I first met Faith at a Pennsylvania Mental Health Consumers' Conference some years ago.She lived in Philly. She was attending a clubhouse program daily. She enjoyed getting dressed up and she could dance real fine.
She was good with make-up and good with people. She lost enough weight not to need her c-pap machine anymore.
Faith could talk. She had things to say and she said them. When Philly David's sister Marie died, Faith was the first one to share memories of Marie at the memorial service. Philly David sent Faith Marie's beads. Faith liked to make her own jewelry.
Faith was a member of friendsofsapphoq in good standing. She rarely e-mailed in, but when she did, her comments were insightful and right on the money. And she had dreams.
She dreamed of a day when she could be self-supporting. She wanted to be a cosmotologist-- something I believe she would have been damn good at.
Philly David tried to ring Faith on her cellphone the other day but it was out of service. Thinking that odd, he called her home number. Her mother answered. Faith was dead. She died on May 4th. She was in her late twenties.
sapphoq n friends
Friday, May 25, 2007
Label the M.H.P.s
Announcer Cut:
Step right up folks and get yer tickets here for the latest greatest craze sweeping the nation.
Welcome to the new gameshow called Label the M.H.Pees! Why should the mental hell professionals have all of the fun? Yessiree Bob and Betty, presenting your host for the evening Ima Freek.
Ima Freek: It's gonna be a really good show, yes indeed. Behind the curtains are the exhibits. Presenting Exhibit number one!
Note the snooty upturned nose, the rosebud lips. The marriage finger dripping with diamonds. The perfect teeth
dripping with venom. The keys to her snobby Saab laying on her desk.
Terrorpiss claims she understands queer culture. That is a blatant lie folks. Being a Rocky Horror Picture
Show groupie in her youth does not render her an expert on our delicious patchwork community.
Behind her stands her mentor He's Gottit All. She has been known to oogle him with her devouring eyes in front of "her"
"clients." She parrots him at every opportunity and uses him to boost up her false ego and flailing self-esteem.
Terrorpiss does not "believe" in dissociation outside of the label "borderline." Oh no. She wouldn't recognize
an alter if the alter smacked her smug little face. As further evidence of her dysfunctional e-glow, she has claimed that
"The book has not been written on" what she knows about the label "borderline." And she has also claimed that she has
"fixed" a previously "borderline" patient within the space of a single year! Borderline no more!
Like many tees, she has labeled the unsuspecting customer as "borderline" because they had the audacity to disagree with
her oh so very clinical assessments, ideas, and opinions. Oh dear, oh dear.
Terrorpiss is not currently working as a terrorpiss. Instead, she spends her days editing a center newsletter for
He's Gottit All and her evenings cranking out stained glass window art.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please find your voting cards underneath your seats and vote. Her label will be revealed after a few
words from our sponsor.
Announcer Cut: Here we have the brand spanking new indispensable label-maker! Close your eyes, open the book at random, and run your finger
down the page until the little voices tells you to stop. And presto-jingo, you have a brand new label for your patient!
Brought to you by the shrinks who voted on all of the labels in Da Systemic Machination 7.5.
Ima Freek: Ladies and Gentlemen, the results are in! Drum roll, please!
[Four zootsuits enter stage left, rolling a large drum. One fishes out a key and leads terrorpiss out of cage. Terrorpiss is shouting but she cannot be heard.
Ima Freek: Silence please! Terrorpiss, here are YOUR labels! Borderline Personality Disorder.
Narcissistic Disorder. Histrionic Disorder. Dissociative Identity Disorder not otherwise specified
with dissociative features and depersonalization. Zoots, take her away to the re-education center!
Terrorpiss number one: No! You can't do this to me! Nooooooooooo!
Ima Freek: Audience, please sing along with me! Du. Du. Du. Another one bites the dust!
Du. Du. Du. Another one bites the dust!
[And the audience begins to sing.]
Ima Freek: Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen. That was indeed rousing. And now, without further ado, I
present to you Exhibits number two and three!
Yes indeed, these two are quite the pair.
Exhibit number two is actually the doppleganger of a terrorshrink.
See the terrorshrink beat his head against the cage bars in rage.
Ah, he doesn't quite come off as a teddy bear now, does he?
Terrorshrink raped several of his patients.
He got away with it. The Medical Misconduct is Okay Board convicted him of poor record-keeping.
Seems he didn't keep adequate records of the goings on in his office.
Behind him lurk all of his co-workers, guilty by their silence.
Piteous. Piteous.
Exhibit number three is a surprise appearance by the infamous Cold Slut!
The Cold Slut was the terrorshrink's co-worker and fuckbuddy.
It is rumoured that she liked him to give her bubblebaths!
[Audience gasps in one collective gasp of horror.]
The Cold Slut has been described as a self-made woman.
Notice the nails filed into crafty points. See the vague resemblance to an actual humyn being.
Smell the cesspool of her inner being. The stench threatens to overcome.
If any of you feel faint, please raise your hand and the zoots will furnish you with oxygen.
[Zoots run around frantically, giving out masks and individual oxygen tanks].
Ima Freek: Ladies and Gentlemen! Once again please find your voting cards under your seats.
Labels for both the terrorshrink and the Cold Slut will be announced after these words from our
sponsor.
Announcer Cut: Are you a terrorpiss or terrorshrink? Are you afraid that your patients are contagious? Have
you forgotten how to be a human being? Cracking under the pressure? Terrified that you
will be found out as a fraud? Take a vacation! Come stay with us at the Re-Education Center.
At the Re-Education Center, you will be wrapped up in strait jackets, given mind-numbing
drugs, and exposed to meaningless drivel in both individual and group terrorpee.
Not covered by any decent insurance company.
Ima Freek: Welcome back Ladies and Gentlemen. And now without further ado, the hanging of labels about
the necks of these dastardly foes will take place.
[Four zootsuits enter stage left with large signs attached to chains. They swarm into the cages and bolt the
signs to the heads of the Doppleganger of the terrorshrink and to the Cold Slut. The audience cheers as both
dangerous beings are thrown onto hospital beds and held with five point restraints. The zootsuits exit after
carefully locking the doors of exhibits two and three behind them.]
Ima Freek: May I have your attention please? Now for the revealing of the labels.
Cold Slut, the race was close, very close. Here are your labels! Dependent personality disorder.
Bipolar Disorder with Psychotic Delusions of Grandeur. Both of your labels carry a special
footnote. And the footnote reads-- Poor prognosis!
[Audience begins to chant: Liar. Liar. Liar. Cold Slut begins to cry.]
Ima Freek: Cold Slut, it is too late for your crocodile tears. You should have thought about what your lies
would do to the former victims of the terrorshrink. But you didn't. You were determined to save
him from the consequences of his actions. Enough of you!
[Large hooks from the ceiling descend and hover over the cage holding the Cold Slut. Ima Freek claps her
hands and the hooks clink as they connect with the bars on top of the cage. The cage is lifted and disappears
into a hole in the ceiling.]
Ima Freek: A specially equipped helicopter is waiting to take the Cold Slut away.
[Audience begins singing "They're coming to take you away haha. They're coming to take you away hoho.
To the funny farm, where life is....
A bell buzzes.]
Ima Freek: And that is the Gong, audience. We are almost out of time. We have one more label.
It is a very weighy label for a dead man. What you did to your patients was sooo wrong.
Terrorshrink, your sign says psychopath!
