May 9, 2007

• Interviewed

  The Dreamr has interviewed me with the following questions, so here
  goes!  If you would like to be interviewed, just read the information
  that follows my Q&A.

  1. As a child, what did you wish to be when you grew up?

  I had a hard time making up my mind.  I remember wanting to be a doctor or nurse, a flamenco dancer, a fire fighter, an Indian, a gourmet, a wife, a mommy, and Lash Larue.

  

  I did dance professionally for a while, but never got proficient at flamenco.  I also never got to be Lash LaRue, but my healing work fulfilled the spirit of the doctor/nurse ambition, and I’ve fought a few small fires, and fulfilled all the other ambitions, too.  I always was about as much redskin as any other part of my mongrel ancestry.

  2. What is your favorite hobby?
  

  It’s the same as what I list as my primary profession:  psychic counseling.  But that takes a certain level of compos mentis.  When the brain fog is too thick, I fall back on photography.

  3. If you could give one bit of advice what would it be?
  

  Transcend fear and practice universal unconditional love.

  4. What makes you laugh?

  I laugh easily at many things.  At the movies or live performances, my laugh often is the first one heard, an instant before everyone else gets the joke.  Sometimes I get so tickled at something I think of, that I have to laugh it out before I can tell it.  I don’t tell jokes per se,
  don’t say funny things as much as saying things funny.  My kid says
  that his life has been like living in a sitcom.  My husband, son, and I
  all have excellent comedic timing and delivery. Two things are sure laugh-producers around here (with the whole family):  fart jokes and the old switcheroo.

  5. Tell us a typical day in your life what it is like
  

  Aw, crap!  You would ask that.  I have a neuromuscular disorder with a remitting and relapsing course.  Typically, unless I’m in remission, first thing I do is ask my adult son and personal caregiver Doug to make a pot of coffee, decant it into the keep-hot carafe, and bring it to me.  Halfway through that pot, I roll out of bed and stumble off to the other pot.

  Most days, I don’t get dressed.  I sleep in the same sweats or velour lounging clothes I wear in daytime.  I brush my hair when I can’t stand the mess any more, or if I’m going somewhere socially “important.”  If it’s just to the laundromat or to the spring for water, I put on a bandanna.  I do what most needs to be done, and I haven’t been able to catch up with all of that in years.

  Even on “bad” days, if the light is good I walk out in the yard or down the road with a camera to try and catch some of it.  On better days, I make and keep doctor’s appointments, do laundry, do water runs, do some catching up with housecleaning and yard work, clean the stovepipe, repair the roof — whatever is most pressing at the time.

  Really “good” days, true remission, is so far in the past now that what I did then is totally irrelevant.  What I might do if a remission comes again is a mystery.

  6. What brought you to Xanga?
  

  As it says in my header, “One night in a dream an old woman visited me and said I need to keep a journal.”  JadedFey, a former client who had become my protegé, colleague, friend, sister and anam cara, was blogging on Xanga, so, here I am.

  Now its your turn to play if you wish!

  Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.” I will respond by asking
  you five six, ten or a dozen (why be limited?) questions. I get to pick the questions, and I will message you with them and these directions. Just update your blog with
  the answers to the questions and include this explanation and an offer
  to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking
  to be interviewed, you will ask them five however many questions.

  ---

  Now for something completely different:

  <<<See what is on my desktop these days.  Can you guess what event Doug and I are eagerly awaiting?  Hint:  I adore Johnny Depp, but I love Captain Jack Sparrow even more.

  

  • 4:32 pm
  • 11 Comments