The Diva Knits

You are likely aware of your writing abilities, angela, but you may not realize just how talented you are. It would be worthwhile for you to consider devoting more time to honing your craft. You can't expect to improve much when your writing time is scattered in between other obligations. You need large blocks of uninterrupted time in order to really produce something of value. Why not give it a try, even if just for a week or so, to see what you are capable of.

My horoscope for tomorrow. Hmm, I should give it a thought.

Let me tell y'all a story while my photos are uploading to flickr. A long time ago, in the spring of 98, I visited a soothsayer (no really, she called herself a soothsayer, I am not being pretentious) at a renaissance faire. I was young, 18, madly in love with an enormously tall and gaunt Nordic looking Brit named Ken, who I was travelling to meet in a week's time. I had also just recently met someone online who was into some of the things I was and wildly sexual, but let's not get into that now.

My fortune teller told me several interesting things. First that an old lover would come back into my life (ahhh that old saw), second that a blonde would cause me pain, but the darker haired man would make me happy. Third, that my new love interest would come to me through writing and that we would be very successful together. Finally, she told me that my stepfather would be ill sometime in the fall.

All of this cost me about $25 and I was more than greatful to pay for it, if only for the fifteen minutes sitting in the shade and off of my feet. Days came and went and soon enough I forgot about the soothsayer's spiel. Then I got an unexpected call the night before leaving for England. From my ex. Trying to patch things up. Hmmm, this is interesting. Then I met the writing pervert from the internet in person, and lo and behold he had dark hair (oooh spooky!). But, wait, there's more!! I went up to Manchester, and met the lovely and fair Ken. Who also turned out to be a self-centered egomaniacal lush, but there you go. Back to London and the pervert. We decided to partner up on a writing project together, and kept in contact over the course of my trip all 'round the UK. By the time I left for home, we were talking to eachother on a daily basis. a month after my return he would ask me to go on a trip around the United States with him. A month later my dad would be having problems and seeing a doctor because he was sick. Very interesting.

Now, flash back to the week I got my fortune told. The pervert was at a palmist's on Tottenham Court Road, just past Oxford Street, getting his fortune read. His fortune was (paraphrased here) that he would soon meet the person that he would be with for the rest of his life; his soul mate, if you will.

coincidence?! I think not.

Of course, after he came to California for our trip around the US, we found out that we bickered constantly, got on eachother's nerves, and practically the only good thing about our relationship was that the sex was good and we could read the same books. (just kidding)(but what about?!) So anyways, yeah. Here we are Spring of 98 to Fall of 05. 7 years and 4 months or so from the day I last saw a fortune teller. I don't think I can handle seeing another one. What with the husband, house, and mostly happy (sometimes not) life I wound up with after the last visit...

and now, for something completely different!
the pictures I promised! via flickr.
look to the right (i guess)

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