[The cage sinks into the floor and disappears. The audience breaks out into sheer joy. There is dancing in the aisles.]
Ima Freek: Ladies and Gentlemen, don't forget these things! We are more than our labels. We are bigger
than our problems! We are who we are! The Never-A-Mother-Incompetent folks run shrieking
from our presence in horror. Terror piss-es itself when we empower our selves and our lives.
Never forget that Terror shrinks from thee. Feel you all next week at the greatest gameshow on
earth-- Label the M.H. Pees.
Announcer Cut: Brought to you by the rage of ten thousand liberated psychiatric survivors and sapphoq.
[Audience continues their liberation celebration. Fade to black.]
Step right up folks and get yer tickets here for the latest greatest craze sweeping the nation.
Welcome to the new gameshow called Label the M.H.Pees! Why should the mental hell professionals have all of the fun? Yessiree Bob and Betty, presenting your host for the evening Ima Freek.
Ima Freek: It's gonna be a really good show, yes indeed. Behind the curtains are the exhibits. Presenting Exhibit number one!
Note the snooty upturned nose, the rosebud lips. The marriage finger dripping with diamonds. The perfect teeth
dripping with venom. The keys to her snobby Saab laying on her desk.
Terrorpiss claims she understands queer culture. That is a blatant lie folks. Being a Rocky Horror Picture
Show groupie in her youth does not render her an expert on our delicious patchwork community.
Behind her stands her mentor He's Gottit All. She has been known to oogle him with her devouring eyes in front of "her"
"clients." She parrots him at every opportunity and uses him to boost up her false ego and flailing self-esteem.
Terrorpiss does not "believe" in dissociation outside of the label "borderline." Oh no. She wouldn't recognize
an alter if the alter smacked her smug little face. As further evidence of her dysfunctional e-glow, she has claimed that
"The book has not been written on" what she knows about the label "borderline." And she has also claimed that she has
"fixed" a previously "borderline" patient within the space of a single year! Borderline no more!
Like many tees, she has labeled the unsuspecting customer as "borderline" because they had the audacity to disagree with
her oh so very clinical assessments, ideas, and opinions. Oh dear, oh dear.
Terrorpiss is not currently working as a terrorpiss. Instead, she spends her days editing a center newsletter for
He's Gottit All and her evenings cranking out stained glass window art.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please find your voting cards underneath your seats and vote. Her label will be revealed after a few
words from our sponsor.
Announcer Cut: Here we have the brand spanking new indispensable label-maker! Close your eyes, open the book at random, and run your finger
down the page until the little voices tells you to stop. And presto-jingo, you have a brand new label for your patient!
Brought to you by the shrinks who voted on all of the labels in Da Systemic Machination 7.5.
Ima Freek: Ladies and Gentlemen, the results are in! Drum roll, please!
[Four zootsuits enter stage left, rolling a large drum. One fishes out a key and leads terrorpiss out of cage. Terrorpiss is shouting but she cannot be heard.
Ima Freek: Silence please! Terrorpiss, here are YOUR labels! Borderline Personality Disorder.
Narcissistic Disorder. Histrionic Disorder. Dissociative Identity Disorder not otherwise specified
with dissociative features and depersonalization. Zoots, take her away to the re-education center!
Terrorpiss number one: No! You can't do this to me! Nooooooooooo!
Ima Freek: Audience, please sing along with me! Du. Du. Du. Another one bites the dust!
Du. Du. Du. Another one bites the dust!
[And the audience begins to sing.]
Ima Freek: Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen. That was indeed rousing. And now, without further ado, I
present to you Exhibits number two and three!
Yes indeed, these two are quite the pair.
Exhibit number two is actually the doppleganger of a terrorshrink.
See the terrorshrink beat his head against the cage bars in rage.
Ah, he doesn't quite come off as a teddy bear now, does he?
Terrorshrink raped several of his patients.
He got away with it. The Medical Misconduct is Okay Board convicted him of poor record-keeping.
Seems he didn't keep adequate records of the goings on in his office.
Behind him lurk all of his co-workers, guilty by their silence.
Piteous. Piteous.
Exhibit number three is a surprise appearance by the infamous Cold Slut!
The Cold Slut was the terrorshrink's co-worker and fuckbuddy.
It is rumoured that she liked him to give her bubblebaths!
[Audience gasps in one collective gasp of horror.]
The Cold Slut has been described as a self-made woman.
Notice the nails filed into crafty points. See the vague resemblance to an actual humyn being.
Smell the cesspool of her inner being. The stench threatens to overcome.
If any of you feel faint, please raise your hand and the zoots will furnish you with oxygen.
[Zoots run around frantically, giving out masks and individual oxygen tanks].
Ima Freek: Ladies and Gentlemen! Once again please find your voting cards under your seats.
Labels for both the terrorshrink and the Cold Slut will be announced after these words from our
sponsor.
Announcer Cut: Are you a terrorpiss or terrorshrink? Are you afraid that your patients are contagious? Have
you forgotten how to be a human being? Cracking under the pressure? Terrified that you
will be found out as a fraud? Take a vacation! Come stay with us at the Re-Education Center.
At the Re-Education Center, you will be wrapped up in strait jackets, given mind-numbing
drugs, and exposed to meaningless drivel in both individual and group terrorpee.
Not covered by any decent insurance company.
Ima Freek: Welcome back Ladies and Gentlemen. And now without further ado, the hanging of labels about
the necks of these dastardly foes will take place.
[Four zootsuits enter stage left with large signs attached to chains. They swarm into the cages and bolt the
signs to the heads of the Doppleganger of the terrorshrink and to the Cold Slut. The audience cheers as both
dangerous beings are thrown onto hospital beds and held with five point restraints. The zootsuits exit after
carefully locking the doors of exhibits two and three behind them.]
Ima Freek: May I have your attention please? Now for the revealing of the labels.
Cold Slut, the race was close, very close. Here are your labels! Dependent personality disorder.
Bipolar Disorder with Psychotic Delusions of Grandeur. Both of your labels carry a special
footnote. And the footnote reads-- Poor prognosis!
[Audience begins to chant: Liar. Liar. Liar. Cold Slut begins to cry.]
Ima Freek: Cold Slut, it is too late for your crocodile tears. You should have thought about what your lies
would do to the former victims of the terrorshrink. But you didn't. You were determined to save
him from the consequences of his actions. Enough of you!
[Large hooks from the ceiling descend and hover over the cage holding the Cold Slut. Ima Freek claps her
hands and the hooks clink as they connect with the bars on top of the cage. The cage is lifted and disappears
into a hole in the ceiling.]
Ima Freek: A specially equipped helicopter is waiting to take the Cold Slut away.
[Audience begins singing "They're coming to take you away haha. They're coming to take you away hoho.
A bell buzzes.]
Ima Freek: And that is the Gong, audience. We are almost out of time. We have one more label.
It is a very weighy label for a dead man. What you did to your patients was sooo wrong.
Terrorshrink, your sign says psychopath!
[The cage sinks into the floor and disappears. The audience breaks out into sheer joy. There is dancing in the aisles.]
Ima Freek: Ladies and Gentlemen, don't forget these things! We are more than our labels. We are bigger
than our problems! We are who we are! The Never-A-Mother-Incompetent folks run shrieking
from our presence in horror. Terror piss-es itself when we empower our selves and our lives.
Never forget that Terror shrinks from thee. Feel you all next week at the greatest gameshow on
earth-- Label the M.H. Pees.
