Here, finally, is our real post. Because, ya know, last night was a bit of rush. And then, I lapsed into woeful self-pity. This morning (yes, actual real live freaking morning) the cards (and the Grand Dogs) slapped* some sense back into my head. (This did nothing for the dreadlock situation though, sadly.)
*No witches were harmed in the virtual slapping. Promise.
Our journey thus far, fabulous train ride. Highly entertaining. Guy in front of us, unlike last time, was NOT arrested in Portland, but similar to the previous fellow, was an ass. Fortunately, he also napped most of the way. It was only when he was awake that he caused me any issues. He talked. And was stupid.
On the plus side, we splurged and made dinner reservations. It’s cozy on the rails, so we shared a table with two new friends. Hi Sonya, hi Brenda! (Apologies if I spelled either incorrectly.) They had been on board nearly twice as long as we had, so were familiar with the customs (and Donald, the server). Delightful meal-time conversations. (We invited them to visit here, hope they show up, fingers crossed!)
A funny thing happened before that though. I was trying to get a nice shot of a lovely historic station that we were pulling in to (so many of them have been beautifully restored) when I received this on my phone.Thanks Karen B for sharing this with me. Hope your adventurers enjoy themselves!
In the very next second I received this one. From Han and the guys.
That would be Hunter. Keeping our bed warm for us. Right now, he and Indi are holding the covers down, basking in the spots of sun.
Last night, as I mentioned, there was a wee crisis of faith, and our card today reflects that. Oops, shit happens.
Five of Pentacles
Before I say anything else about it though, I’m going to cut & paste a bit from this post. (No, I did not have to go search the archives for that one, Corina recently send it to me in an e-mail. Coincidence? Not fucking likely.)
Here’s one of the things that I think is so valuable about this card, when we get up, and hobble off, even if we only have one leg, barely a working arm, and can only see out of one eye, we are better off than that other character in the illustration. There on the ground is a being who won’t even try. She sits huddling against the wall with her hand out. Waiting for someone to come along and help her, give to her, HAND her the answer.
This is what it’s like to fight your destiny, to ignore your messages, to constantly NOT do the right thing. She is gonna freeze her ass off. And she’ll be miserable all the while. We never want to be her. This is what my Beloved and I discussed earlier. We look around and are grateful that we have a used chair and tattered old love seat in a shitty family room. Because the alternative is NOT having a chair, or even a house to put it in at all.
I complain about my legs hurting, but the reality is that I’m grateful for having two legs. Fat legs that are old, you bet, but those legs get me around the neighborhood, and they get me up and down the stairs. Those pudgy legs show my beautiful tattoos and move my ass from one room to another all day long. Those legs (and my two fully functioning arms) helped to move several pieces of furniture today, in and out of the house, up and down stairways, through doors and over uneven flooring.
Yes some of us do need to whine a bit, we need to feel our emotions, and THEN we can move on. Once we’ve experienced that feeling of being fully human and flawed, we can let those emotions (and some bags of trash/recycling/donate-ables) go and thank the Universe that we CAN bitch and moan, then finally… just enjoy the blessings we are so lucky to have been given.
That’s slightly dated, but still valid. This message simply tells us to get the hell up and go ask for help. There is sanctuary, and aid, to be had. We just have to go get it.
I’ll be addressing the crap that bothered me, and deal with it. No doubt you’ll hear more about it. For now, here’s the Foreign License Plate Report: Why-Oh-Mee and a local example we spotted on our way to a late night snack (no, J.Adam did NOT starve).
Here’s a question, for those of you with taste. Are matching fishing-type vests worn by Mr and Mrs Old Retired Couple worse than belt packs worn by old hippies on vigorous walks? We saw an amazing display on the train. NOT that we’re considering going that direction, but we DID wonder what the consensus would be among JulieLanders (and people I’ve given birth to).
Robin Wood Tarot