Tannenbaum

Yes, I've been more than emotional the past couple of months.  Today was the first time in 28 years I went to get a Christmas tree without one (or both) of my kids.  Pulling into the Christmas tree lot I witnessed young families with babies and toddlers in tow excitedly running around looking for the PERFECT tree.  Pangs of jealousy ravaged me.  The tantrums, bickering, and squabbles involved in tree selection escaped me this year as there was nobody to argue with. 

ahhhhhhhhh. memories.  I remember hauling the Christmas ornaments down out of the attic with one kid on my hip and the other clinging to my leg and still managed to put lights on the tree, decorate the house, and still get the kids fed, bathed, and into bed before 8:00 PM -- and still have the energy to prepare for the meeting of the board of directors the following morning.

Which now brings me to Christmas Past.  When I first moved to California back in the 1980's my aunt, who was a farmer/rancher in North Dakota, made me a manger scene as a gift.  It's something that I cherish and would save in a fire.  Every year I cry when I put it up, and I cry when I take it down.  Over the years I've had incidents involving the manger scene that included my son playing ball in the house (when I told him not to) and breaking the head off the little drummer boy.  I was SUPER angry, but managed to salvage the little drummer boy's head with strategically placed super glue.

It was not the only mishap my manger scene endured.

Then there was Sophie the cat.  I loved Sophie.  She was dark, charcoal grey with big green eyes.  She was an abused kitten who found her way to my doorstep and I took her in.  However, she HATED everybody else and was more protective of me than a pitbull.  She had an attitude.  She would hop up where the manger scene was and knock down the Three Wise Men.  Thankfully, they did not break to pieces upon hitting the floor.

Then there was my daughter's friend, Alexa.  Alexa and my daughter werethisclose during elementary school.  Alexa came from an Irish Catholic family (the dad was actually FROM Ireland and the mother with Irish ancestry).  Alexa practically lived at my house for about 2 years when the girls were in 4th - 6th grade.  Christmas time came.  Alexa helped us decorate the house for Christmas.  We get to my manger scene.  I explained to the girls while we were putting it up why it was so special to me.  Alexa and my daughter were eating up my stories of my North Dakota aunt and how the manger scene came to be in my possession.

The next day I came home to a missing baby Jesus from the manger scene.  Alexa and my daughter were sitting humbly on the sofa watching Sponge Bob, Hillary Duff (Lizzy McGuire), That's So Raven, and other Nicoledeon/Disney tv trash.  No, I don't believe in media censoring.  Censoring only heightens the attraction and mystique and drives them TO IT.   I do, however, believe in watching it with them and asking them questions about WHY it's trash without chastising or belittling them.

I'm getting off track.  I came home and my baby Jesus was missing from the manger scene.  It was only my daughter and Alexa in the house.  WHERE WAS BABY JESUS!!!!!  I'm psyCHO about my precious manger scene.  EVERYBODY WHO KNOWS ME KNOWS NOT TO MESS WITH IT!!!!!  Alexa meekly piped up and said, "Baby Jesus isn't born until Christmas Day.  I hid him."

Of course.  It makes perfect sense in Alexa's culture.

In loving memory of Aunt Emmy - and that's not just a sappy Hallmark sentiment.  I really mean it.

Facebook: The Book of the Dead

One more thing I forgot to mention earlier in my previous blog about Facebook and death.  Anybody who knows ANYTHING about being cool, hip, and trendy have known for a while that only OLD people use Facebook.  Duhhhhhh. get WITH IT.  You are all, so, like, LAME.  Facebook went out with the dinosaurs.  I guess that's why the Facebook encounters with death are more and more frequent.  It really is the 'book of the dead.' 

Keep note of the advertisements embedded in your news feed.  Assisted living, life insurance, living trusts, life alert 911 buzz line.... the "young" and the "hip" abandoned Facebook long ago.  It's only us pathetic old farts left (and bored moms on prozac). 

Facebook: Dead and Still Posting

Facebook has been around for about a decade now.  Lots happens in ten years.  What started out as the perpetual, braggie Christmas card has now had to deal with evolving ettiqette in subject matters of death, illness, etc.

