I saw my mother Saturday.  She was awake, sitting in the recliner, her head leaning to the right as it seems to want to.  I got in the wheel chair and pulled up close so I could help her drink out of the sippy cup. 

All of a sudden she reaches down and starts stroking my bare leg with the back of her hand.  Not like you’d nuzzle a child but for a prolonged period of time, just back and forth.  I actually straightened my leg so she could reach more of it, saying, “Does skin feel good?”  It kind of creeped me out.  I mean she’s never touched me before. 

I’m guessing hospice has been lotioning her feet and legs and she was tapping back into that any way she could.

“An Uncommon Life”

I’m toying with the idea of trying my hand at options.  I did some with commodities but now I’m thinking about stocks.  My commodities broker talked to me yesterday about an October sugar option. 

He thinks it’s a buy.  I looked at the chart, which had gone straight up, and I thought it looked like a sell.  I don’t know anything about how sugar acts going into fall or if the time of year even matters.  You’d think it would but I didn’t see any reflection of that in the yearly charts.  I tried to find stuff to read about the sugar market but couldn’t. 

Stocks are so much more familiar to me.  I spent a long time yesterday going through my extensive watch list, seeing what was still up on a not great day.  I’ve been keeping track of  the ones that are at or close to their 52-week highs with the idea that I’m gonna get my nerve up to short them.  I’ve started watching the tape the last couple weeks and listening to CNBC again. 

The stock market seems to be driving the price of oil instead of the other way around and since volume is so low and nobody has much conviction either way not much is happening.  Which is good because I need some time to plan my moves.  I’ve sold five stocks, raising cash for the beach house I was going to buy.  But I’m thinking maybe I should put some of that money to work.  It scares me just thinking about it.

Today I spent in “The Pearl.”  It’s the district where most of the overpriced restaurants and shops are.  There are trendier neighborhoods but none more urban.  This is where all the cool lofts are and it’s where this year’s Street of Dreams was held.  Instead of homes in a new development we looked at condos in refurbished buildings.  

My favorite room was in The Encore.  The condo was called “An Uncommon Life.”  Almost 2,000 sq ft for $1,640,500.  Altogether, we saw nine condos in four buildings.  I say “we” because these two ladies and I kept bumping into each other.  At one point the three of us were in a bathroom listening to three sisters who had run into friends of theirs in the bedroom.  The sisters have decided to live together when their husbands die and they thought this was just the type of place they’d like.

I didn’t relate to much of the decor and disliked all the kitchens but the two buildings on the river had killer views.  And most all of them had really cool living rooms.  I go for that open feeling where the kitchen and dining room and living room all spill into each other.  Wrap-around decks were visible and accessible from every room — Well, not the bathrooms or kitchen– and floor-to-ceiling windows with sections that opened brought the breeze in. 

I had a hard time dragging myself out of the last one in The Encore.  Somebody with soul lived there.  You combine that with good taste and lots of money and you’ve got yourself a boudoir that feels like no other room you’re likely to find in this state.  By now you know I don’t take pictures but this room is etched in my memory. 

I ate at a little Italian bistro out on the sidewalk and thought about the people who owned those places we’d all traipsed through, the difference between us.  I see no reason why I shouldn’t live in that kind of luxury. 

Edited to add:  Tonight I was putting groceries away when it suddenly ocurred to me that I was suprised he was okay with just the S.  I put my cursor over it and, sure enough, he wasn’t.  I’m also surprised he is in favor of letting you know.  He expects respect.

I told my sister I’d meet her at Gustav’s, across the street from our old shopping center.  I rarely go now, as I’m much closer to the one on this side of town.  Plus, I didn’t think I should spend any money since I’m going on that trip.

We had a nice lunch, and as I headed back out to the highway I looked longingly at the stores.  Just on the off chance, I said to Spirit:

Me:  It’s okay to get this information. 

S:  Yes.

