When the Going Gets Tough, Everyone Leaves

I just can’t wait.. to get on the.... road again...

When the going gets tough,
Everyone leaves.
~Lynch's Law

The economy has been bottoming out all around, except for Southern California. The only thing that has ever bottomed out there is some out-dated structures during an earthquake of magnitude.

Here in the Mid-West, life has been getting real tough. After the seemingly endless drought, that left my small farm well on it's way to becoming a desert, and then the ice last year, well, people have been scrambling for a regular job to support their farming efforts and keep food on the table. Only problem with that back-up plan is, the major employers of the area, various production plants, have either frozen their staff, reduced their ranks, or just plain shut down. Last month, there were 31 jobs listed at the Job Placement center. The ranks of unemployed are enmass in relation. None were full time, none offered health insurance, and none were willing to pay enough for a person to be able to pay their utility bills AND eat.

Leaving the last alternative,

move.

That's where I am at right now. I have decided to shut down the shop and pick up stakes. No, I'm not hunting vampires, or joining a tail-gate party. My time here has come to an end. I've been feeling the urge to begin a new life. One opportunity after another has presented itself, and in order for me to devote my time to my loves, I must remove the time-consuming obstacles between me and success, the farm, and my store.

Ultimately, I am left staring blankly at a map of the U. S. and counting out my life savings, a pile of coins I haven't gotten around to rolling and trading in at the bank yet, wondering where I should go next. The big question being, where can I hole up with my cat, and produce, without being driven crazy by city noises, freaky neighbors, stalkers, or an overabundance of chores in order to keep my hole conducive to creativity.

I hate living in the city, but country life requires a lot of energy. The city is fine, if your revenue comes from anything to do with street corners or ATM machines. And the country, it's a full time job fighting biblical plagues and Home Parties pushing cookware and obnoxiously over-priced decorating ideas.

Doing what I do, the creative stuff, all that matters is releasing myself from the bondage of farm life and finding inspiration in my new surroundings. New Mexico has sounded real good lately, so I am taking a road trip December 1 with a great friend, who also craves a break from the fried chicken and homemade pie capital, a cardiovascular nightmare, mainly, the cooking and cleaning thing they naturally assume you live for, if you have no free swinging internal organs to reach down and rearrange on occasion in hopes of attracting a little attention.

Men!

We're going to cram a lot into a few days, heading out 54, then meeting some folks at the Colorado boarder, and then going south to Las Vegas, NM and over to Santa Fe, and on from there. Unfortunately, we won't have time to haunt the art galleries as I had hoped, but will check out the out-skirting areas historical treasures, anything conducive to grandchildren, as we are meeting some of Leahs there to spend a day or two with.

It'll be my last adventure before moving to Lake of the Ozarks. yeah, I know I said I wanted to go to New Mexico, and I am, but not permanently until I have enough cash to make it a comfortable transition. In the mean time, I will do what all good grandma's do, and stay near the kids; teach them to read cards, dowse, the art of crafting, cartooning and creative writing, and leave them knowledgeable in all things digital; most importantly, always send them home to momma on a sugar rush.

Typewriter in the sky

My keyboard. I've missed you so much! I miss tapping out the pains and humors of everyday life on your unimaginatively off white, soldiers heads. My own version of Whack-a-mole. The familiar markings on their helmets, remind me that in apparent chaos, their remains an order, that sometimes, only the Great Creator may understand. Perhaps "The Type Writer in the sky", by L. Ron Hubbard summed it up in a sci-fi sort of way, but I got it.The writer was weaving a believable , marketable plot, unaware his characters were living , breathing beings at the mercy of plot formulation, whose world would go into upheaval each time he put white-out to page. Leaving the great question, if we were made in Gods image, are our creations just practice for a higher calling, are they too, real worlds that we toy with unawares? Or is more MATRIX? A program imitating the life we'd have had, if we were to have escaped the fate at the hands of our own flawed creations, that made the decision, based on our own flawed programming skills, to turn the tables.

My life has gone through many chaotic upheavals of late. But as my mother always says, things happen for a reason, and, something good always comes out of seemingly tragic events. That eventually, the truth is revealed. That is, if your not dumb enough to think that emotional pain, or a momentary lapse of reason is worth snuffing out your own fire. It's not the end of the world until you say it is. If you study Tarot, you will know that the Death card always heralds new beginnings. Merely an end of old ways, out-dated relationships rotting away anyway, Failing business ventures replaced by fresher, more clever thinking. Sometimes you're faced with the decision; Die of gangrene, or lop off the offensive appendage and go on without it slowing you down and making you ill. I say, give me the cleavers and I'll do it myself. For everything, there is a time to die. For me, it's this relationship. It makes me miserable. I want my life back, and he won't give it to me, so I will have to take it, all the way to Palimony court if needs be. Let's hope he rethinks his selfishness and makes it an amicable split.

I can't take any more fried dinners, smelly work boots, and being broke, while watching him insult me, use me for a whipping post and a doormat. I will not allow him to his spoils of ten years of my life. I deserve what is mine, and part of this place is.

10/11/2007 2:5 PM

ps~ I CAN"T GET INTO MY ACCOUNT!!!

To toon, or not to toon, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to sit on my dead ass behind a cash register for the rest of my life, ever wondering, what could have been, what would have been, had I run with that box of crayolas that started me on the toonage path, or, to just blaze a trail to cartooning heaven? VT4, on a trilobyte, or troglodyte, or a something-like-that-hard-drive, with RAM in gigabytes, and all the Pixar effects I can dream up, all at my fingertips! Gee, let me think...
It appears, that I will be going to Nashville. You know, following my dreams, and all that.
Ever since I was old enough to appreciate all the activity in an animated short, I've dreamed of being the creator. Not like in God per say, more like Walt Disney, Hanna-Barbara, or the physicist that created Beavis and Butthead. I dig the idea of being able to imagine it, slather it down on paper (anything will do in a pinch), and watch it come out of my daughters humongous screened TV. My very own life-size, techni-color world where everything is possible and insanity is probable.

I do love my store, don't get me wrong, It's just that I never remember dreaming of being a merchant someday. It's something that just evolved out of need. The need to be doing something monetarily satisfying. I have been going through all the motions, slowly building something out of nothing. Yet still, I sneak time in for my cartoons and writing about dribble, because that's what I was born to do. Unfortunately, it hasn't made me any denaros to speak of, therefore it has been a hobby and not a livelihood. All that is about to change.

Most people walk around dreaming of being a reincarnate of some famous person, or becoming well known for their own deeds in this incarnation,something with fifteen plus minutes of fame attached to it. I don't know who I might of been, or if I ever was prior to now. What I do know is that my one thing I do great is to totally make fun of....everything. It didn't win me any Brownie points, especially in the less creative fields I was required to do time in during college, yet it keeps leaking out of me. It's where I come from, who I am, and where I'm going. All that matters, is that I create; Anything that will coax a smile, an untimely blush, or cause the urinary tract to malfunction. Once that happens, I know I have done my job right. You can have the spotlight. I am perfectly content to change the world, one smile at a time.
1/23/2007 9:51 PM
word count 452

Whispering Sweet Nothings

The tevlevision blared from the other room as I crawled into my extremely fluffy granny bed. I arranged my down pillow into the cranial cradle shape I preferred and then wedged myself in. The fan blades made their slow rotation while the hall light glinted off the blades. I started to wonder if I'd ever see the red orb again that had entertained me one night long ago. Just then I began to hear a womans voice, clear, yet muted. I got up and poked my head a round the corner to the living room where John was staring at the screen while slurping his evening cereal. There was a car chase on TV. Gun shots rang out and squealing tires, but no women talking. So I crept back to my bed and settled in. Almost immediatley she began talking again. A pleasant voice of a woman in conversation.
I whispered, "Speak louder, I can't hear what you're saying", but she didn't get any louder. I felt something land on the empty pillow next to me. The air moved in a small gust as a tiny voice, right next to my ear said, "Hey". Startled I reached for the invisible visitor and found nothing. Purring eminated from my leg area, where I felt a weight press up against me. I groped for it and ran my hand into another cool void.
"Dika, Red Tad, is that you? Where have you been?"
No answer, just another burst of air. It sounded like the beating of wings. The woman stopped talking.
"Is there anybody here? Hello", nothing. I clicked on the light and examined my chamber. It all looked the same. Nothing moved but the fan blades.
"Boy, I need to dust", is all I could say.
John poked his head in, "I thought you went to bed?"
"I did, see....here I am, me, in bed. What's up?'
"You are"
"Yeah, well, now I'm not, I'm turning out the light. See Sue, see Sue turn out the light", I huffed and clicked off the light. I turned on the digital recorder and laid back down. Nothing. More nothing.
"Why can't you all give me a little warning so I can have proof? I promise I won't sell you to a carnival or anything. I just want to know I'm not imagining you. I've missed you."

