Another Seizure

So yesterday Romanov's vet comment on how healthy he is, how he never would have known Romanov is eleven years old.

Today Romanov had a seizure.   For the first time, Rob was there to see it happen and he had to handle it.

But it's still not enough to put Romanov on anti-seizure medicine.  I'm writing this as a "tracker" post so that if there is another seizure, we'll be able to pinpoint exactly how far apart they are occurring and know when/if we need to put him on medication.

Week Number Nine or How I Came to Know Romanov is Catholic

Image from this site.

And thus the blogging silence ends.

To be honest, I rather liked being off-line and unavailable.  I enjoyed the mental silence of the internet being down.  Now it is back and I have over 3000 emails to sort.  I thought I’d have a lot of blog posts to read but nobody left a comment linking to a specific post in their blog which means, I can only assume, you either didn’t write anything or you don’t think what you wrote is worth reading. 

Lucky for you, what you think is worth reading is not necessarily what I think is worth reading.  Also lucky for you, it will take me a while to catch up with all the reading.  Days and maybe even weeks.  So don’t expect a flurry of comments today or tomorrow.  Just know that comments are coming and I shall try (I promise) to not overwhelm anyone with too many comments.  I promise to try.  I cannot, however, promise to succeed.  If you leave a bunch of comments on different posts, you only have yourself to blame.  Either stop writing interesting things or suffer the consequences. 

The past couple of weeks have been quietly uneventful.  Rob’s friend who was in the car accident has recovered very nicely and will likely have a swashbuckling scar that will make him look dashing rather than marred.  My mother’s knee surgery went very well and she’s recovering very well, working through her physical therapy in spite of the peripheral neuropathy and pain that comes with the condition.

The certification exam for which I’m studying is coming up on the 14^th, possibly.  There seems to be some confusion about the dates and the teacher is supposed to resolve the confusion.  In the evenings, Rob and I have watched dvds I borrowed from the library and when I finish studying early enough, I get to enjoy a little self-indulgent reading.

We have big plans for Marc's visit.

Or that’s how my days have gone by until my darling son arrived from Chicago and then all bets were off. Are off. He’ll be here through the 18th. I haven’t seen much of him the past few days but may do so in the upcoming ones. I’ll not need to study for the last part of his visit which is bound to include some fun. For instance, Taco Bell has announced they will finally release the new Doritos taco shell. He’s been waiting a long time for this. Hell, I’ve been waiting a long time. I have a long history with Doritos Nacho Cheese and to this day my mother has a bag every now and again because she loves loves loves them.

Image from this site.

The other day, Rob was sharing some Irish jokes, many of them with priests or nuns in them, and I was chuckling in response to the ones I found most amusing.  Romanov at one point lifted his head to look at me with a distinctly challenging expression, as if to say that he, Romanov the dog, did not find the joke amusing at all.  He blinked and looked away.  A couple of jokes later, Rob began yet another joke, involving a priest, which I found humorous.  Romanov turned towards me once again, this time clearly peering at me through eyes slightly squinting in judgment at my finding this funny.

Marc, post job interview.

Which is how I came to the awareness that he is a Catholic. Now, I don’t know precisely when he was baptized nor do I think he’s gone through with Communion. But he clearly has Catholic sympathetic leanings and I think Rob needs to be more sensitive when he’s sharing his jokes in the future.

I am looking forward to catching up but plan on doing so slowly, oh so slowly.  In the meantime, I’ll be dropping some book reviews in my blog, updating links relevant to the themes of writing and wellness, and hopefully I’ll have time to do more.  If not, you can know that I’m spending some loving time with my wonderful son.  

No Internet

I'm off-line for the duration.  There will be a flurry of posts and comments but for now there is nothing but silence.

Image found here.

Week Six and then some

It should come as no surprise that I spent most of this week sick.  For one, Rob is a generous soul and naturally he thought it necessary to share his cold with me. I tried to explain to him that I love him unconditionally and that it is not necessary for him to give so much to me as I expect so very little from him.  Nevertheless, he insisted and so, since Wednesday, I have been fighting a presumably losing battle with a cold that will not go away.  Nothing seems to be helping and I am unable to breathe without opening my mouth.  My lips are chapped and I'm pretty miserable.  Plus, somehow I have to find a way to study through all of this.  So far, truth be told, I haven't been very successful with the studying.

