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Friday, August 29, 2014

A Favorite Haunt

Calm days, clear water, gray skies, wild flowers, river banks, fallen logs, the quiet murmur of voices on gravel trails...this is one of our favorite pass times, one of our Favorite Haunts:

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Thursday, August 28, 2014

A Hell-Of-A-Week...or...There Are Fish in Our Ditch

It's been a Hell-Of-A-Week...

Joe just got his stitches removed yesterday, and was given a little rubber ball and a wad of silly putty to be used for 'therapy', to get his gripping strength back in shape before he goes back to work and hits 10 hour days with a  welding gun in his hand (ow).  The purple writing is all courtesy of the Doctor, who very carefully marked all three fingers to be done, then drew arrows on the palm at what appears to be the area for incision, and then adds-- with a flair-- his initials at the bottom of it all.  Ta-da!!!

This is Joe's-Hand, the day of the surgery, stitches & all. 

Night before last I was hit, unexpectedly and very rudely I might add, with a terrific bout of "Internal Issues".  Suffice it to say that I was rolling on the floor at one point, while Joe-- my loving and ever thoughtful and caring husband-- kept asking me, "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital, honey?"  At that point, honestly, I could not have gotten up to get to a hospital on my own steam-- I actually needed help just getting to the bathroom and back.

It progressed through the night to a point that was actually alarming, so much so, that I wound up making an impromptu ER visit the next morning.

"What do you think could've brought this on?", I was asked by the Medical People. (Actually, for the several hundred to a thousand dollars that this ER visit will probably cost, I was sort of hoping that they could tell me.)

Let's see...the possibilities could be:

1)  that narley ice-cream cone that I ate at McDonald's the day before-- it Didn't-Look-Right; I almost handed it back.  I even mentioned this fact to my daughter, who was with me.  I jokingly said, "I might regret eating this." (I'm psychic, remember, she says with a wink-- so why don't I listen to myself?)

2)  St. John's Wort-- which I just started re-taking 2 days before the onslaught of "Internal Issues".  We actually googled this and there is a syndrome, called Serotonin Syndrome, which is linked to taking this herb in combination with other medications, or taking too much at one time (she says guiltily, the extra 3 pills glaring at her from the dark recesses of her memory).  And I have to say, though I'm not a Doctor, that my symptoms and this syndrome were right on cue.  I have thrown the bottle away, and from now on, I will now be an advocate for tightening up access to "Herbal Remedies"-- Hey, peoples, these 'herbs' are drugs, they may be 'natural', but they're still chemicals that need to be handled with caution!!

3)  For months I've been bothered with severe pain in my lower left abdomen, even had a Cat Scan done, which revealed "nothing".  My body, and the sharp shooting pain, has kept telling me There's-Something-Wrong-Here, but the highly modern and technological cat scan says that everything is "OK".  Everything is not okay, believe me, technology or not, you know when something is wrong with your body.  This is where the severe pain stemmed from, and it shot straight across my lower tummy, laughing at me all the way.

Okay, so the Medical People get this all down.  Doctor comes back in and wants to do another Cat Scan, at $4000.00 a pop, no less.  I had already explained that this was recently done, and I had my own copy, and he could look it up and view it since it was done at this facility.  (Yes, I declined.)

Then I said, "This hospital is already suing us for a back bill."

Holy crap.  They had me up and out of there faster than you can say "witch-on-a-broom".

"Okay, we'll just treat the symptoms." Doctor says, slightly red-faced and rushed.

Yes, I felt better when I left-- they had rehydrated me, given me a pain killer, and some anti-inflammatory medication.  But remember, oh--I didn't tell you, colon cancer runs in my family, but, oh well.  What the hell-- get her outa' here. (This is the energy I felt.)

I won't name this facility, but you know where we live, so you can google it.  And from now on, I think we'll listen to the advice we've been given by oodles & oodles of people-- Bypass this facility and go into Omaha for medical treatment.

There is a humorous turn about this story-- You know the little paper armbands with your name & DOB on it, the one they use to identify you, and the one they use to scan every single item they use or bring you in order to charge you for it?  Mine didn't work.

Nurse Gena, who was a sweetheart by the way, tries to scan the meds she's giving me.  "Hmmm, this is odd.", she says. She calls over the phone, "Bring me another scanner, this one isn't working." 

