The 3rd house in astrology is associated with writing, conversation, personal thoughts, day-to-day things, siblings and neighbors.
Monday, July 19, 2004Memorium
My friend Carol lost her 21-year-old cat, Poki, today, apparently quite peacefully. She stopped eating and drinking I think yesterday and it seemed she was preparing to go. Carol called this morning and told me it was coming and might be over the next few days. Then she called this afternoon and said Poki was gone. Cute little thing, Poki cat. Twenty-one years. Amazing.[Note: updated the age after talking with Carol - 21 not 22. But who's counting.]
Stepping out of the cone of silence
I’m still working like the proverbial one-armed paper hanger. (Which reminds me of a neighbor I had in NH who had one arm and, I swear to God, one day told us he’d spent the day hanging wallpaper. We didn’t know if he was pulling our legs or not since they were renovating their condo.) I need a break, though, and didn’t get to post this weekend…
Yesterday afternoon, after working on a case study for three hours and emailing it off for client review, I drove out to The Castle restaurant in
My secondary motivation for going was that Toni was giving me her old cell phone, which isn’t very old actually, to replace “that shoe you’ve been using.” Yes, my current cell phone, the only one I’ve ever owned, is nearly the size and weight of a shoe. It has a battery life of about an hour. And it is definitely uncool, although not nearly as uncool as it would be if I’d followed my father’s advice to fix the loose battery connection by duct-taping my phone. Now that would be a fashion statement. I could add matching tape to the bridge of my sunglasses while I’m at it. Anyway, I’m hoping I’ll have some time this week to get over to Cingular and get my service transferred.
Weird dreams last night: I was in a prison that was partly under water. We had to swim through a tangled window to escape. When we got out – there were four women – I hugged one of them I didn’t even know. We were all so happy to be free. Then we walked along a sidewalk through this neighborhood at dusk, hoping nobody would recognize us. I saw someone through a window who seemed familiar, a businessman I think, and I chuckled at how he didn’t see me and didn’t know we’d escaped and were walking down the street. We got to some shelter or safe house or other, but I can’t remember any more after that. I don’t recall having any conversations from my shoe.