Announcer Cut: Brought to you by the rage of ten thousand liberated psychiatric survivors and sapphoq.
[Audience continues their liberation celebration. Fade to black.]
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The First Frog 5/22/07
This afternoon Her Delightful Self and I went for a stroll. We were ambushed by a fierce but overweight rat terrier, who then decided that Herself was worthy of his friendship, trailed by his panicking human. Fears of his panicking human were waylaid by Herself's "I love almost all dogs" deportment, made obvious by a freely wagging tail and further evidenced by the relaxation in the rat's stance. It appeared that Herself is the first fellow dog that the rat terrier decided not to attack. We humans stood around while the two dogs assured each other that they could indeed be friends.
We took our leave and headed for a creek [pronounced "crik" in these parts] off of a jogging trail. Herself loves the creek. Herself loves all walks with her two human companions truth be told. She has at times indicated her interest in visiting the creek when passing the path leading to it. From that, I gather that she does prefer water to city streets and quiet paths with trees to traffic hurling itself away, away, away from here.
We have been visiting said creek almost daily within the last week, waiting for the appearance of Greenies, Minkies, Bullfrogs, and Northern Leopards. Little muddy holes along the banks indicate their presence and possible winter domiciles but to date there were no shrieking frogs or tadpoles. Herself has learned how to sniff out the scent of frogs on the grass along both sides of the creek.
Here I must confess that at home, I have a room set aside strictly for the keeping and feeding of frogs-- called "the Frog Room" by husband who tends to shy away from anything remotely slimy-- and in which are tanks set up for up to fifteen frogs at any one time. The current residents are Cutie Pie (European toad, female); The Hobbit (smaller species of African bullfrog, male, current in his third month of sleep); two Leopards which I suspect came in with a pet store's shipment of feeder fish (gender to be determined); and a bunch of fire-bellied toads all named "Fatty" (mixture of males and females). Herself has always been respectfully curious about the residents of the Frog Room, never displaying any aggression toward them whatsoever.
The sky was a crisp blue and the temperature was cool and comfortable, sixties, perfect strolling weather. Herself and I checked out the upper pond, various little pools where sometimes tadpoles are housed, and then the first tiny waterfall cascading over rocks and algae into a deeper pool of water. We elected to sit for a bit then and we were soon rewarded by a frog that I recognized. Two summers ago, I rescued a juvenile brown Greenie from the over-enthusiastic grasp of a monstrous child who had no adult guardians in sight. Apparently, he had never been given the standard lecture entitled, "Leave frogs and toads be. If you don't, you are subject to warts or possibly having your hands fall off just like if you uh play with your..." that is the expressed duty of almost all parents to deliver to their pre-adolescent sons. Frog in question had a remarkable brightly colored green head. I pried him away from the boy and took the little frog home for a fortnight in a rescue tank. I then released the frog back to his native environs. He did indeed look back at me before disappearing into the creek that was his home.
Herself was enjoying a long session of, "Scratch me here and pet me there." I was engaged in watching little bugs on the bottom of the pool which reminded me of the diving beetles in Maine but weren't. These bugs, although probably related to diving beetles somehow if shape was to be the judge, walked underwater with ease on rocks and swam mid-level while propelling their little bodies left and right as they made a beeline for the next rock. They stayed submerged and mid-level to water bottom, not surfacing at all. I heard the tell-tale plop from the left bank and watched the Greenie swim underwater and then hide partially wedged under a rock near the foot of the waterfall. I waited.
The second waterfall, more of a ripple really, was continuing to move the water along several feet away from where the pool became shallow. The little bugs continued their movements. A young man was teaching an older woman how to throw a frisbee on the grass above us. The Greenie remained where he was without stirring for a good ten minutes. We sat. I detected a lightening quick movement. It was the Greenie who decided to bravely make a break for it. He dashed to the muck along the right side of the pool and partially emerged. His body remained covered by the brown muck. His head was on the muddy ground just below some of the aforementioned hidey-holes.
His head had lightened through the last winter. There was still a dim splash of green but most of the startling green had migrated to around chin level where the tell-tale yellowish-green of maleness took over. He was still very much a handsome fellow. I was glad to see that he was plump and muscular. I imagined him dining on the little bugs along the bottom, although I suspected he liked to catch insects that made their hapless way along the water's edge. A random cut blade of grass lay on his head. His eyes stood out and prevented him from being mistaken for a misshapen rock.
Herself indicated that she was indeed ready to move on and so I got up. We meandered away, both of us perhaps dreaming of summer days to come where pleasant afternoons will be spent once again along the creek waiting on the company of frogs.
spike q, crossposted to http://sapphoq.livejournal.com and to http://360.yahoo.com/sapphoq
We took our leave and headed for a creek [pronounced "crik" in these parts] off of a jogging trail. Herself loves the creek. Herself loves all walks with her two human companions truth be told. She has at times indicated her interest in visiting the creek when passing the path leading to it. From that, I gather that she does prefer water to city streets and quiet paths with trees to traffic hurling itself away, away, away from here.
We have been visiting said creek almost daily within the last week, waiting for the appearance of Greenies, Minkies, Bullfrogs, and Northern Leopards. Little muddy holes along the banks indicate their presence and possible winter domiciles but to date there were no shrieking frogs or tadpoles. Herself has learned how to sniff out the scent of frogs on the grass along both sides of the creek.
Here I must confess that at home, I have a room set aside strictly for the keeping and feeding of frogs-- called "the Frog Room" by husband who tends to shy away from anything remotely slimy-- and in which are tanks set up for up to fifteen frogs at any one time. The current residents are Cutie Pie (European toad, female); The Hobbit (smaller species of African bullfrog, male, current in his third month of sleep); two Leopards which I suspect came in with a pet store's shipment of feeder fish (gender to be determined); and a bunch of fire-bellied toads all named "Fatty" (mixture of males and females). Herself has always been respectfully curious about the residents of the Frog Room, never displaying any aggression toward them whatsoever.
The sky was a crisp blue and the temperature was cool and comfortable, sixties, perfect strolling weather. Herself and I checked out the upper pond, various little pools where sometimes tadpoles are housed, and then the first tiny waterfall cascading over rocks and algae into a deeper pool of water. We elected to sit for a bit then and we were soon rewarded by a frog that I recognized. Two summers ago, I rescued a juvenile brown Greenie from the over-enthusiastic grasp of a monstrous child who had no adult guardians in sight. Apparently, he had never been given the standard lecture entitled, "Leave frogs and toads be. If you don't, you are subject to warts or possibly having your hands fall off just like if you uh play with your..." that is the expressed duty of almost all parents to deliver to their pre-adolescent sons. Frog in question had a remarkable brightly colored green head. I pried him away from the boy and took the little frog home for a fortnight in a rescue tank. I then released the frog back to his native environs. He did indeed look back at me before disappearing into the creek that was his home.
Herself was enjoying a long session of, "Scratch me here and pet me there." I was engaged in watching little bugs on the bottom of the pool which reminded me of the diving beetles in Maine but weren't. These bugs, although probably related to diving beetles somehow if shape was to be the judge, walked underwater with ease on rocks and swam mid-level while propelling their little bodies left and right as they made a beeline for the next rock. They stayed submerged and mid-level to water bottom, not surfacing at all. I heard the tell-tale plop from the left bank and watched the Greenie swim underwater and then hide partially wedged under a rock near the foot of the waterfall. I waited.