In minutes, a new scanner is delivered to the room.  It doesn't work.  "Hmmm, this is really odd.", Nurse Gena says again.  Over the phone once more, "Can you print me off another wrist band, this one isn't working."

Within minutes, I have another wrist band on my other arm.

The scanners don't work on this one either.  "Now this is really, really *Weird*!", Nurse Gena says with emphasis.  She laughs, and looking down at me she says, "You must be a ghost!"

I look up at her, laughing, and say, "It must be Witchcraft!"

She hasn't got a clue.

My Witchy Room

Spells & Stuff...I love receiving emails and messages from people who are interested in Witchcraft and the whole Pagan scene.  But I have to tell you, I cringe when I start an email that says, "I need your help..."  And it goes on for several paragraphs, in-depth, about their personal issues.  They want me to come up with some sort of magickal spell, on the spur of the moment, and apparently with no compensation for time spent working on the project. 

I tell you peoples, if money were no issue, and I had all the time in the world to sit around and write up spells for people, I would be in seventh heaven.  But that is not the case.  Money is tight here, just as it is for many families, and if I'm going to spend time researching your particular situation, hovering over spell books, typing out all the info, and keeping in touch if you have Any-Other-Questions, I'm going to have to be paid for my effort.

Please note-- there are oodles of Free-Spells at my blog, just follow the links; and also, you can search my blog, Magickal Connections, for blog posts on a variety of magickal subjects.  You could also buy my books-- Ahem!

If  none of the above suit you, and you still want me to help you put together a spell tailored just for you and your specific issues, I offer Spell Consultations at my website.  (No, they're not free.)

I know this is my Personal-Blog-Spot-For-Personal-Stuff, but I've just been inundated with requests; and I may wind up posting this section of this blog at my Other Blog and elsewhere.  (In the couple days I've been sick, my email has been deluged with 600 pieces of correspondence coming through for all kinds of things, including requests like this-- this is why I usually manage my email Every Day to keep up with it.)

Our Backyard Garden
I'm going to wind up this blog post with a weather report, because we can all relate to the weather.

It's rainy here, we've gotten so much rain that I looked out the bedroom window this morning to see that the ditch was flooded to the point it was ready to run over into the road.  I love rain.  Love it, love it, love it.  But once in a while, it's true, you can have too much of a good thing.  It can stop now, preferably before we get water in the basement.

The photo above is Our Backyard Garden, as the caption says, complete with a cool spider web and sun rays-- you can almost hear the Angel's Choir.  You'll find fairies in this garden, though, and maybe a gnome or two.  :)

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Pass Me a Jack Daniels

My week, this week, is starting out on a string of notes, most of them off key:

1.  Monday: a visit to Premier Staffing, looking at a position-- writing promotional materials for a company and overseeing their social sites (Facebook, Twitter, Website, Blog, etc.)...Me to Joe: "They *Pay* people to do this???"  Joe:  "Yeees!".  Geesh.

I leave them my card and make a fast trip home to switch out vehicles-- when I go back, I'm thinking that they will have time to have brought up my website, blog, twitter, etc.  I'm thinking that the best thing I have to show them that this position is right down my alley (I do this All-The-Time for myself) is to allow them to view my own work.  But there's a catch.  After viewing all this They-Will-Know-I'm....Different. 

When I return, I'm asked in almost immediately for an interview and a few clerical-type Can-You-Do-This-and-This-And-This type questions.  Follows a lively 20 minute chat with the lady.  I can tell she likes me, and I believe I've answered the verbal questions to her satisfaction ("Do you look at The Big Picture, or do you concentrate on The Details?)...Ummm, you have to give The Big Picture a passing glance so you know how to whip the details into shape-- you have to know where you're going to figure out How You're Going To Get There.

Her parting words: A cheery, "If you don't hear from me by Friday, Call Me!"

2.  Tuesday:  blah.  Preparing for Wednesday.

3.  Wednesday:  Joe's surgery at OrthoWest in Omaha for Trigger Finger (This means that Joe will be off work for the next 2-3 weeks, on temporary disability, which hasn't even been approved yet, and is a fraction of Normal Pay-- *gulp*-- Who needs electricity anyway, it's probably highly over-rated)...yet to do.

