I feel like I’m on the cusp of something. What am I on the cusp of exactly? I don’t know. But it’s happening. Whether I like it or not. It may even be life-changing. But in a good way.

Is that vague enough for you? If it makes you feel any better, it’s pretty vague to me, too.

I can’t explain it. But I feel it deep in my bones. It’s like I’ve been in hibernation for a while and I’m slowly starting to emerge. Rested. Clear-headed. Alert. Alive? Perhaps.

The anticipation I feel is like when I was a kid on Christmas morning. I’m almost giddy. Which anyone who knows me in real life will tell you is just odd for me. I don’t get giddy.

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I’m ashamed to admit it, but I read my horoscope. Not on a daily basis or anything but, you know, enough.

I don’t put a ton of stock in it, but at the same time, I put a wee bit of stock in it. Just in case.

I read my monthly horoscope at the END of month because I’m always afraid of self-fulfilling prophecies. Truthfully, if it’s bad I don’t want to know ahead of time. If it’s good I can always look back and think, “Yeah. Okay.” (Side note: a couple of years ago a friend did a Tarot card reading on me. She basically predicted that I was going to be struggling a little bit for a while. It freaked me out so much that I barely got out of the room before I promptly burst into big, fat ugly tears.)

I just read my June Horoscope on  Susan Miller’s Astrology Zone and the first sentence said: “In many ways, your life is getting better every day and in every way. You’ve been through a great deal over the past two years, but now you are seeing the end to a long and arduous journey.”

Holy mother of God I sure as shit hope that’s true. I hope my instincts (and the sun, moon and stars) are right and I’m heading into a less dark period.

It’s been a tough couple of years.

Like everyone I’ve had job stresses. I almost lost my job last year, and then I took a pay cut (you can rehash all of that here). And because I put too much stock and self-worth into my job (read about that here), it totally screwed me up and created other stresses. Which created a big ugly cycle that I’ve been fighting to get out of ever since. I’ve spend the past couple of years being angry and frustrated with things in my life (things that I actually do have some degree of control over, mind you) and it paralyzed me. It is really unlike me (If you’ve only known me a couple of years, trust me. It’s not who I am. I swear). I may not be a giddy girl, but I’m not really an unhappy person. I’m not angry. I’m not a bitch (most of the time), and I don’t want to be a bad wife, taking my shit out on my poor husband. (He’s tough, but he’s human. My shit gets old sometimes. I know that.)

According to my horoscope I’m about to move into “an exciting, energetic two-year cycle…You are about to come into your own now, dear Virgo. With Mars behind you now, you will suddenly feel filled with energy and drive. You’ll display courage and determination and feel ready to take on the world…You’ve grown more in the past two years than in any other time in recent memory. You should be proud of all you’ve achieved and the exceptional grace you showed while you were under so much pressure.”

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I don’t know that I’ve shown that much grace (unless you count showing Gracie in dog shows…but I’m pretty sure that’s not what it means), but I have grown. I feel capable. Energized. Maybe even renewed (although I can’t use that word without thinking of Ramona from “The Real Housewives of New York”). I even feel creative again. I’m definitely ready to take on the world. Or to at least take control of my life again.

PS: Hopefully, when you read me in a month, I won’t be railing against my stupid horoscope and how fucking off base it was!

*PSS: I felt this way BEFORE I read my horoscope. This (hopefully) confirms it.

Things could only be better if I were HERE

“Patience and fortitude conquer all things.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson

I knew what I was getting into when I got a second dog. I did. Really.

But some days…

Puppies are a lot of work. A lot. And…they’re a lot of work.

So far housebreaking Penny was the easiest part. I signed up for a puppy obedience class, but it doesn’t start until mid-July, so I’ve been trying to work with her on my own. But Samoyeds are super intelligent…which means they’re stubborn. And they fuck with you. You know they know how to sit or lay down on command but all the sudden they pretend you’re speaking Chinese to them and they walk the other way.

It’s maddening.

And some days it just tries my patience.

I haven’t figured out how to stop the puppy from trampling my plants and digging them out. I can’t keep her from totally trashing the grass. I haven’t been able to keep her from jumping up on me. And I haven’t successfully managed to stop her from trying to trip and kill me when we’re walking through the house. I have no idea how to make her stop trying to swim in her water dish. I wish she’d stop dumping it over.

I know it’ll come. I know that if I keep at it and am consistent she’ll be fine.

But right now?

Oy.

Totally bored with this whole training thing

Every so often I like to list three things that are good about today, this week or even this year, just to remind myself to be grateful and happy.