I have a love/hate relationship with technology and its applications, such as Facebook.  On the plus side I'm able to keep in touch with a lot of people.  On the down side I'm able to keep in touch with a lot of people.

Here's where it gets weird for me.  My California best friend's mom died suddenly this week.  Of course, she was my "freind" on Facebook.  Now my Facebook notifications are dinging constantly with people "posting" on mom's wall -- like she can read it!

The other weird thing is that I have had other Facebook "freinds" die and yet they are still able to post and comment on my wall.  Sorry, but it's just weird to read a post on my wall knowing the person died three years ago.

I know I'm sensitive and pick up on vibes of the unseen, but I highly doubt that Facebook is being used as a medium to communicate from beyond the grave.

Black Friday: Sunny and Warm

Yesterday I texted my close friends to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving.  Granted, I have friends that cross every socio-economic background and then some.  Yes, I even have friends who fall into the "bored moms on prozac" definition.  

At the end of a long day cooking for a crowd (my labour of love) I paused at about 9:00 PM to text a few more friends I had not had a chance to connect with earlier.  One friend of mine told me that she left Thanksgiving dinner at her in-laws early to go out shopping with her daughter.  She texted me while she was standing in line at Target waiting for some tech product to come on the floor so she could be one of the first in this motley horde of people to grab it for a Christmas gift.  

Wait.  Let's see if I have this straight.  Leave a family function to stand in line to BUY something that somebody else had to bail on a family tradition because they were called into work on a holiday that is suppoosed to be about giving thanks for non-material things like family and friends to make the materialistic shopping transaction happen.  The irony.  

My friend has a soul that needs nourishment.  Seriously.  If standing in line at Target at 9:00 PM on Thanksgiving evening is something she CHOOSES to do, it is a sad state of her psychological state and inner compass.  

I REFUSE to participate in the white-trash world of shopping this weekend.....and I am white trash.  Only morons beat each other up for cheap junk made in China that will be thrown out and/or fogotten before the Christmas decorations come down.  

Granted, my inner compass and psychological state needs help, but standing in line anywhere to buy anything on Thanksgiving or the days immediately following is not my way of coping.  

Today was spent on the waterfront simply walking in the sunshine.  It was warm, sunny, and beautiful.  Thanks to global warming and climate change there is plenty more of that to come;)

Thanksgiving: THANK and GIVE

Happy Thanksgiving.  I know I use this blog as free therapy to dump frustrations.  No, I'm really not this bitchy in real life.  If by chance I do have any actual readers, it's completely by your own volition.  

This last year has thrown me some curve balls.  You all know the old saying that life is what happens while making other plans.  However, life has thrown some very prescious people in my life curve balls that they could not hit.  Sickness, death, divorce, job loss, and tragic accidents seemed to have happened at an exponential rate this past year to some people who in my book did not deserve it.  We truly do underappreciate and take for granted our creature comforts of good health, full bellies, and a decent place to live.

Which brings me to today.  It was on Thanksgiving Day 1986 that I packed my car with my wordly possesions and $500 to make a new life for myself leaving Minnesota behind for California.  I could have easily been a statistic in so many ways.  It was such a gamble.  My mother was not even there when I pulled out of the driveway the day I left.

So many things could have gone wrong as a young girl leaving home but didn't.  The stars just happened to be in my favor and I did not end up as a truck stop hooker in Nevada. 

I ended up having a good life in California.  I'm thankful for the lucky breaks I got along the way to be able to raise two kids who had a solid base of unconditional love and stability and also knew they were loved and valued NO MATTER WHAT.  

We are all vulnerable souls.  Anything can happen at any time to any of us.  Compassion, compassion, compassion -- even for the assholes who irritate the living shit out of us.

The Appointment with Death

No, you will not receive an email, intagram, nor Facebook post that you have an appointment with Death at 2:18 AM on Sunday. 

