August 26th, 2008 | 15 Comments »

She was tiny. Very still. She had signed up for Medicine Man, because he was half Native Canadian, but kept being drawn to me, and she honoured that.

As she was seated, I felt my throat closing violently, as if I were being strangled, and I remarked upon that. Her eyes widened slightly, but she was a very quiet young girl.

Yet her spirit! Huge. Not that it was beaming through like a beacon. She had done her best to be invisible. To not attract any attention. It pained me that her life was so traumatic that she suppressed her beautiful spirit.

It turns out that the Native Canadian connection she craved was with my 1/8 Passamaquoddy Tribe blood. She is half Passamaquoddy. We are truly related. It’s a small tribe.

I told her of the impact her life would make on others as she walked softly upon the earth. Her spirit would touch the lives of many. She may flee from this while so very young, but she will eventually remember who she is, my little cousin with the huge spirit.

I knew better than to actually touch the throat of someone who had been strangled, so I worked with my guides to heal this in a more gentle manner.

Her guides began working with me and mine, and showed me a whole new technique, walked me through it actually.

I had been tortured for weeks with a searing pain in my back, near the shoulder blade. I couldn’t reach it with my hands to heal it. I couldn’t breathe properly because of it and my lack of neti pot.

The session left me, for the first time, without pain, and absolutely exhiliarated. I was Wonder Woman!

I thanked her for allowing me to share energy with her. I knew it was difficult for her. She didn’t have much trust of people in her life, yet she instinctively trusted me.

I also knew it was difficult for her to hug, yet I had to hug her as she left. She was gracious.

Tiny Shaman with the huge spirit!

I will always remember you.

You are in my heart.

Posted in Medicine Man
August 23rd, 2008 | 24 Comments »

Warrior Woman has declared the rocks I have casually displayed atop my television set to be a hoo-hoo.

I consider it natural art, that just happens to suggest what the viewer will make of it.

You can decide.

August 8th, 2008 | 25 Comments »

Seems like there is a gathering of the clan going on this weekend. My clan. The ones who dubbed me witchypoo in the first place. Not the Tool of Satan bunch. That would be the uber religious sector of the clan. They don’t party. Certainly not with fireworks. Because they’re all religious and all and don’t believe in fun. They figger they’ll have plenty of time for fun in heaven.

Mildly amusing OCD stepmother (MAOCDSM) is not exactly hosting the gathering, because she can hardly do much of anything what with her recent double mastectomy and all. Everyone is gathering nearby to pop in on her and see that she is well cared for, but careful she doesn’t get too tired.

My pyromaniac little brother channels his obsession into the socially acceptable activity of lighting the fireworks. He reminded me that I had started the whole thing at a family beach gathering years ago. I had supplied the fireworks, but had no clue what to do with them. Thankfully, nobody said bend over when I mentioned this, and Pyro Bro saved the day. Since then, he has perfected his technique and added to the array of pyrotechnics, making a more elaborate display each year.

Next morning: The fireworks were ooh and ahh worthy indeed. The little kids were thrilled, and were such a treat to interact with.

We took pictures of the three titty-do’s (that’s when your belly stick out further than your titty do) all for different reasons. WildChild was pregnant with twins, MAOCDSM had her boobies removed, and my belly has protruded out past the titties when I’m not wearing a bra. Then we put Pyro Bro in the picture for three titty-do’s and a dickey-do. You figure it out.

I retired to the camper, as it was very hot in the house. I didn’t awaken when Pyro Bro took MAOCDSM to the emergency room.

Seems that she who never farts (MAOCDSM) was so full of gas, she thought that she must be having a serious post operation complication.

I asked her if the doctor had prescribed a liberal dose of “pull my finger”.

August 5th, 2008 | 17 Comments »

The very lickable Ree has sworn to punish me because I didn’t make a psychic drawing of Practice Husband back in the day for her.

She wants me to list eight things I want to do before I die. I did a lot of travelling when I was a kid, so that novelty has worn off. Especially with all the security measures involved these days. These are in no particular order, and off the top of my head, so are subject to change.

1. Have my children outlive me.

2. Own a smart car. I love those things. And it’s been ten years since I owned a car.

3. Retire to a Bed and Breakfast in the town I was born. Right on the sea. Have teenaged girls do the cleaning and laundry. I’ll cook and tell stories. I could hold special psychic weekend thingies.

4. Find a wonderful wife for Ass Burger Boy. He still lives at home. I would miss him, but I want him to have that for himself. Besides, I would like to have someone I would feel safe leaving the heirlooms with.

5. Have a healing centre and artist’s retreat.

6. Visit with my bloggy friends, or get the house cleaned up enough for them to visit me.

7. Pay my brother Dizzee the money I owe him.

8. Meet Lucy in da Sky, the shaman from Texas that I totally adore.

Now for the tagging:




Warrior Woman



Coast Rat


Posted in memes
August 4th, 2008 | 24 Comments »

I was so very bad the other day. Very.

A return client visited my booth at the psychic fair. She said my predictions pretty much panned out last year.

She wanted to know about a possible relationship, and I obliged her by using my clairvoyant abilities. I focused on a piece of paper, waited for the image to appear, and quickly traced it, then filled in the details. It was an image of her next squeeze.

No sooner had I put the pencil down than I spied what I was sure was the subject of the drawing just entering the venue. Out of the side of my mouth, I said “Look, over there! Go on, look!”

He came and stood in front of my table in record time, while I was reading the client. It isn’t the usual etiquette. The readings are considered to be private. Yet, he appeared to be perusing my literature.

All of a sudden, I squealed and pointed to a particular card.

witchypoo: “Oh, look! Great sex for you!”

guy in front of table: “Pick me, pick me!”

client: “I don’t embarrass easily, but you have managed it.”

guy in front of table: “My, my, you are a beautiful shade of red.”

witchypoo, still talking out of side of her mouth: “Look at the drawing, look at him.”

client (hiding picture, face still flaming, hissing): “I wouldn’t be able to look at him if he camped on my doorstep now.”

Guy moves on after some awkwardness.

witchypoo: “He was totally into you.”

I’m not sure she will be back next year.

Posted in What's this?