Wednesday, May 28, 2008


I believe in a lot of hogwash, but numerology isn't one of them. Every time someone offers to "numerologe" me, I politely say no. However, some people don't take no for an answer and do it anyway.

My numerology (i.e. "Life Path") number is six. I am nothing like what a "six" is supposed to be. One of the main attributes of that is that I'm supposedly a nurturer. Well, ask anyone who knows me and they would say "PJammy? A nurturer? You've got to be kidding me!" Then they would qualify the statement: "Well, she's a good pet mom, but um, I can't see her mothering anything other than an animal."

The description goes on to say that the number six signifies great responsibility and indicates that one is the main caretaker in the family. Again, a big no go for me.

Supposedly I'm also idealistic and a humanatarian. It's also my main role to serve others. Um, wrong again.

Anyway, for years I did not believe in numerology and then it dawned on me...I was actually supposed to be born on a different date. (I refused to come out of the womb, so I was taken by C-section). "Ah HA!" I said. And I figured out what my real numerology number was supposed to be, based on my original birthdate.

Guess what? It's still a six. My theory was blown to hell, and so was any potential for me to believe in numerology.

No wonder I don't gamble...I just don't "get" numbers!

Nothing But Toes

Today, I was perusing Craig's List looking at available pets. I have been toying with the idea of getting a dog for the longest time...but even though it's a dog I'm after, I often find myself looking at the cats.

In sorting through the list and passing by entry after entry for pits and lizards, I saw this little gem "POLYDACTYL KITTENS." When I saw there was an image attached, I clicked the link and saw the MOST adorable little multi-toed kitten. I just wanted to grab its little feet and kiss 'em.

I am SO tempted to call...but I keep saying "They're probably gone. The listing is three days old. What am I going to do with another cat anyway?"

Oh yes. That's right. I'm gonna kiss its little toes all day long. That's what I'll do with another cat!

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


As I may have mentioned, I've been laid off. Technically, I will more than likely be kept on the payroll through August 29th. However, for all intents and purposes, I no longer have a job.

I've been applying fast and furiously for any opening in the local area that I am even remotely qualified for. In the six months since I've been applying, I've only been called in for two interviews. Strangely, those two interviews were almost back-to-back.

I heard back from the first one about a week ago: Thank you for taking the time to interview with us for the position, but we found someone with stronger credentials to fill the position. That's okay, I thought, I still have one more on the table.

As of one hour ago, I no longer have that option on the table. Yes, I received the dreaded "thank you, but no thank you" letter. I'm afraid I am now in panic mode. Six months of applying, only two bites...and no job offer.

I'm on the verge of tears...this is the worst time to be looking for a job. Why oh why did I buy a place? If I had not, I could have moved for a job. Now I'm stuck...and could potentially lose my house if I don't get a job soon.

I have never been this scared for my future before in my life.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Memorial Day Weekend

Ahhh, sweet mother of holiday weekends! Memorial Day. Three days to rest, relax, and recover. However, my veteran status doesn't allow me to forget what the weekend is really about: honoring those who fought for our country.

In the 80's, I was stationed at Fort Drum, NY - a little (then) reserve post right outside of Watertown. The folks in the neighboring towns were very patriotic. And so, every year Fort Drum was asked to provide soldiers for the memorial service held in town.

My very first year, I was called to be on the Color Guard. I was supposed to feel honored to be chosen; after all, only the "best" were sent to represent Ft. Drum. Instead, I was pissed. I had just had CQ the weekend before, and now I was going to lose another weekend because I had duty. It just wasn't fair!

The four of us "chosen" ones spent time after hours practicing. And again I was pissed. I could be having fun with my friends, but NOOooooo, I had to hang out with these three lumps and practice our moves.

Finally, Memorial Day came. We had to wear our Class A uniforms, so of course we were inspected before we went. We passed. Then we were driven to a cemetery. We were too far away to hear the speech that was given. On cue, we marched in and did the 21-Gun Salute. In less than 30 minutes, the whole ceremony was over.

Or so we thought.

After the ceremony, all sorts of people flocked over to us. "Thank you so much for being here," they said over and over. "We so appreciate you using your holiday to help us." We were thanked for our service. For our unselfishness. For so many things. Do I even need to mention that I felt guilty for not wanting to be there?

I was overcome with pride when I began to talk to the townspeople, many of which were veterans themselves. They treated us to doughnuts and then we were back on our way to Drum to enjoy the rest of the day, sans uniform.

