Caterwauling

With a H/T to Tom B. because, genius.

1. Completely out of fucks to give.

2. The backorder is being ignored.

3. The distributor went out of business due to tariffs.

Just got an invite for a lunch date.

Mom remembered this fool standing me up for lunch two years ago.

I’d honestly forgotten. Explains why his number wasn’t in my phone and I had to ask who TF this was.

I know he needs a favor. Hard pass, G. Dead to me means dead.

Looking forward to forgetting again. This time, before he does.

If you can’t ride with the big witches, stay off my broom.

My coven had a wild snd wonderful session on Sunday. We conjured up a birthday party, built a tarot altar and did some channeling/automatic writing.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you might be the one asking the questions and pointing to the face-down cards for the answers. But the cards choose you and they ask you more questions in return.

I asked my teacher if you can consciously choose a card because you like it. Like, I’m a Gemini and my life path is six; should The Lovers (6) be “my” card?

She’s too nice to ever tell you you’re special. But she’s like well, do this:

Pick a card that you’d like to reflect your future …

Meditate on it …

And ask the universe to bring you what you wish, in a way that serves your highest good … AND THE GOOD OF THOSE AROUND YOU.

In other words, you don’t have it. And you might not get it.

But hey, you cheeky little monkey, dream big.

I’ll meditate on this one.

Funny how toxic trolls who habitually shit on all I hold dear can’t eat their humble pie in silence.

I’d say speaking of pies, but my vibration is getting higher and higher, and I’ve no interest in playing on that level anymore.

The nice thing about saying it out loud is that no one can hurt me anymore.

Good news and things await. There are plenty of both ahead.

“Someday I’ll be living in a big old city” …

I’ve had a toxic troll crap on my grief 2x now for a dead friend.

And countless times for a dead cat and things and places that meant the world to me. Many that mean everything to me.

Be a real shame if someone returned the favor.

…

Dearest S.,

Saying happy birthday into the void is something I will never get used to. No matter that it’s going to be that way for as long as I remember you.

Not that losing your memory will ever happen. I’ll get to Greece and see all those breathtaking views and landmarks you waxed poetic about over American wines you said were just as good as what you had over there.

And to you, they probably were just as good. Even when I was horrified at some of the food and drink we were served, you savored it all like it was the best thing to touch your lips.

That’s what made everything with you such an adventure. You were so, so happy just to be doing something. And to be with me.

How could I not swoon a little, or a lot?

“Goddess, we should get married,” you said at least twice. With our respective track records, it was not the worst idea.

I pretended not to hear the first time. Because distance is my default. Can’t really lose what you never let yourself have.

But I lost you, my beloved January baby. I didn’t open up while I had you. Even though I knew you were a safe place.

That’s why the hurt is so hard to bear. You fought so hard to cultivate and keep our friendship. I was so guarded. Now, I’ll never get it back.

And I don’t know that I’ve ever really let myself grieve it. Or if I even can without falling apart.

You snuck into my heart. Now there’s a you-sized hole. With all the others, it’s a wonder there’s any heart left.

I was so mad at you for something in the end. Didn’t want to say it. Seems so silly now. Monumental losses have a way of wiping out those little hurts.

Yesterday I said goodbye to a colleague I might not see again. But then again, he lives in a state that’s on my itinerary for 2020. So who knows. I said it would do my heart good to run into him again and he agreed. But if not, he said may your soul be well.

Boy did his quiet voice reverberate loudly. We follow our hearts and turn things over in our minds. But our souls are our true north.

You always listened to your soul and followed it to all the ends of this earth. It’s taken me a while but I’m finally going to do the same.

I know I won’t run into you. But I’ll take the best of you with me. And there was a whole lot of that.

God I wish you were here. If only for the reason that my enemies were yours and we’d have totally been shit-talking over souvlaki and you’d probably have avenged any injustice against me by morning.

Tonight, I’ll drink tequila with someone new. Someone I’m not afraid to love or lose. Someone who will be around as long as I will.

These soul connections are so, so rare. Thank you for ours.

Cheers to you.

<3,
Goddess

ETA: Saw this in a store today. I hope you are there and loving the view.

I don’t know how some astrological sites say I’m not emotional. But most are spot-on when they say I’m an overthinker.

Case in point: Someone at work goes missing.

First thought: Good for them. Clear the mind. Find fresh air. Breathe deep. Come back ready to shine.

