Anyway, while doing a downward dog twist, I started crying. I didn’t know where the tears came from. I thought maybe it was out of frustration–the move was really difficult for me, as were a lot of the other moves. Other women around me, who were obviously very experienced in the class, had no problems with that move, or others we had already done.

I tried, I teared up. I held them back.

I was able to move on through the class, but as we went on, my mind wasn’t totally there anymore. I had kinda lost my mojo for the focus. And it was still really hard. Like I really just could not do some of the more pilate type moves.  And the rest of the yoga moves were really, really tough for me. More so than usual, it seemed.

The last 5 or so minutes of the class is this delicious relaxing time. The instructor talks a bit about letting stuff go, all that. And before you realize it, she’s stopped talking. To bring us back to reality, she started talking again and all of a sudden, I was crying. Like big fat tears. Not sobs, but just the big tears. I was laying down, so they were rolling into my ears.

I kinda wanted to say something to the instructor, but was afraid I’d start crying when I was talking to her. And why would that have been a bad thing??

I got in the car and called Lina, since she practices yoga a lot. She told me about these blocks that are sometime released during the practice and sometimes you don’t really even know what it is, or where it comes from. And you may not know right away (if ever) what is released. I did more research on the internets when I got home and read more of the same. Wow!! I just think that’s so cool. I’m hyper aware of it now, but I just think it’s fascinating.

Anyway, I think it’s exciting. It was sort of random that I went to that class, and now I can’t wait to try it again. I may never have that “release” again, but knowing I had it at least once is exciting to me.

“Just went on a date with a guy I made out with over 7 [?] years ago…”

or something to that effect.

Met J through a dating website. I kinda pondered if it could be him or not, but a few minutes into the date, I was sure it was. I was the one who brought it up. He said yeah, that was him. We had met (read: made out) more than once at a bar.

He remembered–I did not until he brought it up–the time that A and I took him home and he had left his keys in his car, so we had to go back to the car, get his keys, take him back to his place. He even remembered my car.

I didn’t put forth much effort into the date. We were surrounded with tons to watch, including a woman who took off her shirt (she was wearing a bikini top) and her male friends who all took off their shirts. I think he was trying. He asked questions. He’s nice enough (and a super cute Massachusetts accent), but I just couldn’t put forth much. I did try, some. I think had we not had a “past,” that I would have been able to put forth more. Sorry, dude.

We left fairly early. I think he was kinda disappointed, wanted to do more (even if not with me). Made a comment about just going home, saying that he was okay with that since he was out late last night (and drank a lot last night). I think he was a bit ready for more of a party or whatever.

Me? I came home totally sober (a few beers); I’m already in my pj’s. I was okay with “calling it,” (as he said) fairly early on a Friday night.

I pretty much laughed all the way home.

Oh, the irony.

So I’ve got to clean out my “guest” room.

So I’ve got to make room in the garage.

So I’ve got to get rid of stuff.

I have a lot of it.

A friend is having a garage sale in a few weeks. I’m making boxes and piles of crap to take there. I told her she couldn’t make fun of me for the crap I’m bringing. It’s really random crap. Like a stuffed animal a friend gave me in high school. Like a plastic flamingo (not for the yard) that bites when you pull a little handle. Like bags that could be useful to someone. Like random jewelry.

So here’s my secret.

I’m throwing a lot of shit out. It’s stuff that maybe I should keep–or give away or sell. Stuff that’s not totally trash. But, really, it’s not stuff I want to deal with. And I’m giving stuff away that maybe I “shouldn’t.” I’m selling back books that I wanted to keep for one reason or another.

I had some cool cards that were in frames in my old bathroom. It was a cool get up. It worked for who I was then. I’m over it. I’m taking the frames with the cards in them to the garage sale. I don’t even want the frames. I don’t want to deal with them anymore.

I managed to get through a chunk of the garage today. And it didn’t even take that long. I’ve got a pile of books I need to take to Half Price at some point really soon. I don’t imagine I’ll get much money, and I don’t really even care. I mostly want them out. So now I’ve got a pile of stuff that I know where it will go soon.

I’ve got a pile of boxes I’m sending to recycling. But my recycling is full. And sometimes I wonder, should I keep these boxes? But in all reality, boxes are not that expensive. (BTW, I texted Future Roommate to see if she needs any).

I hate the idea of wasting. But I feel like if I’m in This Place, where I’m ready to get rid of shit, I just need to do it.

So one side of the garage is pretty much done. And I’ve got another side that will need some effort, but probably not that much time. I’ve got some boxes of stuff I’m hosting for my cousin, but that will be gone relatively soon. (ha! get it?! relative).

A lot of what I need to do yet is just effort. I don’t want to have to put for the effort of going and delivering and loading and unloading. But I know I’ll feel so good to have it done.

Oh, and I’ve got a table and chair set to sell. I just need to do it. (P.S. New Roommate needs boxes. Yay!)