In the years that followed, I ended up being tasked for that duty several more times. The only difference? I stopped complaining.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008


I've been thinking a lot about karma lately. I've never really believed in the concept, however many people I associate with do, and so I've come to accept some aspects of karma. For example, I believe that if someone is constantly unfriendly, underhanded, and/or unpleasant, that someone has a sort of black cloud around them that strangers can pick up on. On the other hand, people who are friendly, nurturing and/or open more than likely have sunlight surrounding them that strangers can pick up on.

But, do I believe that for every bad deed someone does, it comes back? Not really. And, I'm supposed to, being a witch and all. "The karmic power of three..." I've seen it gone ignored too many times to believe it exists. I think of it more as an innocuous scare tactic than a serious concept to grab on to.

This weekend, as I was driving home from Carson City, I tuned into a local talk radio show. The news segment announced Ted Kennedy's seizure, which led into Tammy Bruce's show. She first stated that she normally said nothing when bad things (of a health nature) happened to bad people, however confessed that she was chomping at the bit to comment on Ted Kennedy's health problem.

She talked about Mary Jo, etc...and I started to tune her out to make room for my own musings. This man, who caused the death of a young girl, got away scot free. Not only that, but he sure seems to have led a charmed life. Rich. Powerful. He has not seemed to suffer one iota for causing the death of Mary Jo Kopechne, and he received no real punishment for leaving the scene of the accident.

So where is this karma we're all supposed to be so scared of? Certainly not this brain tumor. Even so-called good people have health problems. Basically, this man who caused someone's death, not to mention all the jerky, untoward things he has done as senator, has lead a rich, full life.

While I don't wish him ill will, I find it very difficult to feel any sort of sympathy for his predicament. In fact (and Lord forgive me), I'm actually looking forward to a senate that is finally Kennedy-free. It just should not have happened this way...this is not karmic justice. It's just life.

Friday, May 16, 2008


On March 27th, I had to make the difficult decision of having my companion of 14 years put to sleep. It was probably the hardest decision I've made as an adult - to have a creature I loved have her life taken from her.

While I have two other cats, my connection to Lucy was much different, and almost spiritual. See, years ago I was attacked. It was hard for me to live on my own right after that, so I moved in with a guy friend ("I have guns! I'll protect you!"), and lived with roommates for years after that.

When I moved back to California, I was able to afford a home of my own. However, I was a bit apprehensive to live on my own again. It was then through a series of synchronistic events that Lucy came to me. She and I moved into my home on the same day. The first week, I never saw Lucy during the day. But every night when I turned off the light to go to sleep, she would jump up on the bed and sleep by my feet.

I named her Lucy after Lucy Coe on General Hospital. (Lucy Coe used to eat and eat and eat and never gained was the same for my Lucy the first few months I had her.) It was my concern for her well-being that prevented me from being frightened to live on my own again.

Lucy was a great cat. She never jumped up on counters, damaged my furniture, or clawed me. She was always gentle, and seemed to ask permission to even sit on my lap. If I ever cried, she would just come sit in my lap until I was done. She had a very sweet spirit, and everyone who met her liked her, even people who would normally say "I don't like cats..." would end up liking Lucy.

Of course I miss her. I light a candle for her every Thursday night, but last night was different because I saw her again. It was during class, and we were all instructed to pull a crystal from a velvet bag. I pulled out a quartz crystal. After we all had a crystal in our hands, our instructor walked us through a meditation in which we were to merge with the crystal and see what the crystal had to show us. The meditation was supposed to take us through several stages...hearing and/or listening to the stone, "merging" with the stone, and then have the stone show us what could be done with it (healing, enchantment, etc.).

The instructor told me I might have trouble with the exercise, as I do have a bit of trouble meditating and faring forth. So, I was quite surprised when I connected with the stone almost immediately after the meditation begin. I felt the crystal throb in my hand, and then I saw nothing but white in my mind. Through the light came Lucy...but just her face. The only difference was she was white in the meditation, but it was definitely her...her little pink nose, outlined in black, her outlined eyes...but she was asleep. Still asleep. Eyes closed. Just like the last time I saw her.