The second waterfall, more of a ripple really, was continuing to move the water along several feet away from where the pool became shallow. The little bugs continued their movements. A young man was teaching an older woman how to throw a frisbee on the grass above us. The Greenie remained where he was without stirring for a good ten minutes. We sat. I detected a lightening quick movement. It was the Greenie who decided to bravely make a break for it. He dashed to the muck along the right side of the pool and partially emerged. His body remained covered by the brown muck. His head was on the muddy ground just below some of the aforementioned hidey-holes.
His head had lightened through the last winter. There was still a dim splash of green but most of the startling green had migrated to around chin level where the tell-tale yellowish-green of maleness took over. He was still very much a handsome fellow. I was glad to see that he was plump and muscular. I imagined him dining on the little bugs along the bottom, although I suspected he liked to catch insects that made their hapless way along the water's edge. A random cut blade of grass lay on his head. His eyes stood out and prevented him from being mistaken for a misshapen rock.
Herself indicated that she was indeed ready to move on and so I got up. We meandered away, both of us perhaps dreaming of summer days to come where pleasant afternoons will be spent once again along the creek waiting on the company of frogs.
spike q, crossposted to http://sapphoq.livejournal.com and to http://360.yahoo.com/sapphoq
Thursday, May 17, 2007
HEART ATTACK 5/17/07
A blonde gets home early from shopping and hears
strange noises coming from the bedroom.
sweating and panting.
"What's up?" she asks.
"I'm having a heart attack," cries the husband.
The blonde rushes downstairs to grab the phone, but
just as she's dialing, her four-year-old son comes up and says,
"Mommy! Mommy! Aunt Shirley is hiding in your closet, and she's got
no clothes on!"
The blonde slams the phone down and storms upstairs
into the bedroom, right past her husband, and rips open the closet
door. Sure enough, there is her sister, totally naked and cowering
on the closet floor.
"You rotten "Bitch", she screams.
"My husband's having a heart attack, and
you're running around naked scaring the kids!!"
lol, sapphoq n friends
LIVING WILL 5/17/07
Last night, my wife and I were
Sitting in the living room talking about many things.
The idea of a living will came up and I said to her,
"I never want to live in a vegetative state,
Dependent on some machine and getting fluids from a bottle.
If I ever come to that ...just pull the plug."
She got up, unplugged the TV and then threw out my
Beer.
Bitch.
sapphoq n friends
sapphoq n friends
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
MENS' RULES 5/8/07
At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down.
Finally, the guys' side of the story.
We always hear "the rules" from the female side.
Now here are the rules from the male side.
These are our rules! Please note... these are all numbered "1"
ON PURPOSE!
1. Men are NOT mind readers.
1. Learn to work the toilet seat.
You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down.
We need it up, you need it down.
You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.
1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides.
Let it be.
1. Shopping is NOT a sport.
And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want.
Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work!
Strong hints do not work!
Obvious hints do not work!
Just say it!
1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's
what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a Problem.
See a doctor.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument.
In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.
1. If you won't dress like the Victoria 's Secret models, don't expect
us to act like the studly soap opera guys.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are.
Don't ask us.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of them
makes you sad or angry, then we meant the other one.
1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done.
Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during
commercials.
1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings.
Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit.
We have no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like
nothing's wrong.
We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle, besides we
know you will bring it up again later.
1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer
you don't want to hear.
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is
fine...really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to
discuss such topics as baseball, the shotgun formation, or golf.
1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.
1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!
1. Thank you for reading this.
Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight;
But most men really don't mind that? It's like camping.
Pass this to as many men as you can-- to give them a laugh.
Pass this to as many women as you can-- to give them a bigger laugh.
shouting out to Angel from sapphoq n friends
Finally, the guys' side of the story.
We always hear "the rules" from the female side.
Now here are the rules from the male side.
These are our rules! Please note... these are all numbered "1"
ON PURPOSE!
1. Men are NOT mind readers.
1. Learn to work the toilet seat.
You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down.
We need it up, you need it down.
You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.
1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides.
Let it be.
1. Shopping is NOT a sport.
And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want.
Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work!
Strong hints do not work!
Obvious hints do not work!
Just say it!
1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's
what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a Problem.
See a doctor.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument.
In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.
1. If you won't dress like the Victoria 's Secret models, don't expect
us to act like the studly soap opera guys.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are.
Don't ask us.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of them
makes you sad or angry, then we meant the other one.
1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done.
Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during
commercials.
1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings.
Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit.
We have no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like
nothing's wrong.
We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle, besides we
know you will bring it up again later.
1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer
you don't want to hear.
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is
fine...really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to
discuss such topics as baseball, the shotgun formation, or golf.
1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.
1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!
1. Thank you for reading this.
Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight;
But most men really don't mind that? It's like camping.
Pass this to as many men as you can-- to give them a laugh.
Pass this to as many women as you can-- to give them a bigger laugh.
shouting out to Angel from sapphoq n friends
Sunday, May 06, 2007
DAY TWENTY
I checked out and waited for the van. The other five passengers to be picked up from the Days' Inn out toward West
Sedona were all F.S.A. [Financial Savings Association or something like that] people who were done with the conference
they had all gone to. One of the five was the speaker I had ridden up with. They were yakking-- the three in the
seat ahead of me-- and the speaker happened to mention "gays in the military" as being a problem. The two women
agreed with him, although he wasn't clear on what kind of problem he perceived queers and bi-queers in the military
to be. He also mentioned that there just weren't many lesbians around. He pegged the population of lesbians as
one percent. How obscene of him [and the two women perhaps also] to clearly demonstrate his prejudice in public as
a badge of honor. The conversation did not cause me to like rich people without class any better than I had before.
I said nothing. They were talking between themselves and weren't asking for my opinion. Had they been louder or
more obnoxious about things, I might have intervened.
At the airport, I was glad that I had downloaded and printed my boarding pass already. The line to do that was a
mob. The line to security was too long. I got through with time to spare and then it was wait for the plane, get on
the plane, admire the scenery, eat a small part of the mystery meat sandwich and salad for lunch on the plane, find
the next gate for the plane from Cleveland, get on that plane, get off that plane, find husband.
We went to the diner for dinner and I was glad to be home.
sapphoq n friends
Sedona were all F.S.A. [Financial Savings Association or something like that] people who were done with the conference
they had all gone to. One of the five was the speaker I had ridden up with. They were yakking-- the three in the
seat ahead of me-- and the speaker happened to mention "gays in the military" as being a problem. The two women
agreed with him, although he wasn't clear on what kind of problem he perceived queers and bi-queers in the military
to be. He also mentioned that there just weren't many lesbians around. He pegged the population of lesbians as
one percent. How obscene of him [and the two women perhaps also] to clearly demonstrate his prejudice in public as
a badge of honor. The conversation did not cause me to like rich people without class any better than I had before.
I said nothing. They were talking between themselves and weren't asking for my opinion. Had they been louder or
more obnoxious about things, I might have intervened.
At the airport, I was glad that I had downloaded and printed my boarding pass already. The line to do that was a
mob. The line to security was too long. I got through with time to spare and then it was wait for the plane, get on
the plane, admire the scenery, eat a small part of the mystery meat sandwich and salad for lunch on the plane, find
the next gate for the plane from Cleveland, get on that plane, get off that plane, find husband.
