September 8th, 2009 | 20 Comments »

I may have mentioned that I brushed the dirt off the bathroom scales a while back and was surprised to discover that I had lost 25 pounds. You may have wondered “How the hell does that even happen?” to a woman who spends most of her days in pajamas. Because, clearly, elastic waistbands just beg for expansion of the waist. And really, who knows? Physio means more exercise, less pain=MUCH less wine to manage pain. Like none. Wine is strictly recreational now, as it should be.

So I got mildly giddy and got me some of those mid-rise jeans and a few tops to go with them, so I could have something non-elastic to wear outside the house on errands, and of late, on twitter meetups in my local area. Enough of the pajamas for me, yessir.

I was proud to be shopping and to forgo the purchase of pajamas, which has been my favourite article of clothing to buy. Working apparel. Business attire. Gotta look good on the phone, you know?

That plan pleased me.

Until.

I was in the kitchen in front of the fridge. This would be the kitchen with a bigass window, which was open to all the social goings on of the neighbours in the back yard. Can you see where this might be heading? No? I so suck at foreshadowing. Let me put you out of your misery.

My drawahs fell down to my ankles as I was standing there with my hands full of dinner ingredients. And my glorious, white bread, flat arse was exposed to all and sundry who were hanging out in the yard, or even possibly passing by on the sidewalk.

I mean, aren’t elastic waisted pajama bottoms supposed to be self-adjusting? I hadn’t given it much thought until the waistband FAIL.

The drawahs were stepped out of, laundered, and put aside with others I immediately drop tested. My awesomely warm polar fleece jammies with the periwinkle background and all the cute sleepy moons and stars on them. A goofy pair of red polar fleece with penguins. Warrior Woman agreed to give them a home. When she travels, her colleagues have these goofy pajama contests, and she thought these might qualify. She was really holding out for the jobbies with big honking frogs on a pink background, a pair that even makes me wince with the fugly.

So a few days ago, she accompanied me on my quest for polar fleece jammies THAT WOULD NOT FALL DOWN EXPOSING MY BARE ARSE. And lo, it was good, for I bought many pairs.

And I presented Warrior Woman with the freshly laundered fugly green frog jammies, because, oh, how she coveted them in the work fugly jammie competition.

I caught her hints for my green, red, and white HOHOHO jammies, but I’m holding out on those bad boys. They have the drawstring type waist. Totally adjustable.

Back away from the HOHOS, beetch.

August 11th, 2009 | 10 Comments »

People ask me what clairvoyance is, and I explain it is from the French, translating as “clear seeing”.

All of our senses can be expanded beyond the physical with some training and dedication.

Usually, the physical sense that you excel at during your life (for instance, the way you learn best in school) will be your best bet to explore on a higher vibration.

In my case, I had an eidetic (or photographic) memory. This comes in handy, because the visions come to me in a flash, and it is helpful to remember them clearly.

Those that are more visual in nature may notice that when they gaze dreamily at clouds, images will appear to them. People report seeing animals, angels, and a variety of things, but I most often see faces in the clouds.

My first manifestation of clairvoyance came when I began to detect auras. That is something I would like to explore in a later post.

I further practiced clairvoyance by reading tea leaves, and when reading palms, faces would appear in the hand. When I described the faces, people connected with them. One woman asked me if I would recognize the face I described if she showed me a photograph. It was not only the same man, but wearing the same military uniform! The vision I had seen was of that very photograph! I have since learned that photographs are the best way to capture a face, because it is static. Before that, the faces would often talk, laugh, and move about, so it was harder to describe them.

It is important when allowing a vision that you be very relaxed. The vision must come to you, rather than you “trying” to seek the vision. Some deep breathing techniques are helpful here. If you are wishing to receive visions with your eyes open, it is helpful to soften your gaze while in an altered state (brought about by the deep breathing).

Most of the visions I receive while on the phone are of the closed eye variety. A symbol may appear, or, at the client’s request, I may fast forward to a place where they will live or work in the future.

When working with private clients, I feel freer to take the time to project a vision of a face onto a scrap of paper, and trace the image that appears. I will do this by special request from psychic network clients, with the understanding that it takes time for the image to appear, for me to trace the image, and for me to desccribe it to you. I seldom see faces with my eyes closed. Weird, huh?

Each clairvoyant has their own particular style, of course. I am only describing my own. Your style, as it develops, can take you wherever you and your guides wish to go.

