psychic. . . witches. . . sixes

Received a phone call from my sister today, “Hey how are you doing?  How are you feeling?  Is Mike okay?”

“I’m good, same stuff we discussed but to a lesser degree, hopefully, the GAPS protocol is working. Mike is good, he’s just a pain in the ass when he’s not working, kids are both okay, why?”

“Okay, I’ll call you back, I have to do some research, but I”ll call you back.”

“Nettie, are you feeling things nobody else feels?  Have you had a seeing?”

“I’ll call you back, I promise!”

Mike asked me what was wrong, so I told him “I think she’s had a seeing”  He looked perplexed and raised an eyebrow expecting me to explain.  “Do you remember some years back before IFA remodeled?  I told you about an old guy petting Troy?”  He didn’t remember.  Of course, he remembers nothing unless it directly involves him.  oy vey!  Okay so the explanation. . .

“Angell, get Troy, make sure he’s on a leash!  Some people don’t like dogs and he’s big enough to scare lots of people!”  Troy the brindle mastiff.  Big doof, loves people and especially little kids!

In we went to pick up horse supplies, chicken feed and hopefully ferret food.  Hope they aren’t out!  Otherwise, I’ll have to order.  It’s a Saturday morning, slow by their standards, just us.  As we wandered through the store looking at horse-tack, specifically a bit for her mustang, the amazing “untrainable” mustang, a middle-aged man approached us.  Brush popper had, old-time vest, crazy rag around his neck, handle-bar mustache, jeans tucked into books. . . classic local cowboy!  They have not changed their style for over 100 years and I love it!  All servicable wear but with style.  Through sign-say he asked to pet Troy who without asking leave walked up to this gentleman and proceeded to lean against his legs for a long ear rub and tail scratch!  I, of course, signed yes.  He was surprised to see I knew a little bit of sign, smiled and began loving on Troy.  After a few minutes, he smiled at both my daughter and I signed a pleasant thank you and wandered off through the store toward the front door.

We got what we needed, Troy wandering behind us, looking for more strangers to love on him.  Upon check out, I asked if the store had been quiet and the clerk said: “Yes only you two for hours.”  I thought that was weird so I pointed out “What about that gentleman who just left?”  The clerk told me it had only been my daughter and me for hours!  “No, there was a gentleman wearing a brush popper hat who pet the dog, he was mute and/or deaf.  He signed to us.”  My daughter agreeing the entire time.  The clerk got a queer look on her face, asked us to hold on a moment.  Within a couple of minutes, the manager, an older woman came out front and asked what we had seen. So I told her.  She smiled and said “Oh, you met the Vet.  He was a veterinarian here some 50 years ago.  He enjoyed coming in after he retired.  But he passed 15 years ago.”

 

 

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INFJ – oy vey

In an attempt to explain myself to a friend then later one of my sisters, I realized, that I truly fit the INFJ personality type.  This does, however,  really back up my own description of self:  “Skipping through life and not really paying attention to the minutia.”

To those Two who get me, Nevada and Oz, thanks for tolerating my special brand of crazy complete with hang-ups. . .

I see what others see as my strengths as my weaknesses and what others see as my weaknesses as my strengths. . . Anyway, these describe me . . . I’ve eliminated the labels of strength and weakness. . .

