Hazy, It's Hazy

Okay, so here’s my first lesson in encouraging psychic impressions. This is something that I actually did last night with a little encouragement from my friends, the guides, those invisible ones who help me out. Actually, they helped me out this evening when I got home from work to discover one of my library books was overdue and I was going to need to return it and another one to the library tomorrow…I have the day off. Anyway, I couldn’t find it. I found four other ones, but not those two I want to return.

In my mind I’m revisiting DeeDude as he cleared a path into the study the other day. He said to me, almost in apology, that he couldn’t get to the trash can to dump it. I said, “No, that’s perfectly all right. It looks so much better.” Except, that’s where I could have sworn all the library books were. And, now two were missing. So, I’m thinking of DeeDude and wondering what the hell he could have done with them. See, the interesting thing is right away I’m blaming it all on him. I look three times, four times in my study. I go into the bedroom. I go out into the living room. I think, “They were in a bag. Weren’t they?” I’m in a panic. I can’t find my library books. A voice in my head says to me, “They are in the bathroom. Go look in there.” I go, “Unh?” I’m more accustomed to the guides telling me to look up when I’m in a panic looking for something. This time there was some actual direction. I go into the bathroom. There, buried under another couple of books are the two I’m looking for. Thanks, guys.

Anyway, from those Folk in Spirit who help me with the most mundane things I also listened to last night. I remembered watching, “Psychic Detectives” and began thinking, “I wonder if I could do that?” So, I began reporting what I “saw” psychically. There is no way to verify any of it. I don’t know who it was that I saw. I have no idea where these impressions are coming from. But, the rule to start with is that I am going to report my psychic impressions. That’s all. Doesn’t matter what, where, when or who is in this report. You can do this too. Just close your eyes, pretend that you’re going to be doing a psychic impression and have at it. For a little direction you can specify an incident if you want to, maybe a period in history. You could say, “I want to visit a time in the 1890’s in the Midwestern United States.” Or, “I want to visit the time of one of my ancestors 400 years ago.”

Is it true? I don’t know. Does it matter? No. You’re just exercising a psychic muscle. I’d love to hear if anybody does anything with this.

Being Psychic

In the grand scheme of things does it really matter that I was cranky most of my 51st year of life? I don't think so. Actually, I think I should turn over a new leaf and try to be psychic more often. Now, I would imagine that people would think that if you're psychic you're psychic and trying to be more psychic is silly. I don't know. I think opening to it is one thing. I was the one who read those how to be more popular books when I was a kid. God, those things sucked. I couldn't do anything they suggested. I tired of reading them quickly and moved on to Nancy Drew detective stores and Sue Barton nurse stories.

Anyway, back to being psychic. Well, I could drag out those books I've got on how to develop your psychic powers. The problem is that I don't ever read the whole thing. I will dip into those sorts of books. (One of the guides just said, "No wonder it took you so long to learn how to channel.")....I'm danged if I'm going to follow the directions. I did so for so many years and nobody cared and I got to where I am in life perfectly well.

So, there.

Right. Cranky. Okay, I was watching, "Psychic Detectives" tonight and Noreen Renier, the psychic, was describing what she does. I've collected a listing of psychic detectives at Talking to Spirit. She mentioned that she'd assisted in 400 some cases at the time of the filming. She said that the emotions and things that she saw, heard and experienced during the readings were so tramatic that they left her physically drained after they were over. I can imagine. This isn't something that I actually want to try. I have, at the request of a few people done the look at the last moments of death for some folks and I don't like it. Haven't gone back there, but I keep watching these psychic detective shows. Why? Well, I suppose I'm as interested as anybody else. I know that I can pickup on vibrations and energies, but I also think, "What's the point?" The people who are dead don't care anymore. I know for a certainty that they are in an okay place. I hate like the dickens to call attention to myself so doing this for other people isn't what I want to do either.