Me:  I should go home.

S:  No.

Me:  What??!!! (I immediately thought about shoes.)

S:  Yes.  (I don’t even have to say the words).

Me:  Yesss!!!  I do need new red sandals.

I drove to the front of Nordstroms, trying to emit good parking karma, and a guy starts backing out right in front of me.  Nice!

I walk through the section that has overpriced dress clothes, hesitating at each row long enough to get a yes.  I don’t.  When I get to the shoes the first thing I see are these gladiators with a low heel, somewhere between red and burgundy.  They fit perfectly.  I have been looking all summer for a pair to replace the ones I love but are too beat up to wear except around the house.  Now I have them. 

I’ve probably mentioned that I was thinking of selling my house next year.  Originally, I wanted to live in Florida part of the year and find a smaller house here for the summers.  But then I got that job so Florida was out of the question.

That’s when I started looking at beach houses here.  They are half the money it would cost in town.  And I adore cute little shacks.  I met a realtor earlier this summer and he started sending me emails when a house would come on the market in my price range.  Last week I made an offer.

The house was listed at $128,00 and I got that I was supposed to offer $88,000.  Not from my realtor, he was pissed.  No, this was Spirit’s idea.  It wasn’t until I was halfway to the beach that I realized his plan was that I pay cash. 

There were two other offers on the table, the third one having fallen through.  It was owned by the bank and I figured even though I was lowballing them it needed a new roof and most people looking to buy a little house like that (teeny, tiny) wouldn’t have the money for and in this market couldn’t justify the price of much more than $100,000 and those people would start in the $90s.  Or so I thought. 

I got a little pissed when the 48 hours expired and the bank didn’t respond.  I called my broker and he acted like it was normal for the bank to go over the deadline and that my offer was just “in limbo.”  My friend whose wife decided she wants him back said he thought Fannie Mae was obliged to take the offers in the order in which they were received.

Last night I got word that they had declined my offer, and this morning he sent me a lengthy email.  I want to share one especialy interesting section, which he made bold.

I get that he’s pissed I made such a low offer, and I did call and request that he contact the bank to see what they had decided, after my offer expired and he acted like it was still good.  And I did express discomfort that he shared an office with the listing agent, so I could see how that would be insulting.  But what he seems pissed about is isn’t any of that I don’t think.  At least it doesn’t sound like it.  And I liked the guy.  I certainly didn’t treat him like I thought he was stupid.  I even thanked him for being gracious about my low offer.

My friend, the artist, gave me the impression that my realtor was fairly new to this work; that it was his dad’s office.  I did remark to my friend that it seemed like he wasn’t that familiar with the paperwork. 

I guess I’m switching realtors. 

I don’t know why it took so long but it finally occurred to me to ask:  Why me?

What I got, not in this order, was that I knew Steven, I didn’t have any preconceived ideas about God and the bible (When I said the bible was baloney I got a yes), I was willing, I could write, and I was intuitive.  That was why.  Originally I got that it was because I was brave but really it was about being willing.  I was supposed to take the brave out.  He doesn’t like ego.

What did occur to me at first was who else does this.  Like in my city, I wanted to know if there were others, besides me and Steven.  I got that there were two, both women.  I even know one of them.  Holy Crap!  I just now discovered this.  Holy Crap!

For some reason last night I didn’t have permission to say who it is and this morning I do.  It’s the young woman I call Elizabeth, the one I met at a recorder function, the one who introduced me to Derek, the one who has that little brat-of-a boy, the one I used to go drinking with who is an herbalist and a hell of a musician — She plays another instrument in several orchestras.  She has made such a huge mess of her life which I find unfathomable now that I know she has access to the kind of direction I’m getting.  She chose to ignore it, is what I get.

