Not a Mom. . .

A happy mother.

A happy mother.

I’d like to say “Happy Mother’s Day” to all the women who bore children and raised them. Motherhood must be the most difficult job in the world and so many women bear it with love and joy. Kudos. I have ultimate respect and admiration for those women who, by choice, default, or “oops,” gave birth and stuck it out to love and protect their offspring.

I’m not a mother–by choice–and would really love it if people who know that about me would stop wishing me a happy Mother’s Day. I know it sounds bah-humbug. Maybe it is, but I still chaff at it. I take full responsibility for my reaction. It is my problem and not a judgement of the well-wishers. Something to work on overcoming with my NLP, I guess. But for now, it still rankles. Continue reading

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How I learned to Trick my Brain and Believe

We may think that we think what we think.
But what we don’t know is that we are what we think.
And what we think is not what we think we are thinking.
HarmlessMy life has been so busy lately, trying to edit my first novel for print and work on the second one, that I have neglected Confetti Head and all my other blogs. I hang my head in shame.

This morning I awoke early and for some reason couldn’t bring myself to open my manuscript. I need a break. Well, that is after my writers’ group meeting this morning and tomorrow night. After that, I’m taking a short break from the world of Planet Arkhon and the Gods of Terra.

I have written so much, that my first thought was, “Well, I’ll just pull something I’ve written about before.” But no matter how many articles (those not intended for posting on my blogs) I opened, none felt right. It’s almost like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, “This porridge is too hot. This porridge is too cold . . . .” So there was nothing to be done but to write something new. But what? I found the story below in a lonely folder marked “unfinished.” I rescued it out of the bits and bites of cyber cobwebs and gave it some TLC with updates, edits, and new material. Continue reading

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Ho, Ho, Ho? Or Bah! Humbug.

santahappySo Christmas is upon us yet again. Didn’t this just happen last year? This holiday is so polarized that I’m surprised there hasn’t been a march down Main Street proclaiming the right way to celebrate.

Oh, wait, there has been. Every year there is the put-Christ-back-in-Xmas campaign. These are the folk who don’t like and don’t understand the origin of Xmas.

The X is the Greek letter Chi, the first letter of the Greek word for Christ. The mas is the Old English word for mass. Xmas is a legitimate, religion-based word for this holiday. So, protestors? Stick a the candy cane of factual information in your mouth and shut-up about it. Continue reading

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NEWS FLASH! Astrology Event – Merkeba in the Sky

NEWS FLASH! Astrology Event – Merkeba in the Sky.

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Bang, Bang! You’re Not Dead?

Gun---Bang I was not a cautious girl growing up nor am I as an adult. Actually, in my youth I was a bit of a slut/hippie/Holly Golightly—only not as elegantly beautiful as Audrey Hepburn. But then, who is?

As with most young people, I had a no sense of mortality. No matter what I did, I knew I  would be okay. Thus my many mind-numbing acts of stupidity.

Okay, back to guns.

I know it’s not a popular thing to say in my circles of liberal, left-wing metaphysics, but I  like guns. I have a fascination with them. I don’t have any, nor do I ever again want a gun —I know, never say never. I like a lot of things I don’t want to own: horses, for one. I think horses are beautiful and amazing creatures but have no desire own one. I never wanted children either, but that’s another story.

I’ve had a lot of exposure to guns from antique to modern. To me, they are amazing machines, an art form, albeit a dangerous one. Gun control is a complicated topic and I won’t get into it, except to say that I think Congress is acting like a bunch of petty children having a tantrum when it comes to gun control—on both sides.

Shut up Anita. Don’t get political here.

You’d think that because I’ve been on the  business side of a loaded gun twice in my life, that I would be anti-gun. I’m not. For the most part though,  my gun experience has been safe. Odd, sometimes, but usually safe.

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What the Hell is NLP and Can it Make Me a Super Hero?


NLP Smiling CatPeople who know NLP are amazing. They don’t muddle through life. They take charge of it, and love every minute, even if they don’t let let on how awesome they are.

NLP has empowered thousands of people, all over the world. 

NLP is better than the Magic 8-Ball.
It really answers the Questions:

  • Who am I?
  • What is Truth?
  • How can I help others as well as myself?
  • Can I finally get rid of the “stuff” from my past that gets in the way?
  • What are some ways to transform myself that don’t take constant struggle?
  • Can I be in charge of my own life, at last?