Other than that, this week was better than last week with one disappointment.  It seems my son Marc won't be coming home for a visit in March after all because his job won't give him the time off.  Actually, I'm keeping optimistic that the trip will still happen.  A lot can happen between then and now.  But I'm also not going to get my hopes up because shattered expectations are not fun and I don't want to be utterly disappointed.  If it happens, I'll be thrilled.  And if it doesn't, I'll look forward to the next scheduled visit, whenever that may be.

I had hoped that the dust of week four would settle and allow me to accomplish more during week five.  That was clearly not the case but I know that this cold I have can't last much longer.  I'll have to play catch-up when it does go away and then, maybe when I really am caught up, I can write something lucid or even meaningful.  In the meantime, here are some random moments from my silly life.

Via text to my son Joe
Me: One of my keys is sticking.
Joe: Did you spill something on it or does it feel like something mechanical?
Me: No spill for certain. Not sure what a mechanical issue would feel like. My ovaries don’t work like that.

Via text to Rob
Me: I can’t find the television remote.
Me It’s okay. I’m old enough to know how to turn on a television without one.
Me: Flashed my boobs. Worked like a charm.

From Erin's facebook page
Bibi: Mop. Mop. Mop. That's the sound a broom makes.

From Matt's facebook page
Bibi: Agh! The sun! It hurt my eyes!
Me: What? Okay, I'll destroy the sun.
Bibi: (whispering dramatically) Yes. Do it. Destroy the sun.

And another from Matt's facebook page
Bibi: I had a dream about butts.
Me: What? Why?
Bibi: Because I can't stop dreamin' about butts.

What a Week!

Our beautiful boy
doing a-okay!

Here we are nearly one week into the second month of the year.  I am happy to say that Romanov did not have another seizure.  We did not have to take him to the veterinarian and we now can breathe a little easier.  Our fingers will remain figuratively crossed for the next few months because we’re not quite out of the woods where he is concerned but at this point we’re about as clear of things as we could hope.

Also “clear of things” is Rob’s childhood friend who was in a car accident earlier this week.  His face was “ripped open” but a few hours of plastic surgery and it looks like he may come out of things virtually scar free.  He is obviously far luckier than the other childhood friend who was in a car accident a few years ago and nearly died, was in a coma for several months, and came out of it far from normal.  He survived but he is no longer the man Rob has known and loved since they were both teenagers.  But none of them did as well as Rob’s friend down in Florida who as in a motorcycle accident this past week and came out of it with a few scratches although his bike is banged up a bit. 

For those of you trying to keep score:  1 seizure, 2 accidents, 1 hospitalization, 1 surgery.

This is how I was feeling
by the middle of the week except
my glasses broke on Wednesday.

And if only the surprises stopped there.  But they didn’t.  There was the paycheck that was held because the company had an accounting error they needed to fix.  Rob’s wasn’t the only check held so it’s not a matter of being “cherry picked” for this nonsense.  However, the repercussions are hard to predict given that the company cannot say when they will release the check (they have 30 days from the date of the invoice to fulfill the contractual arrangement, etc.) so all we can do is bide our time.

Then there was the flooding in the kitchen.  Okay.  So it wasn’t that bad.  We caught it very quickly and a few towels and a quick mop-up later and the effect was handled.  But we still had to get to the bottom of the cause which, as it turned out, was/is a clogged kitchen sink.  We’re still trying to snake it out and use enough chemicals to work through the problem, hoping to avoid a phone call to the plumber. 

So it looked like things might finally have settled down into a modicum of normalcy when Rob woke up and said he was coming down with a cold.  Now, a cold isn’t a big deal for most of us but for a diabetic it is a complicated situation.  Do you know how many cold medicines have both sugar and alcohol in them?  Try to find one without alcohol and you end up with children’s formulas that have sugar.  There are, however, a few OTC cold remedies that are sugar free.  It’s not impossible to find them.  It’s just not as easy as for the rest of us. 

Seriously.  I can’t make this stuff up.  We’ve just had one of those weeks.