What?  An appointment with DEATH?  I don't have TIME for that!!!!!  I have to shuffle papers at 1:45, pay my bills at 4:30, and then meet my friends for dinner at 6:00 where they will toast me and tell me how WONDERFUL I am!  I will then need to fly off to (fill in the blank location) and show off to the world how IMPORTANT I am.  I then need to attend the Blah-Blah-Blah Institute of Egos Convention and reiterate how SMART and WORLDLY I am.  Did you SEE my WORK in the latest edition of EGO WRITE-UP? 

Really?

Let's put this in true perspective.  You're leaving here with nothing other than the selfish karma you created and the obligation to return to learn from it.  Me?  My plan is to try to get out of this plane of existence ASAP.  Hoping this life time is the last.  I've seen enough of you all.  Done.  

 

Marin Dog Party

What's with Paris Hilton starting the trend of everybody bringing their dogs everywhere?  I know it's cute and trendy to wear a little yappy mutt like a fashion purse, but this is just dog-gone ridiculous.  Now it's people bringing their giant poodles, greyhounds, and pit bulls to private functions like house parties and weddings.

I can't make this stuff up.

Tonight I went to a party at a private home.  The host is an Italian wine broker and he has been hosting this party the Saturday before Thanksgiving for the past 15 years.  Of course, he now lives in Marin.  Host can't help he was born of privelege and was sent to the  snobbist, private schools in Pebble Beach. He is actally a very nice guy and does not advertise his background or think that he is "all that"  That's why I like him.

Anyway, his guests did not get the memo.  They show up at his house acting like they own the place  bringing their obnixious little kids and dogs in tow.  Then there is the old lady crew who showed up with their obnoxious husbands and dogs in tow.

Unlike years past, there was a "tip jar" on the kitchen bar for the Marin Humane Society.  I don't know who put it there, but there it was.  As the evening went on, the little kids got cranky, the old man husbands got cranky, and the many dogs there started to growl, bark and yip at each other gunning for alpha male status.

Sorry, but I don't believe in bringing small children, dirty old men, nor dogs to an adult wine party. We want to relax, too, and don't want to babysit your little kid, nor shoo off your horny old huband and/or dog while you make social rounds laughing and eating oblivious to your responsibilies.

Of course, I have no filter and can't help myself in situations like this.  I exclaimed, "Wow!!!!  There sure is a lot of money in the jar for people wanting to bet on the dog fights that are about to happen."

It was sooooooo politically incorrect to say.  That's why I said it.

Car-ma

Car-ma.  I can't make this stuff up.  I'm so stunned that people can't see their own life lessons.  Life has a way of handing back your own shit over and over again until you get it right.  Sometimes it takes more than one lifetime until you, as a soul in progress, finally gets it and can progress to the next level of divine consciousness.  Are you open and aware?  My guess is no.  Most people are wandering blind, closed, and confused on this plane.

In some religions it's known as car-ma.  I know it's really karma, but in this instance it's car-ma.  You'll see why in a minute.

I have a freind who has two children.  The older one is in college out of state against the child's will.  My friend was adament that her kids go to a 4 year college right out of high school....and far away, for that matter.  There was a teary protest from Daughter when it was time to pack her bags and head off to school in Colorado.  She loved her life in Sonoma County and was not quite ready to head off.  No matter.  Mom said she was going.  That was that.

My friend's other child has vision issues and there has been a constant battle with the DMV in kid #2 getting his driver's license.  Mom is fighting the DMV tooth and nail because she believes Sonny has a god-given right to get his license -- although he's legally blind.

The driver's license issue was one where my friend and I butted heads.  Big time.  My friend was griping on the DMV rules and why they were making it so hard for 16 year-old Sonny to get his license.  She spent countless hours trying to fight the rules and regulations at the DMV as she believed them obtacles in place to personally make it hard for Sonny to drive.

I spoke up and said, "Driving is a privelege, not a right.  The rules are there for everybody's safety."

Well, Friend just about tore my head off.  How DARE I advocate for people having decent vision in order to DRIVE A CAR!!!!  We got into a heated debate about drivers and safety of others.  She is a strong-willed person, but so am I if pushed.

Fast forward 6 months.