This is where being psychic like I am helps alot. One of the guides just said, "Teach". Hmmm. Well, I could do that. I guess I'd have to figure out how to do it first. Actually, I could get into that. Learn how to do it and then teach people because I'm the world's worst student. Something to think about.

My Day Off

Wooo Woooo! I never thought I’d utter those words, but here I am. I’ve got the day off. I’ve already gone back to bed for a nap. I’ve got the first scratchiness of what might be a sore throat and the day is open for plans. I think what I’ll do first is pretty much ignore the sore throat. If this is going to morph into a cold then it will do so. I might go have a cup of tea. Actually, this will be my opportunity to do a combo tea bag operation of chamomile and mint. Some time ago I’d purchased a blend of those two and I really liked it. Sort of a perk you up and calm you down all at the same time. Invigorating. I haven’t been able to find that particular product, so I had gotten teas of both sorts and planned to brew them up together in a little tea pot. This is from a lady who doesn’t drink anymore. I like my tea. So, that sounds pretty good for a maybe sore throat.

DeeDude has the laundry in, so I don’t need to concern myself with that. Great! And, any ironing that needs to get done can be done tomorrow or the next day.

What can I do on my day off? Shopping comes to mind. I’ve a yen to make myself a new handbag. I haven’t been able to find exactly the one I want and the alternative is to just make my own. It’s been awhile since I did that, so getting the fabric would be neat. I could also get some more beads. I’m looking for a French bead. It’s a flexible silver colored tube that is designed to go through the hole of a finding clasp. That way your thread is protected and you’ve got a real stylish looking end to your necklace or bracelet. So, that would be a trip to Bead Inspirations in Alameda. I could stop by Office Depot on my way because my laser printer needs a new cartridge. Hmmmm….this is shaping up. And, then hie myself on down to SouthShore Plaza in Alameda.

Blogging Me Down

With all the different blogs I’ve got I suppose depending on what I’m doing or thinking about doing I could also have an appropriate blog to record my thoughts. This is for all the filing I don’t do around me. Must seek organization somewhere. Or, at least start somewhere.

So, for beading I’ve got my beading blog. For bad moods I’ve got The Psychic Vents. For uplifting moments this one. Or, odd moments. For when I’m into a teaching mode Learn to Channel. For when I’m trying to learn some Spanish, Learn Spanish With Me. For the times I’m reading Where I Read Books is good.

What’s missing? A cleaning blog. This house needs it. A filing or organizing blog. Again with the house. I could stand to lose some weight so a dieting blog might be appropriate…or, maybe just an exercise blog. What else? I’ve been wanting to learn better how to read the Tarot. I could branch out that way. There are any number of blogs I could turn my hand too. Hands. Will be busier if I do this. Just a thought.

Don't Cook Tonight

One of the things I need to work on is how to turn a crappy day into a good one. Today at work it seemed that every time I turned around I needed to deal with some sort of humongeous crisis. And, there were lots of small ones too that made their way to my door today.

When I came home tonight I couldn't settle down. I kept opening the door to the refrigerator, like things inside would be different the next time I opened the door and somehow, magically dinner would be there.

We ordered out. Had a lovely Chinese dinner from our local restaurant around the corner from where we live. DeeDude went over to pick it up 15 minutes after I ordered. There's enough for at least another 2 dinners. So, maybe that would be a nice solution to what to do when you've had a crappy day at work. Don't cook.

Play More Than Just Chopsticks on Your Piano

Have you got a piano sitting downstairs that nobody plays because lessons were too expensive or you just didn’t have time to spend with them? My piano sits in the living room. My husband suggested awhile back that we sell it. I said, “Absolutely not!” One of these days I was going to learn how to play. And, I’ve never done it. But, I just found out I can sign up for a free newsletter about Chords & Progressions Piano Tips. It comes out every 5 days and lasts for 101 issues. They’ve also got oodles of lessons at the website. Piano lessons for busy adults. That’s for me.