Add caption

In spite of all of the above, or perhaps because of it, Kanika and I went for our Saturday morning walk and discussed her wanting to put a writing critique group together.  She first mentioned this a few weeks ago and then things became silent.  As it turned out, she was brainstorming herself into a corner and realized that if she did all of the things her ambitious and inspired imagination was suggesting, she might not have time to write.  So rather than try to create a critique group we are going to be writing buddies, holding one another accountable and checking in regularly with one another.  The plan right now is that we will both brainstorm a bit, choose a project by the end of the month, and create a reasonable writing timeline which we will begin on March 1^st.  In the meantime, she can read books about writing and I can stop being so distracted by all of the choices I have for different projects and just pick one already. 

(And here is how I sabotage myself.  As I was typing “pick one already,” a small voice murmured to me the following:
 Perhaps I can pick one to edit and maybe start writing a new project, allowing the newness of one project to fuel the discipline needed for another.  And I could write some poetry too, perhaps.  A different type of writing, different from editing and/or a novel.  That way my creativity won’t get stymied in a corner.  I wouldn’t want to get burnt out trying to do one thing when I could do more than one type of thing, right?
 See?   I know a writer who wishes she had as many ideas as I whereas I am quick to point out that with too many ideas one can be as “stuck” as someone who has none.)

There are a lot of things on my mind, of late.  The chaotic quality of last week got in the way of my following through on my intentions (including, as you may have noticed, the Wondrous Words Wednesday and Weekly Quotes).  This week may prove to be less chaotic but I am not particularly holding my breath for being more productive.  There is schoolwork and a to-do list that seems to be a mutation of a hydra and dandelion, cropping up with endless new additions even as I cross things off.  How does that happen?  Can anyone explain this to me?

In the meantime, tell me what’s on your mind or just ask me anything.  I have so much bubbling around inside, I think one or the other might help me to gain some focus.  Or it will be added to my “to do” list.

Week Four Preempted For Today's Breaking News

I had thought today I would write about last week which was, truth be told, dull.  Except for the puppies who seem to continue to be doing crazy things whenever Rob and I leave the room.  I also had a couple of silly quotes from me and one from Bibi, my granddaughter.

But then Romanov who is perfectly fine now had a seizure, a particularly bad one from which he emerged disoriented, temporarily blinded, and struggling to walk.  He hasn't had a seizure in a long time and this is only his second.  I know that there's nothing to worry about and that he came through okay.  He ate. He drank some water.  He was even rough-housing with Snowdoll.

Yeah.  He's fine and I'm a collapsed mess, trying to focus on my studying and catching myself just staring at the page unable to remember what I just read.  So I surrender.  I'm going to grab a book and head off to bed.

How shook up was/am I?  I forgot to eat dinner.  I just realized.  Rob even reminded me.  And I think I got up to make something but I didn't and now . . . I'm eating popcorn before I go to bed.  Does that count as dinner?  Probably not.  Oh well.  Too late now.

Weekly Quotes 2012-2

Simple Abundance

All we have is all we need.  (November 23)

Some mysteries are beyond our comprehension.  Some mysteries we will never solve.  (November 26)

[A]ll shall be well, even if it’s different from what we had expected.  Even if it’s different from what we had hoped for and believed with all our hearts would happen.  (November 26)

If you want to be happy for the rest of your life, napping is not optional. (November 27)

There are many marvelous books available offering the wisdom of different spiritual paths, but most of them seem to have been written by people who do not have children. . . .  (November 28)

Garland of Love

Love is not only a feeling; it is also a practice.  It is not only a miracle; it is also a discipline.  It is not only a gift; it is also an understanding.  (December 5)

What can you do, now and always, to encourage the blossoming of your children?  (December 30)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

When in doubt, go to the library.  (255)

It is our choices . . . that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. (333)

You Can Create an Exceptional Life

By focusing our energy in a positive way, we are far more likely to generate good experiences.  (42)

How can I really feel good in this moment?  What thoughts can I think right now that will make me feel better?  (45)

When something good happens in your life, you want to go to the mirror and say, ‘Thank you. That’s terrific!  Thank you for doing this,’ . . . .  Or if something awful happens to you, you want to go to the mirror and say, ‘It’s okay, I love you.  This thing will pass, but I love you and that’s forever.’  (78)