So, I’ve got rid of some stuff, will get rid of more. Will sell some stuff. Not for money. Just to get rid of it.

In a bit, I’m going to go to a Body Flow class, which is like yoga. I kinda wanted to do a more cardio class, but I think the breathing and not-thinking will be good for me. I’m not as skilled at this class, so it requires more focus on my end. That could be a good thing. And the stretching will be good, too.

Feeling good, feeling better, feeling like I’m purging…even though I still have SO much.

In Mark Harris’s novel Bang the Drum Slowly, professional baseball players cheat their fans out of money by engaging them in a card game called TEGWAR, which is an acronym for The Exciting Game Without Any Rules. Judging from your current astrological omens, Gemini, I’d say it’s prime time for you to play a more ethical version of this game. Strictly speaking, the game *can* have rules, but they may be changed at any time, and new ones may be added as needed. The object of your brand of TEGWAR is to have as much smart fun as possible without anyone getting hurt.

I do think part of it is mental, true. But, if I’m going to have thoughts of something that affects me, why not something positive? As KT says, “I am the luckiest person I know.” Maybe part of it is a mind game. But if it is, who cares? It’d sure be awesome to apply this luck to winning the lottery or something, but I just don’t foresee that. But it’s a different kind of luck.

Today, for 45 more minutes, is my birthday. (Don’t worry, you don’t need to post it in the comments. You’ve done your part on the FB. You know I like to keep this fairly anonymous). I know the FB-bots have it set up to tell people it’s your birthday, but I still felt loved.  Many people took just a few seconds to say, “hey, I’m thinking of you.” And some even made comments that were unique to us or to them. I’m lucky to have awesome friends.

I also got tons of texts and phone calls. From all over the state, city and nation.

But what’s really on my mind is how lucky I am with my family. My family is pretty damn awesome. I’m very close to all my parents. All of them. All four of them. And they all get along. How lucky is that?! They’re not playing bocce ball together, but they certainly get along just fine. They were very intentional about that–mom and dad were–when they split ways. All of them contacted me in some way or another today. My step mom said, “I wasn’t there the day you were born, but I’m sure it was miraculous. … I was with you in spirit.” I was in the process of pulling into the garage and I had a load of groceries and a friend to take to her car, but I wished I could have focused on that more.

But how lucky am I to get along so well with them?! And I have wonderful step sisters who make me laugh and take care of me and let me cry. (And you read about the pee bag, right? One of them I turned to and said, “I need you to help me in a way that only a sister can,” and I had her help me make the bag a bit more comfortable.)

I have tons of things to be thankful for.

Today I’m thankful that I’m so lucky when it comes to all my parents. All of them.

I’m not going to mince words. I have a pee bag attached to my leg. No, really, I do. If you’ve stumbled upon this, you should know I’m not an old lady. I’m actually a pretty healthy person. I generally try to eat well, but do allow “fun” here and there. I drink, yes, but not to extremes. I work out fairly regularly.

This has actually happened before. But I’ll just focus on the here and now.

I went to HH with work peeps on Thursday. Celebrate and stuff. I had a margarita, peed once, and four beers over the course of the night. I felt the urge to pee, but didn’t feel like I wanted to go back to the bathroom at the restaurant. I wonder how things…nevermind….

So I come home, cleaned up and stuff and sat down to go. Couldn’t. This has happened before. Sometimes if I wait a bit, I’ll go. (and I’m uber paranoid after hearing stories of distended bladders that require catheters  all the time–and this is not even from a google or webmd search). Couldn’t go. Tried to go to bed. Couldn’t sleep. I tried. And grunted. And was in pain. I decided to lay on a towel so if I relaxed enough, I could go there. Was able to go a bit.

Tried again and pushed really hard. A few dribbles came out. But not all of it.

I went to the couch. It’s cooler out there. And it’s a new environment. I’ll try that out. I skimmed through my phone, wondering who I could call or text. I pondered driving myself to the ER.

I eventually texted ye old ex, “Any chance you’re up, in the south and sober?” He called about 30 mins later, after I had finally managed to doze off. He asked if I needed a ride to the hospital. Ever-tough (ha, ha), I said in a shaky voice, “maybe?”

30 minutes or so later, we pulled into the ER. blah blah blah

They finally hook me up and the docs are amazed at the amount of urine in my bladder. I wasn’t kidding, folks.

I pretty quickly got up to 1200 cc’s. That’s 40 ounces. I had a 40 in my bladder! (PS I just looked it up. Answers dot com says the bladder can hold 16 oz. comfortably for 2-5 hours). I was way above that for way long. Now I’m even more paranoid. Shit, how long until the bladder is irreparable? I mean, if this has happened twice now? Twice to the point of an ER visit? And I think back and I feel like it’s happened before, but  never to this extent, obviously.  (And in case you’re wondering, urinary bladder in Spanish is: Vejiga urinaria)

So, anyway, I’m discouraged and frustrated and annoyed. I want this fucking thing out of me. I’ve had several visitors (thank you!!). I mainly just want company. Someone to sit with me and who doesn’t mind being so close to my pee. And what I feel like I stink (I have showered several times already). But now I’m wearing nighttime period pads which help when the pee leaks. (See? told you I’d get graphic).