I can’t stand to be around her; the disarray scares me.  We got together several months ago when she contacted me to say she was moving and needed a book back.  She was always loaning me all these great books I never read. We went to Powells and I bought her a new one.  Somehow the sack with all her stuff disappeared when I came back from Florida.  Then we drove to a place she’d taken me to that I loved, down in the basement.  She had a few beers and I drank tonic and lime.  We had a nice time but, and I love her, but her life is just nothing I can stand to hear about. 

I just got back from going out after work with the young woman who has been training me, another court reporter.  She’s a year older than Elizabeth, also an herbalist, fantastic cook, beautiful inside and out, a little crazy though.  She, too gets yeses and nos, and knows how to clear energy.  What’s going on??? 

2nd Edit:  I meant to say:  “…most people reading this might share…” his (Jay’s)view.

Edited to add:  The preferred title is:  Spirit.

snowshowers50  makes a good point.  Jay does sound condescending and I imagine most people reading this might share that view.  Up until things started happening that I don’t have permission to share I thought I was just supposed to be a way to get my acupuncturist, Steven, to fully realize his potential through the work he could do with me.  I had NO idea this was about me, too. 

This is what Steven came back with when we had been going over and over the issue of me vs God.  In other words I was having trouble understanding the separation when it came to, say, clearing energy.  I thought Steven was talking out of both sides of his mouth saying it’s all God but then turning around telling me the exact words I’M to use when addressing the infection that I had in my sinuses.

But God made it pretty clear last night who made the salad.   

I went back and found a quote from Steven (paraphrased to suit God).  I’ve been taking notes since 2000 on the back of whatever was handy.  It wasn’t until recently that I started keeping a notebook:

“The reason this is coming from you is Divinity has created the characteristics it needs to express itself through you and that in a very real way you are incredibly blessed.  Appreciate it.  Create gratitude.”

Edited to add:

I went through this line by line getting permission.  When I got to the part about making the salad I originally wrote “today we made a salad.”  That didn’t pass.  I had to change it to read “…God made a salad.”  Each time I used the word we or I, he made me change it.  I found that EXTREMELY interesting.  I mean, come on, I did all the work:).

In response to Jay’s Slag_Runner  comment on the last post, I stand corrected.  God says he is a he AND a she.  I’m going to continue to use He, as that feels more familiar.

I tried to get information about whether or not he found Jay amusing but I was denied permission. 

Okay, the lesson I learned yesterday was that when I get an answer to something and I come back later and want to rehash it — I’m always rethinking everything — God’s not playin’ that game.  He cuts me off.  It must be too akin to worrying. 

Today God made a salad.  It was a pasta salad and the dressing was better than anything I’ve ever concocted.  I went to the cupboard and looked at the top shelf.  This is what transpired:

Me:  There’s something here HE should use.

God:  Nothing (which means no).

Me:  Woops.  “It’s okay to get this information.”

God:  Yes

Me:  “Okay.  There’s something here that I should use.”

God:  No.

Me:  Hmmm, that’s odd because I totally got the feeling it was going to be a pasta salad.  I go back to the refrigerator to start with the dressing, thinking that will give me some idea of what he’s making.

Me:  “It would be beneficial for me to use” — Sour cream was the first thing I saw.

God:  Yes.

Me:  Ohhhhh.  Maybe I didn’t say it right and that’s why I got a no on the pasta.  I go back to the cupboard where all the rice and noodles are.  “It would be beneficial for me to use…” and I grabbed the first noodles I saw.

God:  Yes.

Me:  So it IS the way I said it.  There’s a difference between “It would be beneficial…” and “I should use…”  I pick up another bag of noodles, like elbow macaroni only slightly bigger but smaller than the first bag, and get another yes.  I think maybe he’s playing with me again and go for some white rice.

God:  No.

Me:  So he IS making pasta salad.  But why two mismatched noodles?  I lay them both on the dining room table and point to the bigger one.

God:  No.

Me:  Then I pick up the smaller noodles.

God:  Yes.

Me:  Wow, God cooks.