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Spirit Party, My House, 1 AM

I rolled onto my back and moaned. I know what it means when I wake up like that, bladder-attack. Instead of trying to ignore it, I decided to get it over with before I was too wide awake. Easier to slip back into my cozy coma afterwards. The room was half lit from all the night lights littering the light sockets, so it was easy to see the interesting cloud of water standing in front of my closet. I sat up and squinted unabashedly at the intruder. I blinked away the dryness causing my eyelids to stick, then walked over to the blob. It was as tall as Haven in all his five years, but much broader, in a Cousin It sort of way. It was like looking through water. Fascinated, I stood about a foot from it and questioned nonchalantly, "What are you doing here? What are you?".
It oozed towards the bed in an upward motion, taking on more of a figure of a being as it rose, leaving a thin tail behind. I stared after it, not sure where it went. It headed in the direction of my sleeping grandson. He was still snoring and flopping around, as usual. I wasn't frightened at all. I turned back to where it had stood, sure enough, it was still there. It didn't actually move at all. It was more like a splitting cell. One became two.
"I didn't mean to scare you," I stepped over to my dresser and fumbled for my digital recorder, "Oh crap...I took it to the store, it's still in my bag in the back room". I plodded through the house knowing it would be gone by the time I got back for proof. I walked in the room and immediately noticed the air had gotten considerably warmer. I turned it on anyway and asked some questions while waving it around the room, then slowly made my way down the hall and into the living room in search of my new friend. Over in the corner, some sort of black cloud was milling around my guitar. I have an aversion to black entities, so I didn't march over there, or confront it. A watery cloud the size of a kindergartner is one thing, but black mists can lead to larger, darker things. I've always felt it's best not to bring attention to yourself when confronted with an entity of questionable character. You know, ignorance is bliss and all.
I marched right past and into the kitchen for a drink of water. feigning disinterest. I returned to my room, examined it carefully, then slipped under the covers. Havens body was warm, and still groping for position perfection. I chuckled quietly, pushing him back over to the far side of the bed. I waved my recorder around a little more before turning it off. Thinking to myself, why does all the neat stuff happen when I'm not prepared to record it?
11/4/2006 10:46 PM
word count 498

Ghostly Gardeners

"I've never been in here before. We drive by all the time. We live down the road a ways. Wow, I heard about this place. I love it!"
"Thanks, I think it's fun."
She got to browsing the new age book section, and enlightened me to her fire and brimstone roots, and the fear it conjured. I told her about my major brush with a house demon years ago in Texas, and she told me about Marvin, the irritable old ghost that came with her house. She got a little thin when I started to tell her she wasn't alone, I had an old lady I'd seen floating into my room a time or two.
"She's tiny....with shoulder length...."
The customers face looked pale and her mouth was slipping open. I had to ask, "What? You don't look so good."
"Does she have really fuzzy hair? Like wild and really poofs out?"
"Ye-ah....", Now I was starting to fade into a questioning catatonia.
"You don't have any relatives living with you do you? Like a mom or grandma?"
"Nope, never have,"
"Wow, we see her all time. She's ALWAYS gardening, It's weird, like when it was all overgrown..."
"Yeah, I didn't have time for it this year building this store and all."
"She's always working hard, but the garden never changes. We thought, my husband and I, that it was so strange, since she's out there whenever we go by, and she never gets anything done. Why bother? We wave, and she waves back. Who is she?"
"That would be Fiona I'm guessing. I don't know anything about her except she exists and is a nice lady. I've talked to her through divination. German. She started talking to me at first in German. I thought it was gibberish until I made a sale to a German lady on Ebay and had to translate.
..............................................................................................................................................
"This is my husband, I had to bring him in as soon as he got off work. Tell him..."
He went silent, got that waxy look, then filled me in. He was excited, she was excited, and heck, I was grateful that someone else had seen her, two some ones!
Once we started to relax, he chatted about knowing John from O'Sullivans, then asked who the OTHER guy was.
"You know, the one that we always see walking around. Tall like John, but straight backed. Never waves. Just walks around. Ya know, is... he.... alright? Seems a bit off."
"Dresses like John?"
"Yep, that's him, dresses like him but doesn't look like him. Straight backed."
I started to laugh and glaze over in delight, "You've SEEN him? You must be the only people that have seen them, either of 'em! That wasn't related to me anyways. My daughters see them, one of my grandsons has seen them".
"Awe no WAY!...He's not a ghost too?! WOAH!"
"Yee-ah, most definitely. Only me and John live on this place. As you can see, I don't look anything like a little old lady, about two-and-a-half-feet too tall for one. And well, he's hunched. Not straight by a long shot.
................................................................................................................................................
It was such an interesting day. I don't feel quite as crazy as I did the day before. I went to bed happy. But when I got up later on for a drink of water.......it was the twilight zone all over again!
11/3/2006 8:17 PM
word count 541

Sunday Rapture

Many things have turned along with the weather lately. Snow has permeated the lining of hearts, frost powders the lips, and hibernation has crept in on big grizzly feet. The little heater strains all day to chase away the bitterness left behind by summer stragglers. Tomorrow we’ll have real heat. Finally, after all the troubles we’ve had getting the right heater for this shop.

I find myself color-coding and tabbing files, reorganizing nonessentials, and other incorporated domestic servitudes. Not that they need tending. I’m an automaton in winter mode. Like the seasons, I cycle.

Ganesha has curled up beneath the chip rack, his subtle purr gives him away. Mojo wanders the aisles looking for a patron to rub his glossy black head for luck, while Arthur dances on my kneecaps, never satisfied. The only thing missing is Merlin. I think about him in his new home, warm and happy. I miss that dog and his way of melting me with a single look.

It’s Sunday, the end of my work week. Hopefully it will keep me busy enough to forget the pain in my lower back. Usually, the shop is filled with the scent of fine oils; Today it’s mentholatum deep heating rub. It does little for my strained muscles, so pushing my antiquated Kirby around is not an option, not yet anyway.

I’ll make signs for our impending Halloween sale, list items to mark down, stock shelves and design some more stickers with tips for winter magick. Maybe I’ll even put out some more Spell Craft cards.

The Library of Shadows has been shelved for the time being. While most are thankful for the loan, others find it too difficult to return the volumes. The average cost per book, per loan, has exceeded my budget. We need the room for inventory on order anyway.

I’m considering selling the second computer. Interest in it has waned, and it sits quietly taking up space in the book section. Besides, I could use the capital for another order. Things are constantly changing in here. Like the frosty breezes that pull at the windsocks out front, ever moving forward, evolving from dreams to the tangible.

Numerology; I may as well be naked in a room full of people

Normally, I don't plug advert's, but this one left me wondering, Do the numbers add up, or did they just read all my meanderings? I'm guessing they just did the math. It would be a tad less tedious. They included the formulas for figuring out these numbers, but they didn't cut-n-paste well, so being me, I deleted them. You coud visit this site for the full lesson with yourself as the guinea pig. Find out what you already know, like I did. What's the point? Well, it's not all about you. It's about the math. Being human, we love to find out what others perceive of us, and like one of my favorite country icons sings, "...occasionally, I want to talk about me..."(it's a human defect).

Divination, in general is a fascinating thing. I put num erology into that divining ball of wax, because, after all, it can tell you as much about your future, as your past.

I'm exposing my soft under belly by posting this. Good thing I'm not one of those people that are overly concerned with such a small sacrifice in the name of science. If you know me, you'll be nodding through the whole thing like the little doggie in the back window of my old Fairlane.


Free Numerology Mini-Reading for Susan
Birth name:Susan Irene Zuelke Date of birth: July 1, 1959
Hi there Susan,
Thank you for visiting my website at www.123numerology.com, and for requesting this free mini-reading and ongoing numerology tutorial.
Over the coming weeks, I'll be giving you a wealth of information about numerology (all completely free of charge!). I look forward to taking the journey with you - numerology is a true passion of mine, and it is my hope that you find numerology to be just as fascinating as I do.

Let's jump right in by starting to analyze your numerology chart ...
The best place to start is with one of the most basic calculations ... your "life path" -- based on your birth date of July 1, 1959 -- is 5.


Susan, your Life Path of 5 ...
You are about freedom, independence and the right to follow where your heart and gut-instincts lead you in life. You are an inquisitive soul with many questions that can only be answered through travel, exploration and experiencing a variety of life situations. For this reason you are likely to relocate to various cities or countries during your life and also entertain a number of life partners as opposed to just one soul mate.You are best suited to freelance work or being your own boss as stuffy offices and rigid routines are deadly to your imagination and soul. You are a great lover of human nature as well as one of it's greatest observers, which is why you would make a good archaeologist, historian, writer, journalist, reporter or artist. You are great at dealing with people and also do well in any "front line" occupation. For instance many crisis workers, emergency care workers and leaders of self- groups are fives. You need a job that allows you to meet a lot of people as well as brings you a variety of interesting experiences. You also have quite a spiritual bent to your personality that may send you on many personal vision quests. It is not unusual for a 5 to also belong to many different religions during his or her life or suddenly in mid-life to drop everything in pursuit of a life-style that is the complete opposite of the former one. One of your challenges is learning how to not waste time. Your perception of time is somewhat distorted which is why you are often late to meetings or sometimes unable to meet deadlines. Novelties and new ideas also easily distract you so sometimes it is difficult for you to choose a career or lifestyle and stick with it. As a result, others may also find you indecisive and frustrating to deal with. Another challenge that you face on your life path is being overly irresponsible. Many 5's have a habit of taking off when the going gets rough. You tend be quite casual about your relationships and have a great deal of trouble managing any type of emotional crisis. You may even experience panic at the idea of commitment, as you don't like the idea of being responsible to another person. For this reason, many of you have a number of serial relationships rather than just one life long love. If you are unable to physically escape circumstances that you can't emotionally handle or don't like, you are also prone to escaping through substance abuse. This is part of the unpleasant self-indulgent trait that is part of many number 5 personalities. Finding one focus and sticking with it is definitely your biggest life challenge. Most 5's are multitalented but they never stay in one place long enough for one of their projects to grow and blossom. Seeing things through to completion is the best way to make sure that you don't suffer poverty or bitterness in your later years. One of your greatest talents is the ability to communicate, either verbally or through the written word. Your expansive observations of life plus your ability to see all points of view makes you an excellent teacher. Most 5's end up teaching at one point in their life so others can benefit from the rich tapestry of their life experience. You are also a daring spirit that has a love of adventure. You are usually very physically fit and enjoy good health for your entire life if you stay away from overindulging in drink and food.

Your Expression - which describes your potential natural talents and abilities - works out to be a 7.