Second thought: Someone crazy is abusing them physically and/or psychologically and did I miss their call for help?

Third thought: I should drive around and find them.

Fourth thought: Wait, that person could tie me up and hang me from the rafters too. I should call 911.

Fifth thought: Maybe they are into that sort of thing. Carry on.

Sixth thought: No, really. People are crazy. They are going to get maimed and I knew this Misery shit was going to happen and I did nothing about it.

Seventh thought: *Googles criminal history of probable perpetrator*

Eighth thought: Fuck, I should do some work.

Ninth thought: How do I tell them it’s OK to reach out for help? You don’t have to bleed to death at the hands of Kathy Bates.

Tenth thought: Self, I will break your fingers if you don’t go do some work. They could all kill you. And enjoy it.

Eleventh thought: What does Tarot say? “Mollie, you in danger, girl!” Wait, are they Mollie or am I if I intervene? OMG someone’s gonna die today.

Twelfth thought: Fuck it. I’ll find out tomorrow. *YouTubes “Die Another Day,” because, Madonna.*

ETA: Blink twice if she bludgeoned your other knee. Also, the real Kathy Bates is beautiful inside and out.

There’s a “One Morning, She Woke Up Different” meme that’s made the rounds a million times.

As I prepare for a full day of flying, I realize it’s not that I woke up different one day.

It’s that I wake up different every day.

And eventually, all those new days build upon the last.

It’s especially evident when I return from each trip that I’m different.

A lot different.

I hardly travel to seek perspective. I got enough perspective right where I’m planted, thanks. A front-row seat to how people elevate themselves and others at every expense.

If anything, the further away I am, the clearer and cleaner the air is. And when I return, I bring some of that mountain air with me.

Today, as I sit in the tiny airport that’s about to become even more familiar, I realize I have finally gotten the life I wanted.

It is mine. Literally mine. All mine.

I thought of someone who would love this adventure. I wondered what the adventure would be like, if this were the life he chose too.

But then I think about my friend I just went to visit. How we all thought my guy was the better man. How hers ended up being the most stand-up one out of them all.

And I realize, the life I chose is choosing me back. And there’s only one ticket to ride.

Maybe it’s not that I woke up different today. Maybe it’s just that I woke up and remembered who I am and where I was going in the first place.

What a decade.

2010: Two job changes. Voluntary one in March to “voluntold” (unemployed) on Dec. 27. “Not a fit,” they said. They meant financially.

2011: Year o’ barely getting by. Thank the Baby Yoda for savings and freelance. Financial rock bottom sucks. Met the boy who would define my 2019 early this year. Started my job on Nov. 7. Just celebrated 8 years!

2012: Worked hard. Met a nice boy. I wasn’t into marriage and kids before that. Started thinking “maybe …”

2013: Big, structural changes at work. No more relationship. No more time for one. Embarked on a scary new project that lasted four years.

2014: Left Palm Beach. Horrible move. But now five miles from work. I hired a total incompetent and ended up doing all the work AND babysitting. Stressful year all around. But I reconnected with a boy from my long ago past and enjoyed the long-distanceness of it all.

2015: Got involved in a big lawsuit. Boss, who already hated my guts, stopped hiding that fact. But he fired the incompetent for me, and we brought on some cool people. Psycho busy year. Grew and outgrew people and situations.

2016: The year was unremarkable till my sweet young friend passed away suddenly. I re-evaluated our workaholic-ness (which she saw me doing, and mimicked because she was just as dedicated and, frankly, she was way more talented), and I took my first vacation. Then there was the flaming dumpster fire that was the election. Nonstop anxiety since.

2017: The cool project/team was disbanded. I was one of the lucky survivors to get called back to the original company as all my other friends floated away. Got a new job offer that I turned down … two months before getting let go from the new/old entity. But in the end, I was kept on.

2018: Kept on, and promoted. Just as I was leaving for ANOTHER offer because, this girl had been through enough. But I stayed and thrived. Lawsuit ended amicably. Signed a lease in Palm Beach at year-end, and initiated my move back to where I belong.

2019: Reconnected with the boy from 2011 and got to experience All the Butterflies. Relationship bloomed. And imploded. I lost my best friend and that wasn’t even the worst part. Then the 2015 boy looked me up and called me every name in the book. I learned to read tarot cards and sharpen my intuition. Hired the perfect person. But everything lost its luster until someone sent me a plane ticket that will change my life if I let it.

2020s: My flight took off Wednesday …