I am not a woo-woo person. I tend to disregard anything out of hand if it even smacks a little bit of cosmic new-ageyness.
Yet yesterday I thought (though I didn’t say it until now) that I needed to replenish my chi. You know, life force.
And I hate chai which is apropos of nothing except I enjoy stream-of-consciousness rambles.
I am constantly walking the fine line between balancing my desire to be the center of my social universe and taking time to reflect and care for myself.
Sometimes my subconscious tells me loud and clear that I have to shut it down.
I mean business when I reach that point. I even said no to my beloved Tabby.
Fortunately I know that she is 100% supportive when it comes to holing up and taking time for myself.
This is what I did yesterday.
And this is what Blue looked like from my vantage point.
I had such a crazy weekend. It started on Friday with some friends coming over for dinner and six bottles of wine.
I told them that one of the things most of my friends have in common is spontaneity. I can love the shit out of you but if it’s an ordeal to get together, it’s likely that our friendship won’t go anywhere.
These folks are up for last-minute dealios. Case-in-point, the next evening Enrique was hanging out in the kitchen with me and Loony, watching stupid Youtube videos when Shorter Sean walked in with his son and a friend.
His boy bee-lined for Itchy and Scratchy’s room and we all got to know each other.
The friend was an Iraq war vet and (I’ll be generous here) perhaps a little homophobic. I am not down with homophobia. Not at all.
But he’s Shorter Sean’s friend and I didn’t want to be too rude so I immediately started talking about Enrique’s balls and the life-saving diagnosis that I made regarding his hydrocele testiculitis (I made the testiculitis part up, I’m not positive that’s a word).
I made him think long and hard about about another man’s balls. Pun intended. I even tried to make him look at pictures of them. And then The Morsel kissed his boyfriend in front of him. HA! I’m going to break The Veteran down.
To make a long story short (haha) I got The Veteran good and worried (and good and drunk) that maybe he, too, was suffering from a blocked tunica vaginalis and next thing you know, all the lights are off and he’s shining a flashlight through his ball sack (aka transtesticular illumination) while we weighed in with our expert non-medical opinions.
“What’s that squiggly thing?”
“Is it supposed to be dark there?”
“What exactly am I looking at?”
I don’t think I can ever un-see that.
So that happened. Then Crystal Belcher, one of my favorite pole artists contacted me personally and told me she was going to be in Denver. Now.
I met her for exactly two seconds at Pole Expo earlier this year and couldn’t believe she remembered me.
Naturally she had to stay with me.
I took two workshops with her. One was mostly floor work which kicked my ass yet was doable. The other … not so much.
But I enjoy watching people teach and I’ll try my hardest to get into position even if it involves a very small person holding me up.
This is what she taught in her advanced tricks class.
No, I wasn’t able to do it.
I had good time getting to know her and showing her around Boulder. I was sad that the weather didn’t cooperate more as it was a rare overcast day, but we did enjoy breakfast.
We had a slight language barrier. She’s a native Texan and speaks her own language. I missed about 50% of what she said but nodded and tried to look like I was getting it all.
I have the same issue with Nadia but heck, love and art transcends all.
And speaking of love transcending adversity, I am getting closer to owning the a gigantic Norwegian Forest Cat of my dreams.
Regard, the mighty Yggdrasil.
He’s a retired grand champion show cat who is up for adoption. I contacted the owner and filled out the adoption form for him and am waiting to hear back.
The owner is choosy about who she lets her retired cats go to and I filled out a detailed questionnaire and gave my vet’s name and contact info.
I’ve known him for over 20 years and I’m sure he would recommend me. He doesn’t know the real me.
I’m just afraid she might look me up on Facebook and see all the crazy cat shit on my wall. Like this:
My imaginary Facebook friends have been posting tons of cat videos and pictures on my wall. I’m all for it since I’m cultivating a crazy cat-lady persona but it might work against me when it comes to adoption.
Loony confronted me about this post:
Loony: What’s all this chatter on your wall about driving to the midwest to get a stupid cat?
Me: Um … teehee?
Loony: Will you look at me?
Me (back to him): No.
Loony: What if you get him and he doesn’t sit on your face?
Me: Then I’ll give up my dream.
Loony: You’re an adult and I can’t stop you but …
Me: AHA! So you are giving me your blessing!
I haven’t heard back from her. I wait on pins and needles.
So now I’m tired and don’t really want to talk to anyone. Not that I would have sacrificed my weekend with Crystal or looking at a homophobic war veteran’s balls or anything, I just need some down time.
Ok. I’m ready to go again.