Like A Bridge Over Troubled Water

I’m not real good at knowing the lyrics to songs. My husband laughs at me. Here I am singing: “Like a bridge over troubled water….nnaaa naaaa naahha naaaa naaaa. Like a bridge over troubled water.” I mean, how hard could it be to learn some lyrics? For me that’s a toughie. Anyway, my new thing is to memorize some songs that I love.

Here are the lyrics to, “Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water” There will be a quiz later on. And, because I can’t carry a tune worth toots, here’s an video of Art Garfunkel singing it.

Bridge Over Trouble Water

When you’re weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;
I’m on your side. When times get rough
And friends just can’t be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

When you’re down and out,
When you’re on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I’ll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pain is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine
If you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind.

Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
© 1969 Paul Simon

Vrooom

Do you have times during the course of the day when you seem to have more energy to get the “important” things in your life accomplished? I know for me that time is morning. I absolutely revel in the weekends because I’ll sometimes get up at 4:00 am, work on my “stuff” whether that is a writing assignment I’ve set for myself or updating my various blogs and then, when the creative juices begin to dwindle about 9:00 am I’ll go back to bed for a bit of a cat nap. About 11:00 am or so I’m up again to do another 5 hours. Come late afternoon I’m done for the day. But, for me to cram all that wonderful time into my writing and channeling on Saturday and Sunday is just perfect.

What happens on a weekday? I write fast. Right now I’ve got about 20 minutes before I need to brush my teeth, put my shoes on and head out the door for work.

Somehow or another I’ve become able, due to these time restraints, to turn “ON” with the writing juices, with the creativity, with whatever it is that allows my fingers to fly on the keyboard and be productive. Now, I’m not talking about whether this stuff is good or not. But, it is stuff. I’m not just sitting here staring at a blank screen or, as in the old days, where I would stare at a blank piece of paper totally frozen with self-doubt and no creativity coming through at all.

I don’t know when this shift occurred. If I knew I’d bottle it.

Part of it is forcing myself to be here. When I sit down at my computer and hit that little “W” for my word processing program I feel good. It’s like I’m revving up my engine. I’m ready to go. I’m ready for whatever comes through. I suppose that’s part of it too. Instead of knowing that I’m going to the racetrack or to the store I just set out in the car to drive. Anywhere. That’s the permission I give to myself to write.

Now, what I’d like is to be writing on a particular project. Like a book. That would just tickle me no end. I suppose I’d just need to set that up for myself. But, I’ve got this project of my other book to finish first. I’ve been carrying it around with me in my bag to work and home from work. Just in case I want to look at it during lunch. For 15 minutes. Like that’s really going to put a dent in it? But, actually 15 minutes work on it will be better than nothing which is what’s been going on for the last year.

Maybe that’s what I’ll do today. At lunch. While I scarf down my bologna sandwich.

Update on the crystal ball watching. Still nothing going on. At least, nothing that I can point to and say, “Hey, what was that?” Little flickers. Could have just been my eyes. Shifting. I’m not focusing. Whatever. I’ll keep it here and gaze more. Having it in front of me is helping.

Okay, time to go to work.

Morning Meditation

I was trying to do one of the exercises from, "Finding the Deep River Within" by Abby Seixas this morning. Trying is the key word. I don't generally feel that I am able to do things easily, to follow directions, to achieve desired results. The idea was to become quiet, in itself a doubtful thing for me to do even on a good day, and then to hark back to a time in my life when I was able to experience that deep river of consciousness.

I lay upon my bed and listened to my breathing and tried to think of a time when I had felt an overwhelming feeling of God or of a cosmic something. I knew there had been moments that made me cry, that could certainly have qualified, but for some reason each as I thought of them did not fill the bill and satisfy the requirement of this exercise.

My guides kept saying to me to remember earlier times. Seth urged me to keep going back in time to when I was younger and younger. I thought for a moment of that time when, in 1960 or 1961 when we lived in Lubbock, Texas. I was either 5 or 6 years old, probably 5. It was certainly a significant moment when I became aware. I remember that moment in time when, as a little girl I somehow realized there was more to my life than what was directly in front of me. But, that was not, "The" moment.

