Synchronicity Update

I've got several synchronicities to document so indulge me please (or move on to your next e-mail that is likely much less interesting than this one!).

Before I left for work travel last month, I had been arguing with Emory Animal Hospital about Maddie's thyroid pills. All I wanted was a simple refill of her medication so that I could leave Doc. B. with plenty while I was away. But they insisted that I bring Maddie in for blood work AND that we wait for the results BEFORE they would release a refill. This was despite the fact that I'd had multiple conversations with the Vets about why the heck, other than for $$$$ sake, do we keep poking a 6 pound kitty for blood, AND stressing me out, just to learn that her thyroid levels aren't right? I finally convinced (read: begged) them to at least GIVE me the medication when I brought little Maddie in for the blood work so that I (read: Doc. B.) wouldn't have to go back a second time just to pick up the same medication they've been giving me for the last 5 years. When I finally got home, with the meds in my hot little hand, next door neighbor (affectionately now known as "Chicken Lady") reported that her kitty had just passed away (rest her soul) and did I want the kittie's left over thyroid medicine? ERGHHHHHHHH! Oh, and did I want to come in and see the new baby chickens she'd adopted before I headed off on my trip (thus the new nickname)? I passed on the latter but took the former.

So the next morning, I get on a Delta flight and open up the Sky Magazine only to discover that New Mexico is the main topic. And New Mexico's state flag, the Zuni Sun Symbol (that is now part of the new tattoo on my ankle), is all over the magazine (as shown above).

Then later last month I traveled to Michigan where one of my mom's friend's talked about having a relative that was a glass blower by trade. When I got home, Doc. B. described a dream about being a glass blower. Mind you, I hadn't mentioned the glass blowing profession....

The next day, Doc. B. and I were chatting in front of the t.v. when the topic of heart defibrillators randomly came up. I kid you not, as soon as we ended the discussion, a commercial came on television about heart defibrillators....

Also while in Michigan, I apparently made a comment to another one of my mom's friends about wishing we'd had a woman (read: Hillary) in the white house. And what happened when I came home - John McCain added a woman to his ticket. And his "crook" decision (as one of my co-worker's so eloquently put it) has now cost me therapy money. Yes, I spent 45 of my 55 minute therapy session last night expressing my disgust. My therapist and I decided that I needed to write about it. Synchronicitously, when I got home from therapy, I found an e-mail from my favorite male yoga instructor about that very subject. He expressed that Palin was the wrong choice to be the second in command of our country and that he felt led to express that in writing.

So my next entry will be about my strong feelings related to the upcoming election. I'll give you fair warning so that if you think you'll be offended, you can burn before reading, or burn after reading if curiosity gets to you first...

August 2008

I've received a couple thousand e-mails imploring me to get back on the horse, or in this case the slow pony, and get some blogging done. Okay, so it wasn't a couple thousand, but it was a couple.

I must admit, I did miss my writing during the entire month of August. I didn't even write in my journal. But I can say I was lovin' life, doing the following: watching the Olympics; trying to pick my jaw up off the floor after finding out about John Edwards' affair; traveling to Baltimore for work; visiting my baby sis and the Postmaster General's significant other in D.C.; sending kisses over the phone to the Casio Camera customer service department; visiting middle sis, M&D (that's Mom and Dad), gramps, and tons of other friends and family in Michigan; watching the democratic national convention; noticing synchronicities; wondering when Kwame Kilpatrick would plead guilty; having a funeral for Dwight the fish; adopting two little turtles; trying to pick my jaw up off the floor after finding out about Sarah Palin being nominated for republican VP; refelcting on my responsibilites as a community organizer; questioning my high school basketball nickname of "sweet shot" (would we still have lost the 1981 Girls Michigan State Basketball Championship if it were "baracuda"?); and sending Doc B. off on a meditation retreat in Massachusetts after 45th birthday festivities.

Let me expand on just a couple of these activities, since a couple of you want to know...