On Halloween night we received a tragic phone call.  My friend's daughter was hit by a car in Colorado and thrown 30 feet.  She landed on her head and has multiple skull fractures.  Recovery will be slow and will require several months of hospital/rehab.  All my friend's daughter wants to do is to COME HOME (she never wanted to go away that far in the first place).  Of course, because of her delicate physical state, she can't be transported.  My friend and her husband are now on a tag-team taking leave from their jobs flying back and forth from San Francisco to Denver to be bedside with
Daughter while she makes her recovery.

Who was the driver who hit their Daughter?  A young man who "did not see" her.

If that's not car-ma, I don't know what is.

MORTIMER!!!!!!!

Yes.  I'm ready to be sent right into the looney bin.  My office ghost acted up on me again this afternoon.  My office ghost has been awfully noisy and mischievous lately. Today was another weird trip.

San Mateo Charlie, a colleague of mine,  came up to personally deliver some company workers'  compensation insurance checks to me this afternoon that I handle.  It's not uncommon for him to hand me over $75,000 - $100,000 per visit.  I track this and apply the WC premium for each employer.

Anyway...... after he dropped off the checks and left I began to process them.  I have my set routine.  I scan, enter, obtain verification signatures, blah, blah, blah, blah, until I have the set of records I need in place.  When complete, I set the checks in a specific place so I can make the bank deposit.

Today I was doing my set routine until I got to the last workers' compensation premium check.  I turned to my right to reach for the other checks that I had already processed and they were gone.

I freaked.

Wait.  Where did they go?  I did not leave my office.  Nobody was IN my office.  How could something like that disappear?  I began to tear through the garbage, outgoing mail, tracing my steps and turning filing cabinets upside down trying to figure out where the checks went!!!!  they were JUST THERE.  In front of my EYES.  Am I going batshit crazy?????

I called San Mateo Charlie in tears saying that I lost $100,000 worth of checks.  I've never lost checks in my life and I've been doing my job for 27 years.

Just as San Mateo Charlie would do, he tried to talk me down from the ledge.  He's so practical and German.  I retraced my steps three times over with him whilst on my cell phone.  Garbage.  Check.  Recycling, check.  Behind my desk.  Check. Under today's mail.  Check.  Recently opened files.  Check.  I went to my secretary's office to scour her area although I was not near there. 

I was upset and realized there was nothing I could do at this point but to go home, get a good night's rest, and come back in the morning to resume the search.  It's dark at 6:30 in the evening.  I began to make 'rounds to turn off all the lights and to lock up.

That's when I went back to my office to turn off all remaining lights only to see the missing checks I was looking for directly under my right computer monitor in plain view where I always place them after processing.  I swear they were not there 1 minute ago.

Maybe I should START drinking on the job.

Granted, my office was built in 1886 and has a known history of harboring ghosts.  Still, I don't like to be the subject of their practical jokes.  

4H and FFA vs Yuppie Wanna Be Farmers

I never thought I'd live to see it.  The next Cold War will NOT be between the Russia and the United States.  Rather, it will be between the long-established 4H/FFA (Future Farmers of America) and the 'johnny-come-lately-type' Yuppie Urbanist Farmer Wannabes who think they can sustain on a few roof top garden plots located in an industrialized area consisting of radishes and cabbage.

News Flash:  Farming ain't glamorous. 
Double News Flash:  There *is* a difference between gardening and farming.
Word to the Wanna-Bees

Yeah, stop with the "organic" and other buzzwords that just makes all authentic farmers want to kill  you Yuppies while you're sipping your latte, flying off to Europe for an extended stay, and texting on your cell phone.   Real farmers don't have time/resources for that.  How could they when calving season is happening?  What about harvest?  What about the rain that could ruin the entire crop if it's not done in time?  What about hail/snow/tornadoes?  What about the new "bug" that is eating up all healthy crops but pesticides can't be used?  What about an early frost? 

Sure.  The two dirt beds for your rooftop garden are great.  Don't think for a minute you're a real farmer.  It's nothing but a trendy-feel-good-pass-time for you.  If your garden goes to hell in a hand basket, as it most certainly will at some point, you'll be the first in line at the grocery store buying produce from REAL FARMERS.

