From the Healing Affirmations” website.
“I freely and easily release the old and joyously welcome the new.”
“I trust the process of life. All I need is taken care of. I am safe.”
“I am safe. I trust the process of life to bring only good to me.”
“I relax and let life flow through me with ease.”
I did a reading tonight, to try and make sense of the crap that’s flying around in my head. However, my head is so jumbled that I can’t get a clear picture. So, any of you read Tarot? Fancy giving me your own interpretation? email or in the comments box 
Standard Celtic cross layout. My significator is the Page of Cups.
First card out - that which covers me - Six of Wands reversed.
Second card - that which crosses me (nature of the obstacles) - Queen of Wands.
Third card - which crowns me (aims and ideals, or the best that can be achieved even if it hasn’t) - The High Priestess.
Fourth card - which is beneath me (shows the foundation or basis of the matter, which has happened) - Justice.
Fifth card - which is behind me (gives the influence of what is passing or passed) - Four of Swords.
Sixth card - which is before me (the influence that is happening or about to in the near future) - King of Wands reversed.
Seventh card - (signifies me and my position/attitude in the circumstances) - Knight of Pentacles reversed.
Eighth card - (signifies my house, my environment, friends etc) - Ace of Swords.
Ninth card - my hopes and fears - Knight of Cups.
Tenth card - the final outcome - The Hanged Man.
This was sent my way by a friend of mine, Jon, and I feel it’s important for a whole variety of reasons, not least that a mutual friend of ours nearly lost his daughter to Pulmonary Hypertension. If NICE had pulled these drugs before she was diagnosed, she wouldn’t be here today.
Please sign the petition and forward it to everyone you can think of. It’s time the accountants stopped running things at the expense of real human lives.
I need to teach my children how to count.
I opened a new packet of weetabix this morning, and fed the baby one with some mashed banana. Yum.
Then I put the packet on the table, with three bowls, three spoons, a tub of raisins, a carton of rice milk and a jug of semi skimmed. So far so good.
Called the children for breakfast. Stood aside so I didn’t get trampled in the stampede.
Now, they have this thing where they eat their weetabix one at a time. A bit of mashed banana with one, some raisins with the next, half a pint of milk with the third - you get the idea.
They get down to the last two in the packet. “Leave me a couple,” I told them. And a riot ensues.
“But I only had two!” “She had three!” “No I did not, she did!” “This is my second!” “I’ve only had two too.” “You had three, I saw you!” “Didn’t.” “Did.” Etcetera, ad nauseum…
So we have a little maths lesson. Are you paying attention? Okay.
There are twelve weetabix in the packet.
RJ had one. I know, I fed it to him.
That leaves eleven, right?
They’re all gone.
Divide eleven weetabix between three children…
No the dog didn’t have one.
There isn’t one hiding under the table, although there are sufficient crumbs to fabricate one, should you so wish.
Pockets are empty.
< insert short break to deal with T's nosebleed >
So, by my reckoning, two of the three had four biscuits. Unless I’ve forgotten how to count, which, after being woken just before 7am, is a distinct possibility.
Back still buggered. Quite comprehensively, to be honest, and things like, oh, walking and breathing are a bit on the painful side still.
Am also extraordinarily pissed off as my pain clinic acupuncture thing isn’t until the beginning of April - what feckin use is that? I rang to try and get it brought forward, but no can do. So I’ve spent since Monday hobbling round like Quasimodo, unable to drive, pick up the baby or even make a cup of tea without coming over all peculiar and wanting to collapse in a heap on the ground. Don’t do pathetic, me.
Except I’m doing it quite well at the moment. Dosed up on codeine and some diclofenac that I found in the back of the medicine cupboard. Can’t remember when I got it or what I got it for, but I vaguely remember it was something to do with the last time I did this much damage to my lower spine, so I took a couple of tabs and it seems to have eased up a little. I don’t do pills normally (hence the last bollocking from my doc) but today I could quite cheerfully have taken one of everything in there. *sigh*
My back is stuffed again.
I was sorting out a big pile of yarn with Mom (don’t ask) yesterday morning, when there’s a knock on the door. I jumped up, hopped over the stash of bags and stuff and tripped slightly over the stair gate we use to keep RJ out of the kitchen.
Get to the front door, open it to see a delivery bloke there with a big box in hand. I take the box, turn to put it on the floor in the hall and next thing you know, I’m on my knees.
Delivery bloke looks scared and about to bolt. I think it’s only his loyalty to the small electronic gadget in his hand which requires a signature that is keeping him at my door. That and it probably administers an electric shock if he dares leave the premises without a scribble on the screen.
Mom obliges with a scribble and I spend the next ten minutes trying to regain my feet with what I can only describe as a 240v charge coursing through my lower back.
During the course of the day, the agonising muscle spasms relax their hold somewhat, and by bedtime it just felt like there was a taser attached to my right buttock.
Today hasn’t been much better. I had to dig out my old elbow crutches to help me walk about, as it’s bloody inconvenient and a tad distressing for the children when I collapse in a heap without warning when my sciatic nerve goes on the blink.
So, I have come to a decision. One of the things my doc pointed out was the excess weight around my waist that is a contributing factor to the stress on my lower spine. It’s not exactly a spare tyre, more like a full set of spares for the Michelin man. I am going to set myself a goal of shifting a stone in weight (14lbs for my North American readers) by the beginning of May. I’m 36 this year, and we’re of on holiday the week before my birthday, so I want to be able to wear a regular swimsuit instead of the maternity one I’ve been clinging onto for the past 9 years. No, I’m not brave enough for a bikini and I don’t think Portugal is ready for such a sight.
Slimming World is going to be my diet of preference. If that hasn’t shifted a few pounds by the end of the month, I’ll switch to the Rosemary Conley one, as I’ve a couple of her books. Here’s crossing my fingers and locking the fridge door that I can achieve my goal.
