My Psychic Stalker, Part II "Bombarded with Attention"

Over the next few days, Chris bombarded me with virtual attention. He assured me that I was unique and that he had experienced "a very powerful flash" as we established our psychic connection. He offered me a gift, a "psychic talisman"to put under my pillow in order that we might communicate via an astro-telepathic contact that he had established by joining his mind to mine. He wrote, "I am making you a priority because you deserve it" and "Now, you have found in me a friend, an adviser and a confidant who can offer you a better life."

As flattering as all this attention was, I began to wonder at the speed with which our relationship was developing. I felt uneasy about all the mind-joining that was going on, because--frankly--there were some things in my mind that I didn't particularly want Chris to know. First of all, I don't really believe that the stars and tarot cards (which Chris had consulted) have anything to do with my behavior. 


Second, I haven't put anything under my pillow since I was 6 years old and awoke in alarm to find my parents impersonating the Tooth Fairy and attempting to slip a quarter under my tousled head. (These were the days when kids were content with something less than a no-limit debit card in exchange for loose teeth.)  Also, I didn't want Chris to know that on December 3rd, I had blatantly ignored his advice--as per my astrological chart--to stay home and had, instead, had a wonderful day out at the local Co-op's Winter Festival. 

Clearly, Chris had divined my reticence. Now, his emails grew more fervid, the messages filled with ominous warnings about a "cloud of negative thoughts" and challenges that I needed his help to overcome. He wrote: "If you contacted me using my website, there was a reason. This reason is simple: You need someone who really cares for you and who will help you with each one of the important decisions of life."


Well, Chris, you're a little late. You could have advised me through marriages, divorces, child-raising, choosing a college major, accepting job offers, buying real estate, and whether or not Dusky Rose was the right shade of lipstick. How did I ever manage my life without you?


"I am holding out my hand to you, please take it," he wrote. Oh, Chris! Don't you know that on the internet, there are no hands?




Next time: Chris gets amorous.

My Psychic Stalker, Part I "Our Eyes Locked"

We met on FaceBook. 


It was late at night when his photo first popped up next to my wall posts. Our eyes locked.  Mine were blurry from too much time in front of the computer.  His were a piercing blue, and they posed a question: "What event will change everything in your life?"


Hmmm...you tell me, I thought, as I idly ran the cursor across the digitally-enhanced glow on his face.  Then, I clicked.  His name was Chris, and from the moment I read his website's masthead, I knew he was extraordinary.

Chris must have felt our deep connection, because within a few minutes, he sent me an email.  "My dear Cheryl," it began, and I was thrilled by his bold assertion of intimacy.  Chris quickly revealed himself to be a caring, supportive type of guy.  He apologized for his brief delay in responding, and assured me: "Now, I am available and I will be able to take care of you and only you." 
Oh, Chris!  Really?  Me?  And only me?


Turns out, Chris is psychic, and he came right to the point: "According to the first impressions that I received, I think there is some kind of emergency. I will not hide from you that I had an instantaneous vision just after I received your request."  Alarmed, I glanced over my shoulder.   What was Chris' vision?  What emergency had my casual "click" conveyed?   I sniffed the air.  Was my house on fire?  I made a quick tour of the windows and doors, looking for evidence of forced entry, but found nothing amiss. 


I returned to my computer and read on.
"I surprisingly felt that you live (or work?) in or near a city beginning with the letter T, maybe it is Twin Falls?"
Twin Falls?  In or near Twin Falls?  Chris, I thought, as a psychic, surely you know that Twin Falls is 115 miles from where I am. 

Oh, dear, our first disagreement, and only minutes into our relationship.  Well, perhaps Chris' definition of "near" was just more generous than mine.  I decided to overlook this little glitch, because I didn't want to give up so easily on such an attentive man.


Little did I know how intense that attentiveness would become...

Birthday Dance

This year's birthday cards demonstrated just how well my family and friends know me. It's obvious that, after 65 years, I'm completely predictable, and I loved the selection. 

My daughter sent this handsome hunk to thrill me, while my son-in-law called to sing a BeeGees-inspired version of the happy birthday song, set to the tune of "Stayin' Alive."

One friend honored my independent-Western spirit...

...while another poked fun at my passion for blogging.

The caption on this card read, "Dance like no one is watching...because, probably, no one is."

One birthday gift was a beautiful silk garment by Kariza that could be worn as a dress, a cape, or a wrap-around skirt. Inspired by the woman on the card above--whose body type matches my own--I dressed up and performed my own dance.

I danced as if no one was watching,

and, fortunately, no one was.

Salvage Projects

This time of year, I make the final preparations of the house and garden before winter fully arrives. A trip to the city landfill is usually part of the process. All summer, I put items in the bed of my old truck, and if November comes and they're still there, it's off to the dump with them.
However, I make sure I can't find any other use for things before they are recycled or discarded.


The birdbath shown above began life as a 1960s-vintage lamp. I removed the brass fitting and marble base, and connected the neck and bowl together with glue and clear caulk.

A metal canning-jar ring at the top provides support for the "bath," which is a plate I found at a thrift store. For internal support, an old wooden broom handle runs through the birdbath, extending down into a cinder block base filled with sand.

To my delight, the birdbath's psychedelic-'60s color perfectly matched the foliage in the garden. As I was working on this, a young man came walking down the alley and paused to say, "Hey, nice bong!"  Perfect.

This planter box was made from small cupboard doors that a friend was throwing away. I had planned to line the box with heavy plastic, but, just in time, I spotted a plastic tub in my garden shed that was exactly the right size to fit in the box. And, it matched the green wallpaper insets on the doors. I used the door's brass latches to connect the sides of the box together.

Here are some other things that have managed to save themselves by being made into something else.

Well-weathered fence wood makes a great seat on top of an old wrought-iron aquarium base. 

This chair and table legs were rescued from a dumpster. The table top is a window with mesh-patterned glass.

A larger window with waffle-pattern glass made an interesting table top when paired with the base of a cottage oak table, also rescued from the trash.

I covered the table base with a batik silk scarf given to me by a friend who visited India in the 1960s, and I love how the scarf shows through the glass tabletop.

Our town finally implemented curbside recycling, so the amount of paper, cardboard, plastic, and metal that winds up in the landfill has been considerably reduced. We don't have a way to recycle glass as yet, but much of my glass is repurposed through the decorative windows I make. (See http://encoreglass.blogspot.com for examples.)

Happy Salvaging!

Driving Home, 1 a.m.