Susan, your Expression of 7 ... Your Potential Natural Talents and Abilities
You are a secret rebel and a loner preferring the company of your brilliant thoughts and fantastic daydreams to the company of other people. You are incredibly spiritually sophisticated and this creates an odd air of detachment to your personality. You tend to express yourself in a very blunt manner to others simply because you are not a big believer in wasting time with niceties. You tend to not express yourself well through your facial expressions or body language although you can be quite eloquent with words. You do not say much but when you do say something it is usually acutely observant or very enlightening. To you the ultimate expression of your higher self lies within the mysteries of science, nature and the occult. Most number 7s tend to be interested in all three topics. Many are mathematicians, naturalists, anthropologists, historians or priests. The virtues of solitude appeal to you most as it allows you the peace and acres of time that you need to investigate your favorite subjects. Even if you have never gone to school you probably have the equivalent of a Ph.D in some kind of esoteric or scientific subject. An important part of your self-expression is the ability to be able to pass this knowledge onto a willing enthusiast or student one day. You are also likely to choose a romantic partner that shares your intellectual passions. As you are so quirky it takes a very special person indeed to understand your complex body language and need for a lot of personal space. Usually when you do find a partner that understands you, you are so grateful, that you become loyal for life. Although you make a great teacher, you do not necessarily make a good parent. This is because a child's curiosity often competes with your own child like need to be inquisitive and live in a fantasy world. You are very logical and in terms of your personal tastes, believe that beauty is a matter of form following function. You are also a perfectionist so much of what you own will probably be the very best or state of the art. You should be well able to afford this as your deeply analytical and logical mind also often lends you a talent for investing money. Although you like owning the best on the market you are not the type to show off. You tend to hide your wealth from others as well as you hide your other secrets. This is partly an attempt on your part to see if an individual likes you for you. You are very uncomfortable with expressions of emotion and often avoid "feeling your feelings." Many of you may equate relationships with the idea of pain or as an element that could potentially throw you off your balance or defocus you from your "real work." Sometimes your emotions are manifested through illness as you have a tendency to stash all of your feelings, especially the painful ones such as resentment, to the back of your subconcious where they fester for years. You are also prone to obsession if you let your feelings somehow become the focus of your life. The challenge of some number sevens is to distinguish the difference between how they feel about a situation and the reality of it. Your reverence for the mysteries of the universe makes you an adamant seeker of truth. Your search for an ideal society or a spiritual epiphany makes you more vulnerable than other numbers to the influences of cults or religious leaders.
Now, Let's Examine Your Soul Urge(also known as your "Heart's Desire")
In your case Susan, this totals 9.
Susan, your Soul Urge of 9 ...What You Desire To Be, To Have, and To Do In Your Life
The highest expression of your soul's urge is to connect in a mystical way with others. Although your aspirations are lofty, you are also a humanitarian who is often gifted with a sharp intuition and keen analytical skills. Often you give up opportunities that should be yours, simply to help another. This is because your faith in yourself, god and the future is so strong that you live by your conviction that the universe is always unfolding as it should. Others simply do not possess your spiritual sophistication and may be amused or repelled by what they see as your irrational talk or beliefs. You may be accused of being stupid or foolish simply because you won't take the bait (of a job or money) at the expense of your ethics. Compared to the other numbers, you excel at letting go of lovers or opportunities simply because you know you can't take emotions and material goods with you when you die. As you are driven more by compassion than common sense, you are the first to fall on your sword for a worthy cause. You may often be broke because you see money only as a tool of change. You would much rather spend money on art, charity or a trip. In fact, ostentatious displays of wealth anger and disgust you because your ideal is a world where all humans are equal. You might appear very eccentric to others who don't quite understand your fascination with the spiritual world or your insistence on being a seeker of truth. Furthermore nines tend to get carried away when it comes to trying to heal or connect to others. The biggest mistake you could make is to try and be an "agent of karma" by meddling or interfering in other people's affairs. As you are so talented psychically, you often become a liability in business simply because people in authority resent your ability to perceive their secrets. You rarely rise very high on the corporate ladder simply because others see you as a threat to their cloak of political intrigue. You have a soul that must be continually assured and fed with new sources of spiritual information. To stay healthy, your psyche may require that you make special trips to holy or mystical places. You may have to seek out special teaching to help you understand and cultivate your talents so that you are in control, as opposed to terrorized by them. Being able to foresee the future or see through other people is often painful, so some therapy might be required in your life to help you detach from your own sensitivity. One of the sins you are most vulnerable to is spiritual pride. This can bring you situations that cause your faith to be seriously tested or where your pride can take a big fall. Many nines often find themselves subject to a lesson in becoming humble by the cosmos simply because they were too boastful of their talents. Making money off of your psychic talents may also cause you some problems, as part of your path is to heal without the expectation of reward. If you are working professionally as a psychic and are a nine, then remember to tithe at least one tenth of your earnings towards a worthy cause. However the highest calling of your soul urge is to share your intuitive talents for free.
I hope you are enjoying this brief glimpse into the world of numerology -- the science of numbers, which governs much - if not most - of what happens in your life, your relationships, your health, and your economic future.
Please also realize this:
What I Have Given You HereHas Barely Scratched the Surface!
Susan, what I've shown you so far is just an extremely small fraction of what is possible through numerology ... I've basically shown you three of the nine-hundred-plus calculations I do in a typical reading.
I've just given you a very general overview. With a full analysis, you can explore your life and personality like a microscope, revealing more about you that you ever dreamed possible.
Your personal life, your career, your relationships, your finances, your future ... you'l learn about it all. You'll not only experience the peace of knowing the path you are best to travel in this life ... you'll learn how to capitalize on specific opportunities that might otherwise pass you by, and what pitfalls may befall you if you're not ready for them.
I kid you not ... people have both laughed out loud and cried tears of joy when they identify with characteristics they have never shared with a single soul ... when they realize the reason for the struggles they have been going through ... when they learn about the gifts they have in this life that just needed to be pointed out to them.
As a valued subscriber, I'd like to make you a very special offer on a full length numerology reading that fully explores virtually all areas of your life (including your career, relationships, specific events and opportunities in your future), leaving no stone unturned!
You'll find full details here:
http://www.123numerology.com/special
Thanks for joining me; I hope you enjoy this fascinating journey of discovery ...
Peace and light ,
Blair Gorman123 Numerologyhttp://www.123numerology.com/

Star Light, Star Bright...

I went to see a play last night at Cottey College. It was strange, and exhausting. It left me escaping into myself, daydreaming of a chance meeting years ago. I don't remember what it was about, but I remember every detail of that night so long ago.

They say timing is everything. The time wasn't right then, so I drove away.

Last year this time, I was visited by many unnatural things. This year, the house is quiet. It's my mind alone that haunts me.

I sat alone with my pot pie and inserted a DVD to while away the evening. The story was familiar. Two souls, meeting across time, stealing glimpses of each other, never to connect, until the puzzle was complete. Love conquering all, even time, in the end.

I often wonder these days, why am I so drawn to such stories? Could such a thing really happen? Why not? Everything else happens to me. Incredible, unbelievable things. I chose not to speak of them for years. I don't fear anymore. It's part of who I am.

So, as I gaze up at the moon in her beauty, and marvel at the stars infinity, I whisper on the wind, "Star light, star bright, I wish I may, I wish I might...."
After all, the grass was always greener....yesterday.
9/30/2006 9:39 PM
word count 218

Faux Pas Anyone?

If I had a nickel for every time I did something stupid, the lottery would seem like a total waste of money, with such a bottomless supply of moronic behavior at hand. There are nicer ways of saying, mistake, like, faux pas. Almost sounds sexy. I know I’m having a bad day if I use that phrase three or more times. It sounds a heap better than, I’m an idiot. The unmistakable connotations leave nothing to the imagination. Leaves me wide open for ridicule too. Whereas, if I say faux pas, they forget all about what I just did, and start asking what it means, how you spell it, and where the heck I heard of such a thing.

Me: That’ll be $4,590.00….woah, for two Snickers? We’re gonna have to drop the price on those candy bars if we want to move them before the next ice age, eh?
Customer: How much is jus’ the coke?
Me: That puppy’s only 50 cents. You don’t need the extra ass-baggage anyways… Oh wait, I’m an idiot, says here the Snickers are only 69 cents each. What ya say we jus’ do it over?…how d’ya spell void?
Customer: (starts contemplating the two foot tall pile of goldie locks on my head) That hair all yours? You mus’ got a mess o’ roots all tangled up in yer head missy.

Never was much of a salesman.

Never did figure out why the cash register did that. Every once in a while, it has seizures, and makes stuff up. Then it straightens itself out and starts ringing up the real prices, right as rain. Speakin’ of, that’s what I was just wondering. Is it going to rain today? It’s dark, chilly, there’s an owl out there bellowing, and the place is quiet. Almost like I’m not supposed to be here. Weird.

Moo-Baby!

It's a Beautiful day in the neighborhood....won't you be....my neighbor?

It was a warm-fuzzy day today; I almost felt like sidling into an old cardigan and singing kiddie-show tunes. Last night about this time, I was stressing over the last two weeks being so slow I could've danced naked outside the store and nobody would have noticed. Okay, maybe a few truckers would have lifted an eyebrow. Today made it all better. Several of my favorite patrons decided to stop by and visit. We shared a lot of laughs, and some war stories. Talked about our dreams, totems, favorite pets, and I put a little coinage in the till. All-in-all, a good day. I even acquired a nice set of throwing knives from the local Paint Ball field owner and his taller half. The look on his face was priceless, yet brief, when I spewed, in my excitement, "Oh yeay....I can't wait to throw them at somebody!". Yes, even he, had to think for a second before realizing I was kidding.

It got us on the subject of survival training, not that I personally need any. Like I say, if I can survive one major mistake that left the residue of his last name intact, raising two kids, going to college, outliving a second mistake, working anywhere and everywhere that wouldn't fire me for having a family emergency (usually involving children, being ill, or doing something tragically wrong like trying to cook and accidentally catching the house fire whilest I'm at work),...well, everything else is small potatoes. Yes, if you were to leave me out on the top of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere, it would be reduced to a mole-hill by morning, I being no less for wear, then I'd gingerly step off the tippy-top of the highest peak as it sank into the valley below asking for directions to the nearest Waffle Haus.