We went to the diner for dinner and I was glad to be home.
sapphoq n friends
DAY NINETEEN
California frittatta for breakfast again this morning with fruit, though I did not eat the english muffin.
Earth Wisdom tour jeep driven by a woman named Shae arrived around 9-ish. She went to a Sunterra time-share place
to pick up two older people. I discovered that the personable woman at the Hyatt had informed me wrongly-- Earth
Wisdom does not accept credit cards. But Jen who answers the phone arranged to run my card through anyways and I
got signed up for a 5 p.m. vortex tour too.
87A south to private land owned by a guy who builds geodome houses near Bear Mountain. The hedgehog cacti were in
fuschia bloom and a few prickly pears were showing off lemon-lime colored flowers. We saw free-range cattle and
resurrection trees and pinyons and dragonflies and stuff. A beautiful sunny day.
We had medicine wheel circle. I will say about that only that it was sacred and familiar.
Then we went to "The Crossing" where there is a double vortex-- the river and the cathedral rocks in the background.
On the way there, Shae continued to explain about the geology and stuff. At the Crossing, I put my feet in the
water which felt really good to me. Shae played the flute and the two older folks wandered around a bit. There
were a few other folks there. A duck landed in the water and stayed to sun herself on a rock.
I got dropped off and then I departed for the post office where I mailed everything back that I possibly could,
sadly including my walking stick. I was not sure that the patriots in Phoenix Airport Security would allow it on the
plane. Technically, I do not "need" a cane. The presence of the walking stick did make navigating much easier than
otherwise. The walking stick looks like I am taking a hike and probably could be used as a weapon. I stuffed the
thing into one and a half tubes, insured it for 75 bucks, and sent it on. I also sent my Route 66 suitcase I had
gotten in L.A., my clothes, souvenirs, gifts, and two sets of sneakers. All of it priority [just like all the other
clothing and souvenirs and gifts] so it should be home Saturday or Monday, Tuesday at the latest.
I stopped in Tlacquepacque and toyed with the idea of getting a painted cane. They were not sturdy so in the end,
I decided just to be real careful walking around in the airports. Once I am on familiar ground, I will have my
familiar problems rather than the extra added "where am I and what are my feet supposed to be doing" kind of thing
going on. I got a delicious ice cream instead and then took the Road Runner back to Hillside. At the K store, I
got more water and a couple of nutrition bars.
Shortly after five, Jim from Earth Wisdom picked me up for my second tour of the day. We went ramming down the road
leading partly to Boyton Canyon and we also went up to Mystic Vista. Mystic was real nice. A dome sort of hill
with a huge whaleback on the top, pinyon trees, and a nice 360 degree view all around us. Jim pointed out many of
the red rock monuments and told us their names. He spent much time teasing the young lawyer woman from California
as her friend and I smiled on. [The two young women were friends only, not a same-gender couple].
Jim said he had arrived in Sedona two years ago with 50 bucks in his pocket and a desire to meditate near a vortex.
He got a job with Earth Wisdom and he stayed. For the finale, he took us to The Crossing where I'd been that
morning. I was glad to return though because it looked different in the evening and I got some cool pics.
Back at the hotel it was time to pack up cuz I am leaving tomorrow.
sapphoq n friends
Earth Wisdom tour jeep driven by a woman named Shae arrived around 9-ish. She went to a Sunterra time-share place
to pick up two older people. I discovered that the personable woman at the Hyatt had informed me wrongly-- Earth
Wisdom does not accept credit cards. But Jen who answers the phone arranged to run my card through anyways and I
got signed up for a 5 p.m. vortex tour too.
87A south to private land owned by a guy who builds geodome houses near Bear Mountain. The hedgehog cacti were in
fuschia bloom and a few prickly pears were showing off lemon-lime colored flowers. We saw free-range cattle and
resurrection trees and pinyons and dragonflies and stuff. A beautiful sunny day.
We had medicine wheel circle. I will say about that only that it was sacred and familiar.
Then we went to "The Crossing" where there is a double vortex-- the river and the cathedral rocks in the background.
On the way there, Shae continued to explain about the geology and stuff. At the Crossing, I put my feet in the
water which felt really good to me. Shae played the flute and the two older folks wandered around a bit. There
were a few other folks there. A duck landed in the water and stayed to sun herself on a rock.
I got dropped off and then I departed for the post office where I mailed everything back that I possibly could,
sadly including my walking stick. I was not sure that the patriots in Phoenix Airport Security would allow it on the
plane. Technically, I do not "need" a cane. The presence of the walking stick did make navigating much easier than
otherwise. The walking stick looks like I am taking a hike and probably could be used as a weapon. I stuffed the
thing into one and a half tubes, insured it for 75 bucks, and sent it on. I also sent my Route 66 suitcase I had
gotten in L.A., my clothes, souvenirs, gifts, and two sets of sneakers. All of it priority [just like all the other
clothing and souvenirs and gifts] so it should be home Saturday or Monday, Tuesday at the latest.
I stopped in Tlacquepacque and toyed with the idea of getting a painted cane. They were not sturdy so in the end,
I decided just to be real careful walking around in the airports. Once I am on familiar ground, I will have my
familiar problems rather than the extra added "where am I and what are my feet supposed to be doing" kind of thing
going on. I got a delicious ice cream instead and then took the Road Runner back to Hillside. At the K store, I
got more water and a couple of nutrition bars.
Shortly after five, Jim from Earth Wisdom picked me up for my second tour of the day. We went ramming down the road
leading partly to Boyton Canyon and we also went up to Mystic Vista. Mystic was real nice. A dome sort of hill
with a huge whaleback on the top, pinyon trees, and a nice 360 degree view all around us. Jim pointed out many of
the red rock monuments and told us their names. He spent much time teasing the young lawyer woman from California
as her friend and I smiled on. [The two young women were friends only, not a same-gender couple].
Jim said he had arrived in Sedona two years ago with 50 bucks in his pocket and a desire to meditate near a vortex.
He got a job with Earth Wisdom and he stayed. For the finale, he took us to The Crossing where I'd been that
morning. I was glad to return though because it looked different in the evening and I got some cool pics.
Back at the hotel it was time to pack up cuz I am leaving tomorrow.
sapphoq n friends
DAY EIGHTEEN
I had breakfast this morning at the restaurant upstairs-- California frittata. It had chicken, avocados, onions,
but no cheese. It was dressed tastefully with lime-citriano. I elected to have an english muffin for my starch,
and fruit instead of fried potatoes.
After breakfast, I got on the Road Runner. I had the same driver all day. He was a jolly fellow who told jokes
like [as we passed a sign] "Hohoz means 'walk in beauty' in Navajo. If Don Imus hadn't abbrievated it, he would
not have gotten into trouble." I got off at the stop near the Hyatt shops. All of them are rather expensive but I
did score three heart pins with words like "live," "love," and "celebrate" written on each one at a store named
Chico's. I also signed up for a tour via jeep tomorrow morning with a personable woman at a booth.
I walked down to the post office to mail a bunch of stuff home, got on the Road Runner and went to Tlacquepaque.
Tlacquepaque is a ritzy artsy place with many polished shops and art galleries. Clothes that my step-mother would
really love and look dazzling in. I bought a diet coke off the snooty woman posted outside the Mexican restaurant,
and some postcards and a geology of Sedona book off the guy at the bookstore who very well could be diagnosed with
Asperger's or something. And a wonderful c.d. from local artist Robin Miller, an older fella with shocking white
hair. I also talked with a personable have-a-tour-of-a-resort-if-you-are-single guy for a bit.
