WHERE ARE MY KEYS????? ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

I have looked everywhere.

Zen pouf, zen pouf…nope. Keys aren’t under there either.

I would like it if it would stop raining here too. It’s been cloudy for about 30 straight days. We had one day of intermittent sunshine. It’s pissing me off, obviously. If I wanted to die in gloom, I would go to the west coast.

Don’t usually use language, but in this case.

Fuck.

I am mystified that I apparently have readers in other countries, like China, France, Switzerland, and Russia. Hello!

I mowed our front yard today, even though I didn’t want to. I like letting the grass grow tall, along with the dandelions. But when you live in a city, you have to. We have an electric mower, which I had never used before. I got used to gas mowers and riding mowers growing up. I like the electric mower. There’s no gas fail. It just works.

I went to the shop today, and had a look, and it was a total SHITSHOW down there. Rain keeps flooding the roof, turning the carpet into a hybrid of tar, water, and dust. If playing ostrich was an Olympic sport, my dad would win for sure. He just buries his head and keeps working. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve offered to fix it for him, pay for it myself, get a team of people to do it for free…he just says he wants to do it himself. It’s driving me crazy.

I’ve learned something weird about myself. Although I’m not a super organised person, or a person that loves to clean, I am a person that will spot the one thing in a room that’s out of place. I don’t do it in a chaotic space. I do it in spaces that are pretty organised to begin with. The slightly bent picture…the spot on the table…the snag in the carpet. I went to Paciugo the other day, and there was one lampshade in the middle of the store, waaaay up high, that was slightly bent. I couldn’t take my mind off it as I ate my delicious gelato. Maybe everyone does this….we spot the thing out of place when everything else is correct.

My dad told me today that I have a talent for picking out cats. I laughed, but he might be right. I have two delightful fuzzballs that are just totally gentle and loving. I had a horrible cat that died, but she was horrible because she was a crack baby. That’s right, she came from a crackhouse. Anyway, I bought my mom a kitten last year, and she is just awesome. A kitty showed up on my doorstep and I gave her to my dad. She is a riot, and super smart. I don’t know why, but stray cats show up at my door several times a year. Maybe they smell the other cats. I give them food and water, and they usually eat, and go on their way. Occasionally, I will take them to Help For Homeless Pets.

What I would really like is to get another dog-not for me, but for my dad. I think it’s maybe too still soon though. Losing Lucky and Jazzy has been really hard. They were excellent dogs, and it’s not just about having a dog, it’s about having a smart dog that likes to work, guard, and have fun. It has to be personality plus. I suppose the right one will come along when the time is right.

Ok, here. De seestor told me about this, and it is hilarious: damnyouautocorrect.com

I learned the word fuckweasel from it. I am still laughing.

Usually I allow my iPod to lull me to sleep. I’m going to have to find it I think, since being online is winding me up.

I had a really odd epiphany today. I was talking to my sister, telling her I keep dreaming about wizards. She piped up and said, “Well, that’s just your subconscious working with an archetype.” Hooray for my smart sister who likes Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung. Because she is absolutely right. I realised that for the better part of 2 decades, I have subconsciously been seeking a wizard. My subconscious apparently thinks that if I meet a magic man, all shall be well. But I’m already married, so if I ever meet a wizard, he’ll have to help me for non-romantic reasons. I tell my clients that people have many layers, and issues have many layers, and sometimes we have to re-examine things from a different angle. In retrospect, this explains a lot of my poor dating choices. Guys that seemed magical, but were anything but, unless they were the bad kind. Water signs seem to be particularly susceptible to badness. I’ll have to cogitate on that.

I felt really sad and lonely today. I talked to Kristi, which cheered me up a bit-things are going well for her. She’s sooooo busy though. In theory, we are going to see the Paranormal State and American Ghost Hunter casts in a few weeks. That will be fun if we can make it work time-wise.

I know what I’m doing from day to day, but I seem to be struggling to get a grip on making it mean anything, or to make things better. My dad’s shop is just in ruins, but he won’t let me do anything about it. I really want to help him with his business, but I’m going to have to accept the limitations set before me. As I have had to tell my mom, “I cannot MAKE anyone do anything.” There are times of stillness, and times of action, and times of limbo. It’s not still, but it’s not exactly moving forward either. This feels like a limbo time.

I was hoping blogging would help clear my head, but it’s turning me into my alter-ego, “Anxiety Girl.” It’s the iPod for me.

I used to be such a regular blogger. I hardly ever blog anymore-I hope I will change that. Everyone who knows me personally has a pretty good idea of what’s going on, but I like to write, so I’ll just keep going…I don’t think this is cross-posting anymore-I’ll have the web elf work on it.

Wow-what a train of thought up there. I’m justifying my blog to myself. If you’re new to the blog, be forewarned. My thought process is tangential and somewhat abstract.

Things you need to know:

1. Archer is awesome. If you haven’t seen it, make it happen.

2. Pirates was almost perfect. I wonder if they lost a writer though. It seemed different, and not because of characters. It lacked cohesion in a few places. The only thing that ever bothers me about Pirates is that I dated, for many years, a real-life equivalent of Captain Jack Sparrow. He wronged me badly, so sometimes I find myself hoping Jack will suffer, and I know this is wrong. Ladies, believe me-you don’t want Jack Sparrow.

3. Don and I are moving into the chalet. The kitchen in this house seems like it will never be done, and I want to live in a whole house. If I wanted to live in half a house, I’d take another trip to China. The poor Chinese. I will never get over how despairing so many of their people are, while their government oppresses them. I was going through some old writings the other day, weeding things out, and found my China journal. In it, I state that China smells of old socks and fish. This is completely accurate. I might one day publish the China journal on the blog. It is both funny and sad.

