Creamy Turkey and Spinach Pie

4 oz Multi-grain pasta (or regular) pasta
1 8-oz pkg cream cheese (I used Tofutti)
3 eggs
1/2 cup light sour cream (I used Tofutti)
1/4 cup snipped fresh basil or 1 Tbsp dried basil, crushed
1/4 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper
2 cups chopped cooked turkey
1-10oz pkg frozen chopped spinach, thawed, and well-drained
1 cup shredded reduced-fat Montery Jack Cheese (4 ounces)
1/3 cup chopped, bottle-roasted red sweet peppers.

Set oven to 350 Farenheit.

1. In a bowl, beat cream cheese (or Tofutti) with a hand-mixer until smooth.
2. Gradually beat in eggs and sour cream. Stir in basil, garlic powder, and crushed red peppers, turkey, spinach, shredded cheese and roasted peppers. Spread mixture into a prepared (greased) deep-dish baking pan.

Bake, uncovered, for 45 to 50 minutes or until heated through. Remove from heat, let sit for 10 minutes for maximum cohesion.

Now eat with abandon!!!!

I actually admit that I haven't tasted this yet, though Curtis was kind enough to wake up and go downstairs and taste it. He always says something is "really good." But over the next few days it may morph into "disappointing" or "spectacular", given the dish. We'll have to get back to you on this. In the meantime, make it yourself and see what YOU think.

Homemade Caramels

I learned something very important this evening. Never put the pan of caramels in the fridge to cool. Now I have to wait for the damned things to warm back up because they're un-cut-able. :)

Stress, Grumpiness and Fear.

First of all, I just loaded a Facebook app called "My Year in Statuses." I'm surprised to find that I'm not nearly as positive a person as I thought I was. I need to work on that. I grumble about damn-near everything. I am a happy person most days, and fun to be around, I think. I enjoy my work, I enjoy my kids, and I enjoy my life. But I bitch quite mercilessly on my statuses. Seems like I only notice the negative.

I think I should do some kind of stress-relief group. I need it. Curtis would probably be quick to agree with me. My happy-go-lucky day-to-day demeanor isn't at all consistent with what's apparently on my mind, though I guess my mind fights to cover it up to myself? I think I'm a master of disguise where my brain is concern. I'm concerned that my conscious and my subconscious are not nearly as well-acquainted as I thought.

As far as the rest goes, I don't subscribe to fear. Fear is stupid and counter-productive. There's no point in it. It doesn't help us, and it severely sends the wrong energy toward something. The worst thing you can do is think "I'm afraid I'm going to get in a car wreck" because then all you're doing is focusing on getting into a car wreck, and you will.
That being said, my sub-conscious is practically a different person. If I don't take something at night like Benadryl to shut my mind off, I fear all night. My dreams are about my animals getting sick, getting hurt, or dying. I worry about my Cat Hospital clients incessantly. I worry about keeping my house clean. I worry about stupid crap. Mostly I don't remember my dreams, and I don't know why I wake up with tension in my shoulders. But occasionally I do remember, and I think to myself, "why the heck did that feel so important at 3am?"

My cat might have cancer. I found 2 lumps today, and Dr. Percival thinks there might actually be 5. I'm trying not to be afraid. But I bet I will be when I sleep tonight.

Day End.

Something happened. He came back.

There was trouble... trouble in the water from a few days after he arrived. Tiffany's little heart-patient kitten was in love with him, and it was delightful. Then he started swatting at her to play. Then his playing got stronger, and she couldn't keep up. Then his playing got strong enough to be unacceptable. He hit her and pummeled her and wouldn't leave her alone. Tiffany's other cat, Button, was part of the game, and fought right back with Plymouth. But Annabelle isn't strong enough for that. He got to the point of making her life miserable.

Sean, Tiffany's boyfriend, was wonderful with him. He and Tiffany both dealt with Plymouth sucking on their ears, and drooling down their necks at night... sleeping on their faces, etc. They were wonderful and tolerant and patient.

On Monday, 8 days after I took Plymouth to Tiffany's house, she texted me at work. She apologized profusely, after having kept me updated nearly every day on Plymouth's progress (or lack thereof), and said that she was going to have to bring him back. I asked if I could come get him after work, and she said no, she already had him loaded up in the car and was on the way.

She tried so hard... she was so wonderful... but he's just such a butt. And she had no choice.

So that's that. It feels both wonderful and strange to have him back, knowing that I love him so dearly, but that he makes my life partner so miserable. I don't know how to make him more tolerable. The point is, he's back. My little boy is back home with me.

