No danger of me (My? Never did understand gerunds.) being bumped off of Facebook for posting too often from my blog. After spending at least an hour yesterday (Mercury sextile Jupiter) trying to link the two, looking at how-to videos, reading discussion boards and trolling through Blogger Help, I finally gave up and went back outside to continue toiling in the fields of the Lord and attempting to bring life back to my twigs, although I've surrendered even there.
Yesterday, in spite of the local boycott of Walmart because of its (another gerund?) selling fireworks when fires are raging all over New Mexico, I wandered its aisles and forked out $17 on sprays of artificial flowers, which as soon as I've finished this I'm going to artfully arrange in the two planters on the front steps. I know when I'm beaten.
I know when I'm beaten on another level, too, and painful and humbling though it is, here goes. If (!) what Dr. Phil says about you can't change what you don't acknowledge, I, the undersigned, being of reasonably sound mind and body for a 66-year-old woman on Celexa and Wellbutrin with a couple of pounds of flab around her middle, hereby admit I have not yet been capable of any kind of sustained effort involving writing prose and concede that calling this blog everyday-astrology was yet another example of my wildly optimistic Mars in Pisces natal opposition to Jupiter in Virgo, which has, until now, led me to believe I could one day make my living by what has so far proved impossible - writing . Extended exhale.
There is much more to be written (ha!) about the above, but with any luck at all admitting that I can't do it will *free* me to be able to do just that. In the meantime, as the Sun gets higher and higher in the sky and my window of opportunity of being outside gets shorter and shorter, the call of the Gobi beckons and it's time to stick my plastic flowers in the planters. Photos to follow. That I know I can do.
Pamela Rose Reeves
June 26, 2011
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