NLP lets you in on the great secret—the brain is our most valuable tool and our worst enemy. The problem is that, too often, the brain leads us around like a big, undisciplined dog on a leash.

Like an unruly child, our brain demands attention in a thousand different places, constantly wanting more:

Think about this!
No, think about this instead.
Be afraid.
Be unhappy again and again over what happened in the past.
Feel guilty.
Be confused.
No, you can’t have what you want.
No. You don’t deserve anything good.
 Other people are more important. Put them first.

On and on and on. No wonder sleep deprivation is an epidemic in the developed world.
The good news is that we can change all that. We can tame our unruly brains and have the  means to tell it to “shut the F^@& up” when we want it to. And it will.

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Of Santa and Christmas Past

Santa-in-Escher-BallMy mother went to the big metaphysical bookstore in the sky in June of 2012. When Christmas rolled around that year, I thought it would be okay since, we as adults we didn’t make much fuss over Christmas. Our family is widely spread out and we don’t have children around to require a Christmas celebration.

However, the ease I expected during this time just laughed in my face. I remembered my mother as she was when we were best friends. These memories brought tears to my eyes and gripped my heart.

They still do. Continue reading

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Diets Don’t Work. So Why Am I On One?

Anita in Egypt at 115 pounds

Anita in Egypt at 110 pounds

Before I begin, I want to say that I have no problem with other people’s body size. If that is a life-choice, wonderful. I don’t think less of anyone because of their body shape. We all have our comfort zones.

This rant is ONLY about me. I am accustomed to looking a certain way. That image of myself ties in with a zillion neuron’s that connect to my sense of well-being.

Over the years, of course I have adjusted that comfort image a little. I weighed 98 pounds when I was first married at eighteen. I crept up to 110 and stayed there until a  hysterectomy in my late thirties, when it shot up to 120. That’s where I stayed—until recently. I definitely don’t want to go back to 98 pounds, but 125 would be good. It will be perfect, in fact.

Anita in the Desert

Anita at 125 pounds. Soda Lake, Zzyzzyx, CA

For centuries, or so it seems, I have been preaching from the food pulpit that diets don’t work. I still believe that, but as age creeps up on my A$$ and my metabolism goes equally south, I find myself in a dilemma. My life has taught me the valuable lesson of eating Real Food instead pretenders-of-food, for health and keeping the weight off, but now I see that sometimes it isn’t enough, especially for women of a certain ripeness.

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I Am No Longer Intimidated by Poop

If you are squeemish, be warned, this is not a pretty article. It deals something that many of us gag and say “Eeewww!” about—Poop. I was once a card carrying “Eeewww!” member but circumstances have forced me to toughen up.

As a child, I wanted to be a nurse, like so many other little girls. My mother shuddered at the thought. “You know that nurses have to wipe people’s butts and clean up poop all day, don’t you?” She said, and with such horror and fear in her voice that I thought being a nurse must be horrible. Touching Poop? Smelling it? Even looking at it? I thought I’d rather be dead.

In my life, the universe has taught me many valuable lessons in the fear and avoidance categories. Every time I have become aware of a prejudice, an irrational fear, or an avoidance that limited my life in any way, the same-said universe has thrown it in my face in a way that can’t be ignored.

A long time ago, I had a snarky attitude about people who were overweight. I though it a weakness on their part and looked down my regal nose at their inability to cope with their problem. When I became conscious of this supercilious attitude, without my even trying, my life was inundated with people of a certain weight-challenged ilk. What a rude awakening I had in store for me.

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Beverly Hills Magazine—Living the Uppity Life

Beverly Hills Magazine Cover

Beverly Hills Magazine Cover

I  have lived many lives in one, but I think my most colorful life had to be as co-owner of the Beverly Hills magazine. What an amazing trip into wonderland it was.

My third husband, Lee, was a Renaissance man. He was a genius at just about anything he put his mind to, but his brilliance came at a price. He was a danger addict and bored by anything that wasn’t just a little dangerous or illegal.

For example, for a while we belonged to an income tax protest group and I had to stamp the back of every check with some disclaimer about the fact that we didn’t pay taxes. When the founder of that group was imprisoned, Lee dropped it and went back to paying the IRS. He also bootlegged cable TV antennas for some people who had mob connections. He was a pilot, sailboat racer, drove sleek, sexy cars, and lived on the edge. On the other hand, he always had a legitimate job and was honest to the core about most things.

Although I have immortalized Lee in a few other stories about my crazy life, this one is about the Beverly Hills magazine.

Continue reading

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