health practitioner to give me a medical MJ card and I'll be livin' large.
Losing weight is very interesting at this age too. The more weight I lose, the more skin heads south. (Weight loss is only attained past the age of 40 by careful 'hormone balancing' -- don't even get me started) As much as I would like to celebrate my smaller pant size, I can't help but notice that my rear is getting caught in the top of my socks, and my breasts keep getting tangled up in my belt loops. And, I don't know what drug I need to cope with the belly skin that just won't snap back to its original position but, I want it! I really really do.
Don't get me wrong; I'm still a red hot goddess! I'm just a little confused about how to arrange all of my parts into my clothes to achieve a desirable shape. It's a little like sculpting. I've become an artist of sorts. So, I have that going for me. Guess that will be my second career -- 'Sagging Body Part Rearranger'. I'm already a pretty good hair and face painter. Really, what I am at this point is a blank canvas, or a giant mass of sculpy clay. Hmmm. . . I always knew that I was a work of art.
May peace and graceful aging be yours from, The Goddess of Everything

Everything and Nothing

Today the Goddess speaks about herself:

The days have been speeding pleasantly along. I have been up to everything and nothing.
Work , work work, then two snow days in a row. Work again, go to class, come home to dinner, knit, watch Frasier, and go to bed. Not a bad way to fill the days.
I'm taking a long weekend workshop called, "High Trust". Hours upon hours of sitting on a hard chair. Every ounce of my blood is now located in my delectable derriere. The high trust relationship I have with my own body, I fear, is almost certainly hopelessly corroded. Not a lot of thinking takes place in my lower regions thus, I believe I am not getting as much out of this class as I had hoped. Perhaps tomorrow I can stand on my head. I doubt that this would be anything out of the ordinary for the teacher as he is quite the cuckoo crazy. He has done/said everything except stand on his head. The first day he said that he would never use "that language" and today, the third day he is exploding the F word here and there. Now saying F- word, in my opinion is just like saying the actual word. Anyone within hearing automatically thinks the word in their head when they hear F-word. Am I not right?Mr. C. C. has totally given up the pretense and is using it in varying conjugations. I don't really care if people explode the F-bomb every now and then. What does bother me is some integrity imbalance in stating one will never do something and then, doing it. There were a few other irregularities like this. My reaction to this kind of conflicting behavior is to become a bit off-balanced myself. I had to go to my happy place several times today.
My happy place is at home with B. I love to be curled up next to him doing anything. Lately, anything is knitting. B. gave me, "Stitch & Bitch", for Christmas. It's a beginning knitting book for women of a certain age. I love it. Everything is spelled out WITH pictures! After the author has talked you through knitting your first stitch, she says, "Sucked, didn't it?" And, it did!! Tell it like it is sister! I have tried to learn to knit a number of times over the years. I felt like I was knitting with the hooves of a water buffalo for hands. No, that's wrong. They don't have hooves, do they? Or, do they?
Anyway, you get the picture. Knitting with any kind of hooves is not going to go well. After my first attempt at some oblong shape with a couple of unplanned button holes (I'm calling it a doll's blanket), I have advanced to a three colored scarf. It is quite satisfying to watch it grow each night. Last night I noticed that the last two squares seemed to be a little wider than the first three. I counted the stitches and there were 12. I had started out with 10. Now, in the book she says to unravel it no matter how far along you've come. I understand the concept of fix it now so you won't forever being noticing your mistake, and dwelling on it. But, I am a positive person. I choose to see this little foible as charming rather than aberrant.
Knitting was a wonderful way to spend my time during the two snow days. I could stay in my pajamas all day, hang out on the couch, watching drivel on television, and still be productive. It was great! Practically no guilt. I will eventually have to deal with the 4 inches of dog hair on every surface of the house since I did NOTHING but knit for two days. The amount of dog hair inside rivals the amount of snow, on the ground, outside. No joke. We can't go half a day without swiffering if we don't want to be wading through wafting drifts of animal fluff.
Hmmm . . . maybe I could knit a dog hair rug . . .
My friend, Tita, claims to be the Queen of Dog Hair but, I don't know. I think I am definitely in the running for the title.
Tomorrow is another day in class. I will try the standing on my head thing and let you know how it goes. Wish me luck!
May peace and your own happy place be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