4.  Thursday:  Pyewacket into Dr. Kent's for an allergy shot. (If it isn't The Dog, it's one of The Cat's)...yet to do.

5.  Friday:  Call the lady back at Premier Staffing...yet to do.

So there's our week...in a nutshell.
Pass me a Jack Daniels.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Summer Daze

The blackbirds are flocking.  I noticed it last week, on my walk through the yard, under the trees, to hang a bird-feeder up at the feeding station.  It startled me, even though I love this time of year, and the huge flocks of birds that will come with it.  It startled me because my grandma told me what her dad (my great-grandpa Smith) told her-- the earlier the birds start flocking, the earlier winter will arrive.

(Not yet), that little voice inside my head whispers.

Emma & Pyewacket
The youngest, Emma, turned 14 this July.  She has shot up almost taller than me, she no longer smells like a kitten (she did for the longest time), she is growing breasts and transforming into a beautiful young woman.
(Not yet), that little voice inside my head whispers.
The large backyard flower garden is the only one I didn't re-mulch this year; I just salted down the pebble path that runs through it and sort of let nature take it's course.  As much as I loved how it looked, all sharp and dramatic with black mulch, the reality of keeping it this way struck home with the dozens of 40lb bags of mulch we hauled in to do the other garden spots.  My back and various other muscles complained loudly.  The garden has been over-joyed with its new-found freedom.  Purple cone flowers have sprouted in amongst everything, being all friendly and amiable; the black eye-susans have spread to twice their area, and I have found (to my delight) that strawberry plants are happily mingling with everything, throughout the entire garden.  It's working.  Everyone is getting along.  That's how it's suppose to be.
I added inspiration to our covered back porch this week-- a space that is a family favorite hot-spot.  We eat here, cats gather here, we hang out, we play, we talk, we rest.  We have gathered on this porch with friends, alone with a cup of coffee in the wee hours of the morning, and in the dusk of many summer evenings in a chattering huddle with each other:.
Enjoy the last dog days of summer...Embrace them and sear the memories into your mind.  It's coming to a close faster than we realize.
(Not yet), that little voice inside my head whispers.
Breakfast Time: Baby, Fox, Pyewacket, Basil, & Bast


Monday, August 4, 2014

"Oh, Be Gone, Woman!"

Just when you don't think there's anything else that 'takes-the-cake', something comes along that actually does.

This afternoon:  chocolate ice-cream cones at Runza

Going through the drive-in line:  we notice a white pickup parked in the parking lot with two dog kennels strapped in the pickup bed; it was parked in the sun, and there were dogs in the kennels.  The temperature on this day was 93 degrees; the vehicle was parked so the back-end was directly hit with the sun.

We picked up our order and drove up alongside the pickup.  The dogs in the kennels were panting hard, long pink tongues extended.  I take my camera out of my purse, step outside the car, and snap a photo of the dog.

Along comes the owner-- a big broad red-headed man & his wife.

"Why are you taking a picture of my truck?"...and so ensues a lively 2-3 minute conversation:

Us: "It's too hot for the dog."

Dog Owner:  "The kennel has holes, the dog has water." (Here he points to a closed container of water sitting in the rear corner of the pickup bed-- It didn't look like it was doing the dog much good there.)

He follows with a defensive explanation about being in a dog show, about how the dog is "just fine", and he's getting angrier as he talks (he's turning red).  His wife and I briefly touch on how it's a good thing that someone is concerned about animals, etc., and if it were just his wife and I together, I think we would have come out all right on this thing.

Once more he emphasizes that 'the dog is okay, it's not too hot'-- this is where I say, "You climb in that box for an hour and see how it feels."

He lost it-- he turns his back to me and says, "Oh, just BE GONE, Woman!"

(Ummm, what century are we living in???)

Suddenly, Joe's voice comes booming out of the car, "You don't talk to my wife that way, you D***!!!...and Joe continued to come up with about three more sentences emaphsizing his point, very clearly, very precisely.

The guys wife, quietly:  "Just get in the car, Honey."

And he did.

And we all drove away, eating our chocolate ice creams cones and ruminating on human intelligence, or the lack there-of.