I felt the tears start to trickle down my face. The stone would not allow me do the other parts of the did not speak to me, would not let me know what it was used for, etc. So, for the duration of the meditation, Lucy's face was in my mind, and the tears just would not stop.
As my instructor brought us out of the meditation, he immediately said "PJammy, are you alright? I think you should go first." I told him what I saw, and how the crystal would not let me go through the other parts of the meditation. He said "Interesting...see, the stone you have there was a gift to me. The person who gave it to me called it a 'memoriam stone' because it is enchanted to show the Holder people who have passed over."

He went on to say that was why the stone would not let me go any further... that it's only purpose was to allow me to spend time with a loved one. In my case, my loved one was my cat.

I still lit a candle for Lucy last night...even though I am now sure she's passed over and is doing well.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

That Old Black Magic

Last year, my friend and I took a walk around the Sparks Marina. I was bemoaning the fact that most of the local pagan groups were either unwelcoming, cliquey, bitchy, or a more toxic combination of the above. I joking said "I should start my own group and call it The Black Hat Society!"

My friend didn't laugh. She said "Yes, Peej, you should. Do it. I'll help." And so that night in the Sparks Marina, we ironed out a brief outline of what we'd like the group to be.

Eight months later, the group is going strong. Our first meeting was in January, and while it hasn't grown in leaps in bounds as far as members, the ones that have joined us are committed and regular. Last night was our very first social gathering. By social, I mean we didn't have a planned topic of discussion, and we broke out of the Border's habit to meet somewhere else. That "somewhere else" was Vintage, a wine shop that I love. It was wine tasting night, so all three of us ordered the tasting, and were treated to a most delicious array of cheese, bread and fruit.

At some point last night when we were laughing about something someone said, I stepped out of myself for a minute and took a look at the ladies I sat with. This, I thought, was what I wanted all along. A true connection with women of like mind and spirit.

Oh sure, we talked about magic. A bunch of witches gathered together are bound to talk about magic. But, it was a casual kind of talking...and we also talked about our relationships (or lack therof), of earthquakes, of wine (we love wine!), and of how glad we all are that we were able to connect. We even talked about our next social gathering...perhaps a bar-b-que or a night at The Chocolate Bar. Who knows? The calendar is ripe for the picking.

What I do know is that I am ever so thankful that my friend encouraged me to get off my assets and start this group. The rest has nothing to do with me...but with the wonderful blessing received by all of us when we are together. The magic of friendship is some powerful magic, indeed.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Voices Carry

Dating online can be disappointing, exciting, or just plain surprising. When you first see someone online, you only have so much to go on. You kind of - well maybe - know what the person looks like (depending on the quality and truthfulness to the pictures posted). And, after a few chatroom and/or email exchanges, you kind of have an idea of how the person thinks, communicates, etc. But the voice...ah, the voice is always up to the imagination.

That is, until the phone call or the first meeting, which ever comes first.

Recently, I had a few exchanges that have been rather surprising. The first was a guy who emailed me (back when I was able to get away with hiding that precious address in my profile). He and I exchanged several interesting emails, and then we talked on the phone. Ahhhh...his voice. It was deep and tinged with amusement. I almost fell in love with him just from his voice.

Of course, as all things Pamela, that was not to be. We met in person, and he didn't really look like his photos. (Not his fault; he's one of those guys that photographs well, but reality is a bit, well, harsher.) But I didn't mind, because he had THE VOICE. I could listen to him all day. All night. However, truth be told, he couldn't listen to me, so he ditched me.

Okay...I brushed myself off and went on to the next guy.

The next guy seemed intelligent and well-spoken. He knew how to spell (bonus!). He also knew how to write. He was even, yes, funny. So of course I said yes when he asked me out for wine.

His voice was...ah...disappointing? I imagined him with a melodious voice. Maybe not deep...but deepish. Instead, he has the voice of, well, something I can't pinpoint. It's a bit breathy and nasaly. But, in a strange turn of events, I actually grew to like his voice. It seemed almost comforting in its strangeness. I found myself wanting more of that voice.

Again, as with all things Pamela, that one appears to have faded off in the distance. And so imagine my surprise when I received a whispered message in the chat room yesterday, with ten precious digits attached. Should I?

Of course I should! And so I did.

Ahhh...the voice was deep and comforting and slightly surprised and slightly amused all at the same time. The sound of this guy's voice was like a melody my heart could dance to.

I could get very used to a voice like that!