A Little Freaked Out

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
It was a cranky, after the full moon day, for me. Right off the bat I was dithering in my head.
Dithering in the head is when many thoughts, that make you anxious, queasy and mad-all-over-again (that would make a great title for another blog) were rolling over each other in waves--literally, IN MY HEAD. It started with reading my horoscope. No, it started with me not being able to sleep, getting up to hang out on the net, and reading my horoscope.
Anyway, 2007 is apparently going to be a roller coaster ride of change for everyone. This got me to thinking about all of the changes I would like to make in my life. Big changes, Baby! Right at the top is my job. I work in an insane asylum. Individual people are fine. The basics of my job can even be very enjoyable but, the system itself is bad enough to make a refined goddess rip a few heads off of skinny little necks.
As I was obsessing-I mean mulling things over, my son was running around getting his stuff together to go snowboarding. He's an adult with his own apartment but, my brain still goes into worst case scenario mode anytime he is about to do anything remotely dangerous; and I know about it. He is a very conscientious son. He will always call me after the fact. I got a call right after he jumped out of an airplane the minute he turned 18. However, he does not know that things like, snowboarding, which he has done several times since being home for vacation, is one of those things I would rather not know about until he is safely home. (A goddess lets her children experience life without showing them her fear. . . for the most part).
With all the dithering in my head I was kinda lookin' for a fight when who should arise from the marital bed but, my beloved. Our first fracas was over the tea kettle. He turned the stove off and opened the lid on the pot letting the steam out. This always makes me shake my head. Today I wasn't about to stand for it! I took the kettle off of the burner and snapped the lid shut.
We argued over which way kept the water warm longer. Of course, he had no logic to back him up on this; I had just taught a two month unit on weather. I think I know which way keeps the heat AND the water in best! Well, you can kind of see how the morning went. We have nothing big to fight about and he doesn't really fight anyway; it's so maddening. Plus, after a half a dozen little tiffs like this he had to go to work. I got three separate kisses out of the deal. I did make him reach up from below and kiss me over the top of the stair railing. Ha! Take that!
My day at work was ok. It was at the end of the day, when I was happily painting on the stage, where my worry button was pushed. The secretary found me to tell me I had a phone call. For one second I was relieved to hear my beloved's voice. The next second I was quelling panic. Our son had tried to call but, had not gotten through. He also wasn't answering his cell. Every kind of worst case went through my head: landed upside down in a snowbank, went off of a cliff, sustained a head injury, car accident on the way down the mountain. . . Since there was nothing I could do but wait I went back to painting with my cell phone in my back pocket on high and vibe. I spent the next hour trying to visualize my son in a safe place, waiting for a phone call that never came. Every time I tried tried to call either my husband or son there was no answer.
Finally, I decided to go home to wait. As I drove up to the house I could see that my son's car was parked right where it always is when he's home.
Of course, I was relieved. However, when I walked into the house to find my beloved, blithely sitting on the couch, eating bread and cheese, and watching the Sci Fi channel, I went from a little freaked out to a lot more than mildly frustrated. (A little head ripping off would have felt good). A switch clicked over in my head just then, and a voice said,
"Refrain from ripping off anyone's head; hug your loved ones, who are safe, and ask what they want for dinner." So, girding my goddess loins, I did just that (after a teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy bit of reproach).
May peace be yours in this year of change from, The Goddess of Everything

New Year's Eve; Hot, Hot, Hot!