The difference between farmers and gardeners is that farmers do this as a livelihood.  Farmers have no other job or source of income.  It's their life.  They live or die with the grace of nature's kindness.  Gardeners have other jobs and it's not their livelihood.  Gardeners work all day at a "city job" and come home to tinker in their gardens and be *in* the elements.  Farmers toil all day in the fields and come in at evening time hoping to finally get the dirt washed off of them and get *out* of the elements. 

Know the difference.

Yahoo Mail and Internet Viruses

I'm so sorry I ever YaHOOOOOOOOOOO'd.  You know, the internet search engine and mail provider that has the most inept security EVER? 

I'm tech savvy enough to know that any "free" internet mail and search engine isn't free.  Your information is bought, sold, and traded multiple times via the "cloud" which is the modern day version of dealing under the table. 

I do need to make an exception for Firefox. 

I'm getting off track.  Back to Yahoo.  Like I said, I 'm tech savvy enough to be very skeptical of "free" internet mail.  I do have a Yahoo mail account that I use for junk correspondence and transactions.  I can't tell you how many times my Yahoo account has been compromised due to:  hacking, phishing, spoofing, high-jacked, etc.

Yes, it's a frivolous email account.  However, it's a major inconvenience when some techno-hijacker attempting to implant the dreaded Crypto virus posing as me and I need to notify everybody in my address book to NOT OPEN UNSOLICITED WEB ADDRESSES OR ATTACHMENTS!

Remember back in the 70's and the awkward embarrassment of notifying previous sexual partners that you had herpes or some other sexually transmitted disease?  (or at least people with a conscience did).  Forget that.  Now it's the awkward embarrassment of fessing up to spreading computer viruses. 

The Apple and the Tree

Remember the old saying 'the apple does not fall far from the tree'? Sure you do. Do you believe it? Sure I do. When my sister was getting married to her first husband, there was the mandatory couples counseling prior to the marriage. Catholic priest leading the sessions told my sister to take a hard, long look at Beloved's father, as that is what he will turn into. The same for Beloved, that my sister will eventually turn into her mother. Talk about free advice that went in one ear and out the other. At the time of this wise Catholic counseling Beloved's father, Bud, was living with my sister and Beloved in their townhouse in Fremont. Bud could not hold a job, never had any money, and liked to sit around the house all day drinking pots of coffee, watch TV, and leaving dirty dishes for my sister to clean up. "Oh NOOOOOOOOOO!!! Beloved will NEVER turn into his father," my sister exclaimed to Catholic Priest. Beloved has too much ambition and sense! Beloved is almost through his training to become an air traffic controller at the Oakland Airport. He's NOTHING like Bud!!!! Well, as it turns out Catholic Priest was right. It took less than 5 years of marriage for the apple to fall in a direct, perpendicular decent from the tree. Beloved took to the addiction and high of meth. Beloved lost his job at the Oakland Airport and is now living with HIS son dealing meth -- sans teeth. Now, about my sister turning into my mother. That's fodder for a subsequent blog. Being we both share the same mother it scares the living you-know-what out of me. Seriously.

English Beat: 80's Flashback

OK... so I went to go see my English Boy Crush tonight.  Yes, he's still "all that" along with his black sidekick.  Yup.  They both still look damn good.

What made me dance and sing with delight was when these songs were played I knew the lyrics, and knew when to clap/pose/dance mid song (revealing MTV 80's hey day).  Most people there were slightly unsure of what music was even being played let alone what to do with it.  They were in their 20's and early 30's dressed like they were going somewhere refined wearing heals and nice shirts.  All they knew was that it was the place "to be."

Enter us rusted out 40-50 somethings who knew what we were getting into.  Yeah, our clothes/style *rocked* the younger set who secretly wished they could be confident enough to wear what we wore.  The youngsters were trying too hard to impress and make a statement.  We 40-50's were comfortable, but yet classy, and most of all FUN.  I guess it's because we did not take ourselves so seriously.  We were there simply to reminisce good times, dance, and have a cocktail or two.   We owned the concert:)  A little bit of free advice to the younger set:  Never wear heals to a music/dance fest.  Even if you decide to kick off your shoes, the floor is sticky with spilled beer and chances are your shoes will never be found. 