If we can make a habit of putting ourselves down, we can make a habit of building ourselves back up too!  (124)

Our thinking either makes us feel good or it makes us feel bad.  (118)

Liesle & Po

People could push and pull at you, and poke you, and probe as deep as the could go.  They could even tear you apart, bit by bit.  But at the heart and root and soul of you, something would remain untouched.  (90)

That is the strangest thing about the world:  how it looks so different from every point of view. (167-168)

Girlchild

The shit we create doesn’t ever disappear, especially when we leave it for someone else to clean up. (25)

We knew how hard we could push, but we knew how much we could forgive.  (26)

You need to figure out where you’re going from here first and what of this history is coming with you.  (66-67)

[U]niforms make the people who wear them disappear.  (141)

Tending bar is a triage all its own.  (145)

Northanger Abbey

“But if we only wait a few minutes, there will be no danger of our seeing them at all.”  (32-33)

[A]n occasional memento of past folly, however painful, might not be without use. (190)

She was ashamed of Isabella, and ashamed of having ever loved her. (207)

Rules for the Dance

There are two kinds of useful exercises.  The first sort is to ‘play’ with technique. . . .  In other words, play with the patterns.  Examine what works, and how it works.  Or doesn’t.  There is no failure in such activity.  The intent is to learn—and that, of course, is taking place whenever one puts words to paper.  (97)

Read.  Read!  You can never read enough.  (98)

[I]t is the process that is important, and the body of literature entire, and how it changes us from mere humans into meditative beings.    (99)

Finding Water

Art is transformational.  We do not make it as therapy and yet it is profoundly therapeutic.  (243)

Remember, creativity flourishes in a place of safety and acceptance.  (245)

Our fears are just needless suffering.  We may as well elect to have faith.  We may as well choose to be optimistic.  We can and do survive our storms.  (245-246)

But is it really so easy to let dreams die?  Dreams are hardy.   They are as stubborn weeds.  We may think we have uprooted our dreams only to have a dream push upward again, daring us, one more time, to believe in the unbelievable.  As long as a dream lives, so does a chance of its manifesting.  We can cooperate with our dreams or we can fight them.  Our dreams are tenacious.  They don’t just fade away.  (246)

Quoting Ned Rorem

Sooner or later you’ve heard all your best friends have to say.  Then comes the tolerance of real love.  (250)

Blue Nights

As adults we lose memory of the gravity and terrors of childhood.  (100)

How could she have even imagined that I would not take care of her? . . . How could she have even imagined that I could take care of her?  (101)

For a while I laid this to a certain weariness with my own style, an impatience, a wish to be more direct.  I encouraged the very difficulty I was having laying words on the page.  I saw it as evidence of a new directness.  I see it differently now.  I see it now as frailty.  (105)

How could I not still need that child with me?  (181)

Dance of Deception

Women, like other marginalized groups, internalize countless messages:  we do not belong in important places; we do not really count; we do not really shape history and culture.  And so, when we do achieve recognition, we tend to attribute, our success to luck, or if not that, then to something, anything, other than our competent and entitled selves.  (73)

. . . Dead-end jobs evoke dead-end dreams, while new opportunities evoke new desires and, ultimately, new stories about our ‘true self.’  (81)

The ideal family encourages the optimal growth of all its members and provides a safe place where individuals can more or less be themselves.  (84)

Like a pedestal or a prison, fixed labels that are either positive or negative leave one with little space in which to move around.  (91)

The myth that motherhood is a ‘career’ rather than a responsibility and a relationship is a particularly disastrous one.  (93-94)

Wondrous Words Wednesday

Wondrous Words Wednesday
is hosted by BermudaOnion's Blog

These words are brought to you by 

The Writing Life by Annie Dillard

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I drew the cows, for they were made interestingly; they hung in catenary curves from their skeletons, like two-man tents. (28)

In physics and geometry, the catenary is the curve that an idealized hanging chain or cable assumes under its own weight when supported only at its ends.
Definition from this site

Don't you just love it when you look up a word you don't know and the moment you read the definition, the image of what the writer is trying to express is immediately there, in the forefront of your imagination?

