My reality fell even deeper into a black hole.

Today was pretty boring. My reality fell even deeper into a black hole. In Math, Alyssia asked Ana where she had been all morning! (Ana was late) Ana says Alyssia doesn’t hate her anymore. I wish Alyssia didn’t hate me anymore. In the whole clicke, Becki is the only one who treats me with any decency. Maybe I’m quiet around them because they’ve never included me in anything. I swear when our troop takes car trips they call “middle shotgun” and play “I Spyy,” completely leaving me, Jessica, Christy and Jenni B. out. Maybe I should liven up at Girl Scouts. I mean I’m usually so hyper! But the second any of them get around I’m afraid of them stereotyping me so I quiet down and I don’t say anything. I wish they’d warm up to me. Then again, maybe I need to warm up to them. Of course what good would that do? They probably would ignore me. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’ll quit the trouop. But I don’t want to. That’s my last connection to Becki. I’ve given up on Amy. She’ll never accept me. I’ll work on Becki. Somehow.

Turbomode: Take Two

Four years ago, I posted about my life going into turbomode.  I had just been promoted at the BSC (formerly USCA) to the position of Development Director in a year that came with a 75th anniversary gala for 300 and an accompanying fundraising campaign.

On this day in 2012 I find myself in turbomode again.  Only this time my life has been hijacked by a booming business and a sudden change in housing after a long four and a half years.

The trouble is that every time I wind up in turbomode — or just busy — I find that I forget me.  My social life persists (with some exceptions)…as does my work for others.  But the self preservation activities that feed my soul: writing, creating and exercise…all of them out the door.

The Oaxacan wood carving I started 8 weeks ago with a fervor stands unfinished (headless, to be specific) and neglected.  This blog — one of my favorite projects — barely updated.

I’m a people pleaser.  I always have been.  Back when I had life coaching every week, I called that side of me Little Miss Puppet. Little Miss Puppet calls a lot of the shots…she’s always the top priority.  What can I do for you today?

But what should I do for me?

Yesterday I sat on the couch all day definitely not nursing a hangover the size of Texas.  I caught up on Desperate Housewives and Community and didn’t think about anything.  All of a sudden I wanted — no, needed — to create.  My brain started to bubble with blog ideas and plans.

This is the end of my Saturn Return, a time when Saturn’s 30 year old orbit crosses my sky again.* Saturn’s return forces us to face what’s not working for us.  If we face the lessons in its first orbit, they’re easier to take…changes that happen after 60 years of life can be much harder.

I’ve been pretty aware of my Saturn Return since I was 28, though I’ve neglected to share about it here. It wasn’t without inspiration, let me tell you. Yet another thing to blame on Little Miss Puppet!  Bah, that Little Miss Puppet.

At its onset, my Saturn Return forced me to recognize that I was not happy working for someone else’s mission, even if it was a non-profit with a worthy cause.  It forced me to follow my dreams and live the life of an entrepreneur…as crazy as it has been.

Since I have come face to face with that fact that I’m uncomfortable living beyond my means.  That was a tough one.  I’ve also come to understand that — as an enthusiastic collector of stuff — I need to keep all of it in order.  When it’s disorganized and hard to find I get very grumpy…at myself and the world around me.  As much as I haven’t really wanted to admit it, I seek order.

And I seek to take care of me.  To find a way to prioritize the hours that feed my soul, even if it means letting down a friend here or there.  I’m not sure how to make this happen, but it’s an important project to undertake.

And, I’m hoping, the final lesson of my Saturn Return.

*perhaps not exactly right but pretty close Continue Reading

MY WHOLE CONCEPT OF REALITY IS GONE!!!

(Robbie and Tom W. didn’t show up)

MY WHOLE CONCEPT OF REALITY IS GONE!!! It all started with Alyssia J. broke up with Andy. That was last Tues. I think. then last Fri. Chan asked Daniele W. out! And she said yes! But awhile ago Chan and Nicole O. got contacts. Chan without glasses?!!! It’s crazy. Then last night Ana went w/ Natalie to TNT (Church youth group) and the girls of the cliche talked to her! They used to hate her! Well, I’m pretty sure of that. Everything I’ve believed in: the people in the cliche will always cold shoulder us no matter waht we do; Chan wears glasses; we all hate Alyssia; Amy and Chan would end up together not Amy and George B!; Alyssia and Andy would always go out; is gone. All of it! Everything! That’s the stuff I always could count on to be the same no matter waht else changed. Well, at least I know the cliche will be the cliche! But if they stop ignoring me then I have to rely on Emily to deliver me to the nut house. (Ha, ha!)

Reality

My reality went BYE, BYE!

Ahhh We Lost the Guster!

The Guster is not a very courageous fellow. The saying, “Curiosity killed the cat,” almost doesn’t apply to him — that’s how fearful he is.

Until we brought him to his our new home Saturday night.

We didn’t really plan the move well. We thought we would take our time, but then when push came to shove, we had an empty gleaming apartment to move into and we didn’t want to do anything else.