It is a gift that will continue to amaze and delight you as you develop it!

July 9th, 2009 | 22 Comments »

I know you would never it guess it from here because of my goddess like fabulosity, but sometimes I can be a tad impatient with certain clients. Stupidity, not much you can do there. But man, what really chaps my chops is the people who have their heads planted firmly up their adorable arses. There should totally be a t-shirt.

It’s really a testament to my madd skillz that I can talk in code to crazies am diplomatic. Like the woman who I felt such sadness from. I told her that she had lost her job and had boyfriend trouble, which was correct. But then she lost it. Why? Because Michael Jackson was dead. While acknowledging her emotional intensity, I pointed out that his passing has no practical impact on her life, and that she might want to focus on a strategy to find employment, and one to either reconnect with, or dump the boyfriend. When what I really wanted was to tell her to give her head a freaking shake.

I’ll just gloss over the 80 year old man who wanted to know if his ex-wife put a spell on his dangly bits to keep them ever dangly. His present wife didn’t want to do without her nerve-calming activities, it seems. And the truth was that he had good circulation (it was checked out. New wife insisted.) The new wife was making up for a long dry spell, and she just didn’t spin his crank. Hence, he blamed the ex wife and the curse. Hoping I’d get him off the hook. I can’t make this shit up.

I was even diplomatic with the crazy cat lady. First she wanted to know if her cat really loved her. I chose not to give her the Warrior Woman explanation, the one where when cats are rubbing up against you, they are really marking territory with their saliva. Food source= belonging to this cat. And they don’t snuggle on you because they love you. They find the warmest, softest place to sleep. I totally told crazy cat lady that her cat loves her madly.

Then she wanted to know if her boyfriend had gone for a coffee with a female friend. I already told her that he wasn’t cheating, but she had to know every.single.detail. That’s when my diplomacy wore a trifle thin. I told her she had to let him out of the house sometime.

She didn’t care to ask if the boyfriend loved her. Just the cat.

Posted in clients, doing bidness
June 24th, 2009 | 7 Comments »

I’ll be leaving early Thursday morning en route to Skinny Bitch’s city. I’m travelling much lighter than I usually do because of the nerve irritation in my neck. I’m not supposed to lift much.

So I got me a toy computer to record my sound files on, and since it has a wireless card that is speedy, I can upload them to the server. Built in mic and webcam, so less to lug around. It fits in a normal sized purse. It’s kind of the Bic of computers. It was so cheap I wasn’t about to shell out an extra $80 for two more years factory warranty. Bic.

Of course, it takes forever to bookmark sites and type in old passwords to web admin sites. Luckily for me, I had the good sense to write them down in my little six ring binder that also serves as a mobile datebook. The only way the data will be lost on the datebook is if I can no longer decipher my scribbles. Or if there is a flood or fire. Still, flood or fire will so scroo an electronic keeper of information.

Ass Burger Boy is ecstatic and has already transferred all of my data off the clunky big laptop, which he has dubbed ‘his precious’ and promptly taken to work with him. I don’t think he’ll miss me.

Of course, I will be staying with Skinny Bitch. Any time I go to her city, it’s a given I will stay with her. I desperately need to laugh my self silly, tears streaming down my face, maybe even peeing a little. Now that we don’t have torture to plot for the now ex Mr. SB, we will have to find other ways to amuse our bad selves.

I may or may not get kidnapped after the show.

There will only be internet access at the venue, where I’ll probably be busy with work. With any luck at all. I may be tweeting like a dirty little bird, but probably won\t be posting here while I’m gone. I linked this post heavily to give you something to catch up on while I’m away.

December 26th, 2008 | 16 Comments »

Freedom! I can smell it, just around the corner.

Speaking of smells, I’m simmering turkey carcass to make stock. I made so many mashed potatoes for yesterday’s feast for two that I’m also fixing to freeze me a shepherd’s pie. Because, really, how often can you face left over mashed potatoes?

I was very happy this year that Ass Burger Boy chose to stay at home for the celebratory meal. There was a wee glitch when I upended his wine glass while reaching for the cranberry sauce. His meal was swimming in wine. He wouldn’t allow me to replace it, and even said the extra wine was quite yummy. (He had two more helpings, with only wine in his glass, not on his plate)

He ended up rather intoxicated.

I shouldn’t have refilled his glass.

I hope that you had a lovely, cosy, holiday meal, and happy family times.