Stinky Stats

The following is excerpted from an e-mail that is currently making the rounds:

Are you aware that the Saudis are boycotting American products? In addition, they are gouging us on oil prices. An appealing remedy might be to boycott their GAS. Every time you fill up your car you can avoid putting more money into the coffers of Saudi Arabia. Just purchase gas from companies that don't import their oil from the Saudis.

The following gas companies import Middle Eastern oil:

Shell..................................... 205,742,000 barrels
Chevron/Texaco....................... 144,332,000 barrels
Exxon /Mobil.......................... 130,082,000 barrels
Marathon/Speedway.................. 117,740,000 barrels
Amoco................................... 62,231,000 barrels

Here are some large companies that do not import Middle Eastern oil:

Sunoco............................0 barrels
Conoco............................0 barrels
0ASinclair........................0 barrels
BP / Phillips......................0 barrels
Hess..............................0 barrels
ARC0.............................0 barrels
Maverick.........................0 barrels
Flying J..........................0 barrels
Valero............................0 barrels
Murphy Oil USA*................0 barrels
*Sold at Wal-Mart


My sister, Bichy Mama (BM), smelled some stinky gas statistics in this e-mail. Being sleuthy, like her big sister, she had a clandestine meeting with Deep Throated Rock Star (DTRS) to get the real poop on this story. DTRS has long been a mole in the gas biz. He definitely knows the difference between his gas and a hole in the ground.

"Bichy Mama:

This information is about 25% accurate. Valero is the only 100% American company using the most domestic crude oil, but they buy crude on the open market from all sources. Exxon/Mobil is number 8 on the list of companies that own crude oil. Numbers 1-7 are not companies at all they are countries like Saudi Arabia, Venezuela, Russia etc... Wal-mart buys from all sources which, undoubtedly, includes imported oil."

My friends, be careful about getting too caught up in these viral letters written to stir up the pot. I would have re-printed the entire letter but it was quite long. It was written to evoke fear, anger and was also very pro Wal-Mart. This one belongs in the toilet, and I'm going to give it three flushes.

Thanks sleuthy BM and rockin' DTRS. You've done your part to make this world a saner place. Your secret decoder rings are in the mail.

Bad Boyz

Photo: Google Images

In the cool of the evening
When everything is getting kind of groovy
I open the door
And ask you if you'd like to go with me and do some weeding
First you say no, you've got some plans for the night
And then you stop and say all right

Then the world gets kinda crazy when a big ol' cop has his gun out.

He keeps us guessing
We never seem to know what he's a-thinking
A bad guy's hidin' from him
And for sure his flack jacket buddies are helpin'
I get confused cause I don't know where I stand
But then you smile, and say "get back"

The world gets kinda crazy when a big ol' cop has his gun out

Someday cops and robbers will stop this game they're a-playing
Til then, leave the weedin' to when the copter's done straifing
Just like a ghost, that bad boy's haunting our street
And hopefully, he'll soon get beat

The world gets kinda crazy when your quiet 'hood's over run by a gansta
Friday night's kinda crazy when you're caught off guard by a crime war

*Just a little unexpected Friday night excitement in our quiet, little neighborhood. Just a couple hundred yards out my front door across the field a cop with pistol out, two flack jacketed buddies, a helicopter and narc car were scouring for the culprit. Willow would say, it's that Ol' Devil Moon kickin' up his heels.

News From the Weird

Awards and memes, Blogtopia is rife with them both. I must admit I'm not much good at complying with their rules. Shame on me, but most of my aversion stems from the fact that rules call for including a few people while excluding many.

I'm a laid back kinda gal and feel more comfortable spinning parts of me out into cyberworld little by little rather than in big eBlasts. If you read my blog, you'll get to know me as I shed my skin, layer by layer, over time. But, as I read TechnoBabe's post the other day, she made the point that this is how we get to know each other in Blogtopia. Since she's honored me a couple of times on her righteous, little, hippie blog, I wanted her to know that I noticed and appreciated her kindness.

One award she gave me was the Blue Award. Blue reminds me of water, calmness and tranquility. It also reminds me of the throat chakra which is associated with the color blue, communication and speaking one's truth. And thus, is the perfect time to peel off another layer of my eclectic, esoteric self.

My work history is eclectic. I've been a fry cook in burger joints, a secretary, seamstress, upholsterer of both furniture and automotive, bartender, bowling center manager, semi-professional bowler, school cafeteria cook, medical back office manager, massage therapist, light worker, energy worker and ascension seeker.

I am also esoteric by nature. I've studied and worked with hypnosis since I was 12 years old. I have a transcript of every session I've ever done except a couple. And of course, they were the ones that most blew my mind. Past life regression and soul retreival are passionate interests of mine. Occasionally, a psychologist friend of mine calls me into her office to help her move a patient beyone a point where they've become stuck in their progress.

I am probably the most normal "different" person you will ever meet. Different is what people say when they try to sugar coat us oddballs. I used to try to hide it, but no more. Now, I embrace my lust for the unusual. As the card my neice gave me last year for my birthday read: Another year older, another year weirder. Who knew they had a card for such things?

I've given up worrying what others think of my esoteric practices. Hey, if I can figure out how to teleport myself from California to New York, as far as I'm concerned, so much the better. And when I do, I'll let you all ride along. Until then go check out TechnoBabe's groovy blog.

Scotty, beam me up. Wait...let me try doing it myself first!

The Beautiful Damsel and the Paralyzed Man

Barbie and Ken got married on Saturday night. It wasn't hard to tell they meant everything to each other. She, a beautiful damsel. He, a paralyzed man. Not completely paralyzed. He'd done a lot of physical therapy and, now, it was mainly just his right side and, in particular, his leg.

