At what age does optimism become absurdity? Is there a point of no return?

Life has taught me that the little boxes representing age categories are much more than squares on a page. For instance, the 40-45 check box marks the transition from liking to shop in the junior’s section, to having to shop in the large frumpy womens section, because there isn't a stylish selection available for anyone larger than a small 9. So, by default you're forced into ugly clothes, because we all know that most fashion designers for major department stores are incapable of believing that any woman that can learn to live with mid-life cellulite has no right to look good doing it, especially if she is of the moderate to low income bracket.

By the time a woman reaches the next life change, the following little cube attached to numbers, she's had enough of the categorical niche she's been stuffed into and begins venting in Towanda rants. The clothes outlook is still dismal, the available man market is even worse, and while her ex is hot-rodding around town with a fresh new tart in the sports car she should have gotten, she's finally finding herself.

While wholeness is a pleasant state to contemplate, if given a choice, most would trade that for a brief liaison with a Jon Bon Jovi-licious house painter in a minute. Too bad the chances of that are so slim, unlike our profiles.

With each new check box, comes a new list of collateral losses to come to terms with, until in the final stages when the butterfly turns into the caterpillar with a bust line where her waste used to be, and an ass greatly resembling that continent Down Under.

Back to my question.

Normally, I don't plug advert's, but his one got me hook, line and sinker. Either this numerology stuff is  incredibly accurate, or they read all my blogs. The latter would have been a tedious and time consuming affair, although, I must admit, entertaining, so I'm guessing they just did the math. What do you think?

Free Numerology Mini-Reading for Susan

Birth name:

Susan Irene Zuelke

Date of birth: July 1, 1959

Hi there Susan,

Thank you for visiting my website at www.123numerology.com, and for requesting this free mini-reading and ongoing numerology tutorial.

Over the coming weeks, I'll be giving you a wealth of information about numerology (all completely free of charge!). I look forward to taking the journey with you - numerology is a true passion of mine, and it is my hope that you find numerology to be just as fascinating as I do.

Let's jump right in by starting to analyze your numerology chart ...

The best place to start is with one of the most basic calculations ... your "life path" -- based on your birth date of July 1, 1959 -- is 5.

Your life path says a lot about you, so please read the following very carefully ...

Your Expression - which describes your potential natural talents and abilities - works out to be a 7.  

What a '7' Expression Means About You

Now that we've done the calculations, what does this actually mean?

 
Now, Let's Examine Your Soul Urge
(also known as your "Heart's Desire")

We have already done all the mathematics necessary to work out this number. It is simply the total of the top row (the vowels) of your full birth name.

In your case Susan, this totals 9.

I hope you are enjoying this brief glimpse into the world of numerology -- the science of numbers, which governs much - if not most - of what happens in your life, your relationships, your health, and your economic future.

Please also realize this:

What I Have Given You Here
Has Barely Scratched the Surface!

Susan, what I've shown you so far is just an extremely small fraction of what is possible through numerology ... I've basically shown you three of the nine-hundred-plus calculations I do in a typical reading.

I've just given you a very general overview. With a full analysis, you can explore your life and personality like a microscope, revealing more about you that you ever dreamed possible.

Your personal life, your career, your relationships, your finances, your future ... you'l learn about it all. You'll not only experience the peace of knowing the path you are best to travel in this life ... you'll learn how to capitalize on specific opportunities that might otherwise pass you by, and what pitfalls may befall you if you're not ready for them.

I kid you not ... people have both laughed out loud and cried tears of joy when they identify with characteristics they have never shared with a single soul ... when they realize the reason for the struggles they have been going through ... when they learn about the gifts they have in this life that just needed to be pointed out to them.

As a valued subscriber, I'd like to make you a very special offer on a full length numerology reading that fully explores virtually all areas of your life (including your career, relationships, specific events and opportunities in your future), leaving no stone unturned!

You'll find full details here:

http://www.123numerology.com/special

Thanks for joining me; I hope you enjoy this fascinating journey of discovery ...

Peace and light ,

Blair Gorman
123 Numerology
www.123numerology.com

There was cracking, and a great groan; the tractor came up onto it’s rear tires as the front swayed, the engine pulling, then it came down hard as the beams gave way. I covered my ears from the sound of 100 year old, seasoned hardwood splintering. The loft heaved forward and dropped to floor level.  The roof smiled big, it’s toothless defiance held true.

“I don’t believe it! It’s all twigs, holes, and a few old shingles. I thought it would implode for sure. Dam! Well, you up for some disassembling?”,  I squinted and brushed off the dust.  Yanking down the bandana covering my nose and mouth, I walked round for a better look at the whole structure.

“What are you laughin’ at? You look like a BALD raccoon. Least my version is more natural.” I huffed kicked at the side of it.