We dropped everything, and brought the bed and the Guster over. Living there has been a little like urban camping — not much furniture, only the basics. Just what we need to survive: some food, a litterbox, a bed and Gus.

He was pretty upset and meowing a lot, but I could tell he was okay because we were there. He walked the perimeter of the house over and over sniffing everything. Eventually he took a sit on one of our familiar kitchen chairs and just watched us.

We went outside to sit on the stoop and enjoy a celebratory beer. Gus came along. He likes to come outside with us. He sniffed around… I went back inside for something and he followed me right back in.

Good Guster!!

We went back out to join Will. The Guster went back to sniffing the neighborhood. Will and I stopped paying attention for a bit… and then when it was time to come back in, he was nowhere to be found!

We called him over and over to no avail. Not willing to leave the front door wide open, we reluctantly turned in without our best furry buddy.

I didn’t sleep a wink. Every noise the new house made I was sur was Gus coming to the door. Eventually I put together a pile of blankets and tried to sleep next to the door so I could be sure not to miss him. Every hour or so I got up and tried to track him down.

Nothing.

The morning arrived, and we combed the neighborhood shaking our cat food and calling him. Nothing. Now, he’s not a young cat. He can’t scale fences and is terrified of anything new. I knew he couldn’t have gotten far, but at the same time I was sure that he might have been scared into running away by the howls of the neighboring dogs. Who knows where he’d end up??

Distraught, we asked our new neighbors. I made signs and we posted them throughout the neighborhood. With nothing else to do but try to ignore our heavy hearts, we went back to unpacking. It was lunchtime, and I made sandwiches in our new kitchen. Ham and cheese. Pretty good, though we hadn’t moved the toaster yet and toasted bread makes sandwiches better.

Sandwiches in hand, I went out to our stoop to call Will for lunch. He was out looking for the Guster again. I looked left and wonder where Will could be. I looked to the right and lo and behold! Who do I see cautiously walking towards me? No one else but the Guster.

I screamed and grabbed him and gave him the biggest hug he’d ever gotten. He was sleepy; just waking up from a nap in the neighbor’s overgrown yard and deaf to our pleas.

Cats. I swear they don’t care about anyone but themselves.

Continue Reading

Girl Scout Cookies: Stingier than they used to be

The last year I sold Girl Scout cookies was 1999. Yes, it’s true, I was an 18-year-old Girl Scout.

Here’s a photo for proof:

In 1999, Girl Scout cookies cost $3.50 a box. This is after years of the price going up so regularly that customers expected and joked about it.

Fast forward 13 years and Girl Scout cookies are now $4.00 a box. How is it possible that they only have gone up $0.50??

Instead of increasing the cost, they’ve decreased the yield.

Thin mint rolls used to fill up the box…give a full box a shake now and it doubles as a maraca…the rolls of cookies bouncing around. I swear that peanut butter patties (aka Tagalongs) used to come six to a roll, not the measely five you now get.

It’s the truth and it’s pretty sad, but I can’t really blame the Girl Scouts…it’s all marketing…no one wants to pay more than $4 for a box of cookies.

And three cheers for the Girl Scouts for being inclusive of that transgendered kid. Makin’ me proud. Continue Reading

It’s not like he’s going to judge me because of my bunnie skate guards.

I’m so nervous. Actually scared is a better word. I’ve been out since Wed w/ Namonia and tomorrow I have skating lessons. Afterward I’ll just stick around for Ana’s B-day party also at the skating rink. It’s boy-girl and Robbie will be there. Will he think me stuck up for having my own skates? Normally I don’t care what people think, but I like Robbie. I told Natalie, but tomorrow I’m going to tell her I stopped because I don’t want anyone knowing. But, oh I don’t know. It’s not like he’s going to judge me because of my bunnie skate guards. I just hope I won’t look like a major show off. It’s not like I’m an Olympian but I don’t suck and I am most certainly going to be better than anyone else there. Well we’ll just have to find out what happens won’t we?

Reader Submissions!

YES! The text boxes are working! Thank you, dear readers, for filling them out.

Reader #1 says…

U should be on TV

We agree!!

Reader #2 says…

have you seen this?


you’re welcome.

No!! I hadn’t. That is awesome. Thank you!!

Reader #3 shares…

I miss you MOMUC!

And I miss you, FOMUC. What is this? Glad you asked. When I was in college, I lived for years in a triple room in a co-op. I went through about 12 or so wonderful roommates back then… Two of them were named Blake and Tom and together we made a baby that remains unborn. Thinking about it now, that’s a little weird, but back then it seemed like a good joke… I call Blake and Tom the “fathers of my unborn child” or “FOMUC” for short. And they call me “MOMUC.”  We were sure brilliant back then.

And finally, Reader #4 says…

MAGIC…you’re an airstt, Tasha! Being partly Scottish too, I’m a sucker for tartan, and as for Jen’s big brown eyes – perfect. Must say, I didn’t notice that the bride atop the wedding cake was way too large

Hmmm… well, Reader #4…you have left me speechless. And that is hard to do! Continue Reading