I lay quietly bemoaning the fact that, once again, I had failed at a simple exercise. Then, I tried again and decided that this time I would allow the memory to come my way by itself. That, this time in attempting to find a moment when I had experienced the deep river, that I would just be receptive and open and just allow it to happen rather than me trying to force it.

Quickly I had my memory. It was when I learned to tie my shoes. I remember that I sat in the doorway of my grandparents home, wedged with my back against one side of the door jamb and my feet not quite reaching the other side; the kitchen to my right, yellow and sunny and to my left the den, dark with the canaries in their big cage, the deer mounted on the walls above me. There was a grizzly bear rug on the floor we would play on, twining our fingers in his mouth, his tongue permanently rippled as if in life.

I had thought someone would have shown me how to tie my shoes. They would have taught me. But there was no one there. It was just me wrapping the laces around my ankles in a criss-crossed fashion as if I were a ballerina.

And, I sat there quietly, blocking the way. I guess if people had wanted to get into the kitchen or into the den they would have had to step over me. I do not remember if they did. There were certainly other ways into each of those rooms. Maybe everybody just left me alone. I played with the laces, I worked them and finally I tied my shoes. I remember the intense feeling of satisfaction I had and I shouted to anyone who would listen that I had tied my own shoes.

I'm a channel. And, I talk to folk in Spirit. That's my guides and it's also people, like any of us, who have passed on. My grandmother, Harriet Nieman, died when I was 8 years old. I remember looking out of the back of our car as we drove away seeing her and Granddaddy standing on top of the hill, at the end of their driveway on Balcones Drive in Austin, Texas. And, I thought I would never see her alive again. She died 2 weeks later.

Anyway, this morning as I realized the memory I was looking for had arrived I knew it was the "right one" because I had a slight hitch in my breathing, as if a little sigh had halfway escaped. I was reminded of the Focusing techniques I've used in the past to try to figure out what was bothering me and I realized that my body had just informed me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this memory of learning to tie my shoes was the one.

Then, my grandmother said to me, "That was when I knew you were a smart cookie." It was sort of funny because she used to give me tests. I never really amounted to much. I mean I'm no different than a lot of people. I'm just ordinary. She was the only one who actually thought I was smart. In my family life was too pressured for anybody to do much more than try to survive. Excelling was sort of out of the question. Especially for my sister and me. I think kids are lucky now that girls and women have more opportunities to do things than I did when I was growing up. But, that's spilled milk and I'm not going to cry over it now.

What my grandmother said to me this morning though, helped me to understand just why it was that she had pressed for me to have those tests. They never did tell me what they were about. I was just a little girl sort of bewildered by the attention I got, brief though it was. I think when I started going a little nuts was when I was discounted and nobody paid much attention to me anymore. That's when I was safe.

So, interesting things happening this morning.

And, I sat here at my computer thinking about it and decided now was the time I was going to purchase my own copy of, "Finding the Deep River Within". My library copy is due back on Thursday and I already owe 90¢ for having let it go too long before I renewed it. And, somehow the magic of that exercise I did continued because at Amazon I clicked on one of those, "Other Readers who were looking for your book were also interested in": David Whyte who I had not heard of, but who sounds like a really interesting fellow to follow up on and via that link I then ran across this rather haunting video of Jerry Wennstrom, who I also didn't know about. All in all a really interesting morning. Thanks Abby!

And enjoy.

Gazing Into My Crystal Ball

So, I’ve left my crystal ball out, front and center, on my desk. I just sat down this morning to check my email and do the usual morning things and I thought, maybe this is a good idea. I’ll just always have it to look into and maybe one of these days something will happen.

So, then I remembered back to the days when I was trying to get my Ouija board to work and nothing happened for so long and how I would drag the planchette around with one hand while I was resting the other hand on it. Just to see what it would feel like if it ever really did start moving around. Sort of pretend. We’re big on that around here for learning things. And, I thought to myself maybe I could sort of dance a picture around behind the ball so I could sort of pretend see what it’s supposed to look like just so’s I’m prepared in case it ever really does do anything.