  • Creative – Combining a vivid imagination with a strong sense of compassion, INFJs use their creativity to resolve not technical challenges, but human ones. People with the INFJ personality type enjoy finding the perfect solution for someone they care about, and this strength makes them excellent counselors and advisors.
  • Insightful – Seeing through dishonesty and disingenuous motives, INFJs step past manipulation and sales tactics and into a more honest discussion. INFJs see how people and events are connected and are able to use that insight to get to the heart of the matter.
  • Inspiring and Convincing – Speaking in human terms, not technical, INFJs have a fluid, inspirational writing style that appeals to the inner idealist in their audience. INFJs can even be astonishingly good orators, speaking with warmth and passion, if they are proud of what they are speaking for.
  • Decisive – Their creativity, insight, and inspiration are able to have a real impact on the world, as INFJs are able to follow through on their ideas with conviction, willpower, and the planning necessary to see complex projects through to the end. INFJs don’t just see the way things ought to be, they act on those insights.
  • Determined and Passionate – When INFJs come to believe that something is important, they pursue that goal with a conviction and energy that can catch even their friends and loved ones off guard. INFJs will rock the boat if they have to, something not everyone likes to see, but their passion for their chosen cause is an inseparable part of their personality.
  • Altruistic – These strengths are used for good. INFJs have strong beliefs and take the actions that they do not because they are trying to advance themselves, but because they are trying to advance an idea that they truly believe will make the world a better place.
  • Sensitive – When someone challenges or criticizes INFJs’ principles or values, they are likely to receive an alarmingly strong response. People with the INFJ personality type are highly vulnerable to criticism and conflict, and questioning their motives is the quickest way to their bad side.
  • Extremely Private – INFJs tend to present themselves as the culmination of an idea. This is partly because they believe in this idea, but also because INFJs are extremely private when it comes to their personal lives, using this image to keep themselves from having to truly open up, even to close friends. Trusting a new friend can be even more challenging for INFJs.
  • Perfectionistic – INFJs are all but defined by their pursuit of ideals. While this is a wonderful quality in many ways, an ideal situation is not always possible – in politics, in business, in romance – and INFJs too often drop or ignore healthy and productive situations and relationships, always believing there might be a better option down the road.
  • Always Need to Have a Cause – INFJs get so caught up in the passion of their pursuits that any of the cumbersome administrative or maintenance work that comes between them and the ideal they see on the horizon is deeply unwelcome. INFJs like to know that they are taking concrete steps towards their goals, and if routine tasks feel like they are getting in the way, or worse yet, there is no goal at all, they will feel restless and disappointed.
  • Can Burn Out Easily – Their passion, poor patients for routine maintenance, tendency to present themselves as an ideal, and extreme privacy tend to leave INFJs with few options for letting off steam. People with this personality type are likely to exhaust themselves in short order if they don’t find a way to balance their ideals with the realities of day-to-day living.

 

You have one job. . .

Shave the kitty and tell me about it. . . .

Finding the scissors, caused me to think about why I’m landscaping which caused a shiver and a blush.  I realized at this point, this may take longer than I had planned.  The plan was to snip as close as possible, new razor head on the handle and one standing by, just in case.

Jeans slide down my legs, t-shirt over the top; chonies on the ground, then bra off.  Blessedly cool finally!  Sitting on the side of the tub, legs spread, scissors in hand, I quickly trimmed as close to the skin as the scissors would reach without causing damage.    Rubbing and feeling along the length of me to make sure the longest bits are gone, the tingling begins, the clenching in my lower belly, a bit wet. . .  Shower on, temperature adjusted, lukewarm for the feel of clean but not too warm since we reached 102 today.  Hair washed, face washed, body, legs shaved to the top, rinsed, then with the tub partially full and sitting on the side of the tub, the shaving begins.  Using a lovely scented wash from Hawaii a friend had given me, the kitty was soaped up and in the process discovering I was then quite wet!  It’s amazing how aroused one can be with legs spread, open to the air thinking of One in another part of the state. . . okay, safest shaving first, outside in as it were.  Long, slow careful strokes from inner thigh toward the lady bits so as to get the corners, one side then the other until I have what is essentially a landing strip.  Hmm, sort of like this as well.  Note to self. . . . now, change direction, the bits of hair in the pubis area all the way across.  Still a bit numb from a C-section in 1989, the scar still slightly visible even before shaving and now my breath is a bit more shallow I realize so forcing slow deep breaths.  Next the tender bits.  I realize as the lips are gently parted to shave the remainder the hair, (1) the soap is gone (2) I need to rinse and begin again with soap and (3) the latter two are due to my level of arousal!  Its one thing if the shaving takes place just because one likes it, but it’s a whole other thing if the having takes place because one is told to do so. . .  okay focus!  Getting the last bits with the razor, feeling and checking for any last bits of hair, rinsing and cool and moisturizing, I feel the job is done and done well when I remember I’m supposed to note size of particular bits, however lips puffy due to the shaving and arousal, clit, has always seemed a bit small, just a tiny little nub, however, she is quite responsive and at this point I stop lest I be found moaning. . . . Now i’m sitting here, writing this experience, a bit wet with the thoughts of One, who gave a safe word last night, a safe word I will probably never use wondering how many times I will need to shave or if I should just get a Brazillian wax done, before One sees the work. . . .