Day 4

This was supposed to get easier. It just isn’t.

Day 3

Getting easier still. I can leave Mya out of her cage now, because there’s no one to jump on her. The house doesn’t smell as much, because Mya mostly potties outside. The kitchen counter is messier than before, because I have no reason to clean up after myself. And when Violet pops the back door open, I don’t have to freak out because now everyone in the house is allowed outside.

I spoke with Tiffany this evening. She says that Annabelle loves Plymy, and is trying to rub all over him like she did with Tiffany’s Mr. Kitty. Plymy still isn’t warming up to her, but has been out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and living room, but every time the dogs see him, they perk up in their crates and wag their tails and it scares him and he runs back. He and Tiffany’s little black cat Button don’t seem to have much of a relationship yet.

So there we are. I know what’s best for Plymy, which is probably living with Tiffany. I think he’ll be happier there, and I think that in the end, not having Curtis’ frustration and dislike pointed at him every day will probably help him be a better and happier cat. But right now, every day of his being scared and growing used to the new place is a day that I feel all of the fear and pain right along with him. I miss his silky fur, and petting down his head and neck and back when he was laying on my chest. It will be a long time until I feel that again, as I have decided not to visit him for a while, to avoid his getting confused. Oh, I miss that little boy of mine. Mom really was right. It’s the pains in the ass that worm their way into your heart. And that’s what it feels like… like I’m a dog with heartworms, and the heartworms are being pulled out by the ends, and taking chunks of my heart with them.

Day 2

This is actually a little bit easier than I thought. Most of the day I haven’t thought about him, but then I go downstairs, and the couch, the top of the snake tank, and the top of the refrigerator are all empty. No orange cat there.

He was the softest cat I ever petted.

Tiffany says he stayed under the bed. He tried to come out a time or two, but the dogs scared him. He came out to eat and to knock a photo frame off of the dresser, but other than that, he’s stayed under the bed. She says Annabelle is trying to make friends with him, but he’s not having it. But he did get up in the middle of the night and use the litter box like a good boy, even though she hadn’t shown him where it was.

I ache for him. I miss him so. Everything but the floor of the house seems so empty without him. All of the counters and the back of the couch, and … well, just everywhere. There are a hundred ways in which life is easier without him. The bedroom door can be open at night now because he won’t come in and walk all over Curtis. I left a bit of food on the kitchen counter today, and realized that I didn’t have to dispose of it immediately because there’s no one around to steal it. I left a cup of water on the coffee table and realized that when I got up and left the living room, there was no reason to take it with me. There was no one around to put his big clubby paw in it and to knock it over and watch the water spill.

Oh, I miss him. I’m walking a very fine line between wanting what’s best for him and being completely and utterly selfish. I want him back. I want him to sit on my lap right now. But in reality, he wouldn’t be on my lap if he were here. He might possibly be around my neck on my pillow, but he never was a lap cat. And the more I wanted him there, the less likely that he’d be there. What a little prick he was. 80% of the time he was an absolute ass. But the other 20% of the time he was my sweet little boy, and all he wanted was my love. I cherished those moments.

I want to go visit him, but it doesn’t seem like that would be fair to him. I need to give him time to adjust. It’s the right thing to do, I know. But all of this “right” and “selflessness” feels like crap.

Plymy

I just did the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I’ve never cried so much at one time.

I just took my beloved Plymouth to my friend Tiffany’s house, presumably for good.

Curtis and I had a long discussion about Plymouth, who was supposed to be adopted out from the very beginning when he was 3 weeks old. Then I put my foot down and said “no, we’re keeping him” because I was so attached to him. Curtis never wanted a cat.  In fact, Curtis always did NOT want a cat. So, after two and a half years, I am attempting to keep my agreement. Plymouth has gone to live with a new owner.

I feel like the worst failure in the world. First of all, I was raised that when one takes responsibility for an animal, one takes on that responsibility for the life of the animal. Animal comes in, animal doesn’t go out until it’s time for it to pass on to the next life. Second, I work in the animal industry. Everyone knows this anyway, but those of us in the animal industry especially know that there are way too many animals out there without a good home. To take an animal with a great home and re-home him is just … well, it’s just shameful. Third, and finally, I work in animal rescue. I feel like it’s one of the reasons that I’m on this planet. How could I get rid of one that I raised from infancy, fed him a bottle, and lived with for 2 years? And I got rid of him why? He wasn’t peeing inappropriately; he wasn’t sick, and he didn’t cost a bunch of money to keep around. I got rid of him why? I got rid of him because I agreed to a long time ago, and because he makes Curtis miserable. He drools, he demands attention…. He breaks stuff. He spills glasses of liquid just to watch the liquid flow, he gets into the trash. He’s just generally a pain in the ass. He jumps on my head while I’m trying to make his breakfast and dinner… it’s totally cute, but hurts my neck. He jumps on my head when I’m cooking people-food, and he drools so much that it drips into my dinner. Cute, yes…but totally gross.