He'd suffered a stroke following a chiropractic neck adjustment. Three times, he died on the chiropractor's table, finally being revived and hospitalized. A very small percentage of the time, a manipulation can split the inside walls of the vertebral arteries, causing the walls to balloon and block the blood supply to the lower part of the brain resulting in a basilar vertebral stroke.

But, this story isn't a treatise against chiropractic. Quite the contrary. Although I worked in the field and knew that a stroke was a possibiltiy, in over 12 years I never saw or heard of one case. I have two nephews and two neices who are chiros. In our family, we know, firsthand, how the techniques can aid healing. Besides that, even a simple thing like extending your neck back over the basin for hair washing at the beauty salon has been known to cause a stroke.

Rather, it is more about the good and bad that happens in life. The unexpected. Ken's neck adjustment was performed by his friend who was trying to do him a favor and make him feel better. His friend was a healer; this was the last thing he wanted to happen. In an instant, both of their lives were changed forever. Ken has yet to forgive his friend.

But because of his fateful injury, he met Barbie, a physician's assistant. The time came for their first dance as man and wife. With white satin, pearls and tule crushed against a black wedding tux, they swayed, not moving one inch on the floor, to a love song. It was the most beautiful dance I'd ever seen.

Do you Believe in Miracles?

Do you believe in miracles? I don't just mean wanting or praying for something to happen, but really believing you have the power to effect change. More precisely, that the Divine can work through you to create miracles like we read about in the Bible. Stories where Jesus walked on water, healed the sick, and raised the dead. Stories about Moses parting the Red Sea and Elijah calling down fire from Heaven on Mt. Carmel.

We don't see those kinds of miracles now days. Why? Can they truly not occur or have we simply forgotten how to manifest our Creator's instructions. Usually, I find myself in the category of "hoping" a thing will change rather than "knowing without a shadow of a doubt" that I am an instrument of the Divine. But in a meditation the other night, that all changed. I had an epiphany. The veil dropped and I remembered what it felt like, 100%, to wield the sword for the Master.

The science of Quantum Physics supports the idea of miracles happening. In Quantum Physics, material is supported by subatomic particles, one of which is the quanta. Meaning, or intent, changes the function of that particle. The mind can literally overrule matter. And Bell's Theorem proves non-local communication at a distance between atoms, which makes psychic channeling scientifically possible. If subatomic particles can change function, and non-local communication is possible, then it's possible for intent, or prayer, to change subatomic particles non-locally at a distance. Which means that atoms, molecules and cells, that are composed of subatomic particles, can change.

Miracles aren't only possible, they're probable. Just as today's scientific miracles of computers, microwave ovens, televisions, and gaming platforms are possible because of Quantum Physics, so are walking on water, raising the dead, healing the sick, calling down fire and parting the Red Sea. I'm trying like crazy to not let that epiphany fade back into darkness.

Soldier Boy

Dear Soldier Boy:

Thanks for coming to get a massage from me while you were here on leave from Iraq. It was so cool you you could be home on Memorial Day weekend and your mother's birthday.

I know we didn't talk much, a little casual conversation as we began, and then you got relaxed and quiet. But really, you didn't need to tell me your story, it was stored in your body and communicated without words.

No, son, put your wallet away. Your money is no good here today. Here's the deal...you take care of my body and I'll take care of yours.

Wishing you safe passage, with all my heart, until you return,

your massage therapist

The Times, They are a Changin'!

The times, they are a changin'. Yes, indeed! This morning, the sun broke through like it had been held captive by the clouds for a hundred years. Unleashing a perfect spring day. The open-all-your-windows-and-let-the-breeze-clean-house kind of day.

Thursday, for the first time since 1927, astrologically speaking, Uranus moved into Aries bringing with it a huge shift. Have you noticed anything different in your life in the last few days? I did. The last couple of months, to me, the energy has been syrupy and gummy. Sticky. Stagnate. Eerily like the calm before the storm. Not moving to the normal rhythms. And then...POW...BANG! A big switcheroo. This is a time of good fortune, unexpected events and huge energetic shifts.

Yesterday, I was slammed with massages, working from 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. It was a long day but a good day and definitely a practice of being in the "NOW." I woke up feeling a bit worn but not too bad for all the wear. Then AWESOMENESS started lining up.

My sister sent me a heart warming e-mail with pictures of my great nephew. I love my sister.

I also had mail from blog pals Reya and Christina.

Next, Ellen, my Pilate's instructor and friend, called me in early for my session. Once upon a time, she lived in New York, danced with the New York City Ballet and has been known to pirouette with Baryshnikov. She worked me hard and got all my kinks out. As we were finishing, her sister, Maggie, came in to teach the Zumba class. She shared with us two dozen of the 20 dozen golden yellow roses a new suitor had given her. And exactly when she started passing them out, the song Send me an Angel started playing.

On the way home, I stopped by the park, which was popping with activity of walkers, runners, cyclists and Segwayers, to take some pictures of the river. The Sacramento River snakes through town and is so pervasive that I often take her for granted. But not today. As fate would have it, the first picture I was guided to take was of a couple letting their dogs cool their feet and get a drink at the edge of the water. Then, BAM, they turned toward me and they were friends I have known most of my life!



I'd received all this goodness and it wasn't even 11:00 yet. There's going to be lots more to come, I just know it! Old patterns are falling away and breaking down. Heck, when I got home, I even decided to vacuum in the reverse direction I usually follow through the house. Why not, eh?

Off to buy Margaritas, salsa and chips. There'll be no hot chocolate this weekend. The forecast is for sunny and warm. Bring it on, Uranus! Oh, yeah. OH, YEAH!