And, Seth (my guide – invisible voice in my head) says, “It’s more like watching television. You get enough practice doing that.”

I thought it was funny. Good help too. Now, I sort of know what to expect so I won’t miss it if it happens quickly.

I Might Slow Down a Little

I have to admit that I’m not all that sensitive. Swift I suppose you might say. Sometimes I’m sharp as a tack, but mostly these days I’m sort of segueing into middle aged menopause. The more Kava Kava and St. John’s Wort I take the mellower I feel. That’s in lieu of drinking anymore. Self-medicating. I made our administrative manager laugh the other day when I threatened to answer the next phone call coming into our office as, “Emergency Room, can I help you?”

Anyway, when I get a psychic impression sometimes I don’t trust it right off the bat. They’ve got to be way different and out of the ordinary for me to sit up and pay attention.

One of the things with me is I’m wired, self-medication aside. I just generally always operate as if I’ve got a hundred different sensory wires stuck on me and radiating out all attached to a charging machine. That’s wired. So, it’s difficult for me to do the necessary disconnecting and calming down for psychic visions and impressions to catch hold. Also, I have a hard time telling them apart from ordinary thoughts when they’re subtle. I pay attention to the really obvious, smack in your face, can’t ignore this one sort of psychic impressions as opposed to the more subtle ones. I think if I started paying attention I’d notice the more subtle ones, but I’m sort of afraid that I will no longer be able to operate as an upstanding normal citizen either.

It’s like when I quit smoking; I had this terrible fear that I wasn’t going to be able to think properly and in a logical manner. I did have trouble for the first day or so, but it got better after that and other than wanting a cigarette when things get stressful, I haven’t smoked in 7 years. But, I remember the fear of not being able to think without having a cigarette. It’s sort of the same thing surrendering to the psychic stuff.

Well, hell, it doesn’t pay the bills, she argues. And, acting like a solid, upstanding member of the community does.

Might we break in here, Dear?

Sure.

Do you think that flamboyant, as you refer to them, psychics, would not be able to contribute to the greater good of society any better than you do as a half-assed psychic?

I think I must have had too much Kentucky fried chicken for you to be talking like that.

I think not, Dear. I can rephrase it for you. If you were any better as a psychic would you feel more pressure than you already feel to quit your job as a secretary and pursue full time work as a psychic?

Yes, I think so. I feel like I’m abusing this gift somehow.

You work awfully hard at it.

I think I’m doing too much.

I don’t think you need to worry about it. Just do as you are drawn to do and let it alone. If you feel the need to not blog as often as you have been recently in order to finish up work on your book, then, just excuse yourself for a time. People can read the archives. You have enough of them.

I don’t know how you do it. You always manage to hit the nail on the head with me.

Blessed, I suppose.

Ha. Thanks.

You are welcome. Our blessings.

Learning

I’m a real slow learner. I mean slow. It must have taken me 5 years to teach myself how to crochet out of books. I’d snarl up a bunch of yarn, get frustrated with it, tear it all up and put it away for a year. Then, when I felt the urge to crochet again, I’d haul it all out, try to make sense out of the directions and do the same thing over again. It took me years to learn. I still don’t hold the yarn the way other people do. But, it works. I’m real good on scarves, but ask me to shape something or to do a doily and I really need to concentrate. I can do it, but, like I said, I’m not real good at it.

It took me a long time to learn how to channel. I used the book I recommend for anybody who asks me how to learn to channel and that is, “Opening to Channel” by Sanaya Roman and Duane Packer, but I wasn’t all that good with it. I tried, but I remember so many of the exercises I did just fell flat. Nothing happened like it was suggested it was going to happen. Consequently, I sort of assumed I was, once again, being a really lousy student.

