Have you had your juice today?

Today was rainy and dreary so in order to entertain myself a little I dragged out the old deck of Tarot cards that a past co-worker (Melissa) picked out for me: Legend — The Arthurian Tarot by Anna-Marie Ferguson. This beautiful deck is based on King Arthur of the Dark Age and his fabled court.

Let’s begin Tarot 101, shall we?

There are 78 cards in the tarot deck – 22 major arcana (or trumps) and 56 minor arcana. Put simply, the major arcana are the most powerful and fatalistic while the minor arcana, which are categorized in 4 suits much like common playing cards, are believed to reflect on events and/or circumstances that are more easily controlled by the person being read for. The 4 suits of The Arthurian Tarot’s minor arcana are Spears (ideas), Swords (actions), Cups (emotions) and Shields (the material world).

The first thing I do before I read my cards is concentrate on what I need guidance on or am curious about while shuffling. Please note that while concentrating on a question or issue, one is essentially trying to will the cards to address that question. It is believed that the cards will address whatever needs the most guidance and sometimes it has nothing to do with what one is willing them to tell about.

Today I was focusing on my upcoming trip to visit a dear, old friend in British Columbia. I’m very excited to see her and looking forward to having a whole lot of fun. Unfortunately, I’m also a bit concerned about a few unlikeables that have been causing my friend excessive stress.

Then I cut the deck 3 times.

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The Big Rock

When Leslie reminded me about The Big Rock, near Wilkie, SK it was instantly added to the list of fun things to do. I’m always moaning and groaning about my dislike of Saskatchewan and how much better my beloved British Columbia is (and it IS) but I have to admit that Saskatchewan has its gems – you just have to look a little harder for them when you don’t have formidable mountains in your face.

The Big Rock was declared a Provincial Heritage Property in 1987. It used to be a landmark for early pioneers and North West Mounted Police (which were later renamed Royal North West Mounted Police, then merged with Dominion Police in 1920 to become Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or RCMP, of today).

Can you imagine travelling by horse through the vast rolling prairies to meet your pioneer family at The Big Rock in the marshy land off the Saskatchewan River? Are there other such landmarks nearby? What if three days after you arrived at The Big Rock, when your travel rations were dwindling, your cousin, accompanied by a Mountie, galloped up to you on his steed, looking disgusted  — “No. No. No. Not this big rock, The Big Boulder yonder!”? I have to look into this and get back to you.

 But before we explored The Big Rock, Leslie and I noticed a Buffalo Rubbing Stone (and I think it’s reasonable to assume that The Big Rock, itself, is a Buffalo Rubbing Stone). It’s because I’m so swift and intelligent (not really) that my first thought was How do buffalo rub? Then, more importantly, Why?

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It’s disgusting that we have this much snow in April. It sure is fun to watch an eleven-year-old, ninety-something-pound Giant Schnauzer with arthritic hips roll about in said snow though!He thinks he’s young and bother-free!

My sister, Mel and her dog, Prince came with us on our field outing today. Princey’s a little sprinter with tonnes of energy. It’s hard to catch a picture of him when he’s off-leash outdoors but I did manage to catch one shot of him shaking off some snow.

Anybody who knows me, even a little, already knows that despite my knack for chatting anybody up, the truth it still that deep down I like animals a whole lot more than I like most people. Sure, I can charm as well as a broke manwhore convincing a potential sugar mama that she’s his light, moon and stars. But when the day is done I scurry home to my pets and lock my doors to all but a select few people that I enjoy spending my precious, free time with.

Yet every now and then I’m hit like a smack in the forehead with the sudden realization that I have encountered some truly fabulous people in my short, very short, I-don’t-care-if you’ve-seen-my-identification-short life — like today.

Leslie

Leslie

Of course, Leslie is in this post. In case nobody’s noticed I really like my co-worker, Leslie. In fact, I should probably just rename “jennyjuice.com” to “leslie’sbiggestcheesiestfan.com”. Ha ha! But a lot of genuine and just plain GOOD people were at Day # 3 of 175 Days of Fun’s event : Erin’s birthday.

Erin

Erin is another of my most excellent co-workers (big suprise)!  I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I had almost forgotten that it was Erin who had made a point of trying to make me feel welcome on my first few days at work, over a year ago. She introduced herself, asked if I needed anything and she actually listened. I have a big problem with our dos-based, green-screened software, developed in 1984 (for serious!). It’s archaic and nowhere near  user friendly – if you don’t know the acronyms, have fun guessing! Not only did she find and print me an excellent cheat sheet but she also printed me off other valuable materials that gave me insight into my role, as well as the clients I would be encountering.

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Tucker Wants a Strawberry

It’s pretty challenging to have fun when you’re sick (see prior post). I can’t keep anything in my stomach today – not even yummy strawberries.  So I fed strawberries to my Giant Schnauzer, Tucker, instead! Tucker sure likes strawberries!

Tucker Gets a Strawberry

Happy Tucker

This is my friend and musician-extraordinaire, Jarvis.