Still, I will miss a thousand things about him. I will miss the way he jumped on my stupid head. I will miss the way that he was always waiting for me outside my bedroom door in the morning. I’ll miss the way he always liked to sit on the glass on the lid of Mary Jane (my boa)’s tank and drive her crazy. I’ll miss how he wrapped himself around my head when I slept, and how he’d try to nurse on my earlobe. I’ll miss how he liked to sit on top of the refrigerator. I’ll miss how I could never hold him because he’d bite my face, but he’d lay on me and cuddle as long as it was his idea. I’ll miss how I could never keep him out of anything in my house, and how I had to put magnets on all of my cupboard doors that contained food so that he didn’t get into them and tear through plastic bags to eat it all.

I think that Tiffany’s house might be better for him anyway, because s he has two young, playful female cats, and Plymouth could really use someone to play with. Annabelle has a heart condition and won’t be a good playmate, but Button is very spunky, and they may be wonderful playmates. His feline housemate here was an old lady cat with a bad back and a grumpy intolerance for young, playful boys.

I wonder how many times I’ll cry tomorrow. Tiffany has the day off, which is why I took Plymy over tonight. They will have tomorrow to spend together at home. I’m off work on Tuesday, which means that I won’t be able to talk to Tiffany about things on Tuesday, either. That ought to give me a couple of days to calm down over the whole thing and think rationally. I want Plymouth to come back here immediately. But maybe he IS better at someone else’s house.

I have so much to think about. For now, I’m going to try to get some shut-eye, and try not to think of my little boy, the only little boy I ever had; the only little one that I bottle-raised from infancy… the only animal I ever had that couldn’t fend for itself when I got it. My Mom always told me that when she was teaching, the most difficult students were the ones that you grew the most attached to. And that seems to be translating to the cat world. He’s the most difficult animal I’ve ever had. And this is absolutely, unequivocally, ripping my heart out through a sieve.

Florentine Feta Quiche

1 (10 oz.) pkg. frozen chopped spinach
4 eggs
3/4 c. cream
1 1/4 c. milk
Salt and pepper to taste (I used about 1/16 cup of kosher salt in the mix and about 1 tsp black pepper)
2 tbsp. lemon juice
2 tbsp. parsley, chopped
1/4 lb. Feta cheese, crumbled
1 quiche crust (pie crust) - store-bought, from the freezer section
3 tbsp. fresh grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

Drain spinach and squeeze out as much moisture as possible; it should be fairly dry. Mix the eggs, cream and milk. Add the salt, pepper, lemon juice and parsley. Stir in spinach and Feta cheese. Fill uncooked (but thawed) quiche crust and place the grated cheese on top.

Bake at 375 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes or until a knife inserted in center comes out dry. Cool for 10 minutes before serving. Can also be served at room temperature.


***********************

Curtis and I tasted this and it's delicious. I rate it a 9/10. Here are some tips, though. I placed the store-bought pie crust (including the foil pie plate in which it came) in a stoneware pie plate for stability. It did not fit perfectly; there was some air between the pie plate and the stoneware. I took the quiche out of the oven at 40 minutes, and let it cool for 20-25 minutes. I decided it wasn't done, so I put it back in for 10. I then cut it and tried it. The taste was delightful, but it was still a little soupy. So I put it in for 10 more. I'm thinking that in the future, if I use a stoneware, I'll probably cook it for 55 to 60 minutes. Or I could have just put the pre-made crust in its metal pie pan on a cookie sheet for stability, and reduced the cooking time considerably.

Delicious Creamy Zucchini Soup

This is a yummy 5-ingredient quickie.

The following version is vegan, and delicious!