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Spanks for the Memories

This quarter's issue of Bitch magazine has an interesting article in it about DD (domestic discipline). Actually, the article is mostly about spanking and the women and men who like it.
I haven't finished reading the article, so it is probably a bit early to weigh in on it. However, one thing that stood out in the part I already read is that spanking seems (at least for the couples interviewed for the article) to help alleviate tension. Say that a woman is overly sensitive. Or ranting and raving. Or just put a dent in the family car. The guy simply puts her over his knee, spanks her a while, and the tension and anger just melts away.

Now, as a big fan of movies from the 30's and 40's, I'm no stranger to this concept. In fact, for the longest time I thought most husbands probably spanked their wives behind closed doors. Imagine my surprise when the feminists I knew said "Piepa, your crazy! This is not at all acceptable!"

And so began my split persona: the public part of me that agreed with my crazy, feminist friends, and the private side of me that just wanted a good spanking.

At this point, a few of you reading this are tempted to IM me, email me, or post a reply that goes a little something like this: "I'll give you a good spanking!" And I'm sure you could. But that's not what I want from you. Unless, of course, you are good looking, smell delicious, and have all your teeth, then please spank away. Seriously though, folks, please refrain from writing me such things, because I will not respond.

In mulling this concept over, I find it to have merit. A good spanking can sober someone up. It can release tension. And, it can help two people reconnect in a healthy way.

Now don't go thinking that I'm for domestic violence - I'm not. Domestic violence is QUITE different than DD. Discipline is given lovingly, carefully and respectfully. DV is quite the opposite, and is abusive, degrading, and dangerous and should be dealt with by the authorities.

That said, I wouldn't mind going back to a place in time where spanking wasn't taboo. I think a good spanking now and again could make the world a better place, one butt cheek at a time.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Ten Truths About PJammy

I just saw an article titled "Ten Truths About Tom Cruise." However, because I don't care about Tom Cruise, I've never cared about Tom Cruise, and I will never care about Tom Cruise, I decided not to click on the link.

I do, however, care about me, so here's Ten Truths about Moi that you won't find circulating around on the Internet (at least not yet!):

1) The last time I ever jumped on a couch, I was five years old. My mom yelled, my dad spanked, and I was grounded for a week. So Oprah, have no fear...when you call (and you will), I won't be jumping up on your couch. I just know you'll have my mom hidden somewhere, and my dad will have the paddle.

2) I like cats, and I'm not crazy. Well, at least not certifiably so.

3) I'm afraid of Scientologists...but that's just because my Hare Krishna friends planted strange ideas in my head about them. I'm sure they're just fine people, despite the mind control.

4) I have a baby. Her name is Suri. She's got fringe on top. I can't say anything more than that, or I'll have to go in for more auditing.

5) I once shot a duck. After it fell over, I shot another. After that one fell over, I shot another. Then I got an ugly stuffed animal from a toothless carny with a really bad mullet.

6) I used to think "pocket pool" was some sort of cool hand-held game. Oh wait. It is, isn't it?

7) I stripped. Once. That's right, once. It was enough. Getting that wallpaper stripped off the bedroom walls was one of the hardest things I've ever done!

8) I used to be a pole dancer. That's right. Me. Yep, a pole dancer. See, I used to roller skate in the neighborhood, head for the slight incline, and roll right down towards the light pole. I'd put my arm out and swing around and around the pole. It probably looked more like Square Dancing than Pole Dancing, but hey, it was fun!

9) I have never stolen anything in my life. Except for some guy's heart. It's still in my freezer. Shhhh...don't tell the cops.

10) I complete me.

A Toast To Me

For two days, I've had an awful migraine. Boo hoo, poor me. Well, that's right, dammit, poor me, indeed. You see, I had my Tuesday all planned. I had a chiro appointment at 5 p.m., and a massage scheduled with a co-worker (long story) at 5:30. I thought after all that pampering, I was going to go home, pour myself a generous glass of wine, and watch a movie on DVD.

No such luck. First off, the migraine started. The chiro took care of it...for a little while. And then it came back with a vengence. The massage helped, but not for long. This migraine was determined; it would not be stopped.

After 36 hours, my migraine finally went away around 8:00 p.m. last night. So, what did I do to celebrate? Have a nice heatlhy glass of water? Nope. I broke into my bottle of Smirnoff's Grand Cosmopolitan and poured myself a glass. was everything I'd hoped it would be and more.

So, a my migraine. May it rest in peace.