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
New Year's Eve began with sleeping in late, eating yummy oatmeal, and going to yoga with two of my three men. It was the right way to start my day to begin with centering and healing. The intention I set for myself during my yoga practice was to be more focused in my everyday life.
Not a bad start to the day all in all. I then proceeded to spend the rest of the day resting up for the big party. I'm no slouch when it comes to perfect party preparation.
I hadn't really been looking forward to this party, though, until just a few hours before. I'd been a bundle of nerves worrying about having company come, and making sure they had a good time with a bunch of people they didn't know. Plus, I didn't know the people who were hosting the party very well.
I beseeched my husband to let us all go out to a generic hotel/bar party where we would all be on the same footing so that we could solely enjoy each others company. He kept assuring me it would all work out. When our friends called to cancel I was actually relieved. I hate to say that because they are such old and dear friends. It's just how I felt.
It was that evening, as I was getting ready, that I began to look forward to a night out. My illness and cleansing had caused me to shed a few pounds; all in the right places for once. It was fun to pull on pants that hadn't fit in a couple of years, and a very sexy/groovy top that sparkled. I was lookin' hot! My hotness inspired my honey to feel me up as we headed out the door (goddesses love that when it comes from their one and only).
There were many, many people at the party. All of the beautiful Oolala's were there, of course. The five of us were the hottest women at the party, if I do say so myself, and I do because I am an expert in this area. We sparkled. Baby was there when we arrived. She was bejeweled and glowing carrying around her bottle of Jose Cuervo. She was wearing her new kick ass boots with the diamond encrusted boot bracelet. Lita was there too. I had noticed that she'd parked her little car close to the house as I came in. She had blatantly ignored the sign directing everyone to park in the field. It was perfectly understandable considering the hoochy-mama heels she was showing off. She was also wearing a short tight dress with a plunging neckline. Ouch!
I kept looking around for Tita and LaLa as I mingled with the other party guests. The whole house was just a little off balance without all five of us there. When finally she arrived, Tita, of course, looked gorgeous in her long black skirt and very low cut top (I have it on good authority that she was wearing a, 'Now That's a Damn Good Bra!' undergarment as well). Those girls of hers were definitely standing at attention; a fact her date did not miss an opportunity to be distracted by all night long. It was all too tempting for her date because I'm sure I caught a little nuzzlin' on the dance floor. Impossible to resist really.
I was becoming a little concerned about LaLa. We had considered coming together, and I was just a tad concerned. So, I was doubly glad when she walked in the door. The way her top sparkled, and her face glowed I'm guessing there was a little fooling around with her honey before they got out their door because she was looking tre oolala! As I approached her for a kiss, she was already being admired by everyone near the entrance. Finally, with all of the smoking hot Oolala's assembled the party was complete.
I didn't drink and I didn't eat much but, I did a whole lot of mingling and dancing. The evening entertainment began with my honey and another musician jamming for awhile. My man is so sexy when he beats his drum. This impromptu jam session caused a delay in the dance part of the evening however, and some of us were itching to get our groove on. When the musicians moved off of the dance floor Tita got the action going without delay. It was a sister fest of ogle worthy proportions. My man joined us when the feather boa came out. He cannot resist doing his little boa dance. There was even an element of danger to his dance as he was performing right under the ceiling fan (who knew it was dangerous to be tall?) He's no idiot either; he was having the hot women all to himself. Not to be outdone, Lita's husband came out wearing her full length leopard print coat. The host found him a pimp hat, and then the women were all over him. It was a wild night, and this was after the midnight kissing and fireworks! I'm guessing more than a few people got lucky in the wee hours of the New Year. Now, that's hot.
May you have peace, and get your groove on, in the New Year from, The Goddess of Everything

Girl's Day Out!