2 T vegan margarine
1 medium onion, finely chopped (avoid removing any part of your thumb when chopping the onions. I'm just saying.)
2 lbs zucchini, grated with peels (about 5-6 small to medium, which have better flavor than large ones)
2 T minced fresh dill
1 cup Tofutti "Sour Supreme" soy sour cream (you could use regular sour cream)



1. Heat the margarine in a soup pot. Add the onion and saute over medium heat, stirring frequently, until golden.
2. Add the zucchini and continue to saute, stirring occasionally, 5-7 minutes. Add 4 cups of water and bring to a simmer. Cover and simmer gently until the zucchini is tender, about 10 minutes.
3. Add additional water if the soup is too thick, and heat through. Remove from the heat and stir in the dill and Sour Supreme. Season with salt and pepper and serve, or cover and let stand off of the heat for an hour or so before serving. Heat through as needed. When re-heating, heat very slowly without boiling.

Old-fashioned Oatmeal Bread - traditional recipe, and for the breadmaker

2 cups boiling water
1-1/2 cups uncooked rolled oats
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup sugar
1 cake yeast (or 1 packet of active dry yeast)
1/4 cup water
5 cups flour

Traditional recipe:

Put the rolled oats in the boiling water, but do not cook. Let cool until luke-warm. Soften the yeast in 1/4 cup water. Stir the salt and sugar and yeast into the oatmeal mixture. Add 5 cups flour until a soft dough is formed. Let rise until doubled in bulk. Make into 2 loaves and place in greased bread pans. Let rise again and bake at 350 for a half an hour.

Breadmaker recipe:


Put the rolled oats in the boiling water, but do not cook. Let cool until luke-warm. Soften the yeast in 1/4 cup water. Stir the salt and sugar and yeast into the oatmeal mixture. Dump into bread machine with 5 cups flour. Press Start.

*I did this in just this way, and I feel like the ingredients could have been mixed a little bit better. I think it would come out a little better if you mixed the flour into the yeast-oatmeal mixture and then put that into the bread machine.

This makes a very heavy bread, and it's gently sweet. I think it would be outstanding as a chunky bread dipper for my pumpkin dip, which I'll share with you at a later date. It's also good for a hearty peanut butter sandwich with a gently sweet edge to it.

Cajun Mushroom Loaf

I've been on a cooking spree lately. Since the wonderful AcuSteve (my acupuncturist, whose name is actually Stephen) has cleared out my head and fixed so many of my allergies, my house has been clean and my kitchen has a vessel for lots of yummy dishes.

So I thought I'd share them with you.

Let's start with the Cajun Mushroom Loaf. This is one of my all-time favorite recipes, and it's vegetarian, though not vegan. It's absolutely hearty and meaty-like and delicious, provided you like mushrooms. (Dr. P, this is not for you.)

Cajun Mushroom Loaf

1 stick butter
1 cup diced yellow onion
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1-1/2 lbs sliced mushrooms
4 eggs
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 T cajun seasoning blend
1/2 cup seasoned bread crumbs
parchment paper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

1. Melt butter in 4 qt. pot, then add onion, garlic, and thyme.
2. Saute until translucent, about 10 minutes.
3. Add mushrooms to pot and raise heat to medium high. Cook mixture until liquid has cooked off; about 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from heat and set aside.
4. Meanwhile, crack the eggs into a large bowl and whisk well. Add the cream, parsley, and cajun season. Whisk to combine. Add the mushroom mixture to the egg mix one spoonful at a time and mix in well. Add breadcrumbs and mix in well.
5. Spray loaf pan with non-stick spray, and line with parchment paper. Pour mix into pan. Set in a large roasting pan and fill with water to 1/2 way up the loaf pan. This helps the loaf to cook evenly. Please in top half of oven and bake for 60-70 minutes, or until center is set. Remove from oven and let cool for a half hour at least before turning out on a plate to set.

*I flipped these out at 15 minutes last night and the middle didn't want to stay together; it needed more time to set. So give it a good half hour of cooling.

This recipe makes ONE loaf pan full. The photo you see above is a doubled recipe.

A bit of magical ken in the sky

l used to be afraid of the bumps and turns and noises of an airplane, but then Curtis took flying lessons and now has the knowledge enough to explain to me what they are. I find that I can handle almost anything as long as I understand it. Today, between the bumpy air pockets and meowing critter under my seat (I'm transporting Sadie to her new home in Pennsylvania), I was completely taken aback by a bit of everyday magic: for an hour already, I had been sitting 3 rows behind my dearest friend. How could I have missed it? Familiarity is usually like a magnet to me; I notice things that are dear to me very quickly. So why, when flying the friendly skies, did I miss the most important friend of all?


Well it goes without saying that on this flight from Austin, TX to Detroit, MI there was literally a snowball's chance in hell that it was actually my bestie. This occurence, though, did remind me that even when he's not in front of me, he's always part of my day; he's always an important ingredient in the recipe of my life. A real friend is never actually as far away as it seems.

