Guitar Army

Last time I was in City Weekly, I unwittingly got drunk next to a reporter and told “rambling stories about [my] cats.” Our local urban rag is famous for its annual Best Of Awards, and the day it came out, FOUR people slapped the mag down in front of me.

“Christie! You got in the paper!” Unnamed, it could have been no one else.

From 2004 – when Penny unexpectedly started my family, joined 2 months later by Cricket – to 2007, I think I talked of nothing else! Our bartender and friend once said to my boyfriend, “I’ve never heard anyone talk about their cats so much, in my life.”

I believe no one ever has.

Twilight Lounge (my Cheers) won Best Assorted Clientele back then. “On any given night,” the writer quipped, “the pickled regulars might be swapping dirty jokes or telling…” said rambling stories. Pickled. Perfect!

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This incarnation of band life is a mission by my friend, Wild Bill, to sing or play Ode to Joy in every time zone at 7pm Thursdays, so the sun will be greeted by healthy vibrations of happy intention every week, every where, as Earth cycles by. He has mathematical equations worked into the whole theory and, really, it’s the least we can do from our little outpost of the universe.

What I’m loving about it is that, rather than sing a whole set myself, I do a song or 2 between other musicians’ set ups, when I sit down again to actually jam. I’ve never understood what that really is. It goes far beyond the how of it. Coming from musical theatre, I speak rehearsal. What is that that musicians are doing who sit together, unknown? A foreign language, that’s what!

I’m speaking my first faltering words and phrases!

So far, so good, 2018. I’m the freakin’ drummer!
city weekly

 

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Best Laid Plans

Finally, after more than a year-long absence, I was going back to African dance. My body can’t do the hard-pounding moves anymore – belly dance is absolutely filling that void – but I miss the community and I miss the music.

I was so excited to drum again! As I approached the theater, I saw an old friend and started giving him shit. “No, no,” I harassed him. “Turn it around. We don’t take riff raff.”

“Why are you bringing your djembe?” he asked.

I laughed and carried on.

“No, really,” he continued. Literally, in years of knowing this dude, I’ve never had a serious conversation with him.

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“This is the Congolese workshop. Makaya [et all] is here.”

“Ah, crap,” I stopped. “See you next week.”

He tried to get me to join them, but I had the wrong drum. He was sure they had extras, but I hadn’t been there all week. Once upon a time, I did brave a weekend camp with African dancers, including Makaya, but there’s no way I would dare drum with Africans! (I took a beginning beginners class with a guy from Guinea at that camp and held my own, but let me emphasize beginning. And I’d been studying for a year with Quinn, who’s legit, trained in Africa and India, drumming for 20+ years.)

I’ve danced in these culmination classes. They’re performances for the students and teachers, as well they should be. For some reason, I’m not averse to flailing on the dance floor. I’m terrible, but when I mess up I can laugh at myself and get back on track. Or just keep laughing and moving, getting high on endorphins and community.

Oh, I do miss African! I was part of that community for years. If I’d brought money, I might have risked a Fibro flare just to throw down on the dance floor. Instead, I came home to cuddle up with my cats and write to you all.

I’m satisfied. Someone’s purring on my tummy, another next to my head. >^..^<

I’m In Love

I never loved anything so much in my life, though I confess I got a little sick to my stomach when I whispered to this baby that I love her more than I love my cats. And I took it back.

I never loved any human so much in my life. Meet my friend Farrah, trailing angels.
farrah
Texas was wonderful. My bestie had finished her beautiful new home, and we spent the whole time sitting. No makeup, no sightseeing, just baby! Her 4-year-old and I are cut from the same cloth (dancing, imagination, go go go), but this trip was about the little one. Balance will be restored again soon, I imagine, but who can resist an infant?

It might be tricky not to give all focus to Farrah. She really is special. There’s a reason they say that! There’s a reason for the Down Syndrome hashtag, #theluckyfew. We are!

I’ll remember to more fairly split my time on subsequent visits, but this trip was for Farrah, and she healed every last piece of me. I’ve been feeling fine for months. Guys & Dolls did most of the repair work, but I come home feeling 100% myself.

My god, I was gone so long. It makes me sad to realize how unaware I was.

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Speaking of love, I decided against it with the Viking. It was a wonderful week that we ended the night before I left for Texas. He was pissed, but I thanked him and left warmly. Tried to, anyway. He wouldn’t even walk me to the door. He wouldn’t get up from the couch. It was a shock, but confirmation of intuition. It was a real boon to get that immediately. I needed in-real-time results of trusting myself.

Since Jax, I’ve felt a sense of inner panic. I doubted I could perceive red flags, or ever would again if I had once. I didn’t trust myself or my ability to read the signs. I was also scared that I might read into things that didn’t exist, simply because my ex-boyfriend and his new bride were so abusive in the house we shared for their sick honeymoon.

This week-long affair, however, seemed to come at just the right time, when I was ready to open my heart again, and with all the ingredients to show me that I can trust myself.

How wonderful to find that I can feel twitterpated again! I had so much fun with him. In fact, it’s kind of a bummer that we can’t do all the things we had planned. He was great company, game in a way a lot of guys aren’t. He played along.

Now I’m free to hope that my next inamorato can properly worship my glorious colors.

And there’s the real beauty: I’m talking Next! I don’t see myself as put out to pasture anymore, dried up and shriveled away. I still believe there’s a match for me.

I’m not in any hurry. I have the rest of my life. I don’t need anyone’s babies. Now that I’m not using a man for a stud, I can really find someone to love. Desperation does such sad things to us. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, but it seems so clear now. I called it a “shared vision,” but I wanted a baby daddy.