4. I have now read everything David Sedaris has ever written, and find myself happy. Possibly his work will please you also. I highly recommend all of it. I am a little freaked out that I bought “Naked” at a used bookstore. I was just, “Hey, there’s Sedaris. I’ll get that.” Later, when I read the essay on him spending time at a nudist camp, all I could wonder was if this book had ever been around someone nude. I hadn’t thought the title would be quite so literal.  I sprayed it with Lysol.

5. I met a real-life fairie the other day. She’s the current Queen of her bloodline. There aren’t very many fairies left in the world. You can tell when they’re around because little children will flock to them. They can see the wings. Infants will giggle. Don’t ask how I know this. I won’t tell you, but I will tell you it’s true.

6. A 12-year old girl told me I should have my own paranormal TV show. I find the is idea enchanting, but highly unlikely, as the market is currently flooded. Also, I do not have an agent, and I gave up the idea of being famous after the age of 25, except for when I daydream about it. God bless the children. Don and I went looking for a new bed-it looks like it will be an Enbody (wow comfortable), and the gal helping us thought we were both in our twenties. As I am going to turn 33 in August, this made me very happy. Sometimes interacting with people is so rewarding.

7. I am no longer depressed. That really should have been the news at the top. It was frightening for me to feel so sad. It was seasonal, exacerbated by some situational events, but truly, just really terrifying.  Being a therapist, I know how to change my behavioral patterns. I know how to deal with my thoughts, and appropriate them accordingly. This was like being flooded. I hope it never happens to me again. I am going to devote some space in the private practice website, which isn’t up and running yet, but will be soon, to information about depression and other mental illness. I think I will also devote some time, pro bono, for people who have questions about mental health issues via a blog. Take your vitamin D. It’s what the sunshine gives you!

8. I read all of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. They are excellent. I highly recommend them. The TV show was wonderful too. I think it might have survived if it had been written to follow the books. It sure didn’t fail for lack of talented actors.

9. I am looking for a new author. Neil hasn’t written a thing since he met that (going to be polite, going to be polite, going to be polite) Amanda Palmer. Neil is an extremely nice man, and I wish him well. But he’s got a succubus with fake eyebrows attached to his life now, and I don’t expect a whole lot from him. I hope I’m wrong. I’ve also read all of Charlaine Harris and Terry Pratchett. The author search is ON. Email me with suggestions, please.

10. I am admitting to myself that sometimes, I am mean. I say horrible things, or I think horrible things. Some of them are comical, some of them are just godawful, the sort of thing that your inner censor deals with. I’m allowing myself to accept this part of me. I love it when I’m on the zen pouf, (who doesn’t love to be on the zen pouf?), but I am not always happy, or loving, or forgiving. I am always in process of those things though, and I think it’s unwise to pretend I’m always merry and full of sunshine. I am, mostly. At the end of the day, I have to make peace with the sarcastic, wise-cracking, insecure girl that shares the same space with a woman who sees the good in everybody and everything, (but realises she can’t make people live up to it), and wants to leave the world better than when she came in. They are the same person.

11. I quit my extremely well-paying with awesome benefits corporate job. It was miserable there. I am helping my dad at his shop. The roof is leaking like mad every time it rains, and it’s a total shitshow in there. Dad refuses to allow anyone to fix the roof. It’s not a money thing. He just keeps saying he’ll do it when he has time. He works like 16 hours a day, so I don’t see this happening anytime soon. I was going to just get some roofers up there, and ask for forgiveness later, but he yelled at me like I was my mother when the tree people came to cut the branches needing removal from the roof. My dad has NEVER yelled at me like that. Not even when I had horrible boyfriends with long hair and dark and spooky attitudes. So I am leery of the roof situation.Maybe he will allow roofers to go up there when you can actually see the sky.

12. So, private practice is on hold for a bit. There are some other reasons why I’m at the shop too, but they are too lengthy to divulge here. What I want to do SO BADLY is make T-Shirts informing men over the age of 60 that yes, I can make the keys they want. It’s always the same, they wander in, look me in the eye, and say something like, “Hello there missy. Is there a locksmith in here that can make me some keys?” I keep from making an evil face. I say, “That’s me.” They look at me like I might be pulling their leg. “Really?” They say. They crane their necks to see if there’s a male lurking in the background. There isn’t. They sigh, resigned, sure their keys will fail, and hand them over. I then proceed directly to whatever blank I need, and make the keys. I do it quickly, with efficiency and precision. I usually don’t brush off these guys’ keys. That means the edges are sharp. “Are they guaranteed to work?” they ask. I reply that nothing in life is ever guaranteed, but the keys will work. I charge them extra, (hey-it’s asshole tax), and use the extra money for the “Candy for Nice Customers” fund. They always want a receipt. They walk away, grumbling, and I mutter whatever mean name comes into my head. Sometimes they come back. They don’t do this because the keys don’t work, they do this because they are AMAZED. They share their amazement with me, usually shaking them in the air so they jangle. “They work, they work!” they crow, and I try to make my grimace into a smile. What I WANT to say to them, or have on T-Shirts are the following:

Having breasts does not prevent me from making your keys correctly.

Don’t act like a chauvinist towards your locksmith, and she won’t treat you like a fragile old man.

I have two Bachelor’s degrees, and a Master’s Degree. I am licensed by the state to practice psychotherapy. Do YOU think I might be SMART enough to cut your keys now?

I charge asshole tax.

14. You know. Just stuff. That’s what I’m talking about when I say I’m mean sometimes. Ok…so Don is home now, watching what I call an “Everything is Poison” show. These are inevitably about food, gasoline, plastics, medicines, pesticides, governments, various diseases, and what we as viewers should be doing about it. What I do about these shows is have nightmares, and pay through the nose for organic food. I will also cuddle with Don. Goodnight.