First, props to my Dad for not only letting me watch the democratic convention in his house, but for making me popcorn during Hillary's sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits night. And when we drove for a couple of hours to go visit gramps, he didn't even press the pre-set radio station button for the Rush Limbaugh show. Oh, and he took photos of the whole trip for me since Casio was sending me a replacement part for my camera. Now there's a Dad who loves his daughter despite her political faults. (Dad, call me when you get a chance, like maybe later this month on my birthday, and I'll explain the word "props" - don't worry, it's a good thing).

Second - What happened to Dwight and what's the scoop with turtles you might ask? Turns out that, unlike Twinkies (nutrayami loafasami for CEL's benefit), Beta fish have a "shelf life." Mr. Dwight was with us for almost two years and it was his time. As for the turtles, it was one of those synchronicities I was monitoring. Remember the last blog topic about my turtle tattoo? Well, shortly after I got the tattoo, a co-worker of Doc B.'s decided she was going to get some real turtles for her aquarium. If she ordered 6, it would be cheaper, but she only wanted two. So we got talked into taking two and another co-worker took two. We'll likely try to convince Doc B.'s co-worker to take them back at some point, but in the meantime, they ARE kinda fun. The best part was naming them. Doc B. let me have that responsibilty and I took it very seriously. In a truely sexist fashion, I decided that the smaller of the two turtles was a female and that we'd call her "Christy" - short for "Christy Turtleington". The larger one, an assumed male, would be called "Jethro" short for "Jethro Turtull." Dad, or anyone else for that matter, you can call or e-mail me about this and I'll explain why this is supposed to be funny. Or wait, better yet, you can click on these links:

Christy
Jethro

Okay, so that's only a couple of updates about the month of August, but I've got to go watch John McCampaign accept the nomination for president....

More Tat Stories

I was thinking this morning it had been a while since I tapped the keyboard for a blog entry. Sure enough, it's the last day of July and this will be my only post for the month. It's not like I haven't had anything to say, it's just that the evening time gets away from me and we all know that I would never ever think of writing during the work day - I'm a dedicated public servant who wouldn't think of such a thing...

Okay, now that you've stopped laughing, on to the topic of the day: More tattoos.

When we were in Guatemala, a few of us walked to a small village called Santa Cruz. While there, we were pleasantly accosted by three young boys playing up their financial plight. "Estamos pobre" (we're poor) they kept saying as they worked to conjure up frowns and hide the joy that had been on their faces (from the fun they'd been having playing soccer). After they conned us out of a breakfast bar, one pointed down at the dolphin tattoo on my left ankle and said "pescado...es final, es final" (the fish, it's final, it's final). It was his way of saying "that thing is going to be on you for life - even when you get old and your ankles swell up so much that the dolphin looks more like a whale."

So what did I decide to do? Get a tattoo on my other ankle. After all, I don't want my dolphin/whale to be lonely in its old age. I got the dolphin when I was 30 so I'm surprised I waited this long to add to my body art. But I really wanted another tattoo to commemorate the 44th anniversary of my birth so I made an appointment with our favorite tattoo artist, Malia, for Thursday of this past week. July 24th was exactly 2 months before the big birthday and Malia had an opening, so I put my name on her calendar. Sadly, we actually had to get in the car and drive to the appointment. She used to work out of Ink and Dagger tattoo just around the corner from us, but I got to be one her first customers in her new location, Memorial Tattoo, about 5 miles away.

I had previously decided that I wanted a turtle as part of my tattoo and already had the design in mind. The turtle has significance for me in many ways: longevity, wisdom, land and water, protection, move at your own pace, and lounge lazily in the sun alongside the lagoons of Hilton Head Island but also co-habitate nicely with the alligators (don't take that the wrong way Doc. B.!).

In addition to the turtle, I wanted a nod to the number four. So after much research, I decided on a Zia Pueblo sun symbol. "Zia" means sun and to the Zia Indians, the number four is sacred. It represents the four seasons, the four directions and it's all bound together by a never-ending circle. Perfect.

Here are some photos from my experience. Oh, and speaking of birthdays, Doc. B. will turn 45 in 20 days - 08/20/2008 - say it with me like this: "oh eight, two oh, two oh, oh eight."