Caterwauling

I don’t know if I’ve written this and I don’t care.

Every night that I go to feed the kitties, I walk over a manhole cover. And I get choked up.

Cocoa was the first kitty I saw at that Target, on a night we went back to feed ducks we’d fed once before.

We ate (well, she did) and played every single night for just a little over two months.

I always tried to get her to jump in the car. I even rode past her with my door open once or twice. As mom said, Cocoa was saying, “Nope, not my Uber.”

I tried to kidnap her once, right before I got Bella. She shredded the carrier, licked my leg and went on her way.

I was building up to that. She would never let me hold her. Play, pet, rub belly, sure. Pick her up? Not my Uber.

After the unsuccessful kidnapping, I thought she’d stay away.

She didn’t. She seemed to trust me more.

We would sit and have long talks after everybody ate. Poor mom had to stand around forever and wait for me to be done. But this was my baby — I wasn’t leaving till she went wherever she goes.

One night, when she was leaving, I followed her.

She walked to the manhole cover.

She looked at me like a little kid when you’re visiting their parents’ house. Like, “This is where I sleep.”

I died. Literally died.

I said, “Is this your house?”

She lay down on the cover.

I left in tears.

The next night, she walked me to her cover. I had soothing kitty wipes on me, because she was so dirty lately. And she loved her “bath” on her “bed.”

I thought, this cat is mine. The. End.

I did stage the kidnapping not long after. And we’ve been together two months.

I just never stop thinking of that being her bed. She never gets out of mine now. Mine is hard and horrible. But, to her, it’s heaven.

I think that’s a perspective I need on life right now. It’s hard and feels horrible sometimes, but it was once my heaven.

I have the things I used to pray about. Things other people pray about now.

So, let me take this moment to hold space for the little girl and the little kitty girl who never had anything. Who never dreamed they COULD have anything. Who have a completely different life now than they ever dreamed.

And let’s hold space for the more comfortable life they will have that’s even better than this one. It’s coming. So mote it be, and so it is.

Gemini season AND a new moon? It’s like the universe is throwing me my very own birthday party.

I feel strongly that the more ridiculous things and people become, the more gratitude we should show the universe.

Especially with so many people having a hard time finding something to believe in, it’s up to the rest of us to generate the abundance it may feel difficult to attract.

I am grateful for a good, abundant life.

I am grateful that this strange time is preparing me for an even more amazing destiny.

I am grateful that what goes around comes around, times three.

I am grateful for resilience.

I’m grateful for my biggest fan. Definitely feeling the love, very strongly. It makes me happy to be someone’s muse and No. 1 inspiration to write. You are CRUSHING, ghoul!

I mean, crushing it!

Everyone should be so fortunate. I hope that they are.

I could retype my last five journals if you want some sort of spell, mantra or profundity to help you deal with stress, pain, and frustrating people and situations.

Instead, because I know my audience loves my memes, I’ll give you a more serious one that speaks to me.

Mom and I have always looked at good-looking men with admiration. And then we looked over at … whatever they were with … and said, “SHE got a man?!”

Like, why does someone like that attract someone like this.

And it hit me awhile back that the hot mess feels they deserve that hot guy. So they got him.

What they do to keep him, ain’t none of my business. I’ve known and dated a lot of guys who had no idea how awesome they were.

Maybe they really weren’t that great, or else I’d be with them. That’s the going theory because I got nuttin else.

However, to put the “me” in meme because it’s all about meeeeeee (my blog, my money, my rules) …

You can’t manifest what you don’t feel you are worthy of.

Those hairy-toed bitches got it right. So why the hell can’t the rest of us?

We’re all waiting to be thin enough, happy enough, solvent enough, etc. — ready for that soulmate to see how awesome we are and sweep us off our feet.

Here’s the thing.

I meet people when I am least expecting it. When I am in pigtails waiting in line for my first coffee of the day. (Oh, The Before Times, how I miss you so.)

Of course, I exert some sort of effort. Always clean. Always happy. Always coordinated. Maybe light on the mascara and perfume, but it is nice to feel good. People pick up on the vibe.

I think in my case it’s that I never set my intention on meeting anyone. Let alone someone good.

In my tarot studies, I find EVERY girl asks me when she will meet someone.

That’s not how it works. That’s not how ANY of this works.

I can’t give you a date, in any sense of the word.

What I can do is tell you what you might want to think about doing to welcome more love into your life. Beyond scrubbing your butt and shutting your cakehole once in a while.

I’d say don’t be a Cunt Bag. But that seems to work for some folx.

If ever I do want to manifest someone again, I’m going to ask what I need to do to invite a soul connection into my life.

If I had to rely on intuition alone, I’ll attract another Twin Flame situation before something real. Damn supernovas — I can’t quit you!

But I control my destiny. I know more this time. I know I am worthy of getting at least as much as I’ve given.

In any event, manifestation comes from the fusion of the conscious and subconscious minds.

We kick our own psychic asses when we want something consciously but don’t feel deserving of it beneath the surface.

TL;DR: I deserve to receive $420,000 cash, no loans/payback/taxes needed, that comes to me in a way that supports my highest good and that of those around me. So it is, and so it shall be.

I remember this day last year. Funny how we remember the unimportant ones.

This one, however, will be worth remembering.

I got to attend an incredible conference. I worked through most of it but damn, it was fascinating when I did listen.

I got to hear directly from experts at two major hospitals about the coronavirus. Smart people. I got some new Twitter accounts to follow out of it. And my Facebook readers got the TL;DR of it all.

Without the past couple years of total bullshit, I would never have gotten, and taken, this opportunity.