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Stratford musings

One of the things that makes Stratford so incredible is its diversity. Here I sit, on a bench on the main street, listening to a lad of no more than 20 years old play Bach on his old, beat up classical guitar. I think he must love me by now because I can't resist the urge to empty my pockets every time I walk by. Though there are passersby with varied life stories, I can't help but being transported to a beautiful English garden full of butterflies and fragrant blooms. Stratford is a town that always brings out the best in me. Not only does it remind me that there are still gentle, quiet places in the world, but it also always reminds me that there are endless possibilities for us all. Stratford always fosters my every ambition, be it childish or lofty. Being here always reminds me that it's ok to strive to be a better person. When I'm here, I want to plant a garden. When I'm here, I remember to believe in faeries.

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I Do Believe in Faeries. I Do. I Do.

I Do Believe in Faeries. I Do. I Do.

I am with my parents at the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, Ontario this week. The Festival does a variety of Shakespeares, modern playes, and musicals. Tonight I watched Peter Pan.

Done well, and played through the eyes of Sir James Barrie, the writer; it was an interesting adaptation. Scrims were used to separate reality from narration. A thin veil showed us his dreams and visions, but in reality, Sir James poured into his story the heart of what’s left of a little boy who had a troublesome childhood from which he wished he could escape.

I learned something by watching this play, and that is this: I do believe in faeries. I believe in them because faeries are that which is unexplained. And that a thing is unexplained does not mean that it is not.
It simply means that it hasn’t yet been discovered. As our world grows smarter, we lose our faith in faeries, feeling quite confident in those things of which we are certain. But in reality, our loss of faith in the being of faeries simply erodes our sense of wonder, and therefore removes our strife to find truth.

He who says a thing cannot be would do well to learn that, instead, it is simply that which has not YET been.

The Death of the Bear

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Yeomen of the Guard closes today. Barring strike, at the end of Act II I will be crying tears of joy, rather than tears of sadness. It was a good show, it has good music, and it had a great cast. But to quote a stage direction in Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, it is now the appropriate time to “Exit, pursued by a bear.”

I look forward to a future relationship with the Gilbert & Sullivan Society of Austin, and my butt will be firmly planted in the audience, enjoying the work that others are doing.

I’ve made some great friends. I hope to be able to figure out a way to keep in touch with Russel and Art, neither of whom are on Facebook. I’m thrilled that Robert, Derek, Rebecca, Janette and several others have Facebook pages so that I can keep in touch with them. I’m excited that Rebecca (and potentially Derek) may have some delightful affiliation with Acoustalyn in the near future, but that’s a story for another day.

I learned a lot from this production. And that’s all I have to say about that. I know only that, as the final act curtain goes down, the Bear is dead.

Thunderstorms and Dancing in the Rain

I met this quote today. It spoke to me. And it's particularly appropriate in my life right now.


"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain."

The Perils of Being an Only Child

I was raised an only child. I never had brothers or sisters to play with, and I didn’t live on a block with a lot of kids. The result? I’m just not good with people. I’m not saying that all only children have social problems. But I definitely do.

The fact is, I don’t like dealing with people. I am comfortable with people who have an obvious rank above or below me. In other words, someone who is my elder, or someone to whom I am an elder. I am very comfortable with any one person or small group of people that truly interests me. But small talk to me is just a horrid waste of time. There are so many intelligent things in the world to discuss and ponder, and if someone doesn’t want to do that with me, then I generally don’t have any reason to plug-in and “connect.”

So that’s what I’m learning is one of my displeasures with Yeomen. I’m full of a cast of opera women who want to chit-chat about cute bras and undies from Victoria’s Secret, and then what kind of makeup they’re using. They want to talk about their boyfriends and where they bought the dress they’re wearing, and whether or not they’re going to the after-show party. I don’t understand this. There are men in this cast; they seem far away to me. Almost all are straight, which is completely out of the realm of most productions to which I’m accustomed. A whole lot of gay boys who have strong convictions seem to make me happy in general. But girls that are around my age I just don’t get along with.

There are a number of older cast members that I’m really enjoying… they’re real people, with real discussions.

I feel like I’m putting the ladies down. I’m not intending to. They’re doing what they should be doing at their age. I just don’t “get” it. That’s probably my dysfunction… they certainly are free to be themselves.

So wherein lies this problem in my psyche? And is it actually a problem, or am I just a cranky old goat?