 

January 7, 1976

I was turning 7 today and when by noon there were no preparations for party or cake or even a gift, I screwed up my courage and asked my mother if I got a cake for my birthday.  Her response?  “Well, if you make it I”ll decorate it.”  That was the last time I ever asked and realized at the time I would never have a birthday again.  Years of marriage, children, making a huge deal of birthdays for my kids and husband and they still forget, ignore or just plain don’t care.  49 this years and husband comes in and say “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday, I”ll make it up.”  He said this last year and the year before.  The year before that he asked to take me out, but upon checking out, he forgot his wallet and I had to pay.  He’s only prepared and genuinely celebrated two of my birthdays in almost 30 years. . . .  I don’t know why I’m surprised or that it still hurts, but it does.

Childhood

He’s slightly built. Image result for youthful offender pics in orange

Dirty blond.

Cheesy Mustache.

All of 5 feet tall.

Looks like a 12-year-old trying to appear older.

All understandable since he’s 15 years old.  This is the second time through this program; revoked due to his violence, yet when asked if he is violent, he’ll answer “no.”    Before the intake, he volunteered he came back purposely.  This took me aback, “Why?”  I ask.

His response? “This is the only place I’ve been allowed to be a kid.”

ouch. . . .

I recover, relatively quickly and while typing my notes I can’t help thinking, “What does this kids response say about the youth in this state and what we expose them to daily, 24 – 7?  What happens here stays here?  At what f’ing expense?!?

WTF?

Leaving Bakersfield, yet again.

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September 8th, I drove for hours to Southern California to attend a funeral.  The funeral of one of my Aunties, the craziest yet ironically the most stable of my Aunties.  She was the ONLY stable female in my life, ever.  Now she’s gone.  Sadly, I used to wish and hope that she would rescue me from my mother.  If Wishes were fishes, then poor men would eat. . .

Image result for Greenlawn mortuary panama rd

 

When I’m down here, for good or for ill, I always try to visit a good friend with whom I had lost contact for 18 years, the age of my daughter.  He’s a good man; compassionate, a great dad and dominant down through his soul and I’m not entirely sure he knows he Dominant.  He just expects others to do as he asks and doing anything else, is not a thought in his mind.  He’s a good person and I care deeply for him.  The sex is good, well GREAT but I can’t reasonably expect any commitment or permanent ties, other than friendship.  I miss him more and more and it hurts more and more each time I come to town and then have to leave.

Image result for Lufkin Oildale California

I’m heading back home tomorrow at O’Dark 30 after having said good-bye tonight, to my sisters, niece and most importantly my Dad.  He’s so frail and in so much pain, in need of both back and knee surgery, I’m scared out of my mind that when I return it may not be for fun.  I will be back in the Spring; spring for California any rate.

So back to the mountains, back to cowboy country and gold mines and my life which I’ve carved out of rock. . . .

 

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Perfume in the Early Moring

I am a firm believer that dreams are just excess energy which hasn’t been worked out during waking hours. As in “OMG I am so excited about [fill in the blank] I’ll never get to sleep” kind of energy. I have always believed this even when I’m in a nightmare. There is a cognitive part of my brain which is talking me through the nightmare assuring me it’s just that, a nightmare. I don’t believe in ghosts, I don’t believe in anything paranormal. Now, that being said, I had what some would call a visitation last night (08/14/16) around 1 am. I woke, smelling my grandmother’s perfume, absolutely choking on it, it was so strong! My husband couldn’t smell anything but the scent lingered into the late morning. My grandmother has been dead since April 23, 1995. I really don’t know what to make of this and I’m kind of freaking out. . .  well quietly freaking out.

 

Image result for windsong perfume

Familal Dysfunction

Received a phone call from one of my sisters today; she was completely distraught, crying, ill with fever and what sounds like bronchial issues, sobbing to me about what needs to be done, what she has been doing and how did things get so bad?!?  My answer?  I soothed her, hopefully, told her how to take care of a fever and lay off the Gatorade but add water, a litre per hour, and just listened.  Made me want to cry for her, for her pain, and for the children we were never allowed to be.

And now, this is where I am in my head. . . haven’t yet but I’m there. . . .

Out of control