Now, I realize that I wasn’t all that bad. There are just a lot of stages involved, more than I realized. Maybe I didn’t read the entire book, and maybe they didn’t talk about them.

It’s not the Texas Two Step. It’s not a connect the dots sort of thing. You don’t learn one stitch and then another stitch and with a third one at your command you can make a scarf with a lacy pattern. And yet, it sometimes felt when I was teaching people how to channel that all I had to do was wave a magic wand and they were channeling. Actually, they were already channeling, they just didn’t know it. Most people are like that. I guess they needed me to believe in them. Maybe. It would have saved a lot of time if I’d had somebody in my life do that for me. But, then, it all happened the way it was supposed to happen. I had to do a lot of inner work. Maybe that healing needed to get done first. I’m getting a head nodding up and down in agreement on that one from one of the guides.

I’m still not sure what it is that I’m “supposed” to be doing with all of this. I do have the feeling that there are several parts to it. I think I’m supposed to be taking some of the uncertainty and fear out of what happens to people after they die. I think more than that I’m supposed to be helping people through their grieving process when they lose people dear to them; that they can still stay in touch without the need of psychics to do it for them. I think I’m supposed to help folks learn how to channel, or at least to come close. And, I guess most of all is to give folks the idea that they can have a real close and personal relationship with Spirit.

More on Crystal Balls

Well, I’m not sure which way to go with this. I purchased a crystal ball years ago. I spent a lot on it too. Back in the early days of my psychic awakening I tended to spend more money than I do now. That’s why I urge folks who are just learning how to channel to lock up their credit cards. Not that I’m going to blame the guides for me spending too much money. They were just there at my elbow saying stuff like, “Hey, you deserve it. Why not?” Stuff like that. I sucked it up. Anyway, now I know better.

But, I’ve got a crystal ball that doesn’t work. Every once in awhile I get it off the shelf and clean it off. It’s like a dust magnet. It’s really heavy and totally round, not flat on one side like some.

I learned later that any round, shiny object would do. I could have gotten a beach ball. Imagine, “Let me gaze into my beach ball.” Right. Like the guides said to me at the time, “Any psychic worth their salt has a crystal ball.” That’s what clinched it for me on my see-sawing between should I spend the money or should I save the money. I was the proud owner of a crystal ball. Happy birthday.

All this is called scrying. You can look into a dark mirror rather than a ball. Or, you can fill a pan of water (painted black on the bottom) with water. Brim it. I mean really fill that pan full until, if you put one more drop into it, it’s going to flow over the side. Then, you sit quietly looking at the surface. You go into a semi-meditative state of mind. But, more than that. With the intention of “seeing something” in your pan of water or your crystal ball. I suppose you could even look into a puddle on the sidewalk. Sidewalk sessions with Zelda. You could have a lemonade stand on the side, too. Your cousin Rachel could like, rake it in on a Saturday afternoon. I’m getting distracted.

You know about those magic-eye pictures? Where you stare and stare and all you see is some dumb repetitive pattern that makes no sense at all and then suddenly, baammm, your focus shifts to where you are seeing through the layers of the picture to where the hidden picture is. Sort of like that.

But, I can’t with any real authority say that’s how to do it. I have a feeling this is going to be very much like me learning how to channel. I just keep reading about how other people do it and try to emulate their technique. Finally, one day it’s going to work.

It’s interesting that I was able to do it in my dream last night. That’s what dreams are for too, practicing the stuff you want to do in “real life”.

Look Into My Crystal Ball

I had an interesting dream this morning. I only remember parts of it. Here’s one: some lady was behind a counter serving up refreshments. She handed me a completely squashed down soda can. You did something to it and it expanded and became a can full of soda. It was some sort of new space saving technology.

Then, as I sat there enjoying my beverage I looked up to see a crystal clear glass of water. It caught my eye it was so clear and sharp. Then, as I looked at it I began to see things. A little boy. Blond hair. Different times, different scenes. Always the little boy. I awakened thinking it might have been a son I once had (former lifetime?) but I got a no on that. Then, I thought of one of my grand-nephews. Maybe.