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

Whichever goddess invented pampering was a sparkling star among geniuses! Today the Babes hit the salon for spa pedicures. We had our delicate goddess tootsies bathed, oiled, massaged and decorated. While we talked of vacations, kids, husbands and colon cleanses our discreet attendents worked their magic. The only way it could have been better is if our chairs had been arranged in a circle. This spa even had cushy pillows! I have to say the chlorinated city water in a styrofoam cup was a little out of place in our plush surroundings but, a goddess needs something to keep her grounded.
So, about those colon cleanses. . . I've actually thought of putting myself through that particular indignity. Oh to be that clean on the inside. The idea has intrigued me ever since my grandmother told me what those little red rubber bags, that hung in everyone's bathroom, were for when I was a kid. "Eif ya git a little backed up, yew can just stick that hose up yer heiny a everthin' comes out nice and neat." (Granny had a little bit of her West Virginia accent left over from her girlhood).
I don't know how the neat part worked exactly but I figured it was just an expression anyway. Nothing I visualized was particularly nice or neat. However, it was one of the longer conversation I ever had with Grandma Iris, and I remember it. She usually would say something along the lines of, "Why don't you go on and bother your mommy with that bizness?"
Now I could understand taking care of a problem in the privacy of your own bathroom but, I was lucky enough to be given a tour of the Naturopath college once. One minute we were in the herb garden, among beautiful healing plants, and the next(without any warning at all) the tour was led into a room with two metal beds with troughs attached on both sides. It was the colonic room, where for an absorbinant fee one could have ones's colon cleansed in an invasive manner. I learned that the 'retrieved contents' were carefully examined by medical students. OK, Yuk! Evidently they find a lot of undissolved vitamins and any number of supplements. I didn't need an explanation to know that we, in the modern world, do not have good digestion.
Every time I take a pill now I say a little prayer to the goddess of digestion to please, please let this pill dissolve and not be stuck in my lower extremities for all eternity.
Back to the spa. . . Well, while Babe number three (that's by chair order) regaled us with her lovely colon cleansing experience, Babe number two seemed pretty grossed out. Maybe not so much grossed out as, hmmm. . . no, she was probably grossed out but, in a mature considerate way. She used the expression, "You've got to be frigging kidding me!" I believe. I was too amused to be completely conscious of every detail of the conversation. My thoughts, between fits of laughter, kept drifting to the three people doing the pampering. What must they hear on a daily basis? They managed so well not to respond. It was truly admirable.
Babe three kept on talking about her wonderful experience with hydro-therapy of the colon. Babe two kept up her interjections of astonishment. But, while I couldn't stop laughing at the conversation in that serene and public environment, I think I was still aware that the rest of the spa was dead silent. I bet there is a rush on the hydro-therapy, colon cleansing thingy place tomorrow! Women with brand new manicures and pedicures stampeding the doors for the ultimate cleanse.
I love my Babes, and I loved my outing with them. I was so happy when we didn't end it in the salon. NO, we didn't try to get a group rate for the ultimate cleanse. We went shopping at Chico's where we get to be a size 2 because whoever owns those stores must be a shining star, genius of a goddess too. Babe three made us try on beautiful tops, and then she secretly paid for them. What a fun and unexpected act of kindness! We were pretty darned excited to walk out with our gifts in size 2. I got to show mine off at a party tonight. Babe two gets to show hers off on television. How cool is that?
I can hardly wait for another girl's day out.
May peace, pampering and good friends be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Blame It On Beyonce`