So, getting back to what I was saying a million words ago, this friend, is thinking about starting another side gig teaching survival training. He'd probably be good at it.

Around here, you have to have more than one iron in the fire, if you don't, you're liable to end up with bread or butter, but most likely not both. Makes a good meal hard to come by. I guess I should count myself lucky, I don't run one of those bait-n-tackle-beauty salon-pizza parlors. I love what I do, all of it. I especially like that I don't have to have curtains on my windows for fear of voyeurs, like in the city. That's my favorite part. The cattle don't care much what I look like, with or without clothes. And after closing, it's me, the cats, and those nosey cows. Moo-baby.

9/23/2006 10:32 PM
word count 448

Bite Me Dog Boys!

Never realized how hard it was to make a sale online. Let me rephrase that, how impossible it is to sell a pup to a legitimate buyer not looking to scam you.

It was going to be simple. List said pups in online classifieds, receive calls, and sell pup, the end. It wasn’t that simple. The world is full of scam artists, and they are all phishing pet sellers. Just when you think, this ones legit, they through you a curve ball.

Here’s what you are going to do:
I will issue you a check for $1500; you cash it the same day and receive a $200 bonus for doing so. Then you wire the rest of the money after your initial asking price to a friend of mine in the states I owe money to, and they will come get the pet.

Yeah right.

I respond by showing my appreciation for their generous compensation for the inconvenience of laundering their money, tell them I have advised my client to decline all such offers, and wish them good luck elsewhere.

I’ve answered emails into the wee hours, and gone to bed with cramps in my fingers. All this for probably nothing, instead of the commission I was going to earn. I owe it all to the crooks of the www.

How do you know the email is on the level? I’ve discovered quickly, that anyone that declines to call you direct can kiss your backdoor firewall goodbye. So, now I leap into the telephoning request. If they don’t call, they are sent packing; straight to the virtual shredder I call jaws. I have a little icon of a shark I feed them to.

You’ll find they don’t give up immediately. They try a few more times to up the anti, make it real tempting, you know, something for little effort and all. Their emails are also written in the format of an order. They state clearly and commandingly, what you are to do if you want the outrageous reward they dangle. I may be blonde, but I have the logistic roots of a calculating brunette, and the natural highlighting of a fire-breathing redhead. It’s referred to as being center-brained, perfectly comfortable, and equally formidable in both the right and left hemispheres, and also, content to drift the wide-open spaces of blondom.
Bite Me Dog Boys!

The Solstice came early for me this year. Normally, the odd happenings begin on the fall equinox, and continue through November 2. The veil between the worlds is traversed by entities of all sorts, and they come marching through my bedroom. Last year was by far the most active I had ever experienced. It had me thinking about biblical quotes such as, "...and the dead shall rise...". I had to take to leaving the light on all night, because every time I turned it off, something really weird would happen. I was becoming insanely exhausted, for lack of sleep.

Last night, as I plodded across the hall to alleviate the back pressure building in my bladder, I thought I heard a small plop, as if a small creature had just jumped down from my abnormally tall bed. The light padding of feet had me squinting into the soft light cast across the hall by the night-light in the bathroom. Whatever it was, it was crossing the plastic runner protecting my precious burber. There, at the edge of the runner, squatted a small kitten, it's eyes trained on something in the living area, then it looked back at me before it dissipated. It was clear, as if made of glass, with an opulence I always find fascinating. I say always, because, it has become a bit of a norm here, for me to see such things.

I don't like to tell a lot of people about my encounters for the obvious reasons, The average individual immediately wants to know if mental illness runs in my family, then they ask about what kind of med's I might be taking before delving into whether or not I was a fan of Timothy Leary in my younger days. They just can't accept that supernatural phenomenon is common, that ghosts exist, and that some people, like it or not, are capable of communicating across dimensions. These same individuals, that don't believe in things intangible, in nearly the same disbelieving breath, invite me to their churches to worship a God they've never seen or touched. They blindly believe, based on hear-say. Granted, age old hear-say. At least I can see, feel, and hear the things I'm talking about.

I'd like some of those people to spend September thru November in my bedroom, and then see who thinks who is crazy. When spectral cats pounce on the bed, causing a bouncy sensation, feeling the small feet pick their way to their chest, and purr so close to their face they can feel it's breath and whiskers...well, I'd love to be their when they reach for that cat and find nothing but cool air.

Truth is, as far back as I can remember, I've seen such transparent creatures, my favorite being the spider that watches over me as I sleep. A big tarantula type thing that hangs around my alarm clock. When I wake, it turns and retreats over the clock and vanishes, as if to say, "good morning, I see you're awake, 'till tomorrow then...".

Not many can boast a guardian arachnid.
Makes me feel spe-cial,
in a chemically in-balanced sort of way .
9/17/2006 11:30 PM
word count 499

Another picture of Dachs for sale

Miniature Dachsunds For Sale

Miniature Dachsund pups, 4 months old, ACA Registered. Home raised, and very sociable. Paper trained and started on housebreaking. Shots and wormed.
1 male Black and Tan~ Will be about 10-11 pounds, very outgoing and bouncy.
1 Sable male, small & petite, quieter, but very friendly. Should be under 10 pounds. (Sable is deep red with black tipped guard hairs).
$300 each
Will deliver to:
Nevada, Missouri $25
Butler, Missouri $50
Harrisonville $75
Belton $120
phone 417)275-4482

Off To Doggie Heaven

When the truck turned into the drive, he knew it was time to go. I’d been telling him all week that Betsy was going to take him somewhere very special. Somewhere he deserved to be. He rushed out and circled the vehicle with his nose trained on the bright orange bag protruding in the back.

“Not yet bubba, there’s some things we need to sort first.”

He greeted Betsy and returned to my side and mouthed my hand. He was excited, yet patient.

“He’s got a good grasp of the English language….actually, I should say Mid-Western slang.”

I pointed down and he sat, dropped my hand lower and he laid down and exposed himself.

“Merlin, we don’t want to see your wiener”. He closed his legs. We continued to talk and he dosed. Besty kept looking down at her new friend and I said, “We call that, stay…or die-dog!, whichever you prefer.” She giggled, he rolled his eyes. I just kept twitching. I didn’t want to send him away, but he was unhappy hanging out at the store everyday. It was selfish to keep him around when I knew I’d be too busy for quality time anymore.

I thought I’d best get her accustomed to his key phrases. “Merlin (I pointed) behind the counter dude.” He wasted no time. She laughed as he peaked over the counter. He came back out and I squinted at him. He rushed back to his designated spot glancing back to see if I was cross. I had to laugh.

She said, “That must be what you call, What-did-I-say?”
“Yup, he knows that one well, so don’t let him buffalo you. Come bubba.” He came wiggling and wagging, “Park it there”. He sat.

She handed me his old orange collar as she replaced it with a bright cobalt blue one. I swallowed hard. We walked out to the truck. “You gonna get in the truck now?” He stepped up to the passenger side.” Wait a minute.’ He sat and watched as Betsy cleared the clutter from the seat. “Okay, get in.” He hopped up and sat pretty.

“Merlin, your gonna have to tuck that tail in, er it’ll git smashed in the door”, I pushed it up on the seat and it flopped back down, so I lifted a hind leg and tucked it under. He didn’t flinch. Betsy laughed some more. He sniffed her big gulp, so I reminded him, “That’s not yours bubba”. He dismissed it and faced forward. I smiled. “He’s a good kid, take care of him. He’s got decent manners for a dog of questionable lineage.”

“He’s better behaved than my kids!”


“Mine too. Later Merlin, that’s my angel-dog, take care of Betsy now. ’Member, no stink-butt or swamp-thing ‘kay?”. I pinched my nose and made a face he understood.

“What’s that?’ , she asked.

“Oh Stink-butt is, I’ve been rolling on dead stuff, and Swamp-thing is, I’ve been swimming in funky water again momma. Both of’em mean bath-time. I git a little more irritated with him over the stink-butt.”

I watched as they pulled away. He didn’t panic, or fret, he just looked out the windshield as the truck pealed out of the gravel and sent rocks rolling across the pavement. A hundred pounds of dog chow shifted, then plopped down in the truck bed.

That was my second loss this month. I felt a tail wrap around my calf, “Hi Arthur. He’ll be back to visit. C’mon boys, inside”. The cats trotted behind me as I drug myself inside the store and busied myself closing up shop.

So here we are, I at my desk, tapping away at the keyboard, as if it will cease the blood-letting. Arthur sits staring up at me from the floor, where he and Merlin would have been laying together just a couple hours ago. Ganesha and Mojo struggling for who’s-on-top position in my lap, oblivious to what just happened. Things usually happen in three’s, I can’t help but wonder what the next big pang will be, as I ruffle some Siamese fur and post my pain.

Normally, I Don't like to Dowse Bipeds

Being pretty good at finding things, people tend to seek my aid now and then. I had another call from someone a fair distance from here, seeking a person that was lost to them. I usually go about finding people the old fashion way.....I google them. When it comes to someone only missing a few days, googling, is an ineffective way of searching. So I got out my extended appendage, the pendulum, and a couple charts. Apparently the Gods were smiling on me that night. The results were fruitful.

Normally, I don't like to dowse bipeds. People can get a little irate if you're off the mark when it comes to something so important as a member of the family or their precious automobile. So I avoid it when I can. Does that make me a bad person? I don't think so. It just makes me careful. I'm not afraid of failure, in fact it's played a key part in my entire life cycle. From failing to yield the right of way, to failing to say no, when I know fool well that a person is walking hemlock. I have repeatedly failed to acknowledge limitations, failed to admit some things are just hopeless, and I've even failed at failing on occasion.

The thing that bothers me is the actions of un-satiated, desperate individuals on the edge of psychosis over their loss. They can be so unpredictable, and then again, they can be too predictable. I've been told I have a gift for retro-cognition and precognition. It explains a lot. The way I make up my mind about things in an instant, with an entire predestined scenario mapped out. Some people don't even have to open their mouths before I know what’s coming and what could be if....