What does it mean? I don’t know. I can’t remember what I was looking at other than it was a blond haired little boy. No trouble. Nothing scary. Just like I was looking through a crystal ball.

Ouch - Plantars and I'm Not Talking Peanuts

Well, poop. The last couple of days I’ve had a few instances of a sharp pain in the arch of my left foot. I couldn’t understand what I’d done when the pain occurred. I was just walking along, minding my own business and, ziiipppp! Yowee. I stopped and a few salty words later cautiously began to go about my business again. There was a slight residual pain, but I didn’t think I was going to get zapped again.

This morning I woke up and the sucker hurts. So, seeing as how this has already happened to me once in my life I know what it is. This is Plantar Fasciitis. The tendon at the bottom of your foot separates. Ouch. It takes a year to heal up. That or one big sucker of a cortisone shot.

As I made coffee I reached into the very back of the freezer for the lemonade containers that we refilled with water and froze once they were empty. You put your hurt foot on that and roll it back and forth. Most of the water in both of the containers we had in reserve had evaporated, so after I was done I refilled them both up and set them to freeze again.

My husband had this problem too once. When I told him this morning what was going on he said, “Oh, that sucks.” I surely hope this eases up and goes away quickly. Man, I don’t want this lasting a year like the last episode did.

There are a few more exercises you can do. Like you can sit on the floor and loop a towel (I was thinking about using the sash from DeeDude’s bathrobe) over the arch of your foot and slowly pull for the count of 15 to 30 seconds.

Also, you can stand on a step on the balls of your feet and let your heel drop. Hold onto the railing or the wall for balance.

You can lean into a wall, move the injured foot back and the other leg forward and feel the stretch in the calf of your leg.

Ouch. You can see where I found this picture and these exercises at a Plantar Fasciitis Info Site.

Frizzy Hair

I am famous for cutting my own hair. I am not famous for doing a good job at it. Anyway, the last time I'd gone to a hairdresser and asked her to, "do something" with my hair I left her parlor with a really short hairdo. I am also not famous for having short hair. I'm always discontented once I've got it and am forever growing it out.

Anyway, three months ago, or so, it had gotten to the stage where the shortest pieces of hair were above my ears and the rest of it about shoulder length. The varied lengths lent themselves to a permanent windblown look. I hacked it off. After three months of growing it out, this time pretty much together, it once again got to the point where I was close to just tearing it all out or buying a wig.

Last weekend I went to Great Clips at Southshore Plaza in Alameda. There were only 2 guys in there getting their hair cut. I sat down and waited. The lady who cut my hair said to me, "You've got this really long hank back here." I said, "Yeah, that's the part I couldn't reach when I cut it myself. I guess I've been going around all this time with it hanging down and nobody told me." Oh, well.

So, she cut my hair. She even fixed it so that it would do a little flip up at the ends. Then, she looked me in the eye and said, "Your hair is really dry. You need deep conditioning." She told me to get some hair mayonaise at Sally's. Unfortunately, Sally's had already closed. Southshore has been under construction for close to 2 years and it doesn't look to be done for at least another one. In the interim there have been a boatload of stores that just left. They just couldn't take not having any customers due to the remodeling going on or, having to relocate while their space got torn up. Anyway, I'd imagine that the rents will all be going up too.

So, I couldn't find Sally's, I did find the South Shore Beauty Supply and a very helpful clerk. She took a measured look at my hair and then said I might try some Redkin All Soft Heavy Cream. You put this stuff on your towel dried hair, wait 5 minutes and then rinse it off. For really damaged hair you can let it stay on 15 minutes. That's what I did.

I have to say my hair hasn't felt this good in years. This stuff was well worth the $20 it cost me. Man, I dithered over spending that kind of money, but I'm glad I did. I guess as I get older the repairs are going to get more expensive.

500 Years of Women In Art

This is a terrific video.