Now I need nothing, and I have nothing to lose. Seems like a good way to find something.

Lucky Friday the 13th!

Guys & Dolls opened tonight to a small but enthusiastic audience. It was comprised of a few cast family members, and a lot of drunk theatre members.

Ziegfeld has a Member Gala on opening night (as in open bar). It was fun to perform for a raucous crowd that was having a good time before they took their seats. I didn’t feel at all ready, but their energy fed mine and, folks, we have a show!

Today was fun, too, because there was just something special about spending a Friday the 13th in October with my 13-yr-old black cat, in my new apartment, #13.
little cricket

Sick Cat

I can’t handle the anxiety of injured pets!

A couple of weeks ago, my roommate’s messy cat got egg on his face that would not wash off, so I trimmed his fur. He didn’t wince one bit, but apparently I nicked his skin just a little. I didn’t notice until a couple of days later, when I found a tiny dry spot that looked like it could be an old scab. It was tiny.

Today, I got home and his poor head was just oozing. I cleaned him up, but it’s positively running down his face. I can’t keep up with it. I’m sick! I’ve never felt so guilty!

I feel like bawling.

I sold my ticket to a weekend desert party and made an emergency appointment for tomorrow morning. I’m so glad I was running late! If I’d left when I meant to, I would have missed it altogether.

I can’t say how awful I feel. I’m so upset. None of my previous cat misadventures prepared me for this. Cricket’s health has been the source of so much worry and heartache, but I never caused her pain. I just feel terrible.

I Am Worthy

Someone shares my mantra! And my style. The artwork is so me!
worthy
Color color color, and a flower 🙂
loriportka.compen and crick
My bed: Color color color, and cats…

My dresser:pink tulips

In fact, fresh flowers were Cricket’s suggestion, via the pet psychic. They match her gentleness, energetically. I thank her for them every day.

“You have such good ideas!” I tell her.

Call Danielle Tremblay at Insight With Animals for your own reading. She’s wonderful!
red tulips.JPG

Pet Psychic

What a wonderful experience! I’m so glad I did it.

Yes, Penny rules the house. She considers herself the Keeper of the Grounds. She walks the entirety of the place a couple of times each day to sweep the energy – except for my roommate’s bathroom. (Danielle accurately saw that she surveys almost every room.) It’s her job to “keep the floors clean energetically.”

I’ve felt Penny’s magic from the start. One of her first nicknames was Magicat. I’ve referred to her as The Queen (and myself as Serving Wench). She was always in charge.

Cricket was the Court Jester. She was such a silly kitten. Now she is a Lady. I met her regal nature on Friday!

I asked the psychic to check in with her, because I can’t hear her like I can Penny. I almost cried when Danielle tapped into her gentleness, her beautiful softness. I felt her sweetness. My heart has burned in my chest with love for her many times, but to finally feel an energetic connection with her was so rewarding and so intimate.

Cricket told Danielle I was a good mom. She calls me Mother. 🙂

I invested in the session to work out Penny’s territorial issues with Oliver and his litter box, but the most gratifying connection was with Cricket’s sensitivity. She asked for fresh flowers in our bedroom.

She’s very happy with the space, which I sensed and asked about. Danielle accurately described our room(s) as spacious and filled with light. Cricket even showed her an old apartment for comparison. I called that poky hall The Rail Car, and Danielle rightly saw it as narrow and dark. All but one of my plants died there.

Now I have 17 thriving green things throughout the sunroom and house, and a daffodil from our yard on the dresser in my Cricket’s room, which houses “everything her heart desires,” including her food. My Little Fatty showed the psychic FOOD!CRICKAs for Penny using Ollie’s box, I had a feeling… I sorta knew… No, I knew… I gave her permission to tell on me, and she did. Penny told Danielle that it wasn’t about disrespecting Ollie but about a clean box. He usually goes outside, so why not use his? It’s always empty.

I feel so guilty! I feel like a schmuck even feeling guilty. It didn’t motivate me to properly honor them with a clean box. I would go days sometimes without scooping! For eleven years, I have made the empty promise every time I started over with fresh litter, “I swear I’ll clean it every day from now on! You deserve better than this!” And I never did it.

Now I clean 2 boxes every single day. Witness. (I added a box for Pen in the spare room.)

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I was delighted when Ollie asked Danielle to call him Oliver, preferring the formal since he doesn’t know her. I find that so charming.

I laughed and laughed and laughed when Danielle revealed that Penny owns me. We were talking with Cricket about the possibility of spending more time in the greater house. She revealed her belief that she’s not welcome. “Penny doesn’t want me out there.” Cricket’s fine with that, but Danielle checked in with Penny at that point to ask how she would feel about Cricket coming out more often. She said, “She’s nice but, see, I own mom.”

It’s true! Whenever I sweet-talk Cricket or brush her, wherever Penny is in the house she comes running. “Right one cue! Can’t have a minute with someone other than you!”

Of course, I thought it was the sweetest thing in the world to belong to her – she has my heart – but Danielle revealed that whenever an animal tells her that, it’s more like a dog owning a bone. Now we have an opportunity to develop a deeper spiritual connection. I’ve been asking Penny since Friday to please consider seeing me as her partner and equal. I believe that we can love each other even better when she lets herself respect me as a being and not an object.

That being said, she did show Danielle how affectionate she is and said she was a “very good friend to [me].” She is.

Thank you, Danielle! What an honor to connect so deeply with my beloved girls.
Insight With Animals