Identity Crisis: Empty Nest - MidLife

Even my own mother and sister are freaked about me calling them on the phone and crying as of late.  I never call them and cry.  I never really cry in front of others.  I may bitch a lot about useless stuff, but to actually cry??????  Granted, my mother and sister are of very stoic Germanic stock and my emotions are met with puzzlement and confusion and their three-words-or-less attempts at "fixing" me (which is the goal of all Germans.  We are machines.  If something is wrong, fix it. Damn it.  And shut up about it.)  My mother and sister are like Spock on StarTrek and totally oblivious to emotions and feelings. 

Which begs the question of what about dad and my brothers.  Dad is super-intuitive/psychic and his abilities were squashed and inhibited by the 1930's WASP Midwest farmer mentality of 'that freaky hippie crap does not exist.'  I think my older brother is incredibly intuitive and psychic and my younger brother has the ability as well, but they are suppressed by their culture and immediate environment so they try to push it down and ignore it.  Ok, so they are warped, too.

Then there is me.  The rebel from birth.  Whatever.  I just don't fit in anywhere.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and never fail to express emotions. 

Anyway, back to identity crises, empty nest, and midlife crisis.  I've had anticipated quasi-freedom for about 2 years when my youngest graduated from high school.  I knew on the superficial level that things were about to shift.  However, my youngest being a homebody she stuck around close to home and close to mom after high school ended, and junior college began.  I should add that I spent the last decade as a travel sport parent, so being home on the weekends is still a foreign concept to me. 

I was only too happy to oblige her.  I'm such a co-dependent.  I was needed.  I love providing for others. 

Now that she has moved away and her visits home are now sporadic and brief I'm left trying to figure out what to do with myself.  For real.  Sure, I toyed with the ideas of finding my own interests but my daughter was still around to sabotage my long-term goals of joining a choir, dance team, or orchestra. 

Not anymore.  It's just me, myself, and I.  Now that I *really* have the time and resources to do what *I* want it's weird. 

Thank Goddesses that my Sonoma County bestie, MSS, is taking me out to get my wimpy-English-dude-fix by getting tickets to English Beat :)

Tesla: Envirornmentalism for Snobs

If I see one more Tesla car I'm going to puke.  The only people who drive them are monied environmentalist wanna-bees.  They think that because they "buy" a $150,000 car that is so-called friendly to the environment, they can justify their hillside McMansions and other gross, materialistic crimes of overboard consumerism that are strangling earth's resources.

Hypocrites.   pffffffffft

Perfect Mess

I would say that my life is the perfect mess right now.  I've been teetering on the edge of "what's next" and suddenly along comes a huge gust of wind that just pushed me into uncharted territory.  
I've been mentally bracing myself for transition for a few years now.   I knew it was coming.  Denial is a wonderful aid, and busying myself with surface noise and distractions also works well.   It's so much easier not to think too deeply or deal with our inner issues. 

It's a strange feeling now that the house is eerily silent and nobody is around.  I craved silence and solitude for 27 years, as I never had a moment for myself.  Ever.  For years I just wanted everybody OUT of my house. 

Be careful what you wish for. 

Another Weird Evening

I'm in my office doing my Friday paperwork shuffle when at about 4:00 PM my cell phone rings.  It's my Sonoma County bestie, MSS, asking what my plans were for the evening.  To be honest, I had no plans.  I was just going to go home and cry as that's been my pattern as of late.  MSS knows this and wants to bring me out to get me out of my rut.  I agree to accompany her to a dive bar in Petaluma and then to Sebastopol for live African music/dance. 