It’s like my bladder sphincter (ass sphincter says what?) seizes up and it’s painful. It doesn’t happen as much as it did, nor is it as painful, but it sure doesn’t feel awesome. (hello? I’ve got a tube up my vajayjay, of course it’s not awesome).

So it’s gross. And I feel gross. And I feel tears stinging my eyes. And I want to be totally alone and I don’t want to be alone at all. I have tons of shit I want to try to get done around my house, but I only work in spurts. I mostly do want company, so don’t let that scare you off. I need to get out of the fucking house. But who wants to go out with a Stadium Pal attached to their leg?

I go to the urologist on Tuesday, in the afternoon. Yes, after working on Tuesday morning. I’m better and better and figure I’ll be able to plow through for a few hours before going. I can’t wait to get this thing off me.

It’s not just the tube and the contraption. It’s the velcro and the sticky tape and the rubbing on my leg. And that I limp sort of when I walk. And, well, fuck, it’s annoying.

So, there it is. What’s been going on in my world the past few days.

Hopefully I’ll have positive things to report back to.

When World War I ended in 1918, the victorious nations demanded crushing financial reparations from the loser, Germany. It took 92 years, but the remaining $94 million of the debt was finally paid last October. I hope this story serves as an inspiration to you, Gemini. If entities as notoriously inflexible as governments can resolve their moldering karma, so can you. In the next few weeks, I’d love to see you finally clean up any messes left over from your old personal conflicts.

Thanks, Rob, on several levels.

I just finished this week’s episode of Survivor (please don’t judge. I don’t know how I got sucked in this season). And I had to turn it off. Needed quiet. Needed still. And I’ve been really low key all day, so it’s not like I’m trying to silence something.

I baked cookies this afternoon. I had one  two after dinner. I have to say, they’re pretty darn good. I’ve almost perfected my recipe. This batch wasn’t as good as my last batch, which I dubbed “the best yet.”

I made a Crispy Thai Beef Salad Thing for dinner tonight. It was darn good. Glad I don’t have anyone to kiss, though, because I fear my breath is bad.

I had all these things I wanted to write, needed to wait until the right time. I kinda know what some of the things were, but now I don’t feel like it’s necessary to write them. Last week or so I did “need” to write them, did need to get those things out. But not today. Maybe tomorrow I will. Maybe thinking about writing them was enough. You know if I’m thinking this much about thinking that it had to be some pretty serious stuff.

So, that’s all for now.

KT has used her Osho Tarot on me (for me? with me?) a few times. I know there was a time when I was not in a good place and she pulled a card. She made me figure out what it meant (imagine that! Making me work on my own stuff!) and I kinda freaked out. Like got angry and upset.

I’m not totally sure where it’s coming from, or what it means. Or how long it’s been there.

She told me to calm down a bit. I did. She tried again. I took a few deep breaths. She walked me through it a bit and helped me figure it out. Seemed to work. Once calm, it seemed to make sense.

It’s just sitting there. There’s something out there. In there. Right next to me.

I’ve been wanting my own Osho cards. I went ahead and bought my own. They’re really quite pretty. I don’t know the first thing about Tarot. But here’s how I do these cards.

I don’t like the feeling. It’s a nervousness of what I should be doing. Or what I haven’t done. Or what I have done.

I think of a question, ponder on it. (Remember, she said, that they don’t tell you anything you don’t already know, they just help you realize what’s already there.)

Just a bit ago, I pondered on “what is this gut feeling?” as I pulled a card.

I pulled the “Moment to Moment” card.

So once you pull the card, you read a short passage in the book that accompanies it. One side of the page describes the card, pretty literally, maybe helps you see what you may not have realized is on the card.

The description made sense. A guy stepping lightly, not seriously. “The man is in the marketplace, but at the same time outside of it. … This card challenges us to move away from our preoccupations with other spaces and other times and stay alert as to what is happening here and now.”

I’ve not been totally happy at work the past week or two. Just this week I’ve hit that “I’m not happy” place. Not that I hate it. Just not how it was even two or three weeks ago.

The left side of the page hit on that.

“And don’t worry if you stumble or fall; just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, have a good laugh and carry on.” Gosh, a sense of humor really is necessary on most days. No wait, all days. How can you get through if you don’t find the humor in at least one thing?

The right side of the page touches on more what the card is intended to explain. This one talked about living in the here and now. That both past and future are moving in directions that don’t necessarily exist. The past is over and the future isn’t yet.

So, maybe I just need to acknowledge this gut feeling. Know it’s there. Push it away. Maybe even try to laugh it off. I mean, really, if there is something there, there really isn’t much I can do about it. At this hour, on this day, right this second.