1. Because of the 4th of July, Friday is a short work day and I have Monday off.

2. My new dishwasher is being delivered and installed tomorrow.

3. The shoe guy at the mall said he can fix my favorite shoes.

What about you?

When I was a little kid I loved to have my arms and back scratched. I was forever throwing myself into my mom’s lap and putting my back in her face and begging her to “Scratch meeeeeee!” (Yeah, I know, obnoxious.)

I loved going to church on Sundays for the sole reason that to keep me entertained my mom would put her arm around me during the sermon and gently scratch my arms. It was heaven. (No pun intended.)

Not much has changed since I’ve gotten older. The only difference is instead of bugging my mom to rub my back, I pester Bill to do it.

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About 10 years ago I was in two car accidents about nine months apart. Apparently, the cherry red Pontiac Grand Prix I was driving at the time was like a beacon for stupid drivers. In both accidents I was rear-ended. In the first accident I was was hit at about 20 miles per hour by an older woman in a Cadillac the size of a battle ship. I saw her in my rear view mirror, cruising towards me while she was looking down fiddling with her radio or something. Seeing it coming and not being able to move (I was stopped on the freeway in morning rush-hour traffic) makes it worse. Because I tensed up.

The second accident was a little more violent. I was the first car stopped at a red light. There was one car behind me and the driver of the car behind him didn’t see the red light (Or our brake lights. Or the two cars in front of him for that matter) and plowed into the car behind me at about 40 mph. He never had time to brake. Both cars careened into me, shoving me into the intersection. I didn’t see or hear that one coming.

Both accidents really jacked up my back and neck. I went to a chiropractor for a while, but I realized that stretching and working out regularly help me more so when my back gets tight, I try to do that.

Rub my back, pleeeeeeease??

However, once in while I have to see a good massage therapist.

I realize massage is kind of a frivolous expense, but over the years I’ve become more dependent on them. I still pester Bill to rub my neck, but I think he’s totally over me now. I try not to bug him unless I’m really desperate. So a year ago I signed up at a place called Massage Envy, a no-frills “spa” (no showers, no actual spa) where you pay a monthly fee for massages or facials.

I don’t actually like having relaxing, soothing massages. After a massage I love to walk out feeling like I had a good workout—my muscles are a little sore and I feel stretched. Sometimes I feel like I had my ass kicked. And it’s awesome. I’ve learned to seek out therapists who are not only schooled in massage therapy, but ones who also have an interest in Eastern Medicine and acupressure because they really seem to understand how to get deep into the muscles and work the knots out. I get a lot of headaches from the tension in my back and neck the best and worst feeling in the world is when someone sticks a thumb in an acupressure point that coordinates with those specific muscles. There’s that second of “FUCK!” and then “Ahhhhh!”

Last week was ridiculous. If if could go wrong, it did. I smacked the front of the car into a cement post (one that I park next to every single day), the dishwasher broke, the coffee maker broke (THIS was the real tragedy), my favorite pair of shoes broke (this was the second tragedy) and I got a lot of shit from both of my bosses all day Friday. To top it all off, I had a brutal sinus headache—the first one I’ve had in a couple of months.

So I got a massage on Saturday. Not only did it relieve my neck and back pain (hey! I can stand up straight) but it obliterated my sinus headache. I walked out of there totally renewed.

The best part? I’ve got 4 hours of massage stocked up.

That’s actually kind of pathetic, isn’t it? Especially because a good massage puts me back together again. It clears my mind, eases my body and makes me feel like I’m ready to take on the world.

After my nap, that is.

I wonder if I can get Bill to scratch my back while I sleep.

There are no words

I love to write.

Except when I hate to write.

I love to write when the topic hits me just right and my hands fly over the keyboard, barely pausing to think of just the right word. The sentences flow naturally and gracefully, swirling into each other, forming these perfect little paragraphs that say exactly what I mean to say the way I mean to say it. When it’s harmonious like that it brings me a lot of joy.

I hate to write when it feels forced. It’s painful to sit still when I’m distracted and unable to focus on one topic, one thought, one sentence. Sometimes I try to pluck the perfect words out of the air, but they’re just out of my reach, mocking me for my ineptitude. “You call yourself a writer? Not!”

Lately it feels forced.

It’s been a struggle. I can’t focus; I’m all over the place. I sit down, open my laptop, log in and…well, nothing, really. I type a few words, stare at the screen, remember that I wanted to vacuum the bedroom, and before you know it, I’ve gone off on 10 different tangents. The dogs need water. I need to water the plants. I should really take the recycling out.

Anything but writing.

I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to write every day. I shouldn’t put something out there just for the sake of doing it. But I love to put words on a page. I just hate when they’re stubborn and won’t cooperate.

What do I do?

What do you do?