Complainy Complainerton

So The Yeomen of the Guard opened last night, officially, with a preview Thursday night. All in all, I’ve realized that I just need a break from theatre. I really, really wish I hadn’t done this show. There are a million reasons that it should have been a great experience. The cast is delightful, the director is expeditious, although we did rehearse it to death. The technical staff is great, and the orchestra is just fine. But then I get annoyed because I miss professional theatre, not for the “professional” part of it necessarily, but more because things like equity house rules are not even thinking about being observed here. There’s music blasting in the dressing room, our call is a full hour before half-hour, and things are just bugging me because I’m under-rested and irritable.

So I need to get out of this rut of sadness; my co-worker Lauren would call me “Complainy Complainerton.” And that’s damn straight.

Curtis’ parents were just in town for a week. OH how they helped. When I have a schedule of working 7 or 8:30 am to 6pm, and then a show schedule of 6pm to midnight, that leaves little time for anything else, including sleep. They cooked and had meals ready for me as I breezed through to get them, they cleaned, they cared for my kitties and my plants, and just generally were incredibly helpful and kind. I’m so thankful for their visit. It was good to see them, if only briefly!!

My Mom and Dad arrive in town tomorrow. They are just as wonderful, and an added bonus is that since my Mom is my Mom (and I grew up in her house, getting her programming about where things “go”) she always seems to know my choices and she always seems to know where to put stuff. It must be some umbilical cord thing. Except for grape jelly, which is the subject of a legendary family story, she and I see eye to eye on most things regarding running a house. And the things we don’t see eye-to-eye on, we agree to disagree. They will be meeting my Mary Jane for the first time this visit. I don’t think they’re terribly looking forward to that, but it is not altogether unexpected of me. I’ve been prone to bringing home strange creatures since I was a little kid. Mom always thought I’d be a vet.

Updates

WOW. It’s been a long time since I’ve updated. A lot has been going on in general lately. The Cat Hospital keeps getting busier and busier. We’ve hired an extra technician on to keep up with the fact that we have a second doctor. It’s good business, but some days are overwhelming! But as time goes on we’ll find better ways to streamline and get more efficient, and before long we’ll have a bigger practice with more space.

At home, there are now 5 critter members of our family. Of course, there will always be the Divine Miss Mollywobbles. We also have Ultra-Violet the wonder Frenchie, Plymouth K. Car (a.k.a. Rocky Balboa, a.k.a. The Orange Menace) and miss Mya, the beautiful Manx kitty. The newest addition is Miss Mary Jane, a beautiful Columbian Red-Tailed Boa. Her tail is more of a brownish hue, but she’s still quite beautiful. She is 12 years old, and she’s a rescue. We spent nearly 2 weeks custom-building a cage for her that had padlocking lids, as she is big enough to be a threat to little Mollywobbles, and potentially the cats. I can’t even relay how many people asked me “what if Mary eats Mollywobbles?” Well, pardon my irritation, but Duh. If you don’t know me well enough to know that I would have made intense preparations to keep Mollywobbles safe, then you don’t know me very well at all.

The Yeomen of the Guard is nearly ready to open. It’s only a week now. It’s going to be a fantastic show. I am thankful to have been a part of it, but I learned a very important lesson through the rehearsal period of this show, and that is this. I am useless to myself and others without my requisite dose of Kim-Time. I have done community theatre throughout my life, and I enjoyed it. Then I moved to professional theatre, which took less time AND I got paid for it. Now that I’m back to community theatre, and there are 6 weeks of rehearsal, I don’t know how everyone else is doing it. My kids are suffering… Mollywobbles and Violet have been at boarding for a week already, and will be so for two more weeks. They’ll be fine there…. Taurus takes excellent care of them. But I’m guessing they miss home. I sure miss them. But I don’t even have time to feed them.

Pet Question time....

Alright, friends... several of you have expressed an interest in my pet psychic abilities. Yes, I'm new at this, and yes, I'm still working on developing them, but yes, I do seem to be able to communicate with animals.

One of the things that Debbie stressed at our workshop was that psychic awareness is like a muscle... you must use it to keep it strong. So I'm very VERY happy to get any experience that I can, and I'm very, very happy to read anyone's animal that I can. But there are a couple of rules that I'll insist on for now. THE FIRST RULE is this: I will not yet read animals that I know well. In the beginning stages of learning to tune into animals' communications, it is of utmost importance that I don't allow what I know of an animal to cloud the information I'm receiving from them. So I'll need to stick to critters that I don't know well. I'll do ones that I've met, as long as I don't know them well enough to know their daily habits or their personality very well. THE SECOND RULE is this: I will want feedback, and I'll expect for you to tell me me what I get right, and what I get wrong. Some things you won't know, of course, but if there's anything you can verify as right or wrong I want to know. You won't hurt my feelings by telling me I got something wrong! You'll just give me an opportunity to learn that I'm interpreting things incorrectly, as often animals send images instead of words, and some things are up for interpretation.