I drank coffee in titrated doses.  (49)

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titrate (verb)
To determine the concentration of a solution by titration or perform the operation of titration.
Definition from this site
titration (noun)
determination of a given component in solution by addition of a liquid reagent of known strength until the endpoint is reached when the component has been consumed by reaction with the reagent.
Definition from this site

And then there are times when the definition merely makes the chosen word seem more of an allusion rather than a clarification. I mean, are we to suppose Dillard is sitting there drinking her cup and somehow conducting an experiment to assess the concentration of the coffee brewed? Or are we to infer that the coffee was strong? Or is the allusion here to an increasing strength of brew? I don't know.  Is a single does a cup?  I drink coffee.  This shouldn't be so confusing.

EDIT:  Please be sure to check out the comments because one of my wonderful readers explained this perfectly.  You simply must go and see for yourself.

Image from this site

Her father was a grazier, her grandfather had been a butcher, but that was all nothing. (199)

grazier (noun)
A person who grazes cattle.
Definition from this site

This is one of those words that I understood because obviously it comes from the word "graze" and once again the context assured me that I was probably guessing correctly. With that said, I looked it up anyway. (Of course, it could simply be that I like to be right and these words where I can tell what they mean without looking them up lets me show-off how so very I am.)

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Showers of sparks shot out of the caldera—the dark hollow in which the keys lie. (63-64)

caldera (noun)
A caldera is a cauldron-like volcanic feature usually formed by the collapse of land following a volcanic eruption, such as the one at Yellowstone National Park in the US.
Definition from this site

I love it when a definition sheds light on something that you can visualize but for which you have no specific name. I mean, what if I wanted to describe a typewriter going up in flames? How would I have described the sparks flying out from . . . where? From between the keys or from above the keyboard? But this is it, the word. And the definition, although I could not find oen for a typewriter specifically, was still clear because I could see a volcano crater and it all immedaitely made sense. Further, this is one of those perfect word choices that make my heart dance with delight when I read.

I'm Not as Flaky as I Seem

Rob and I take turns making the bed and we have a small collection of Siberian husky stuffed animals.  Lately, these dogs seem to have a mind of their own and we never know what we will find when we walk into the bedroom so throughout this post you will find random photos with captions that try to explain the inexplicable.  

The puppies are curious
and gather to look out the window

I interrupt this post to offer an apology.

I know, just a few weeks ago I said I was going to be more consistent with the Wondrous Words and Weekly Quotes.  But then last week blogger was not being cooperative and this week my body was not being cooperative.  For one thing, I forgot this Wednesday was the SOPA blackout but I remembered in a nick of time.  Yes, I suppose I could have posted the WW on Thursday but that sort of belies the title not to mention that I felt pretty lousy Thursday.  And then again Friday.  So I sincerely apologize and I swear I am not a flake.  I just play one on the internet.  I now return you to the regular planned blog post.

Speaking of returning (How’s that for a nice segue?), I have returned to school for the third and final class in my course.  (Hmmmm . . . just noticed that I started the third class during the third week of this year.  How strange is that?)  This is a Continuing Education class so it’s not as intensive as a college course would be.  But I don’t know how to study any other way and I tend to study a lot.  Which is why I will probably be commenting as infrequently as I was in November but means that I won’t be studying for long.  I’ll come back to the real world by the end of March, just in time for some new craziness in my life.  But more about that another time.

As part of my morning ritual, I’ve been reading the Rig Veda, which is comprised of ten books.  I finished the first book this week and I’ve been untouched by the text at this point.  This is not to suggest that I’m not going to finish the text.  At the beginning of the year, I determined how many pages per month I would need to read to finish the book within the six month time frame.  I am reading at a comfortable-for-me pace and, having reached over 110 pages (because the first book of the text is longer), I can now set it aside and pick up another of the books from my Hinduism bookshelf without feeling like I am compromising my exploration. 

Puppies love belly rubs.
Here they are hinting oh so subtly.

