June 10th, 2009 | 14 Comments »

Hmm…where to start?

  • There is no Mr. witchypoo. I was married twice and didn’t like it. I have issues, okay? Back off. Don’t make me hurt you.
  • I’m right handed
  • I drink coffee, strong, black, no sugar, and plenty of it.
  • Dances with Explosives actually prefers to be called Dances with Shrapnel, because that is more specific to his job description. While he hasn’t forbidden me to write about him, his lovely wife, or my beautiful grand daughter, he has privacy concerns, and I respect them.
  • Anything about my family is tricky territory. I once wrote about my favourite uncle in Bluenose Vernacular and it hurt his feelings. I edited it for this blog to announce that he was not being a perv because he really wasn’t. It was for comic effect.
  • Most of my family members consider me a ne’er do well Tool of Satan. Some of them have rather extreme religious beliefs. We don’t talk much. The ones that do talk to me, I would like to keep it that way. Sometimes it gets ugly when you blog about family.
  • One of the things that shaped me was a deep yearning to connect spiritually. I went to many different churches as a child, and the last one was a total nutjob church that left a bad taste in my mouth concerning organized religion. I decided that organized religion was mostly about people setting out rules about how to worship, how to behave, and who gets to heaven. The rules often changed with the church. That just didn’t make sense to me. I continued my search for a spiritual connection on my own. When I started doing readings, I quickly felt the great wall of disapproval from churches and congregants. I think I know what a hooker in church feels like.
  • Most of my jobs have been dealing with people. Mostly sales. I was the first woman in my area to sell cars. I loved it, but was really indignant that people just assumed I was a liar. Plus the men were sneaky and would steal your customers. One of them hit me, and I found out what it is to literally see red. The air was blue, because I couldn’t see anything but red, but I found the loudest part of my voice to say very bad words in the service department. With customers there. It was humiliating.
  • Another embarrassing moment was at the same dealership. My mom had talked me into dying my hair blonde, but I panicked half way through, and I slunk into work and hid in the bathroom because the hair, it was orange. My sales manager made fun of me, saying: “Vanity, thy name is Woman!”, and told me to take the rest of the day off to fix it.
  • Still another: I have a partial plate, and have had since I was fourteen. Lets say that the ice and I connected in a meaningful way to need that plate. It broke at work when I was 20 (I worked in a bank then.) and I wanted to die. I had forgotten about it, mercifully, but this man I didn’t recognize came up to me a few years ago in a grocery store, and took great delight in recounting the story in front of his wife. Then I was embarrassed for his wife, because he was showing what a jerk he was.
  • Other than those things from long ago, I really don’t embarrass easily. I have embarrassed my friends with some of my antics from time to time, but they are used to me. Like the time I mooned a bus load of senior citizens. For some reason I thought that was hilarious. Oh, wait. It was probably the alcohol. Serves them right for giving it to me. They knew what a nutbar I was.
  • Since I started this blog at the first of November, I hardly go anywhere anymore. I was famous for being a roadrunner, always on the go, but I have a strong obsessive streak like Ass Burger Boy does. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That’s what I tell him when he thinks he’s weird.
  • My mother’s death hit me very hard. I saw her every day. She always made me laugh. Ma was quite the character, and I loved her off beat ways. She always liked to think she was putting one over on me, and I humoured her, because as I told her “Ma, you don’t have to trick me. I’m good to old people.” I used to make fun of her all the time, and then laughed when I started acting like her. The ugliness of some family members before and after her funeral gave me the resolve to never attend another funeral or wake. I have already told Grammie this and she understands why. I still turn into a snotbag when I think about Ma. I really miss her. Even though I still hear her voice in my head from time to time, making fun of me, or bossing me around.
  • I’d be happy to have an open forum event from time to time. If you have experiences to share, I would love to hear them, and even throw in my 2¢ worth.
  • That photo of me on my readings website? It’s 7 years old. I don’t have red hair with blonde streaks anymore. I liked the blonde so much, I got more and more of it. Now I have other streaks in the blonde. Summertime I usually get green streaks because it’s summer, and they’re fun. Winter, usually brown streaks, but more subtle, because just plain blonde is boring.
  • I don’t remember ever being bored. My mind is a party. I also don’t remember being lonely, although there are many times I have been alone. I’m a gemini, so it could be that my evil twin keeps me amused.
  • Ass Burger Boy accused me of knowing when he was lying because I am psychic. I assured him it was a mom thing. Moms can tell the lie look on a kids face. That’s what I told him: “You have the lie look. Right there. On your face.” There have been a few times he was away from the house too long that I have checked in on him to see if he was hurt or in trouble, but very few. I do respect his privacy, and that includes his right to having a party in his pants without my knowledge, although I could “just tell” when he lost his virginity. I never said a word, but let him tell me. Only fair. That stuff is private.
  • I live in a mansion that was converted into flats, not all of them expertly, but I got the best deal of all. I have the huge living room at 20 x 40, and all kinds of antique features like the casement windows, the sliding glass panelled pocket doors, and the huge fireplace. It’s set back from the street in a part of the city that hardly anyone knows about. It’s like a bubble of peace and no crime. Cab drivers have a hard time finding it. I can’t wait to see what comes up in the garden in the spring, and plan for my fall bulb planting.
  • The healing work I do is whatever is needed. I don’t have to be physically with the person to do it. I can make a headache go away, and have worked on some serious problems as well. My grand daughter was very ill, and I worked on her from afar. My nephew was near death as well this year from a severe beating, and although there were many prayers and magnificent healing groups working on him, I also participated with my friend in Texas, the fabulous Lucy in da Sky. I told his mother the extent and location of the injuries, and she blew the doctors away by telling them what she learned from me. I also described the assailants.
  • Dealing with having a son deployed overseas (twice so far) is torture. He looked so very very tired, and I can only imagine the mental toughness he had to develop. The heat alone would have done me in. Carrying heavy packs in that heat? Blows my tiny little brain. I hated the newscasts that announced wounded or dead. It takes so long to get confirmation, and is agonizing for all loved ones of our soldiers. The relief you feel when it isn’t yours is always tempered by the sadness you feel for the other families. I’m very proud of him. He always tried to justify his decision to enter the military, but he never had to. He has to live his life. I don’t. When he was younger he had long hair. His father gave him a hard time about it, said it made him (his father) look bad. He tried to get a rise out of me about his hair, but I simply told him: “Sweetie, it’s your hair. You have the choice to wear it long, short, or however you want.” I was sad when he cut it. It was a thing of beauty.
  • I am not afraid to die. I have looked death in the eye, and accepted it. I am afraid of pain, and not enough drugs to manage it.