So here's what I need from you. Please tell me the following:

Animal's name
Animal's location (city, state, and country, if you're outside the US)
Animal's sex
Animal's approximate age

Then, I'd love a list of your questions! Here's a list of common questions that I pulled off of Debbie's website:

* How does your body feel - does anything hurt?
* How do you like your barn, kennel, trainer, rider, pet sitter etc.?
* Do you have a message or any advice for me?
* How does your saddle, blanket, bit, collar, shoes, etc. feel?
* Do you have any advice on how I ride, train, communicate, etc.?
* What are some of you likes?
* What are some of your dislikes?
* What is your purpose?
* What do you like about me?
* What can I do better?
* Do you like showing, racing, jumping, visiting...
* What do you think of your stable mates, neighbors, house mates, etc...
* Does my animal want a companion?
* Is my animal ready to pass over?
* You can also use this time to convey a message or information to your animal(s).

Questions aren't required, but so far I feel like they help me connect and help the animal communicate with me. If you don't send me questions, I'll ask some of these same ones myself, just for verification purposes.

Probably the best way to get this information to me is via email. Please send it to MelodyRoseAnimalCommunicator @ gmail.com. I do have several requests, and I’ll take them in the order that I receive them, so please be patient. I want to give your animal all of the attention and focus that he/she deserves and I won’t skimp on their reading.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to do this! I appreciate your patience and your help in this process.

The Italian Stallion

Oh yes, and somehow I forgot to mention something incredibly important in my former post. When talking to another lady at the workshop, Plymouth told her (in NO uncertain terms): "I don't like the name Plymouth. I'd rather be called Roooccckkkyy Bal- boooaaaaaa.
(How could I make something like this up?)

KimTime and the Pet Psychic Weekend

Well hello, old friends. Golly it’s been a while since I’ve spewed my guts to a pink blog. But this is a great weekend to do so.

Due to working too much and getting into overtime at work, I was given the gift of having to leave at 4:30pm on Friday. This was an outstanding this because I was heading out of town for two very important things: first, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do a weekend study intensive with renowned pet psychic, Debbie McGillivray. See animaltelepathy.com for more information. Opportunity number two? Some much-needed KimTime.

I stopped at home after work to change clothes and grab my stuff, then got on the road. I mostly beat traffic, too. It started to get dark as I reached the southwest side of town and started to get out of the city limits. It was then that I remembered that it’s been roughly 10 years since I spent nearly any time driving on two-lane roads after dark. And I hate it. Thankfully, in the 70 miles between southwest Austin and Comfort, TX, not a single soul ended up on the road behind me. And that’s good. Because I was going 40.

As I drove out through the country I noticed how black the night sky was, and how many stars there were. I haven’t seen a sky like that in a long time. I don’t even usually see that in Canada because I never take the time to go out on the lake and lay in the boat after dark to look at it. We can’t see a lot of the sky from the campground because we’re in a circle of trees that block most of it out. Curtis invites me sometimes, but I never want to go. I’m usually always well tucked-in for the evening by the time he thinks of it. I usually go to bed pretty early in Canada, too.

Speaking of my darling husband, as I was driving through the black and deserted Texas prairie I thought to myself, “if Curtis were here, what would he do?” After searching for 30 minutes or so for a safe place, I pulled my car over to the side of the road and did what Curtis would’ve done. I killed the engine, shut off the lights, and got out of the car. I walked to the back of the car to lean on the trunk and slowly looked up at the stars. The sky was like something you’d see in a planetarium… I don’t think I’ve ever been out in such open country on so dark a night. The moon was nowhere to be found; millions of stars were looking down at me. It’s a shame that they watch over me so faithfully and ignore them every single day. I saw the Milky Way galaxy, and Orion’s belt was pointing to a little cluster of stars with which I’m unfamiliar… anyone into astronomy? Before long the sounds of the traffic miles away in Boerne died down, and the chilly breeze that was chapping my cheeks went away. All of a sudden everything was quiet. And not just quiet, but silent. Dead silent. This is the part where my appreciation for nature and the things that my husband has taught me flew out the window. All I could think of is all of those slasher films I’ve seen over the years, and that there is always dead silence before the guy comes out of the woods with a knife, or a chainsaw. SO I very bravely turned and walked to my driver’s side door, got into the car and hit the door lock button about 5 times, just to be sure. Then I put it in Drive and floored it out of there.