He likes chicken wings. I like chicken wings. We often go out for chicken wings.

On April 7, 2010 we went to a different restaurant whose wings I have never eaten before. Eating the peculiar-tasting wings was fun. Barfing them up was not. I am NEVER eating wings at that place again!

The Tractor Graveyard

My co-worker and friend, Leslie, is wicked awesome! She is fun, upbeat, outgoing and inspirational, particularly in her ability to put a positive spin on less than positive and often stressful circumstances.

Our employer covers the northwest region of Saskatchewan, which often requires us to travel to surrounding communities. Road trips with Leslie are always good times, even if we have setbacks – like running out of gas in Mayfair, which doesn’t have a gas station (luckily, a local helped us out).

Leslie

On this particular day, Leslie and I travelled to Unity. On our way back home we stopped at a tractor “graveyard” near Wilkie. We’ve passed this “graveyard” many times before but today we decided to stop and snoop around.

Only with Leslie can a girl have fun on a rusty, old, dilapidated  tractor!

Jenny

I wish I had a personal panic button. It would be perfect for those situations where an abrupt cessation of activity or exit point is required.  Of course, it would need to be sophisticated and have teeny, tiny speakers that put out some ‘boom’.

 Allow me to illustrate:

Situation 1

 I’m trying to reason with a difficult client. She has brought her aunt along with her for ‘support’. They have both been hit with the stupid-stick a time (or ten) too many. There is no way for me to make them understand any time this century. I’m about to snap.

 Click.  (That’s me pressing my panic button).

 A low, beeping alarm sounds through the room.

 Computer-Generated Voice:  Auto shutdown engaged. Back away from the Jenny. I repeat, back away from the Jenny. Initiating destruct sequence: 10…9…8…

 At this point, I give my client my best, wide-eyed, concerned look and say “Oh dear. You’d better go. This has never happened before. It can’t be safe. Run!”

 Ideally, my stupid client and her stupid aunt would scurry on out of there. Yay!

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Isn’t technology great? I just received an email notification that my new cello is in Industry, California – right on schedule. Unless there are unexpected delays with Canada Customs, I think I can reasonably expect to have my new cello in my eager hands by next weekend. Yay!

My new cello is Chinese. I don’t even know which luthier supervised its creation. I only know that the reputable Linda West has repaired a minor blemish and vamped it up for my playing pleasure. I haven’t even heard the cello and only have Linda’s assurance of its solidity and warm, even tone.

It’s not particularly wise to purchase a cello you haven’t seen, handled and heard but it was a bargain I couldn’t pass up. Cross your fingers for me, Readers, as there are mixed reviews on the quality of currently manufactured Chinese cellos.

Perhaps my recent awakening of emotions has repercussions. I think I’m becoming THAT girl. You know, the one you see in the grocery store but pretend you don’t and promptly turn on your heel and dash toward the nearest baking aisle so you can pretend to be involved in selecting chocolate chips – Oh no! Here comes THAT girl with all the sappy feelings! Look busy!

Yup, I might be that girl.

I recently toured the tunnels of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan with THAT guy responsible for all my renewed sappiness. I was both saddened and outraged for all the Chinese immigrants that were exploited in their labours for the underground laundries.

I can’t help but picture then toiling away in substandard conditions while carving cellos in their native China – overworked and underpaid in much the same fashion as the Chinese immigrants.

Though this idea should have deterred my recent purchase, I can’t help but feel that my cello will have added personal value. I imagine that somehow the labour, energy and dreams of determined, Chinese souls have been imprinted on my instrument and it will sing all the sweeter because of it.

I’m a lucky girl…with only a few, minor psychological issues.  

It isn’t easy to admit that in relation to men I am unable to answer the question “What do you want?” With the exception of absolute, must-have personality traits (ie. an awesome, somewhat warped sense of humour) I can’t seem to get past my unwillingness to create and categorize my ‘ideal’ man. I don’t believe, for example, he must be blonde-haired and blue-eyed with only one dimple, a slightly crooked grin, Schwarzenegger’s abs and all the exact same interests as me.

How realistic is that, really? If a man has black hair, lacks dimples entirely and hates painting one another’s toe nails during slumber parties he doesn’t even get a shot? He just gets the ‘once-over’ and immediate dismissal? What if he’s one of those rare gems that treats me like the sexiest woman alive even when my hair is a disaster, I’m not wearing a stitch of makeup and my ass is hanging out of the baggy pyjama pants I should’ve thrown out long ago?

Maybe I’m looking at it wrong and I need to focus on the most pertinent categorizations but I really couldn’t be bothered. I don’t want to specify skills, interests and physical characteristics. Aren’t I supposed to “just know”? I don’t want applications, references and financial statements prerequisites (ha ha!).

So there we have it. Dr. Phil would likely not approve of my not knowing what I want. I do, however, know what I DON’T want.

I don’t want any relationship in any context with any person that makes me feel bad in any way, shape or form. Period. No matter the circumstances, intentions or lack thereof I do not want any part of feeling bad.

And I think that’s fair.

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