One of the reasons the text hasn’t resonated with me thus far is that so many of these hymns are focused on how wealth equates divine approbation.  For instance, in 1.xcvii you can see how being sinless, worshipping properly, and such are all evidenced in being wealthy and victorious.  Now, there is the interpretation to be argued that these are spiritual blessings and not physical manifestations meaning that one is spiritually wealthy and victorious and not necessarily physically so.  Taking that interpretation then, how does one move towards the “pleasant homes”?  Those who contend that these physical blessings are metaphors for spiritual ones would typically suggest that the “home” is actually the physical body.  Which then brings us to question of how do we then interpret these things if someone has a genetic pathology or comes down with a terminal or at best incurable condition?

Puppies like dens.  Here they are
"denning" in Rob's bedside table. 

It smacks of “prosperity thinking” and is too close to the teachings of a few Christian teachers who teach God created us for abundance, etc. 

Another reason is that so much of the language is cloaked in a rhetoric that is martial-centric.  I have to laugh at myself for this, of course, because I’ve read (more than once) the Bhagavad-Gita so this language should not come as a surprise to me.  But it is off-putting. 

None of this will stop me from continuing.  From what I understand, the Rig Veda is a collection of many traditional hymns and they are organized thematically so it stands to reason that if I don’t fully appreciate the first book that doesn’t mean that I won’t find something inspiring in another book in the collection.  I shall read on and let you know what comes up. 

Mommy puppy realized baby couldn't
really see out the window before.

My yoga challenge hit a snag when Snowdoll had diarrhea one morning and I was more interested in taking care of her and then cleaning up the mess, including steam cleaning the carpet, than I was in doing my morning practice.  Also, I found the whole updating process a bit tedious.  I would do the morning yoga in the morning.  Later, I would have a vegetarian meal either for breakfast or lunch.  Now, if I had already logged in my morning yoga practice, I’d then have to log my breakfast.  But sometimes I would log them both at the same time.  That still left a meditation practice to be logged and I kept forgetting to log something so that it looked like I was not following through even though I was.  So when I actually chose not to do yoga one day, in favor of tending to the needs of Snowdoll, I just decided to not bother.  That I ate a vegetarian meal that day, that I also meditated, mattered more to me anyway.  And as Shakti Gawain says, yoga is not something you do on the mat, it is how one lives from moment to moment.  My yoga practice that morning was caring for Snowdoll and I know I made the better choice.

It was a dark and thunder stormy day.
The puppies hid under the bed.

Anyway, I’ve blabbered enough already and I have some studying to do.  Did I have more to share?  Yes.  Was it good stuff?  Oh yes, very.  Will it wait?  I suppose it will have to.  I have so much to do today.  You do too, something other than reading a post that just goes on and on and on.

PS:  Snowdoll was fine and dandy before the day was out.  A little rice and a lot of tender-loving care and she had no more tummy troubles.  She is, however, a bit jealous about the fact that all these other puppies get to climb up on the bed but I think as long as we rub her belly as often as we can, she'll be okay.

Two Weeks Gone . . .

There were no Wondrous Words Wednesday or Weekly Quotes Posts because I spent over 2 hours trying to make one post "work" and then Rob, hearing my frustration, tried to help and, after more time passed,he said, "The website is fucked up, obviously."  So I gave up.  We'll see how today's post goes.  It really shouldn't take 2 hours to copy and paste content from point A to point B.

In this post I share some things that my offend or at best tax your credulity to its limits.  I ask you to bear with me.  Suspend disbelief and allow my experiences to be true for me.  Not right nor wrong just experiences that are my own.  Okay?  Okay. 

Another week has slipped away.

I’ve been participating in a yoga challenge but about halfway through the week, I stopped updating things.  Although I’ve been doing yoga every morning, I didn’t record every practice.  I haven’t tracked my meditation time.  I haven’t shared my delicious vegetarian meals.  This morning I had two pears.  Not quite a meal but I ate them with a glass of water that had just a splash of lemon juice in it and something about the two flavors is wonderful.  I would even recommend it.  Maybe not two pears, per se, unless you wake up as famished as I.

This week, I had some solitude and was able to do something that I used to do at the end of every year or at the beginning of the new one.  I did a tarot card spread.  I haven’t done one since 2009 when a friend asked me to do a spread for her and afterwards, when I was alone and I did one for myself.  Something came up that I didn’t like and I didn’t believe to be true.  I chose not to do anymore spreads for myself, presuming that my ability to read the cards for my own life was not quite what it is when reading for other people’s. 