He shut up and climbed down from the drivers seat, joining me on the ground. “Unbelievable. I could just burn it right here?”

I think not.” That barn’s going in the house. Save the good pieces before you light it.”

That was the end of an era for me. My horses were gone. Gone were my chickens, ducks, and that crazy Toby The Wonder Pig. I hated to see it go. But then again, I figured it a safe wager nobody’d be dumping thier cats here anymore. I was staying broke because of city discards. Some days, dozens of new faces would appear in my barn at feeding time. I couldn’t do it anymore. If I had to sell my horses, then those cats were hitting the high road.

I’d been ill, medically bankrupt. Those days are behind me now. I miss that old barn, being out there, instead of in here. I miss the animals; Mostly my horses. Heck, I even sold my truck before I sold them. Things are better now, and I’m thinking it sure would be nice to get back in the saddle. I’ve had this big notch carved out of me since they left, and I want it back. I need to feel whole again.

I went to see a play last night at Cottey College. It was strange, and exhausting. It left me escaping into myself, daydreaming of a chance meeting years ago. I don't remember what it was about, but I remember every detail of that night so long ago.

They say timing is everything. The time wasn't right then, so I drove away.

Last year this time, I was visited by many unnatural things. This year, the house is quiet. It's my mind alone that haunts me.

I sat alone with my pot pie and inserted a DVD to while away the evening. The story was familiar. Two souls, meeting across time, stealing glimpses of each other, never to connect, until the puzzle was complete. Love conquering all, even time, in the end.

I often wonder these days, why am I so drawn to such stories? Could such a thing really happen? Why not? Everything else happens to me. Incredible, unbelievable things. I chose not to speak of them for years. I don't fear anymore. It's part of who I am.

So, as I gaze up at the moon in her beauty, and marvel at the stars infinity, I whisper on the wind, "Star light, star bright, I wish I may, I wish I might...."

After all, the grass was always greener....yesterday.

9/30/2006 9:39 PM

word count 218

If I had a nickel for every time I did something stupid, the lottery would seem like a total waste of money, with such a bottomless supply of moronic behavior at hand. There are nicer ways of saying, mistake, like, faux pas. Almost sounds sexy. I know I’m having a bad day if I use that phrase three or more times. It sounds a heap better than, I’m an idiot. The unmistakable connotations leave nothing to the imagination. Leaves me wide open for ridicule too. Whereas, if I say faux pas, they forget all about what I just did, and start asking what it means, how you spell it, and where the heck I heard of such a thing.

Me: That’ll be $4,590.00….woah, for two Snickers? We’re gonna have to drop the price on those candy bars  if we want to move them before the next ice age, eh?

Customer: How much is jus’ the coke?

Me: That puppy’s only 50 cents. You don’t need the extra ass-baggage anyways… Oh wait, I’m an idiot, says here  the Snickers are only 69 cents each. What ya say we jus’ do it over?…how d’ya spell void?

Customer starts contemplating the two foot tall pile of goldie locks on my head) That hair all yours? You mus’ got a mess o’ roots all tangled up in yer head missy.

Never was much of a salesman.

Never did figure out why the cash register did that. Every once in a while, it has seizures, and makes stuff up. Then it straightens itself out and starts ringing up the real prices, right as rain. Speakin’ of, that’s what I was just wondering. Is it going to rain today? It’s dark, chilly, there’s an owl out there bellowing, and the place is quiet. Almost like I’m not supposed to be here. Weird.

It's a Beautiful day in the neighborhood....won't you be....my neighbor?

It was a warm-fuzzy day today; I almost felt like sidling into an old cardigan and singing kiddie-show tunes. Last night about this time, I was stressing over the last two weeks being so slow I could've danced naked outside the store and nobody would have noticed. Okay, maybe a few truckers would have lifted an eyebrow. Today made it all better. Several of my favorite patrons decided to stop by and visit. We shared a lot of laughs, and some war stories. Talked about our dreams, totems, favorite pets, and I put a little coinage in the till. All-in-all, a good day. I even acquired a nice set of throwing knives from the local Paint Ball field owner and his taller half. The look on his face was priceless, yet brief, when I spewed, in my excitement, "Oh yeay....I can't wait to throw them at somebody!". Yes, even he, had to think for a second before realizing I was kidding.

It got us on the subject of survival training, not that I personally need any. Like I say, if I can survive one major mistake that left the residue of his last name intact, raising two kids, going to college, outliving a second mistake, working anywhere and everywhere that wouldn't fire me for having a family emergency (usually involving children, being ill, or doing something tragically wrong like trying to cook and accidentally catching the house fire whilest I'm at work),...well, everything else is small potatoes. Yes, if you were to leave me out on the top of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere, it would be reduced to a mole-hill by morning, I being no less for wear, then I'd gingerly step off the tippy-top of the highest peak as it sank into the valley below asking for directions to the nearest Waffle Haus.