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

It's not really Beyonce's fault. It's merely happenstance that she is involved at all.
I was the one with the brilliant idea of doing a 'cleanse' during my Christmas break. Just three days was all I was going to devote to this Master Cleanse thingy. It was a way to reboot my system back to healthy eating. I was one sick little hard drive the last three weeks before Christmas.
The mass amounts of chocolate and alcohol, bread and cheese, and coffee, and more alcohol that I consumed was world class. I could be in the Guinness Book of World Records for overdoing it.
Once I cozied up in front of my computer to watch missed episodes of Ugly Betty and Grey's Anatomy on ABC's full-stream, with a box of chocolates, I was a goner. The first couple of hours the box was downstairs. I would go down during each commercial break to grab one, or two, or four, and snarf them down. Before I knew it one box was gone. That's when I really let lose and brought the second box upstairs. Forget about exercise or self-control then. I was all in.
When I found myself wandering downstairs during a commercial I felt compelled to bring something back up with me. It didn't take much pondering in front of the open refrigerator for me to decide that I was darn thirsty for a beer. I wish someone had been there to slap me silly.
Months of healthy eating went down the toilet because of a couple of boxes of chocolate.
My students had wanted to gift me with sweets.Didn't they ever notice that I never eat the cupcakes at the birthday parties; or that I rarely have a gummy bear, and then I only eat one clear colored gummy bear when I reward them with gummies? Is this level of observational skill so beyond the scope of six and seven year olds?! Giving me chocolate for a gift must have been some kind of plot. They must have known that I would be lazing about during vacation with nothing better to do than watch old TV episodes on the Internet, and eat bad things!!
Never mind all of that now. After months of healthy eating my body completely went into gimme mode after my binge. The overeating of chocolate was the gateway to eating too much bread and cheese, followed by too much wine, chased down at the beginning of every day by too much coffee. My gut was a roiling, boiling vessel of hell; a lemniscate of bad digestion. I had to regain control!
During one of the few seconds I wasn't blinded in a haze of built up toxins I thought about a summer visitor. A friend of ours had told my husband about a cleanse that had really cleared his head, and made him feel healthier than he had in years. I told myself right then, "I will get back on track!" I chose Christmas eve to go off of coffee, and the day after Christmas to begin the cleanse. After grilling my husband about the ingredients of the elixir our friend solely survived on for ten days I was off and limping. The cleanse turned out to be The Master Cleanse. When I visited their web-site I saw that this was the very same cleanse Beyonce had used to lose weight for 'Dreamgirls'. BONUS! I vaguely remembered her remarking on her grouchiness and need to be in close proximity to the toilet but, I airily waved that memory out of my consciousness. It just seemed that if Beyonce, with her busy schedule and constant demands on her time could do this then, so could I. Also, I only planned to do it for three days not ten.
Day one and two weren't so bad. On day one I was inundated with food images on TV and and the Internet. However, I was stalwart in my resolve. I was also very sleepy. Day two was a much improved experience. I had a boost of energy that allowed me to complete several tasks that I had been putting off of late. All that day I was thinking of extending the cleanse to lose weight like Beyonce. It was such an unbelievable breeze. I even went to the movies, where the smell of popcorn, although tantalizing, did not cause me to consider breaking my fast.
DAY THREE.
Oh man, I didn't want to get up. (There was a ballgame going on in my gut or something equally as active). The call to the throne was just too urgent. Over and over again it called me until I didn't think I had anything left to give. I hadn't even done the chugging of the very expensive French salt mixed with a quart of water yet. Once I got that down though I was vigorously nauseous. What had happened? It had all gone so well the previous two days. This is when my husband told me that our friend hadn't been able to handle the salt water purge. Knocking my head against the wall I went back up to bed. My intent was to have that water come out the end for which it was meant. I had nine months of throwing up with the last kid. If I could learn to hold it back until I rolled down a car window, I could certainly hold back this little tide for a few minutes.
Well, it is later. I did hold that tide back until it was ready to cleanse what it was meant to cleanse. After all I am a pro. I'm just so conflicted now. My belly looks so much smaller. I even got out the tape measure. It is actually smaller around than my chest (a big goal for me lately).
How can I not keep going? If Beyonce can do it why can't I? So what if she had a big, cool musical movie as a carrot? I have my good health as a goal. I'm getting rid of nasty toxins so that my body can accept the good food I will feed it from now on.
Although. . . seven more days of this and I won't have any belly left. I would look amazing! I might even be able to try out for a big, cool musical like Beyonce.
I WANT TO BE AS BOOTYLICIOUS AS BEYONCE!
You see where this has taken me? It's all Beyonce's fault. Damn her bootyliciousness!
May peace and common sense be yours from, The Goddess of Everything
PS, bootylicious is now a word in the English Oxford Dictionary.

Getting Focused

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
We have a friend, L. He is a GSD (Get Shit Done) guy. He sees something that needs doing and he does it. Bam. It's done. I am not a GSD. Not right away anyway. It can take me months, years even to get a project done. Once I start I'm either easily distracted, or so task oriented that I cannot veer from my task to save my life. There's no middle ground. Then, when I get a project done I am utterly exhausted, collapsing in a heap to spend a week in recovery.
I can not figure out why I put some things off for so long. Why? Why? Why? Take my son's senior pictures for instance. We had his pictures taken in August, and at the same time did family photos for Christmas gifts. I brought the proofs home and they have been hanging on the closet door(in a bag) ever since. I can't bring myself to make a selection. We didn't even get our Christmas cards out this year because I couldn't deal with the pictures. What's up with that? It should have been so easy. It wasn't like we were trooping to the portrait studio at the last minute. I can't ask our son to decide because he is spending this year abroad. He picked out the one he wanted in the year book and vamoosed for an island far away. I wish I could go to an island far away.
That's it! I want a rest, a holiday, a retreat, a. . . what did they call it in the original Alfie movie when the doctor sent him to a sanatorium to rest? That's what I need; a doctor authorized rest on an island far away. Preferably a tropical island, not the icy cold one my son chose.
The island is necessary because I actually have to be far away from the responsibilities of every day life. But, what if that is what I have been manufacturing already? The reason I can't get things done is because I have created a private oasis in my mind where my responsibilities are not allowed.
If this is the case then maybe it is time to come home from my mental vacation. I'm starting to see a beacon across the sea. Waaa. Waaaa. Waaaa. (cue foghorn)
Trips over!
Time to get up off of my delectable laurels and toss aside my flowered lei!
I'm going to be a GSD. (for today at least)
Peace and a clear mind be yours from, the goddess of everything.