For instance, I met a man once that presented himself as something he was not (not uncommon given the gender). Before he uttered a word, I knew who he was because I had touched him and was blessed with retro-cognition. It played out like a movie… Actually, it was a movie, two flicks to be precise. It told me who he was, and the parts he had played, although I was not familiar with his work. I let him pretend, we had a nice time, as brief as it was, he rode off into the night, and I headed for the racetrack to share a beer and the nights activities with my horse. She liked Michelob Honey Draft and a good story. I miss that horse.

Mid-life has brought with it a degree of wisdom. I am now wise enough not to tell some people that I used a crystal on a chain to find their stolen car or runaway child. I let them think that my skills as a P.I. are not to be reckoned with. It's easier. Since I don't charge, I am not obligated either. I try not to let some know I am aware of their misinterpretations of the truth before I understand their reasons for the deception, and most importantly, I find contentment in a cool breeze and the simplicity of horse manure.

Good Trade

The gravel sounded crunchy under the Fairlanes tires. Beads of sweet were gathering along my forehead, making my bangs stick to my eyes. The two men waved, and pulled away. I smiled weakly, then turned to admire the new truck parked in its stead. I was happy, and sad. I knew it was time to let go. It was still difficult. That old car had been mine for a few years. I can’t count how many times I half-heartedly decided to sell, then changed my mind. This time I followed through, and it was good. He got the car he’d been looking for, and I got the truck I needed. Besides, my magnetic store signs will look mighty fine on it. Good trade.

Sammy Kershaw Still Rocks

Two days ago I closed the doors on 102 blistering degrees, humidity high enough to poach eggs, or your eyeballs...in their sockets, if exposed too long. So I patted my best friend on his dirty brown head and told him, "watch the store for me bubba, it's too hot for you to sleep outside. The cats will keep you company. Just don't eat'em, er you'll get hair-balls".

I turned off the open sign and tugged my wagon home. Yeah, a real wagon. Some people carry lunch pales. I drag mine, in an all-terrain wagon in John-Deere-Green. It's a short walk home. Of course this time of year it can seem a long ways when I'm swatting at swarms of mosquitos, and trying to keep all bodily orifices closed while squelching profanities.

It cooled off today. It was weird. But hey, the weather everywhere is weird these days, thanks to modern marvels like Freon, hair-spray, and gas powered motors.

The clouds rolled in like battle-ships. They threatened to rain on Sammy Kershaws parade. Luckily they were gone as fast. The concert was great. It was cool out. I could have used a sweater. El Dorado has the best small town fair, by far. I hate to miss it. So I go, for the free concerts in the park. The bands are great, the park is packed to the gills, yet I manage to park my Divine Curiosity Shop Mobile in the same exact place every year and set up my chair in the same exact place, by the hedge, and the rock wall topped with oddly round rocks. They're common to the area. They look like cannon balls. It's said they are remnants of an extremely ancient meteorite crash. I've never seen them anywhere else. Kind of like the Shiva Lingam, only a lot less holy. In fact, so not holy, that they use them to build walls, lamp posts and walk ways. I like them. I have one on a crystal ball stand in my collection of spheres.

The drive home was uneventful. A couple deer, a bewildered racoon and one very dead and stinking white skunk that I managed to straddle,; other than that, it was a lonely country drive. I really need to get that radio fixed, but I don't dare let anyone touch that vintage machine. So, I guess if I want tunes, I'd better sell my old Fairlane and buy that small pick-up that I really need. I hate to part with it on the one hand, and on the other...I really miss power stearing, automatic transmissions, music, and most of all...air conditioning.

FOR SALE: 1964 FORD FAIRLANE,
170, 3 ON THE TREE, 76,000 ACTUAL
MILES, ALL ORIGINAL....and NO,
you can't have my Sponge Bob floor matts!
$4,500 or trade (no junk please. unless you
WANT to make me laugh, then by all means,
entertain me. The answer will still be NO).
hogwaller@interlinc.net or
call the Shop at (417)884-0003
open 10-6 (mid-western time) Tue-Sun
7/22/2006 1:17 AM
word count 494

Define Divine

Someone asked me today what the word divination meant. I explained that tools such as tarot, pendulum, copper rods, and even ouija board are all divining tools, used to seek out answers, whether to a question or to seek out items such as water.

“I’ve got my rods set for stun. If I happen to find gold….I’ll be stunned. That’s why the shop is called Divine Curiosity Shop. My specialty is divining tools. The software you are playing with are all divination programs (Scrying, Tarot, I-Ching, Rune Caster, etc). They’re here for everyone to use. Some people are already familiar with these fortune telling methodologies and others are just …curious, like yourself.”

A grin teased at her mouth as the light went on.

“So if it says I’m gonna be rich, does it mean …like…I will ?”
“That all depends”
“On What?”
“On my percentage of the take.”

Her face went blank and I busted up.
“A reading at the moment of it’s draw, holds true, but if your mindset changes five minutes from now and you alter your attitude or change plans, it could come up completely different in a second reading. Try it out on something small. Take notes.”
“Li-i-ike?”
“Oh that’s easy. Say you make two lefts and take a shortcut down a back road on your way home everyday. Do a reading on the remainder of your day, then decide on an alternate route, and do a second reading. Has anything changed? Now follow that alternate route. You have to follow through to find out the outcome of the day. “
“Cool”

I find that the more time I spend around a person, the fewer syllables they use. Does that mean I talk too much, to the point of boredom, or does it mean that I challenge their brains, causing other processes to slow while fully charged neurons begin to spark on the question at hand? Gee, I hope it’s the latter.

Sam I Am, I do Not Like Green Eggs and Ham!

Sam I am, Sam I am, I do not like Green Eggs and Ham!

Colors are another thing that passes in cycles. When you were two, your favorite color was red, at five it was orange, at thirteen, black was the color of choice. Preferences say loads about a person.

For instance, the woman that just left my fine establishment was critical (anal, if you prefer), aloof, ignorant, self-righteous, ill-informed, angry, and very over-weight. She was wearing dark blue slacks in an unattractive Walmart cut and a light blue tent top. Had short dark hair in a non-descript chop-shop-do and toted an adolescent like a pet pooch.

She hadn’t taken two steps in the door before I knew I wouldn’t enjoy idle chit-chat with her. So I busied myself with my daily shipping routine and tried desperately to keep myself out of shot range. Usually, I jump right into conversation if the colors, clothes, and demeanor are correct. You see, the over-use of blue indicated all of the aforementioned personality quirks. The unattractive cut of hair and trousseau screamed Christian, possibly Baptist. The sadly slouching preteen looked like a whipped pup. No doubt detested and scorned by the mother for being moderately attractive and desiring a typical teen wardrobe, of which she could have carried off quite well…if it weren’t hammered into her as being a sin. So she hung her head in disgrace and hid behind a mass of unkempt hair, ashamed of puberty and no doubt, the spam ( a jellified mass of by-products forced to conform to the can it is crammed into for marketing purposes) a jealous mother fed her. I bet you’re wondering what she was wearing. Maybe, another time.

Being observant is commonly confused with psychism [i.e. “Psych”; a new detective show]; But, if you combine psychic ability with keen observation, pour it into a D cup and top it off with a pair of big beautiful cerulean eyes and long flowing cascades of sunlight, then you’ve got one scary woman. Ask any man. It can be hell on a womans love-life. At least until she finds the man that can appreciate and handle her well-rounded gifts gracefully.

I was going somewhere with all this. Oh yes, it was that green chick with the bouffant. An exhausting individual. That’ll have to wait for another time, more big blue Baptists just walked in.
Oy! I’ll have to conjure my cloak of many colors for the third time today. I deserve an ice cream cone.

I Earn, I Save, I Buy, I Get Robbed...Again

It's amazing how much stuff can be crammed into a small farm house basement. I've been accumulating for years. It was my way of softening the last huge loss. I know it was years ago, but still, it was my junk, and I felt robbed. Okay, so I actually was robbed...literally...again.

The last thirty years have almost been like a hamster race...in a little wire wheel. Going round and round and never getting anywhere. I earn, I save, I buy, I get robbed. In that order.
Usually, the culprit is someone I know, like an ex-husband or something. However, since I arrived in Missouri, it's been a no-holds-barred kind of struggle to maintain a grip on my cherished rubbish. So basically, I've had a few generations of fresh new garbage to call my own... until someone else takes a liking to it and decides to usurp my world.

It'll be a little harder on the next dill-weed that thinks my stuff looks inviting. I've been installing a security system. So far, the modules are chiming like a dream, but the video leaves me scratching my massive head of blonde hair in confusion. That tells me it's time to take a break from it, walk away, and do something else for a day or so, until my subconscious sorts it out and the answer presents itself. So I'll get back to drafting my articles of incorporation, activate my EFTPS with the IRS, and maybe program some prices into the system. Awe, nothing like a little downtime to refresh.

Even that most recent accumulation had it's ups and downs. You know, add to the collection a lot, someone steals a little, so you find some more stuff to replace it, plus some extra...cause you deserve it. It's a vicious cycle, a little beyond my means. What better reason to find a way off Disability? I had to start a corporation. The thieves have become more demanding. Heck, when the power tools were stolen from the unfinished store-front, they actually left a wish-list where the generator had stood!

5/16/2006 0:4 AM
word count 344

Re-organization Can be a Good Thing

Organization was the job of the day. Actually, re-organization...not like in bankruptcy, but as in I-made-a-mess-yesterday-unpacking-and it-needed-cleaned. It took all day, but it's spiffy, and ready to be messed up all over again tomorrow when I get some volunteer help moving things in again.

I shimmied along to Alanis Morrisette as two petite teens stopped in for a look and a query. I took one look at them and assured them that Destiny will be stocking their size in all the latest name brands. They took a lustful peek at the jewelry counter and I knew they were hooked. That makes fifty-billion future patrons that have inquired. It's amazing we get anything done down there.