During the summer, I found my cards again, having misplaced them not long after the above experience.  I didn’t do anything with them.  Just put them aside but where I knew I could find them again.  I certainly had no desire nor intention of reading the cards for myself.  Then something happened. 

See . . . the first time I ever did a card spread was before I ever had children and the cards said I would give birth to twin boys.  So when I gave birth to a girl, I pretty much thought that tarot cards were not my thing.  Even later, when I gave birth to twins, I didn’t reconsider the cards.  I had already thrown or given them away, I can’t remember now.  In any event, it wasn’t until 1998 when I was working at a Borders where a tarot card reader was doing her thing that I ever had another spread done.  Only, I was skeptical, especially when she asked me if I was planning on taking a trip any time soon.  I said I was and she said that the trip wasn’t going to happen.  I knew better because I had the ticket under my keyboard at home and I’d even started making a list of the things I was going to bring with me.  Only, as it turns out, my trip was canceled and I never went.

That’s when I bought my first tarot card deck and tried to use it.  I own several now and use only one most of the time because it is the only one that communicates with me.  But doing my own spreads has never been a productive experience.  In fact, it’s more like an exercise in futility because the cards never reveal anything but my own confusion and when I do a spread for myself it’s usually because I am confused.  About something.

However, I would do a spread at the change of year just to see . . . I don’t know what.  Just to see what the cards had to say.  Which is why, when something happened earlier this year, I knew that I would want to do a spread for myself because that thing I hoped wasn’t true and couldn’t be true was actually true.  Which sucks but that’s the problem with doing a tarot spread.  What turns up is not necessarily something you want to see. 

I won’t bore you with the details of the spread I did for myself this week.  It was surprising and not surprising, in the way an unexpected truth will be. In a nutshell the cards said I was (past tense on this) surrounded by a lot of negativity from others, people who were jealous, lying, betraying, etc.  Oddly enough (or is it really?), the year began with my thinking that someone who called herself my friend had believed a rather stupid lie about me for several years. It wasn’t the lie that bothered me so much as her belief.  The year closed with a different friend telling Rob that she had been lying to me (and probably herself) for three years. 

And there it was in the cards—all this hostility and negativity that surrounded my past, things that had moved me from then to now.  The only positive cards in the spread were the future cards.  It is especially remarkable because none of the cards were ill-dignified (reversed) and I rarely see such a thing in a spread.  After all, there’s a 50/50 chance a card will be upright or upside-down and to have 11 cards come up all facing the way they ought is noteworthy.

What does any of this mean?  I don’t really know.  As I so (too?) typically do, I look at the optimistic future cards and think that of course they are coming up full of good things—I want good things in my life.  If history has shown anything, though, I need to be a little less skeptical about what the cards are telling me.  In fact, I could have saved myself a lot of pain this past year if I had listened to that spread I did in 2009 because I would have ended a friendship sooner rather than later.

Lesson learned.

Addendum

I've had three other people do spreads for me; two at my request and one not at my request.  All three were wrong.   One said specifically that I would meet someone by year's end or had already met someone I would marry.  This was years before I met Rob.  The other two said I would not marry Rob, specifically.  “The relationship you are in now will not last. I don't see you marrying this man who is in your life right now.”  This is why I don’t ask others to do spreads for me.  

I also don’t like to do spreads for other people.  More than once, I’ve had the cards tell me things that the other person didn’t want me to know, I guess, because, after I did the spread, they pretty much avoided me.  Can’t say I blame them, given the things I learned, but that’s why I never offer to give anyone a reading.  It’s just not worth it.  And when I’m asked, I never ever want to know why the other person is asking me for a reading.  The cards tell me more than I need to know and always answer the unspoken question regardless.  

Not knowing the querent's concern, allows me to let the cards speak without my interloping my own desires on the reading.  It’s the only way I can ensure that my own expectations and hopes don’t influence my interpretation.

Now if only I could figure out how to trust the cards when I’m doing a reading for myself.  *sigh*