Done there, I ventured across the street to the New Age Center. I found there signs all over noting that they
charge for breakage. Someone obviously very much into the business end of things. They must have had a rush on
clumsy tourists at one time. I discovered that a guy was aligning chakras on a donation basis. I volunteered for
that and I followed an older agreeable hippy dude upstairs into a very hippy room which was cluttered but welcoming.
He told me that the past is an illusion and nothing is permanent and he said some other stuff which I repeated. I
know this is anecdotal only-- I did feel "clearer" at the end. And I will be following the suggestions to drink
two liters of water a day and eat better stuff and engage in humor and play. The last will be easy enough since
Blondie is very much a humorous playful doggie.
I got back on the Road Runner, headed back into town for more frugal coasters. Robert let me take his picture today
and I was glad of it. I meandered around and wound up at the Peace Place shop where there are Reiki practitioners.
The woman there let me use a drum and led me to the classroom/sacred space where I had a joyful time drumming. When
I returned to the store, a guy was there who had dug crystals in Herkimer [and elsewhere] for two years. I did
explain to him then that the "Herkimer diamonds" show up above ground when farmers plow their fields. My gram had
told me that years ago so I never did bother to go up there as a result.
I then walked over to the Cowboy Club for some rattlesnake. The rattlesnake came fried like tempura on skewers. I
opted for peanut sauce rather than the dip with the forbidden tequila in it. Peanut sauce actually went well with
the rattlesnake I thought. The flatbread was thick and delicious. I also smeared peanut sauce on that.
Back on the Road Runner to the hotel where I had some orange tea and raspberry coffee cake, then to the whirlpool/
hot tub for a sweet finale to a sweet day.
sapphoq n friends
but no cheese. It was dressed tastefully with lime-citriano. I elected to have an english muffin for my starch,
and fruit instead of fried potatoes.
After breakfast, I got on the Road Runner. I had the same driver all day. He was a jolly fellow who told jokes
like [as we passed a sign] "Hohoz means 'walk in beauty' in Navajo. If Don Imus hadn't abbrievated it, he would
not have gotten into trouble." I got off at the stop near the Hyatt shops. All of them are rather expensive but I
did score three heart pins with words like "live," "love," and "celebrate" written on each one at a store named
Chico's. I also signed up for a tour via jeep tomorrow morning with a personable woman at a booth.
I walked down to the post office to mail a bunch of stuff home, got on the Road Runner and went to Tlacquepaque.
Tlacquepaque is a ritzy artsy place with many polished shops and art galleries. Clothes that my step-mother would
really love and look dazzling in. I bought a diet coke off the snooty woman posted outside the Mexican restaurant,
and some postcards and a geology of Sedona book off the guy at the bookstore who very well could be diagnosed with
Asperger's or something. And a wonderful c.d. from local artist Robin Miller, an older fella with shocking white
hair. I also talked with a personable have-a-tour-of-a-resort-if-you-are-single guy for a bit.
Done there, I ventured across the street to the New Age Center. I found there signs all over noting that they
charge for breakage. Someone obviously very much into the business end of things. They must have had a rush on
clumsy tourists at one time. I discovered that a guy was aligning chakras on a donation basis. I volunteered for
that and I followed an older agreeable hippy dude upstairs into a very hippy room which was cluttered but welcoming.
He told me that the past is an illusion and nothing is permanent and he said some other stuff which I repeated. I
know this is anecdotal only-- I did feel "clearer" at the end. And I will be following the suggestions to drink
two liters of water a day and eat better stuff and engage in humor and play. The last will be easy enough since
Blondie is very much a humorous playful doggie.
I got back on the Road Runner, headed back into town for more frugal coasters. Robert let me take his picture today
and I was glad of it. I meandered around and wound up at the Peace Place shop where there are Reiki practitioners.
The woman there let me use a drum and led me to the classroom/sacred space where I had a joyful time drumming. When
I returned to the store, a guy was there who had dug crystals in Herkimer [and elsewhere] for two years. I did
explain to him then that the "Herkimer diamonds" show up above ground when farmers plow their fields. My gram had
told me that years ago so I never did bother to go up there as a result.
I then walked over to the Cowboy Club for some rattlesnake. The rattlesnake came fried like tempura on skewers. I
opted for peanut sauce rather than the dip with the forbidden tequila in it. Peanut sauce actually went well with
the rattlesnake I thought. The flatbread was thick and delicious. I also smeared peanut sauce on that.
Back on the Road Runner to the hotel where I had some orange tea and raspberry coffee cake, then to the whirlpool/
hot tub for a sweet finale to a sweet day.
sapphoq n friends
DAY SEVENTEEN
I got up this morning and went downstairs to wait for the airport shuttle. The lady on the phone said it would get
to the airport at 9:45 a.m. She was mistaken. It got to the airport at 8:30 a.m. or so. Consequently I was put
on the 10:30 a.m. van to Sedona instead of the 12 noon. So I got dropped off at the hotel at 12 noon and checked in.
I took the Road Runner [Sedona's free trolley-like bus] into the tourist tra-- I mean downtown. In the first store
I went to, I was accosted by a woman who wanted me to attend some 90 minute presentation of why I should buy a
timeshare "there." She wanted me to "put down" a twenty dollar deposit which I would get back after the presentation. I didn't feel like doing that.
I found a store called Three Dog Bakery with a friendly man behind the counter who was wrapping up a birthday cake
for "Dougie" who had just turned two years old. I got some hats there and a floating duck that quacks for the dog.
There were also tee shirts, cards, and freshly baked doggie cookies. Some of the cookies in the glass display case
featured carob [dogs can't have chocolate because it lowers the seizure threshold in canines so carob is a reasonable
substitute.
I got a tarot reading at another shop. The woman there used angel cards. She was quite good and her foreign accent
was intriguing. She mentioned one ascended master in her reading and spoke of "them." Finally I told her she could
use the word "angels" instead of referring to "them." She advised a gradual return to work, part-time for the first
three months. She told me that water was very important to my healing. I did have to explain how healing works in
traumatic brain injury-- some "wires" not finding others to "connect up with" causes the central nervous system
tremor I am stuck with, and others that do find connection are like "dirt roads instead of freeways." [It was an
explanation that I would be giving several times to various folks during the course of my stay.] After information
was given about the true nature of "the brain rewiring itself," she shrugged and said, "Well more healing will be
found maybe in another country for you..." I understood that her intentions were good. Talking about healing is
fine until one is confronted with someone with no arm. When an arm magically appears after the waving of wands and
chanting of magical words, I will give more credence to healing of the new agers. I've had to work for every bit
of progress, healing, and compensatory skills that I got.
The other stuff in that store was a variety of witch books, psychic books, other books, cards, rocks, jewelry, and
stuff. There was the appeal to the younger audience a la "you want to be a witch" and "you can be a young psychic
person and here's how" sort of books mixed in with the "spells to improve your life" variety of books for the older
witch wannabes.
A young fellow named Shaun at the Happy Bead store offered me some strong vile wine vinegar. There I found fiery
opals-- looks like pale to dark red rock chunks with glassy red material showing on several of the faces. Also a
few hand carved froggies, a c.d. called "Return to Sedona" and an excellent flute player trying out the flutes. At
Cactus Carlos, I found another young man who admitted that visiting Sedona is "better than living here." I got me
a pink sweatshirt that says "Arizona" on it because the weather had grown a bit chilly with the passing of the tail
end of a storm and the accompanying rain sprinkles. Also some coffee mug coasters with Kokopelli that I like and I
thought would make for cheap-- I mean frugal-- gifting.