When I took those business classes and told the class of my plans, some irritable Mennonites guffawed me. I don't know what it is about floral prints that makes a person look down their nose at new ideas, especially if they are all wrapped up in tight blue jeans and long blond hair.

"You're in the middle of nowhere!" one said as she scowled and tried to find fault in my business savvy.

She sells baked goods and eggs. Sounded like work to me.

I grinned and said, "Yep, smack dab between ALL the somewhere's within 25 miles and on the main highway to the most popular recreation area in Southwestern Missouri, Stockton Lake. We get heavy traffic. It will be a lucrative corner. It has proven itself in the past on trial runs".

I was not the most popular student. Okay, maybe the professor liked me. They usually do. My peers, on the other hand find me irritating. I am a quirky mix of Mid-life Barbie, Sabrina Valley-girl-style, and Albert Einstein...minus the mustache.

Can you imagine how they would have reacted if I told them I was opening a Metaphysical Flea Market? Makes me shiver at the thought of all that readily available kindling on my farm.

5/10/2006 0:9 AM
word count 319

I've got the unpacking blues

...99 boxes of stuff on the wall, 99 boxes of stuff...if one of those boxes should happen to fall...that would be less junk I have to price.

My cup is always half full, in case you were wondering.

I kind of feel like I'm moving. I am sorta, but not really. Moving into the shop requires oodles of boxes of inventory, some being so mature, that I've forgotten all about them and what they contain. I've discovered today, that I have some really neat stuff. Too bad I have to sell it. I also learned that my office computer does not have easy access USB ports. Bummer-drag. Nothing like rolling around on the concrete trying to feel my way around the backside of a computer tower under the desk. Makes my day every time. The only thing missing was that terminal leakage around the baseboards during heavy rains. That being the case, I can feel assured that I have not fallen completely out of favor with the supreme beings.

I retired to my meditations this evening a little later than usual. It was however, very refreshing. It's the only time of the day that I don't feel like I'm the only biped on the planet. I knew I was lonely, but I hadn't realized how lonely until tonights session inside my chalcedony sphere, where faeries dance and unicorns play. I felt my consciousness being pulled elsewhere. So apparently, there was one other person at that moment, thinking and feeling the same things.
I could understand the slim-to-none odds, better, if I had a face like an elephant sphincter or the personality of a wood tick. I know I'm not a bowser, unpleasant, or weird smelling. So why aren't there more men thinking about me? Maybe because I've been hiding from the world for the last ten years. Or maybe I just haven't updated my online profiles since...never.

Because, if you think about it, a person can't reminisce a moment they never had, with a person that didn't exist, to the best of their knowledge.

5/9/2006 1:20 AM
word count 342

..and the dead shall rise.

A person could interpret that a number of ways. One option being dead stuff working it's way to the earths surface. As in fossils. That would explain the last two years, during which I have uncovered more than a lifes work worth of fossils. All of a sudden I started seeing them everywhere. The latest being a Styracosaurus skull in the bank of the road ditch across the street from my shop.

I noticed a shed snake skin and went down to release it from the grass carefully to bring home. I sat my bag down and went to work. Once I had it, I reached for my bag and noticed something odd about a protruding rock. There were what appeared to be skull seams in it, and unnatural notches. I started to brush away the mud to discover some sort of horns. I got a little nuts then, I dug more of it out with my hands. Carefully I left undisturbed the masses of rocks around it as they were no doubtedly a part of the creature.

I've found that the Paleontology sect is an antisocial, if not snobbish lot. On occasion, I email them with points of interest. I have never been acknowledged. So this time I just sent the pictures. Will I be snubbed again? We'll see. I have no faith in them at this point.

Every book I've ever read on the subject, explicitly requests any finds of potential magnitude to be made known to your nearest College Paleontology department. What they didn't say in those books was that you had a snowballs chance in hell of being taken seriously.

I'm afraid I may be forced to get my own degree just so someone will want to look at my stuff. If that ends up being the case, they'll have to fight me for the credit. Right now I am extremely swamped and don't have the time to pursue such an adventure in education, so the credit nabbers would find me easy prey. I just want these treasures cataloged for posterity. besides, I'm running out of walking space on my porch (my research area), so, take my rocks....PLEASE!

4/28/2006 11:8 PM
word count 365

Pondering is not Believing

Depression will remain at bay,
as long as I know you’re not far away.

The cards have been good to me. Come to think of it, all my oracles have been. They speak of happiness, good fortune, success, attainment of all my dreams, fame, love, and best of all, my soul mate. He whom I will be reunited with very soon.

Wow, deep.

Here I was under the impression that soul mates were as real as green eggs and ham. Bad example. Now that I have given it a few more thoughtful breaths I realize that if you were to eat brunch with Larry, The Cable Guy, you would likely be served such a dish.
As I sit pondering all these things, he, in a faraway place, which he calls home, being struck with revelation, formulating an answer to my obscure message. He‘ll understand, finally, my own struggles. While it is not some of my best work, it is however some of my more meaningful Dr. Suessish poems. If you can remember the childish lessons taught. For, within it, lies a secret I had never shared, and a cherished memory of a light that shone in the darkness of an oppressive past.

I believe I stand in the portal that leads to the final stages of my earthly existence, a life within this lifetime that will bare the fruits of my labors. All that I have suffered and lost, shall have not been in vane.

Wish me luck! Heck, I’d be content if my dog outlived me, so a possible bipedal Valentine leaves me dumbfounded, but not disillusioned enough to believe…just ponder.

For Petes' Sake Why New Mexico?

For Pete's sake can someone please tell me what is in New Mexico?

If you know me, you know that I am fond of divining. So much so, that I am opening a shop right here in Missouri.Tarot, Pendulum, Dice, I Ching, Tea Leaves, Runes...there is an endless sea of fortune telling methods available, and I like to explore them.

I look for signs in everything, because, as I was taught by a wise woman (my Mum), that everything happens for a reason, and that it's always for the best...sometimes, eventually. In other words, a delayed reaction to an action.That can be hard on the instant gratification generation. Patience is not a common virtue amongst them. I personally, can hardly control my excitement and wonder at what tomorrow will bring. Upon any pivotal moment, my mind is racing for a solution to the great mystery before me. Like when it's time for opening the piniata at a party. Most want to bash away, and pounce voraciously on the contents before it hits the ground, in many cases trampling what they coveted. I would be patiently waiting my turn while analyzing it for weak spots, and trying to calculate how to approach the job. I wanted to release the candy, sure, but I also didn't want to destroy the work of art it was concealed in. I wanted to gently knock off one leg and let it stream out naturally, thus prolonging the moment. While the rest were racing for their treats, I was asking if I could have the paper animals pieces so I could glue it back together and cherish it. I would always find something wonderful hiding inside. Something that was to be mine. I didn't have to fight my way in to snatch and grab before the next kid. I knew, that anything in that piniata, that was truly meant to be mine, would find it's way to me, no matter what happened.

So here's my question, why New Mexico? All the signs point in that direction. But why? my last writing assignment was a biography of a centenarian born in New Mexico Territory, brochures find their way to me, movies based in the state, books, articles, even things I find, like state quarters, worry dolls, pocket alters, etc, made-in-New-Mexico. My oracles all speak of travels, successes, invitations I must accept, phenomenal luck,love. This is MY year. So how does New Mexico fit in?Is it just my love for those flashy hot pink crepe flowers of the trinity, rock hounding, desert mornings or my curiosity about the Bohemian art community I have heard so much about? Of one thing I can be sure, Nobody's going to take my cartooning about seriously enough to warrant any serious interest. So a gallery opening is definitely out.

4/23/2006 0:40 AM
word count 434

Me, Myself, and that Artist Person

Loft work is for kids. I learned that today. I have been up in the lofts a lot the last two weeks, painting portraits of Brigit, Freya and Frey. Patron Gods for my shop. Oy, did I cramp. It's done. Yeay. not that I don't enjoy honoring the ageless, I just wish it wouldn't hurt when I do it.
I came home and spent the rest of the evening on a wood burning of Cerridwen. My version. Much more elaborate than the mandrake plate I practiced on. That is so typical of moi. The first attempt at anything is competent enough to impress, yet unsatisfactory enough for myself, to demand a second project. So goes my experiments in a variety of media. I am my worst critic and biggest competition. Sounds a little self-destructive to me...or maybe...a bit masochistic. I'll sort it out later, when I'm in one of those meditative stupors. Right now I have to get ready for tomorrow. I'm taking Destiny shopping.
4/7/2006 11:52 PM
word count 166

A Regiment of Marching Voids

Walls have been sprouting up. Perforated by regimented soldiers, voids. Marching, marching, and going nowhere. Good thing I bought all those pegs. They'll break up the monotony. The closer to completion, the more apparent that I have accumulated too many shelving units. I am seriously considering adding a wall on the South of the porch to create a more useable space. The wind owns this prairie. It likes to remind me often of its untamable spirit. If only it would slow down with age like we mortals. Then perhaps I wouldn't feel so beaten.
I've nearly completed all the decorative painting on the walls. I'm sure I will continue to add to it eternally, but for now, I'm ready to call it. After all, I have shelves to paint.
Brigit stands watch from the top of the south loft, tending the flame of inspiration. On the North, Frey and Freya smile down on the main floor. Each wall is bordered with a testimony to the appropriate element. There are fairies playing at random amongst the more redundantly patterned. I will also add a painted carpet in the entry in front of the French front doors. It will be a fine little shop.
4/6/2006 0:17 AM
word count 201

White,white,and more white

The shop is in it's final stages of completion. All the raw board is nearly covered by stain and paint, so are my clothes, friends, relatives, and...the dog. We are an exhuberent lot. We've been plastering white paint on everything. Well, almost everything. We have accented nicely with a blue-gray stain for the old barn wood effect. The ceiling is vaulted, currogated tin, with criss-crossing beams and two end lofts. The interior ties in nicely with the exterior of authentic old barnwood and tin, the remnants of our once imposing barn structure that we lovingly dismantled and integrated into our home. The deep front porch runs the length of the building, balancing on posts of roughly trimmed young cedars destined for clearing last year.

