December 28th, 2009 | 12 Comments »

This holiday season, I did most of my shopping without going into an actual store. Most. Stocking stuffers require one to hold actual merchandise and pay for it with cash type of money or debit.

I have a friend in Maine, and she agreed to allow my orders to ship (free!) to her, and she would ship those orders on to me. I would pay the postage from Maine to here.

She’s also a twitter friend, and when I opened my twitter feed one day in November, found an excited tweet from her. Seems it was her birthday, and some secret admirer has sent her a copy of the The Pioneer Woman Cooks as a birthday surprise.

I had ordered the book for a local foodie friend for Christmas, because although she has gluten and dairy issues, she loves herself a cookbook. In fact, she has many of them, and now adapts her recipes.

I couldn’t yank her birthday surprise out from under her, because why would I even do that? So I looked to a local artist to order a replacement gift. Only, guess what? The replacement gift didn’t arrive in time. The lovely artist, Shelagh Duffet, offered one of her prints (free!) so I would have something to present on the big day.

I agreed, with the proviso that she sign the print thusly: “Shelagh Duffet, Famous International Artist Who Lives Nearby”, which she agreed to do. I armed myself with a boatload of hand sanitizer to meet up with her in a newly opened cafe, where we had a lovely chat and sampled the goodies from the cafe. The lemon scones made me all happy in my mouth. The conversation made me happy in the brain, and all was right with the world.

When I presented my friend with her prezzie, I told her the story, and she agreed, it was pretty funny.

But? There’s still a space on her kitchen bookshelf where a certain cookbook needs to reside. And? It’s on sale at a ridiculous price now.

Posted in down home, fustercluck
August 21st, 2009 | 13 Comments »

A few days ago, I woke up from a dream where I watched from the doorway (with my father and a friend of his) a power transformer that started to burn, then it exploded, and went zooming off to the right. I awakened to the sound of my own startled voice. The imagery was very evocative of The Tower, the bad guy of the tarot deck.

I mean, just look at it. Do you need to be psychic to feel it isn’t good?

Exactly.

The Tower indicates that drastic change is about to take place. Perhaps your whole life is about to come undone and can break down. Anything that you consider permanent in your life is at risk. It doesn’t matter how solid the foundation is. When The Tower comes up, everything is susceptible.

The card is basically telling you that what is in the past is in the past and you need to move on. There is no point in sifting through the rubble and trying to salvage things. It presents the opportunity to start anew, so take it. It’s not a hint. Nothing subtle here, folks. If you try to hold on to what is lost, you’ll be living in a world that no longer exists.

It also has the redemption of transformation. All the illusions of what is important to you fade away. The smoke and mirrors falling away reveal what is really important. You see things how they really are.

I had seen some rumblings about Hurricane Bill a few days ago, but after the dream, I expected we would take a direct hit. I still think so. It’s supposed to hit here Sunday. Even if it doesn’t make landfall, it is 185 kilometers from eye to end, with hurricane force winds throughout.

I remember vividly when Hurricane Juan made landfall here in 2003. I’ll never forget the horrible howling of its winds. Sleep was impossible. I learned a few things about preparation for a hurricane. Mostly because nobody was prepared. Including me.

Now for the joy of cooking all of my frozen meat. In this killer heat wave that is acting like fertilizer for the hurricane. I’m so excited. Did I mention I’m a heat weinie? Why yes, yes I am. Nobody here has A/C unless they’re crazy rich because we so seldom need it. At least I learned that having cooked, thawed meat to gnaw on when you have no electricity is better than looking helplessly at your thawing raw meat and having no way to cook it. Yes, I will be getting an extra propane tank, but my BBQ is small. I’m kind of afraid to use it.

Okay, now. Breathe.

Probably that is the best advice to get through The Tower.

Prepare, if you can. And breathe.

Posted in down home, fustercluck
August 19th, 2009 | 9 Comments »

Hi. Remember me? I almost don’t remember me myself. For those of you who have wondered about my references to Herman, I explain it all over at Kelley’s place.Code name: Teh Awesome. Because she is.

Long story short, a while back, I had severe problems with my arsehole, and it caused me a lot of discomfort. The always solicitous Krissa was very concerned. Why, I do not know. She’s caring that way. She loves her a good arsehole. Or a defiant one. Whaddoo I know? She’s great.

My first TMI Thursday post details the whole conversation to give my arsehole a name. And now that I think about it, how sad am I that I wouldn’t put it on my own blog?

May 13th, 2009 | 20 Comments »

I had a TMI post all written about how Herman got his name, but then I recalled two things:

  • I had stupidly sent emails to the people where I do my banking (Hi! wonderful banking people!) that contained a link to my blog in the sig line. Since they have met me in person, I knew they would associate that post with me every time they saw me.
  • I had promised Kelley, who is having blog problems, a guest post, even though I, myself, have been posting maybe once a week. But I love her and she is all kinds of the awesome, so someday, Kelley will let you know about Herman. He has a twitter account, really.

Did you know it was mercury retrograde? Consider yourself warned. Back up your data. Expect miscommunications, misunderstandings, and old issues to resurface. Travel plans, especially short term travel plans, are certain to be a fool’s errand.

I am embarking on a fool’s errand tomorrow. I was supposed to leave today for a sibling type reunion, but hello?? Merc retro.

A client had insinuated herself into my life because she was hurting so much. I didn’t give much thought to the fact that she had ABSOLUTELY NO EMOTIONAL SUPPORT. (She had alienated everyone else in her life. Hah! How smart was I? But, she was suffering. She really had some terrible things happen in her life.)

As a result, I worked less hours (logged on) than usual to accommodate her many visits, even though I was trying to collect enough hours to take a week off. (I need to be firmer with my boundaries)

Then last week, (full moon in scorpio, uh oh) she showed up (while I was logged on) and proceeded to berate me with all the crazy ways that I was not BEING HER FRIEND. (Did I mention boundaries?) How does a client I felt sorry for become a friend? A “friend” that gets extremely unhinged if you don’t meet her needs in the way that she wants them met? I would say see a therapist, but a therapist has those pesky boundaries where you have to actually make an appointment, and can’t just drop in to dump all your shit on because you have been dwelling and DWELLING on it and cannot stand it another minute unless you share the misery RIGHT NOW.

After placing the entire blame on ME for her being so stressed she had to take a leave of absence from her work, she stormed out. Great. It usually takes me about three days for my energy field to clear itself after such an intense encounter. I was useless to work. So, I took a mini stress leave, because I didn’t feel I could serve my clients properly.

That might have been over and done with, but she wasn’t finished with the demands. By email. My refusal to meet these demands were met with vicious assaults on my character and psychic abilities. I had to block her email and instruct her not to call or drop in ever again.

I don’t know why I let her upset me so much, but I continued to be unable to work. I was planning for last week to be a humdinger, so I could make up for the week I was planning to take off to visit with siblings a short journey away. (Siblings and short journeys are third house matters, which are ruled by Mercury, which is retrograde.)

Now I don’t have the reserve funds to travel that I had, and am trying to contact my brother, Dizzee, who I cannot reach by phone. We are supposed to meet up at Skinny Bitch’s place, and we can travel to the gathering together, then afterwards, he and his long-lost daughter, Hidden Treasure, will come to my place to visit, driving me home. Except I can’t reach him to determine if he will be also travelling with another brother, Mr. Trick and his daughter, Cutie Pie,in which case there would be no room. Mr. Trick is not answering his phone either. Damn you, merc retro!