Talk about a weird twist of events.  Upon entering the African music/dance party, I see a guy I used to work with YEARS ago.  The story is too long and complicated, but the gist of it is that I saved his life arranging a liver transplant for him that the insurance coverage did not want to cover nor deal with.  To this day he has no idea what I went though to make the liver transplant happen.  Fast forward 15 years.  There he is tonight sitting a table huggy/kissy with his new lady love DRINKING A BEER.  I went to the ends of the earth trying to make this guy well from his alcoholic liver.  I pass by him.  He does not see me.  He has no idea I'm there.  After a little bit, there he is out dancing to the music enjoying life.  It took every ounce of my being not to beat him over the head in front of everybody and scream, "If it weren't for me, you'd be DEAD -- ASSHOLE." 

I digress.  I did refrain myself, but it was difficult.  On another note, I immersed myself in the rhythm of West African drums and music.  There is something that speaks to my primitive, tribal soul that moves my body.  For the band on stage comprised of black guys to take note of my dancing and comment, "You move pretty good -- for a white girl" is a compliment I will never tire of. 

The Rhythm of Seasons - Lost

Nature is producing some pretty strange things.  No.  Strike that.  Reverse it.  We are producing strange things to nature.  No wonder Mother Nature is so confused. 

Mother Nature had it all planned and operating perfectly.  We had our seasons of both human life and nature.  There was a definite spring, summer, autumn, and winter.  Each season served its purpose and our ancestors, also creations of nature, tuned into the rhythm and patterns with awe and respect. 

There is no rhythm anymore to anything.  No rhythm to our lives and decreasing amounts of rhythm to nature.  Seasons are blurred.  Roses bloom in January.  Our arrogance as humans thinks we can out smart Mother Nature.  Nice try.  Once Mother Nature gets tired of us trying to fool her and poison her and the confusion lifts, she will respond with anger.  We deserve it. 

It reminds me of the corny margarine commercial from the 1970's that said, "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."

Sonoma County EDD: Dr. Chris Thornberg

I went the the republican breakfast on Friday at the Hyatt.  Why?  I'm not sure.  I just wanted to check it out.  I have my pulse on the business world and every once in a while I want to compare my intuitive hunches to the charts and graphs presented.

At my job, I'm anonymously down in the trenches actually managing cash, payroll, and benefits hands-on for several entities both public and private.  Charts and graphs don't mean diddly when there is no money in the bank and payroll is due at 2:00 PM.  Slide shows and statistics don't mean much when business owners snipe each other in back room deals over lucrative contracts with governments and side step labor laws to maximize profits for themselves all in the name of "free market economy." 

The speaker, Dr. Chris Thornberg, is nice to look at and a vibrant speaker.   However, I just had an unsettling feeling there is a disconnect between the information presented and reality.  It's almost like we are being purposely placated and led to believe that all is well.  That much I believe to be true -- for the rich -- and for the immediate future.  Dr. Thornberg was like the captain of the ship getting on the public address system and telling people "don't panic -- we have it all under control" as the Titanic is sinking.

At the end of the presentation, the audience was invited to write questions on a card.  Dr. Thornberg went into lengthy detail about many of the questions asked.  The one question that was asked that I believe will impact us all more than anything and was quickly pushed under the rug was, "What about climate change and anticipated impact?"

It was the most important question asked -- as none of the other issues and questions will matter -- was met with the glib response of, "It's getting warmer."

That, my dear friends, is the elephant in the room.

Tomorrow: Election Day

I'm about to delve into the piles of election material(s) for tomorrow.  Here in Sonoma County, California, we have lots to ponder and choose.  In actuality, I'm not really certain how my individual vote really changes anything.  Things are just as messed up as they always have been.  What does it all mean when God is supposedly in charge, anyway? 

It Happened -- Again

I must have opened up something as more psychic hits keep coming.  It's frustrating because I can NEVER predict when and how they happen, nor the frequency.  They just do.  I have no control over it.  I wish I did.  I can go months without anything, and then suddenly I get a stream of back-to-back gut feeling hits that feel like a *knowing* that I can't explain that are confirmed.  Then there are my dreams.  Because of my vivid dreaming I can't always predict which ones are premonitions -- some dreams are premonitions and some are not.   Sometimes I'll get a single, random psychic hit out of the blue.

All I know is that there is not an established pattern but when it happens, it happens.