We've not quite finished the slathering of white on white, yet can be found croutched and cackling over the colorful artistry we will be tackling next.

Today we took a day to tend to our other business, no doubt regrouping tomorrow.

Our shop is going to be a divine one indeed!

Ameba to Omega, 2012

0031205005623, 0030105005723....

I used to dream of vivid surrealisms, saving the world and flying high above the countryside, now it's black and white stripes and numbers. I've been making myself crazy with barcoding. I'm getting ready to open a store. I bag and staple, label and code, all day, all night. When my head settles into it's cradle of down, the numbers begin to roll. I'm wondering what I skipped, where I left off, and how many dad-gum sticky labels I have yet to print.When I sit down at this keyboard I reluctantly start in again, pushing aside my desire to write something with no numbers in it. I've deprived myself of my daily ritual of tapping out my life story, complete with bone-headed faux pas and other-worldly experiences. I haven't seen anything supernatural since November 2. Go figure. The very things that kept me from sleeping those forty days, I've begun to miss. No orbs, fairies, glowie clouds of moonstone, no winds whirling through my chamber or phantasmic felines pouncing on my patchwork, with their soft solicitous soliloquy. I turn out the the light and my room goes dark. Nothing else happens.

I was watching the History Channel yesterday as I droned along dutifully preparing my inventory. There were many interesting shows. Back to back enlightenment. There was more about the dreaded Bigfoot, Area 51, Nostradamus, Edgar "The Sleeping Seer", Atlantis, and much more. I was transfixed. It's a miracle I didn't drive a staple through a finger or try to put my thumb in the hole punch. I can be such an idiot when I try to run on all eight tracks at once. I have to remind myself, that there is a reason why 8 track tapes had to die. It was just one of those bad ideas everyone had to buy 50 of before they figured it out.

I don't know when I realized how much I was talking to the television, but the lunacy hit me. I was like a sports fan in front of a game, minus the beer hat and team colors. I agreed. I disagreed. I yelled words like moron, dumb ass, ...and your just figuring this out NOW?, and ...Ooh, I bet YOU have a PHd in proctology from an I-Vey league school...physician HEAL thyself!

So, basically, after being taken back to our amebic roots and then shot through time into the projected Omega, 2012, I decided that fat was the least of my troubles, I headed for the ice cream. While smooshing the creamy Bunny tracks against the roof of my mouth, I made my mental list. I needed to tell my daughter to please forget about moving to South Carolina, on account of it being predestined for total submersion, ask my sister in Los Angeles to get her whole family to agree on taking a year out of the motion picture industry and come stay with us for an open-ended vacation just prior to 2010, since it's scheduled for total destruction that year, reinforce the basement for the impending tornadic devastation that will sweep through the Mid-West, and tell my girlfriend not to worry about quiting smoking since it's doubtful it'll kill her first, her living in San Diego and all. I needed two sets of ear plugs. We'd only need them once. And most importantly, I had 4 years to reach my full potential....6 tops.

John came in from work and asked how long I'd been sitting there creating all that debris. I stuffed my work into it's boxes and huffed at him, "I only have 4 years to reach my financial peek, so if I want to leave something behind when mankind is wiped off the face of a grateful earth I don't have much time, now do I? I never stop John. This is what I do. So when you ask me what I did today, and I say, nothing, this is that nothing... okay? THIS is my future, my 401K. Oh wait! I don't HAVE a future now do I? "

1/11/2006 0:8 AMword count 662

Playing Hide-n-Seek With Unicorns

I have this place I like to go. I go there to rejuvenate, lower my blood pressure and play hide and seek with unicorns. The pathway is made of wide rough hewn slags of amethyst. My foot steps sound different there. The trees lining the path are almost always dropping leaves. They crunch under foot as I slowly make my way to the huge crystal ball at the end of the path. It sits in a large puddle that covers some of the path like a clear purple Koolaid. The orb is the size of a one room cottage. Clear, cool and inviting. I run my hands along the outside feeling for the right occlusion, the one that will let me in. Inside a pale blue fairy holds her palm to mine and smiles. She's telling me it's been too long since my last visit. Suddenly I'm inside. It's a warm ice castle of chalcedony. A maze. Oh how I love to get lost in here. I hear the sound of hooves ringing through the walls. My unicorn is coming to greet me. I always have to feel it. The vibrations, so I lean up against the fantastic rainbows and close my eyes. Something's ringing...ringing.......the phone.

I scold myself for not putting it off the hook. I gently brush my hands across my cherished plaything resting in my lap and rise to set it back on it's stand, where three dragons of polished brass keep it safe for me.

The phone made my whole world dissipate like the dark man does whenever I try to talk to him. It's no wonder I try not to speak when I'm walking in the 'tweens. I learned early, that sound closes doors that aren't meant to be open. So unless I want to remain chained to this reality, I do best to keep my mouth shut AND put the phone off the hook!

An automated voice asks me to call a foreign number, so naturally I plop the thing back down and mutter to myself. I guess I just wasn't meant to play hookie from the house chores today. Not even for a few minutes. It's a good thing that my place is always within reach. It was well worth waiting for. It took two months on a slow boat from China....literally, to receive my coveted ebay prize. The prismatic ball haunted me from the moment I saw it. I had to buy it. Now I know why. I had friends inside.

12/31/2005 11:34 PM
word count 418

Claddagh Poison Ring; An Oxymoron

WILL WORK FOR FOOD

That's my sign. The one I would be flashing at people if I were standing on a corner. Rare, I know. We're a dying breed, the ones that don't flinch at the prospect of earning our way. Heck, I'm just so tickled someone would actually pay me in exchange for my fulfilling a need of theirs.
In case you've been wondering, that's where I've been.
Working. Now I know what you may be thinkin', " How can she go off and forget about us loyal readers?"

The answer is...money. It being the most expensive holiday of the year, I've been beating the bushes for green backs. I haven't gotten my quota yet, although I may have had a couple of them not hit me back instead of coughing up the loot.

I've been my resourceful self, selling anything that hasn't grown roots. I've moved a lot of Oracles lately. And no, those have nothing to do with dental floss. Tarot, pendulum, Gypsy Fortune Telling Cards, stuff like that.

My second biggest seller has been silver jewelry, charms and talismans. Anything from any religion is good mojo. I'm not Jewish, but I love my Hamsa. I Believe all religions are THE religion. The stories are similar, a lot of the practices have similarities too. It all boils down to The Father, The Holy Mother, and The Son. Their lives read like the ultimate Soap Opera. It has been transformed into Blockbuster hits and has remained on the Best Sellers list since the dawn of publication. Tragic, mysterious, awe inspiring page turners. So, a person can't go wrong catering to the spiritual masses. Besides, I may inadvertently win a brownie point with the divine omniscience.

I was listing some great stuff today that I wouldn't mind owning myself if I could afford it when a shiny silver heart caught my eye. It glowed beneath a crown and between two slender hands. It was a Claddagh ring. I stopped a minute and admired i,t then gently tucked it into a tiny Ziploc and began writing the copy for the advertisement.

CLADDAGH POISON RING...

Right there I busted out laughing. You see, that's what I call a fashion oxymoron. A Claddagh is given as a gift of love and friendship. It's an Irish thing. However, I'm thinking it may not have been an Irishman that decided to create a poison ring out of the time honored gift. Yesser, you read that right. You can discretely stash a little dash of anything inside this ring. And honestly, if you want it to be discrete, you obviously have ill intentions. Am I right?

12/10/2005 11:50 PM
word count 435

Jonesing for Shelving Units

I was pretty amped up and didn't really need the coffee that was brewing. I threw myself together and double checked my list of to-do's while putting on the layers of winter attire. I plucked the blank check from Johns desk along with the list from the paper, tucking them into my top zippered pocket of my coveralls.

I hadn't been to an auction all year, but I couldn't pass this one up. Stores don't close down everyday, and I needed store shelving and a lot of other stuff. The floral shop had been in Nevada for years, I found out just how many, a few hours later.

It was cold, it being November, so there were fewer folks there than would've been in warmer weather. It was a common white house on an unimpressive corner, a few blocks off the main drag. Behind the house, the tattered remnants of a large green house that had seen a better time, was filled with open boxes. People wandered through, rummaging the contents for long lost treasures. Attached to the far end was the floral shop. There was a small trailer parked up by the front door where some elderly patrons were gathered in a friendly huddle. The white Styrofoam cups bobbed up and down, leaving wisps of steam in their wake. I sipped on my stainless coffee cup, wishing I was feeling social today. I felt more like a ghost, content to remain unnoticed and uninteresting, as I drifted through the maze silently at intervals throughout the day. There seemed no end to the haphazard additions that had marked periods of momentary prosperity. And just as it had grown, so it also shrank back from the decay of decades, until the only part being maintained was the store front.

I did my best not to dote on the trinkets. I was there for counters and shelving, and maybe a cash register, but I didn't see one. I had to keep telling myself not to bid. There were so many things I could have used for my store. Whenever the auctioneer would try to coax a $2 bid, John's face would drift into focus, chastising me for entertaining the idea of non-essentials. Even when he's not there, his nagging reaches out across space and chokes the life out of the best of days. He's such an old woman. So I would refrain, kicking myself the whole time. I knew what kind of bargains I could have gotten. Why did they keep veering off the path to the shelving? I really needed to see what they were going to run me before I dared indulge even one bidding war fantasy.