I ate at the Oaxaca. I had cactus with this reddish sauce with a white marshmellow looking streak. I like cactus.
I also ate a sampler for one [generous portions of red beans and rice, guacamole, sour cream, flutas, tacos, and
burritos. I could not finish it. Very good and very filling. The fresh stuff was all fresh-- tomatoes and lettuce.
Nothing to spoil it at all. Additionally, there were wonderfl views of the red rocks from the windows. The Mexican
cowboy music added to the ambiance.
I got me an aura reading with 14 page printout at an upstairs shop called Sedona Crystal Vortex. I thought that
a camera was used for the aura picture but not anymore. A computer software program called Aura Video Station
Digital 5.1 out of Venice California [and a black box with metal tack buttons to spread the left hand fingers and
thumb out on takes care of it all. A 22 page printout with a fairly good picture of me surrounded by mostly strains
of blues was the result, along with a generic outline of a body with the seven chakras illustrated was the result.
I am considered to be predominantly blue-green with a "blue personality" to match.
Verdict: interesting perhaps, but do not base any major life decisions on such things.
The woman at the shop was lovely and very serene, even after her stressed-out younger boss showed up. Remarkable.
I found some stones with gold flecks which were fairly unusual and pretty so I bought them.
Walking past a movie museum [Movies filmed in Sedona; courtesy of Sedona Pines Resort-- another place looking for
single women with incomes of over 50K annually] on my way to the hotel [Road Runner stops about 5:30] a woman said
"hi" to me. She ascertained that I am married [another 90 minute tour promo-- the area is ridden with them I tell
ya] and promptly confessed to being a healer. Sedona is like that. We talked for awhile about men and hot sex and
life. Her boss showed up so I shoved off. She was hopeful for lunch and gave me her cell number. I like Michelle
and I will indeed try to set up lunch on Thursday.
I walked back to the hotel. A work crew was there, [8 p.m. to 6 a.m.] at the Y intersection between 179 and 89. I
will have to get back earlier for the next two days for my own safety. I took some time to pulsate in whirlpool
located in a red rock colored pavilion next to the pool before retiring.
sapphoq n friends
to the airport at 9:45 a.m. She was mistaken. It got to the airport at 8:30 a.m. or so. Consequently I was put
on the 10:30 a.m. van to Sedona instead of the 12 noon. So I got dropped off at the hotel at 12 noon and checked in.
I took the Road Runner [Sedona's free trolley-like bus] into the tourist tra-- I mean downtown. In the first store
I went to, I was accosted by a woman who wanted me to attend some 90 minute presentation of why I should buy a
timeshare "there." She wanted me to "put down" a twenty dollar deposit which I would get back after the presentation. I didn't feel like doing that.
I found a store called Three Dog Bakery with a friendly man behind the counter who was wrapping up a birthday cake
for "Dougie" who had just turned two years old. I got some hats there and a floating duck that quacks for the dog.
There were also tee shirts, cards, and freshly baked doggie cookies. Some of the cookies in the glass display case
featured carob [dogs can't have chocolate because it lowers the seizure threshold in canines so carob is a reasonable
substitute.
I got a tarot reading at another shop. The woman there used angel cards. She was quite good and her foreign accent
was intriguing. She mentioned one ascended master in her reading and spoke of "them." Finally I told her she could
use the word "angels" instead of referring to "them." She advised a gradual return to work, part-time for the first
three months. She told me that water was very important to my healing. I did have to explain how healing works in
traumatic brain injury-- some "wires" not finding others to "connect up with" causes the central nervous system
tremor I am stuck with, and others that do find connection are like "dirt roads instead of freeways." [It was an
explanation that I would be giving several times to various folks during the course of my stay.] After information
was given about the true nature of "the brain rewiring itself," she shrugged and said, "Well more healing will be
found maybe in another country for you..." I understood that her intentions were good. Talking about healing is
fine until one is confronted with someone with no arm. When an arm magically appears after the waving of wands and
chanting of magical words, I will give more credence to healing of the new agers. I've had to work for every bit
of progress, healing, and compensatory skills that I got.
The other stuff in that store was a variety of witch books, psychic books, other books, cards, rocks, jewelry, and
stuff. There was the appeal to the younger audience a la "you want to be a witch" and "you can be a young psychic
person and here's how" sort of books mixed in with the "spells to improve your life" variety of books for the older
witch wannabes.
A young fellow named Shaun at the Happy Bead store offered me some strong vile wine vinegar. There I found fiery
opals-- looks like pale to dark red rock chunks with glassy red material showing on several of the faces. Also a
few hand carved froggies, a c.d. called "Return to Sedona" and an excellent flute player trying out the flutes. At
Cactus Carlos, I found another young man who admitted that visiting Sedona is "better than living here." I got me
a pink sweatshirt that says "Arizona" on it because the weather had grown a bit chilly with the passing of the tail
end of a storm and the accompanying rain sprinkles. Also some coffee mug coasters with Kokopelli that I like and I
thought would make for cheap-- I mean frugal-- gifting.
I ate at the Oaxaca. I had cactus with this reddish sauce with a white marshmellow looking streak. I like cactus.
I also ate a sampler for one [generous portions of red beans and rice, guacamole, sour cream, flutas, tacos, and
burritos. I could not finish it. Very good and very filling. The fresh stuff was all fresh-- tomatoes and lettuce.
Nothing to spoil it at all. Additionally, there were wonderfl views of the red rocks from the windows. The Mexican
cowboy music added to the ambiance.
I got me an aura reading with 14 page printout at an upstairs shop called Sedona Crystal Vortex. I thought that
a camera was used for the aura picture but not anymore. A computer software program called Aura Video Station
Digital 5.1 out of Venice California [and a black box with metal tack buttons to spread the left hand fingers and
thumb out on takes care of it all. A 22 page printout with a fairly good picture of me surrounded by mostly strains
of blues was the result, along with a generic outline of a body with the seven chakras illustrated was the result.
I am considered to be predominantly blue-green with a "blue personality" to match.
Verdict: interesting perhaps, but do not base any major life decisions on such things.
The woman at the shop was lovely and very serene, even after her stressed-out younger boss showed up. Remarkable.
I found some stones with gold flecks which were fairly unusual and pretty so I bought them.
Walking past a movie museum [Movies filmed in Sedona; courtesy of Sedona Pines Resort-- another place looking for
single women with incomes of over 50K annually] on my way to the hotel [Road Runner stops about 5:30] a woman said
"hi" to me. She ascertained that I am married [another 90 minute tour promo-- the area is ridden with them I tell
ya] and promptly confessed to being a healer. Sedona is like that. We talked for awhile about men and hot sex and
life. Her boss showed up so I shoved off. She was hopeful for lunch and gave me her cell number. I like Michelle
and I will indeed try to set up lunch on Thursday.
I walked back to the hotel. A work crew was there, [8 p.m. to 6 a.m.] at the Y intersection between 179 and 89. I
will have to get back earlier for the next two days for my own safety. I took some time to pulsate in whirlpool
located in a red rock colored pavilion next to the pool before retiring.
sapphoq n friends
DAY SIXTEEN
I woke up this morning very homesick to the point of wanting to go home NOW dammit.