I arrived at The Executive Inn in Comfort, TX around 7:15pm, with plenty of time to find some dinner and load in. I loaded in first, then realized that there was no deadbolt on my door! No thanks, Mr. Motel. So I moved to another room. This one has a fully intact deadbolt, and is just like the other. The rooms are huge; it was $49.95 for a king-sized bed, with room on the floor to sleep about 10 people in sleeping bags. It’s even pet-friendly! Alas, I have no pets in tow. What a lovely evening full of KimTime I had. I lounged around in my pajamas, curled up in my down comforter that I brought, and enjoyed the free wi-fi. I also wrote an incredibly long blog post which my computer deleted. I’ve basically replicated it above.

This morning I went to my workshop. I met Debbie and the other folks at the conference. There were 9 of us total. We worked through the morning discussing the psychic process and how to develop it, and in the afternoon we did several readings. First we worked on Debbie’s own animals (who have become great animal teachers for her, and who are good at hand-holding with new people learning how to do readings.) The key when learning is to have someone available who can verify what you’re getting, so that you know you’re actually connecting with the right animal. We began by looking at a photo of Debbie’s boxer, Lucky. She asked us to connect with her energy and talk to her for a while, and then we’d all get back together and share what we thought we had learned about Lucky. Well it didn’t take me 30 seconds to discover that Lucky is a sassy, dominant lady. She’s a very in-your-face kind of dog who does NOT like to be ignored. She prefers sleeping on her dog bed, second only to mom and dad’s bed, and she is the boss of the house. All of which Debbie confirmed to be true. We each read several more animals and I did well, if I do say so myself. One of which is a beautiful little kitten named Mirabella that Debbie just adopted; she’s around 3 months old and has lost her eyes. She’s completely blind. Mirabella told me that she remembered being able to see at one time, but everything was pretty hazy, and then her eyes just quit working. Debbie confirmed that that was accurate. (GROSS ALERT** skip to the next paragraph if you think you’re going to get grossed out about how she lost her eyes.) Someone had dropped off a litter of kittens in Debbie’s barn and all had very severe upper respiratory infections. Mirabella was the weakest and the sickest and her eyes both ruptured.

The vet was called out and he said she could live if her eyes were removed, so he removed them, and she’s fine now. Her stitches just came out this past week. Debbie explained something interesting, too. Two of us read Mirabella, and she showed Eve (the other woman) a horrible scene regarding an animal. I won’t go into detail about it, but it couldn’t have been her, because the animal in the scene was injured too severely to recover. Eve asked Debbie about it, and Debbie communicated with Mirabella herself, and she believes that this was an experience that Mirabella had in one of her past lives. Then on a side note she mentioned an interesting correlation: often, animals who have witnessed horrific things in a past life will choose to be blind when they come back again because they just can’t bear to see anything like that again. I thought that was interesting.




So I head back tomorrow for the second day. I’m anxious to learn more, because tomorrow we talk to animals who have passed, and who are now in spirit. I spoke with Debbie about doing her 6-month intensive, and she said that she didn’t think I needed that. She thinks that I could start with the 3-month Advanced Intensive and skip the 6-month. That made me feel good. She also said that she saw me doing things with this in the future; perhaps even teaching it. She said that she can see me being a sort of pioneer in combining Western medicine with telepathic communication to help animals heal both physically and spiritually. I like the idea of that. I want to make that happen. Whether or not it does, she’s given me the confidence to think it’s possible, and I really appreciate that. I did ask someone to take a photo of me with Debbie, so I'm thankful that I got that.

So I’m going to go read a cat named Rosie, whose Mom, Janice, is part of the workshop too. We didn’t get a chance to do all of our animals, and Janice said that when she chose her cat Tigger to be read first she almost instantly knew she had made the wrong choice. So I am going to read Rosie tonight so that she won’t feel slighted. You may be wondering… if Janice is at the same workshop as I am, why can’t she read her own cat herself? Well it’s rather like a vet not treating their own animals. You’re too involved and don’t necessarily make objective observations. Until we have a higher level of skill (like Debbie does), it’s more accurate to let someone else read your animals.

I’m off for the night to enjoy my KimTime and my new laptop. Thanks for reading.