So, getting back to what I was saying a million words ago, this friend, is thinking about starting another side gig teaching survival training. He'd probably be good at it.

Around here, you have to have more than one iron in the fire, if you don't, you're liable to end up with bread or butter, but most likely not both. Makes a good meal hard to come by. I guess I should count myself lucky, I don't run one of those bait-n-tackle-beauty salon-pizza parlors.I love what I do, all of it. I especially like that I don't have to have curtains on my windows for fear of voyeurs, like in the city. That's my favorite part. The cattle don't care much what I look like, with or without clothes. And after closing, it's me, the cats, and those nosey cows. Moo-baby.

9/23/2006 10:32 PM

word count 448

Never realized how hard it was to make a sale online. Let me rephrase that, how impossible it is to sell a pup to a legitimate buyer not looking to scam you.

It was going to be simple. List said pups in online classifieds, receive calls, and sell pup, the end. It wasn’t that simple. The world is full of scam artists, and they are all phishing pet sellers. Just when you think, this ones legit, they through you a curve ball.

Here’s what you are going to do:

I will issue you a check for $1500; you cash it the same day and receive a $200 bonus for doing so. Then you wire the rest of the money after your initial asking price to a friend of mine in the states I owe money to, and they will come get the pet.

Yeah right.

I respond by showing my appreciation for their generous compensation for the inconvenience of laundering their money, tell them I have advised my client to decline all such offers, and wish them good luck elsewhere.

I’ve answered emails into the wee hours, and gone to bed with cramps in my fingers. All this for probably nothing, instead of the commission I was going to earn. I owe it all to the crooks of the www.

How do you know the email is on the level? I’ve discovered quickly, that anyone that declines to call you direct can kiss your backdoor firewall goodbye. So, now I leap into the telephoning request. If they don’t call, they are sent packing; straight to the virtual shredder I call jaws. I have a little icon of a shark I feed them to.

You’ll find they don’t give up immediately. They try a few more times to up the anti, make it real tempting, you know, something for little effort and all. Their emails are also written in the format of an order. They state clearly and commandingly, what you are to do if you want the outrageous reward they dangle. I may be blonde, but I have the logistic roots of a calculating brunette, and the natural highlighting of a fire-breathing redhead. It’s referred to as being center-brained, perfectly comfortable, and equally formidable in both the right and left hemispheres, and also, content to drift the wide-open spaces of blondom.

The Solstice came early for me this year. Normally, the odd happenings begin on the fall equinox, and continue through November 2. The veil between the worlds is traversed by entities of all sorts, and they come marching through my bedroom. Last year was by far the most active I had ever experienced. It had me thinking about biblical quotes such as, "...and the dead shall rise...". I had to take to leaving the light on all night, because every time I turned it off, something really weird would happen. I was becoming insanely exhausted, for lack of sleep.

Last night, as I plodded across the hall to alleviate the back pressure building in my bladder, I thought I heard a small plop, as if a small creature had just jumped down from my abnormally tall bed. The light padding of feet had me squinting into the soft light cast across the hall by the night-light in the bathroom. Whatever it was, it was crossing the plastic runner protecting my precious burber. There, at the edge of the runner, squatted a small kitten, it's eyes trained on something in the living area, then it looked back at me before it dissipated. It was clear, as if made of glass, with an opulence I always find fascinating. I say always, because, it has become a bit of a norm here, for me to see such things.

I don't like to tell a lot of people about my encounters for the obvious reasons, The average individual immediately wants to know if mental illness runs in my family, then they ask about what kind of med's I might be taking before delving into whether or not I was a fan of Timothy Leary in my younger days. They just can't accept that supernatural phenomenon is common, that ghosts exist, and that some people, like it or not, are capable of communicating across dimensions. These same individuals, that don't believe in things intangible, in nearly the same disbelieving breath, invite me to their churches to worship a God they've never seen or touched. They blindly believe, based on hear-say. Granted, age old hear-say.

I'd like some of those people to spend September thru November in my bedroom, and then see who thinks who is crazy. When spectral cats pounce on the bed and purr so close to their face they can feel it's breath and whiskers...well, I'd love to be their when they reach for that cat and find nothing but cool air.

Truth is, as far back as I can remember, I've seen such transparent creatures, my favorite being the spider that watches over me as I sleep. A big tarantula type thing that hangs around my alarm clock. When I wake, it turns and retreats over the clock and vanishes, as if to say, "good morning, I see you're awake, 'till tomorrow then...".

Not many can boast a guardian arachnid.

Makes me feel spe-cial,

in a short bus kinda way.