Eventually, they auctioned the shelving units. I bought every one of them. I also bought some flats filled with vases and other stuff. Boxes of fish bowls, some miscellaneous and mostly...vases. I didn;'t get all the vases I wanted. There happened to be one antique dealer with a very deep pocket who won everything he put his mind to. I kicked at the dust and ground my teeth whenever he'd call my raise. I knew I couldn't win against him. I had a budget that had no room for such flamboyance.I did end up with most of the vases in the back room. I got many good pieces. Most I will sell., seein's how that's my business..you know,selling stuff I wish I could keep.

All in all, the day was alright. It warmed up, I got what I came for at a price I liked. I made a new friend, she's an artist from Huntington Beach, with many of the same interests as I. I even got some resale items, a few vases I could actually keep if I stick them up on the shelf when John ain't lookin', a huge floral cart (one of the I-could-really-use-if-I-find-one items) and a great walnut buffet, and all for half what he said I could spend, and still he tells me...in front of witnesses...that he'll never give me a blank check again. He always does that.He gives me money, tells me what to buy, I buy it, come back, give him the change, and he bitches until I pay him to shut up. Which mysteriously comes to exactly what I just spent.

So, he gets to come off like this big generous guy to everybody, and I look like the woman that takes advantage, because he doesn't do anything nice without the whole world hearing all about it and being given ample time to pay homage to his thoughtfulness, and he knows I don't tell anyone how it really went after he's through playing me. Hmm... I have a daughter like that too.

Well, I must not mind as much as I think I do, because after all, I'm still here.

11/23/2005 0:0 AM
word count 802

Cam Commerce & Total Merchant Services

I expected a lot of tribulations when I decided to try my hand at entrepreneurializm. I haven't even gotten close to opening and am already batting words like material breach, fraudulent inducement, aforementioned, and This is a bill, at swollen capitalist companies like Cam Commerce and Total Merchant Services. Yep, they tried to screw me and I haven't even swiped my first credit card yet. Hoodlums!

I was a victim of fraudulent misrepresentation and duped into signing a contract that was to be held as inactive and "on-hold", to quote the companies representative, then nailed with charges for an active account and then since it was active and I told them I did not want it activated and that they must inactivate it, I had $195 funneled out of my personal bank account to pay for the termination of the contract which was not to be active in the first place!

So, doing my duty as a capitalist piglet, I billed them! What do you think?

Anyone that would like to help in my fight against the Material Breach of a corporate giant against a piddly little wanna-be-my-own-boss-I'm-Gumby-Dammit-get-me-the-hell-off-Food-Stamps! potential small business owner, feel free to contact me. I'm never gonna get off Public Assistance at this rate! NEVER!

*THIS IS A BILL*
(Payment is due upon receipt of this notice)

For unauthorized activation of Merchant Account xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, Hedge Witch, the sum of $230 is due upon receipt of this notice.

For fraudulent misrepresentation and material breach ( a failure to fully perform a duty owed under a contract when the failure was without legal excuse)of verbal contract, stating that aforementioned account #xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, entered into with Globals Total Merchant Services, a Basalt, Colorado business, would not be activated until such time that in two weeks prior to grand opening of merchant account applicants business, The Hedge Witch, a phone call being required by proprietor Susan Bennett, to Total Merchant Services, to ACTIVATE THE DORMANT ACCOUNT WHICH WAS SETUP AS INACTIVE, AND "ON-HOLD", AS STATED BY THE REPRESENTATIVE OF GLOBALS TOTAL MERCHANT SERVICES, would then be activated and begin to incur charges as stated in the agreement signed by proprietor under the above mentioned guide lines outlined by your company's representative during contract negotiations, being employed by Globals Total Merchant Services. Therefore, the party, representative of Globals Total Merchant Services, willfully made false representations of material facts causing damages, therefore the company relinquishes it's rights to collect fictitious charges and releases Susan Bennett from performing under a contract where there was fraud in the inducement, otherwise known as a Material Breach.

As, the account, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx, Hedge Witch, was NOT activated by Proprietor, Susan Bennett as stipulated in the verbal agreement which led to the signing of the contract with Total Merchant Services, but by a representative of Global Merchant Services in Material Breach of contract, the $35 fee for an active account must be returned to the account holder and the $195 termination fee is neither relevant nor legal in this matter and must be returned to Lamar Bank and Trust account xxxxxxx as well, held by merchant account holder, Susan Bennett.

The representative being in the employ of, Globals Total Merchant Services at the time of the verbal contract, binds the aforementioned company by the agreement to uphold the stipulations agreed upon by the representative and the merchant account applicant. Therefore, all fictitious charges incurred are neither relevant nor legal and must be paid to account holder, Susan Bennett for damages, and any fee's incurred on Lamar Bank and Trust account xxxxxxx caused by the illegal collection of fee's not relevant to the account as a result of said breach,in conjunction with said fraudulent misrepresentation and material breach of contract will be charged to Globals Merchant Services, and an additional fee of $195 will be billed to said company for bookkeeping, processing.

*THIS IS A BILL*

Please remit payment immediately, failure to do so will incur late fee's of 25% of $230 for each additional 24 hour period the payment is not received and any legal fee's incurred pursuant to the receipt of this notice related to collection of this debt.

Thank you and have a nice day, Susan Bennett

11/13/2005 4:26 PM
word count 697

Spiritual Schmooze

The candle flames began to dance in the stillness. A sure sign of visitors. The over abundance of black candles made me feel dark and mysterious. The dimensional ripple washed over me. No matter how many times I experience it, it still gives me a momentary anxiety attack. Like that moment when you realize the next gulp will not bring air, but instead, fill your lungs with water and relinquish this life to the next.

I stared at the flame before me and the images took shape. Dad was there. So was Deb, Nancy, Rose and many more. The pendulum wanted to continue spelling, but my shoulder was on fire. Darn thing always has to aggravate me when I'm doing the spiritual schmooz . I was shocked that so many had turned out to visit me. I recognized one beautiful woman as the brunette I see peaking at me from time to time. She smiles with her eyes and a soft curl of her lips. I asked her name and she said it was Margaret Richie. I vaguely remembered my sister mentioning her in her geneological studies of our family tree.

The opera singer Margaret Richie?
She nodded.
Cool!... Hi. Are you the one that coaches me in my singing?
She shook her head no. My pendulum began to swing. It spelled out Susan, and then Zolnimos, or something like that. It didn't ring a bell.

My cousin Billy stepped forward and did most of the talking. He told me he was my guardian angel. All I could think about was when he had died in Viet Nam, and how, as a child, I lay in my bed staring at his shadow on my bedroom wall feeling comforted, while my little brother screamed to be taken to my parents bed. Then at 40, seeing his name for the first time on The Wall during it's stop in Lamar. I had never cried over his loss until the moment I read his name in that endless sea of marble pain.

While it was an honor to have so much attention, it was a bit unsettling too, as, in the last days, the dead shall rise....That, and the other little thing. You know, the thing where all your dead relatives and friends show up to tell you... that you're dead. I immediately decided...out loud...that I wasn't going to renew any subscriptions as yet.

I guess maybe with me casting the protection and banishing, it might of suggested the need for a spiritual muster. Our family wasn't real close in life, us all living so far apart and all, so I still don't think to call on them. Apparently, my need for help warranted a reunion. Ya see, that picture I discovered the evil demon face in, flooded me with an overwhelming need to reinforce the protection on my family. So that's what I was doing earlier, casting my booga-booga-blanket over my loved ones.

I figured, while I had everybody there, I'd ask if I had....fairies.
Uhu...just checkin'. So, are they GOOD fairies? Oh...most excellent. They are my friends then? Yes?

Right then I heard a purring, it became louder as it moved toward the boundary of my magic circle. I took it as a sign that the wee fairy person was pleased. I learned their name was Dika, and their steed, that thing I wasn't sure was a dragon whatever, well...it's name is Red Tad, and it's a cat with dragon wings. Awesome.

Alrighty then...time to double check my medications and say nightie-night to all the nice invisible people. Good ta see ya...not really...see ya...but you know what I mean. Later people...and things!

I tucked all my secret objects away and hustled off to bed before John was due home, in hopes of avoiding a ...So how was YOUR day?

11/3/2005 10:43 PM
word count 626

The Phantasm Feline & The Shrieking Crone

The soft rumble sounded like it was in the room. I turned to look around slowly. The sound was getting closer, but I didn't see anything, absolutely anything. I should have turned on the night light before I switched off the lamp, but thought how silly I was being, at 46 years old and developing a fear of the dark, only in my bedroom.


Lately, so many odd things have been happening in there. There's been phantoms, whispers, pitch blobs, glowing clouds, an intelligent orb of bright red and lastly...fairies. How strange my world has become. And I thought I had problems when I had come face to face with the financial destitution. Now I was being harassed all night long by fairy tale creatures and urban legends. It used to be pain, and wondering where I was going to get the money to pay the medical bills that left me lying awake and staring at the ceiling every night. Now I'm afraid I'm going to wake up in a horror movie.


I laid my head on the pillow and reached into the air, fishing for the mysterious feline phantasm. Then a shrieking little voice, from very near my ear asked, "Thinkin' about me?"
I jumped for the light switch and flooded the room with 60 watts. There was nothing. No sign that my visitors had been there. I knew that voice. I'd heard it once before. It was atop a flying beast when it swooped down to buzz me, leaving a breeze in it's wake and it's sharp laughter cutting through my skull. I will never forget it. I couldn't decide if it was a teeny-tiny airborne evil, or a mischievously jolly, and highly entertained diminutive crone on a dragon steed. I was thinking dragon because of the body mass attached to the wings, but now I realize it could have been a flying cat wearing something shiny like chain mail or something. It had a long trailing tail. That might explain why it didn't show itself until I brought Arthur in after his first brush with death. Siamese cats are prone to crossed eyes, Arthur being no exception, managed to bump into a moving car. We figure he tried to dart between the car(s) he thought he saw coming.
I left the light on and eventually got back to sleep...until John got up to go to the can and grumbled at me to turn off the light.

11/1/2005 9:21 PM
word count 396