This is a repost to test that my feed is not truncated. Bite me if you’ve read it before.

Posted in Ask witchypoo
June 9th, 2009 | 12 Comments »

The following award comes via Jess of Daysgoby, who lives about an hour and a half from me. I’ve never met her because those South Shore people are all in love with where they live, and have zero desire to come to the city. Don’t blame them either. Or, maybe she figures I don’t bathe much, since I work at home in my jammies.

This award is given to the writers of blogs that “are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

I knew it would be easy to list bloggers that fall in this description. I think I can type out their URLs without even going to their sites.

  1. Teeni
  2. Krissa,freaky snake woman.
  3. Lou
  4. Oh Mah Holy Hell, it’s Ree
  5. Nan
  6. Hyphen Mama
  7. Talina, who is extremely knocked up right now.
  8. Not On My Own Blog I Don’t, which is authored by multiple charming bloggers.
Now, go forth and spread the love.
Posted in Awards, bloggy things
June 4th, 2009 | 21 Comments »

My birthday is Friday. (Can I just say here, please, no e-cards? Thanks.) I am being pestered by some charming bloggy friends to do something festive to celebrate and mark the occasion, since it’s a milestone event that ends in 0. What goes before the zero? If I wanted to share that, I would have told you already.

Frankly, since I have been feeling better and managing my pain better, I am more on a push to make money to prepare for my trip at the end of the month. And keep up with the bills, even though I will be taking a week off at the end of June. This requires planning.

I’ve caved to the notion that working on my birthday is insane if it’s voluntary, so I cleared my schedule with the network for that day. (I can always log on if I feel ambitious.) So, that’s festive, kind of. Or not.

Since I’m 1/8 Native Canadian (straddling the US border), I thought that I would like to celebrate in the native way, with a giveaway.

For those who suffer anxiety especially, (but you may substitute anxiety for whatever you are suffering from,) this will help. It is a way to self-treat any blockages in your energy field. For instance, loss of a loved one through death or breakup can often leave a heavy weight on one’s heart. It makes for difficulty in experiencing joy in other things. You can use this mini meditation to remove blockages from your heart chakra. Or wherever you sense the blockages to be.

http://grace.blindally.com/guided/breathe.zip

This will start a download to your desktop. Double click to unzip and put it on your ipod, or wherever you keep mp3 files.

It’s a nice little five minute holiday that you can give yourself each day.

Except when you are driving. Because that would suck.

Enjoy!

Posted in it's all about me
June 2nd, 2009 | 13 Comments »

You know those people you just play off? And egg one another on in silliness? Skinny Bitch and I are like that. So are Krissa and I.

To demonstrate, I bring you the second portion of an email exchange which started with me saying I hurt myself in my sleep and she was urging me to describe it as a sex injury. Where, really, I probably rolled over onto my physio targeted shoulder, which is being mean to me. But? It had to be a sex injury, because it happened in bed. That’s when I shared that I had never had a threesome, my last twosome was a decade ago, and now I only have onesomes, since I got all discriminating with my sex partners and all. She’s pretty sure I should describe it as a sex injury though. Sheesh, she’s bossy. Which would only be annoying if I were obedient. So you’re welcome for the background. Maybe you had to be there.

Krissa: I dunno…. the true test is sleeping in the same bed with yourself. Heh.

witchypoo: I keep getting annoyed. Bitch snores.

Krissa: Get her some of those nose strips.

witchypoo: She’s selfish. Says it doesn’t bother her sleep any.

Krissa: WHAT A BITCH! I wouldn’t put up with that.

witchypoo: If she’s not careful, NO SEX FROM ME!

Krissa: Oh shit. You need to get into couples counseling. I mean you can’t let this effect your lives like this. It’s not fair to either of you! Heh heh.

witchypoo: I’d sooner just buy her the fucking nose strips.

Krissa: (The voice of Little Mary Sunshine), It’d be cheaper!

Tags:
June 1st, 2009 | 14 Comments »

I have more things to be grateful for this week. You might say things are looking up, but Selda, my non-sadistical physiotherapist told me that looking up was not helpful for my neck.

So to proceed with all the gratitudinosity:

  • The physio exercises are improving my pain management and my range of motion. Wine is strictly recreational now.
  • Warrior Woman is back! She’s sick, but I hope to see her soon.
  • I’m back on track financially, and my level of pain allows me to work more hours. Yay!
  • Ass Burger Boy got me a geranium for my birthday (early). It was exactly what I wanted.
  • A possible solution for my blog blahs.