Now, if I can keep everyone 12 feet from me for a good long while, I will continue being the lucky girl I always was, and was always meant to be.

If only you knew how hard it is to bite my tongue and not wipe the floor with those who so richly deserve it, you’d nominate me for a Noble Prize.

I don’t even mean to keep a cauldron of insults boiling on the back burner. It’s kind of like the protection I strap to my thigh when I go out. Only more lethal.

I’m too sweet and nice to use most of them. Everyone will tell you that. Anyone who says otherwise is delusional.

I’m proud of myself that no matter what, I can keep moving the pot out of reach. Where’s the victory in playing with unworthy opponents?

The real prize is inner peace. And mine is worth fighting for.

I’ve been quarantined since the beginning of February.

So here’s my Shazam list, mostly from The Time Before.

1. Six Feet Apart — Luke Combs
2. Behind the Mask — Fleetwood Mac
3. Banana Pancakes — Jack Johnson
4. Here I Am — Tom Odell
5. Rules — Doja Cat
6. Silver Spring — Stevie Nicks
7. Lips Like Sugar — Andrew Leahey & The Homestead
8. Say You Love Me — Jessie Ware
9. Does He Love You — Reba McEntire & Linda Davis
10. Cinnamon Girl — Lana Del Rey

Bonus (of course): Norman Fucking Rockwell — Lana Del Rey

My Gram would kick my ass for the time I wasted on oxygen thieves.

When dumb fucks would try to argue, she would tell them, “You are old enough, and certainly ugly enough, to understand this.”

They never did. Or will.

This one’s for you, Gram.

Well, it’s for old enough and ugly enough.

Not the same thing. Maybe not even the same individual.

I’ll never reveal the actual treasure map to my heart. Maybe it’s that even I don’t know the exact way. But for anyone looking to have Rapunzel let down her hair extensions again, here are some things they can do or say.

1. Love your momma. I melt for men who think their mom is the most beautiful, kindest, sweetest woman who ever lived.

Not the ones I know with, or who will probably end up with, Munchausen syndrome because of their “mummies,” of course. Ick.

Some women get jealous of the “original” Mrs. (Lastname). I don’t get that. I would love to have a second mom who’s great to me, too.

Sure, I get where some mothers-in-law are concerned about who gets their family name. They want to make sure their little boy gets the best girl out there; a lot of men settle because they don’t want to be alone. My divorced guy friends often end up admitting their moms never liked their ex-wives in the first place. Go figure.

So ghouls, win her over at every opportunity … if you love her boy enough, of course.

2. Treat servers well. Tip generously. Be kind. I’ve fallen for people in such random moments. Yes, in the exhilarating ones. But I’ve fallen a whole lot deeper when the service is terrible and he gets us ALL through the meal with a smile.

Also I really love when they handle it — like when I get double onions when I said none. When he says, hey, waiter, she must have gotten someone else’s order; would you fix this please?

Swoon.

Hell that swoon deserves its own mention …

3. Those three magic words. No, not I love you. Rather, “I got this.”

Even when someone offers to take care of something for me, I say no. That’s because I don’t want to get out of the habit of doing everything. Everyone is ephemeral, and I end up “having it” again eventually anyway.

4. Saying “I got this” … and ACTUALLY HAVING THIS.

Some people are full of promises. Some actually fulfill them. Even if it’s just for a season, it’s nice to feel like you’re on a team of more than one.

5. Three more magic words. “I believe you.”

I had a situation where someone was trashing me recently. Two situations. I got some good advice — head up, mouth shut. And it passed.

Karma has a great GPS, too, so I don’t worry about them OR me.

The trash doesn’t take itself out; sometimes you just have to keep throwing it out the window till it gets tired of coming back. Someday, they’ll learn.

To have someone listen to what’s going on and say “I believe you,” “I support you,” and “I will defend you against petty people who have no reason for being on this earth other than to eventually fertilize it” …

You guessed it. Swoon.

Ross Dress for Less, TJ Maxx, Marshalls, the Disney Wedding Pavilion and Delmonico’s.

I asked a friend for a random writing prompt instead of this one. She said how about you write why you are having trouble with this prompt.

Well, then. *rolls up sleeves, takes off crystal bracelets*

I have a magnificent list of places yet unseen. I made it during a new moon last year. These destinations are mystical and magical. Like me.

But why share this list for others to mock or, worse, try to beat me there? Ergo, my block.

Now I say, go for it, if that’s their thing. They’ll never have the best travel companion — me.

Now for my list.

My coven and I had big plans to take a girls’ trip to a witch town this summer. There’s a haunted hotel where our leader stayed that freaked even her out. Spirits haven’t bothered me (yet; they at least leave when you ask them to, unlike the living) so I’d really like to see if I’d be able to pick up the paranormal activity.

We had another, bigger trip in mind for next year, to visit a witch town a little further away. It’s about two hours from where my “sister” lives, so double bonus. Triple bonus that I can work from wherever I please now.

Also, I want to go home. Home-home. To both homes. So this is a two-fer. Not just for a weekend or a week. Like, I want to drive north and keep on going. Don’t look for me for a month. I just don’t know how to keep all my kitties fed when the only friend I had in the area, isn’t.

Basically my fifth destination is all the rest rolled in one. All the trips I was supposed to take for work. We had a big bonfire planned way up north, so I could meet the state (and my fellow employees) without 17 layers of clothes. Several of these people live abroad, so I was really looking forward to getting some culture in my white bread life.

I’m thinking of getting carseats and strapping in all the kitties, and doing an East Coast driving tour.

I think my familiar, Cocoa, would call shotgun …

Just as long as it isn’t another trip to the vet. God it was so hard releasing her back into the wild. Would she ever trust me again?