Some of you may remember my mention of a medical intuitive.  He is an acupuncturist who started being able to actually feel the vibration of the energy he could tap into with his needles.  Then he started feeling the emotional make-up of that energy. 

He would always take your pulse — That’s like when the nurse times your pulse.  But what he was doing was going through the different organs, first with the right wrist and then the left, and getting a sense, through the pulses, of what state, for example, the liver was in.  He could tell through the vibration how healthy it was and even what your emotional state was.  The liver corresponds to anger on the negative side and I can’t remember the positive.  (That’s Taoist thinking, to which I subscribe).

Anyhoo, over the years, he started experimenting with using his own (divine) energy to heal me.  At first he would use his right hand, placing the palm over the pain, hovering just above the skin, but as of late he uses his intention.  That sounds a little vague, I know.  I have been a practicing Taoist since 1995 and it’s taken me up until recently to be able to use my mind to contact the pain. 

I now know how to do some of what he does and that includes getting a yes or a no to questions, if I have permission.  And that’s from God. 

It’s been an exasperating process because I keep forgetting to ask permission.  Or I’ll ask wrong.  You’re supposed to make a statement that could be true or false.  Not pose a question.  A yes feels like a burst of energy has rushed to the top of my head.  That’s if it’s a resounding yes.  A no feels like nothing. 

It’s different for my acupuncturist.  A yes for him looks like nothing but he feels the same rush to the head whereas a no is very obvious to me in that his head jerks to the left.  My head does that when I unlock whatever is stuck and causing me pain.  The minute I contact and release it I get that jerk. 

I imagine this all sounds pretty bizarre to most of you but I’m just sayin’ it’s a whole new world.  I ask about what I eat, what I tell people, what I spend my time doing; there’s pretty much nothing I don’t ask about before I do it now. 

The down side, and really it’s positive, is that I don’t drink AT ALL now, nor will I ever again, as long as this keeps up; that I only eat what God approves of; and in general my behavior is all subject to his scrutiny.  But then it always was and I just didn’t realize it.  For some reason I don’t mind.  I like the guidance. 

And God’s a hoot.  It’s just that there are a lot of people I don’t have permission to talk to about it, like two of my kids and most of my friends.  So I was a little shocked that I had permission to write it here.  Maybe God wants to come out:). (Either he thought that was amusing, too, or he does want people to know because I got a little rush).

Party, party, party.  What a whirlwind week.  My favorite was where some of the better recorder players in town gather for a BBQ at this guy’s house.  He used to host this same party in Maine or somewhere in New England but quickly found us when he moved to Portland.  Everybody brings something yummy to share and we take turns sitting in.  We start at the beginning of this particular book of music and go to the bitter end.  The pieces get harder as you go along.

The job is going well but they still haven’t told the guy I’m replacing.  They’re afraid he is going to get pissed off and quit and they need him to teach days.  Meanwhile I sit in the 60s-80s room, reading with this adorable young lady I went to school with.  She was kind of a pill back then but has grown up to be a wonderful person and we enjoy each other.  It makes the class more fun for the students, too.

So you’re going to think this is crazy but I’m going to Alaska in time for my Saturn Return.  My brother’s girlfriend is an astrologist and she has shown me how much better my chart looks if I am either in Bali or Alaska on this particular day in September at the hour I was born. 

The planets all conjunct each other in a better way which will make the next 28 years much smoother than if I stayed home.  I say it’s worth it.  Even if that’s a crock I’m still gonna believe it so I expect things to go my way.

Remember that black slip-like thing I bought?  Well, I have another date with this guy I met at the beach.  (Last week I spent a couple days there, looking at property, and one night we had dinner.)  I’m not quite sure how available he is but that works for me.  His ex-wife is making like she might want him back.  But I don’t expect that to be a problem and it’s a good excuse for keeping things platonic while I figure out how much I like him. 

All in all things couldn’t be better.