I am tired, overtired from yesterday.
I want to go home. I miss my husband, my dog, my regular life.
And, btw, if you ever travel-- don't bother with the "teevee internet" service in hotels.
It sucks.
I stuck it out and made a plan. I paid some outrageous money via credit card in order to
catch up the blogspot blog on the trip. Yahell and all the rest will have to wait until
Sedona or possibly til I get back home.
About 12:45 I hit the outdoor whirlpool thing for 15 minutes of pounding out the achiness
and tightness with the pulsating jets. A shower then and a quick conference with the
hotel desk folks [who really act completely like they are all sick of their jobs-- the
phone rings constantly] convinced me to call a cab to the post office on 19th and Cactus
Avenue.
I spent some time stuffing things into two boxes at the post office, more time doing a botched
taping job for which I will win no prizes, and still more time on line shoving the boxes ahead
of me. A distinguished older gentleman came along when I got to the counter and lifted the boxes
up to it for me. I was surprised and happy that I didn't have to do it. A stop at the "K" gas
station and store for a cherry coke ala frozen and then I walked back to the hotel. The walk
was pleasant enough and the sidewalks were smooth and straight.
At the hotel, I got ready in time to miss the 27 bus to the mall. A young woman sat down next to
me. She applied some perfume to her arms. "Got to smell good for work," she said and I nodded.
She then proceeded to tell me her complete ancestry and her opinion on illegal aliens, "even though
my father is Mexican" she said. She doesn't want people coming in illegally she said. Somehow
I wasn't entirely convinced I don't know why. I didn't have to say anything. She continued on
and on and I began to wonder why I attract all of the talkative ones. Once on the bus, she pro-
ceded to straighten a young man out on why he should not go into the military. "Bush sucks. And
he's a liar," she told him in tones that brooked no argument. "I have to do something with my
life," he protested. Three years of nursing school down the tubes, a D.U.I. three years ago and
if he could stay out of trouble for six months, they had promised to "take" him. "Are you in
recovery?" I asked. He'd gone to rehab for nine months and is living in a halfway house. Still
he thinks he can drink a couple of beers. The woman next to me has 29 years sober and she took
him to task. Seems the guy was getting beaten on all sides. I wish him well and I hope he doesn't
kill himself with his hobbies or come home in a box.
I saw Eduardo the cabbie then and his friend something or other. Cabbie friend turned out to be
from Afghanistan and a Muslim, respectful of women, and one woman the mother of us all. I wasn't
sure if he meant "Eve" or Allat but it didn't matter. Cabbie friend rambled on about jungle and
Adam and animal skins. I told him to take care of Eduardo then and I headed off to the Ruby Tuesday's
at the Mall for dinner. Host dude is orginally from Illinois. Simon the waiter appeared to be new
as host dude was teaching him what to say. Simon the waiter did fine.
After dinner, I went to a couple of shoe stores and settled on a new pair of New Balances which of
course I won't be able to wear hiking in Sedona with the red dirt but which might prove comfortable
around town.
Then the ordeal of trying to get a cab at the corner by the Mens' Wearhouse. The dispatcher wanted
the address AND the cross street. Cab never came. I got a bit hot and done in about that. I had
wanted to go to the meeting tonight but it wasn't happening. Shit. Off to Swenson's and the same
uninspired young waitress for iced tea and ice cream to "cool off." It worked. Then to Barnes and
Noble for another Mercedes Lackey.
The shuttle is coming for me at 7:40 a.m. although my van to Sedona does not leave until 12 noon. I
shall spend some time at the airport it seems doing whatever people do at airports when waiting for a
shuttle to somewheres else.
Better early than late. I hope that the van from Sedona on Friday gets me to the airport on time to
go home.
sapphoq n friends
I am tired, overtired from yesterday.
I want to go home. I miss my husband, my dog, my regular life.
And, btw, if you ever travel-- don't bother with the "teevee internet" service in hotels.
It sucks.
I stuck it out and made a plan. I paid some outrageous money via credit card in order to
catch up the blogspot blog on the trip. Yahell and all the rest will have to wait until
Sedona or possibly til I get back home.
About 12:45 I hit the outdoor whirlpool thing for 15 minutes of pounding out the achiness
and tightness with the pulsating jets. A shower then and a quick conference with the
hotel desk folks [who really act completely like they are all sick of their jobs-- the
phone rings constantly] convinced me to call a cab to the post office on 19th and Cactus
Avenue.
I spent some time stuffing things into two boxes at the post office, more time doing a botched
taping job for which I will win no prizes, and still more time on line shoving the boxes ahead
of me. A distinguished older gentleman came along when I got to the counter and lifted the boxes
up to it for me. I was surprised and happy that I didn't have to do it. A stop at the "K" gas
station and store for a cherry coke ala frozen and then I walked back to the hotel. The walk
was pleasant enough and the sidewalks were smooth and straight.
At the hotel, I got ready in time to miss the 27 bus to the mall. A young woman sat down next to
me. She applied some perfume to her arms. "Got to smell good for work," she said and I nodded.
She then proceeded to tell me her complete ancestry and her opinion on illegal aliens, "even though
my father is Mexican" she said. She doesn't want people coming in illegally she said. Somehow
I wasn't entirely convinced I don't know why. I didn't have to say anything. She continued on
and on and I began to wonder why I attract all of the talkative ones. Once on the bus, she pro-
ceded to straighten a young man out on why he should not go into the military. "Bush sucks. And
he's a liar," she told him in tones that brooked no argument. "I have to do something with my
life," he protested. Three years of nursing school down the tubes, a D.U.I. three years ago and
if he could stay out of trouble for six months, they had promised to "take" him. "Are you in
recovery?" I asked. He'd gone to rehab for nine months and is living in a halfway house. Still
he thinks he can drink a couple of beers. The woman next to me has 29 years sober and she took
him to task. Seems the guy was getting beaten on all sides. I wish him well and I hope he doesn't
kill himself with his hobbies or come home in a box.
I saw Eduardo the cabbie then and his friend something or other. Cabbie friend turned out to be
from Afghanistan and a Muslim, respectful of women, and one woman the mother of us all. I wasn't
sure if he meant "Eve" or Allat but it didn't matter. Cabbie friend rambled on about jungle and
Adam and animal skins. I told him to take care of Eduardo then and I headed off to the Ruby Tuesday's
at the Mall for dinner. Host dude is orginally from Illinois. Simon the waiter appeared to be new
as host dude was teaching him what to say. Simon the waiter did fine.
After dinner, I went to a couple of shoe stores and settled on a new pair of New Balances which of
course I won't be able to wear hiking in Sedona with the red dirt but which might prove comfortable
around town.
Then the ordeal of trying to get a cab at the corner by the Mens' Wearhouse. The dispatcher wanted
the address AND the cross street. Cab never came. I got a bit hot and done in about that. I had
wanted to go to the meeting tonight but it wasn't happening. Shit. Off to Swenson's and the same
uninspired young waitress for iced tea and ice cream to "cool off." It worked. Then to Barnes and
Noble for another Mercedes Lackey.
The shuttle is coming for me at 7:40 a.m. although my van to Sedona does not leave until 12 noon. I
shall spend some time at the airport it seems doing whatever people do at airports when waiting for a
shuttle to somewheres else.
Better early than late. I hope that the van from Sedona on Friday gets me to the airport on time to
go home.
sapphoq n friends
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