Cannibalistic tendencies

As y'all know, I am a Cancer. Symbol? The crab. Friends have made jokes about how I love to eat crab -- eating my own kind and all that. But crabs do eat their own so I guess I fit right in.


Surf and turf.

Things started innocently on Saturday. I took a steak out of the freezer to defrost because I really wanted beef and hadn't had any in quite some time. I probably would have been just as happy with spinach. Because I learned long ago that when I crave beef, what I'm really looking for is iron. Because I can get a wee bit anemic at times. And when I have beef, it has to be bloody.

So while the steak defrosted, I headed out to do laundry (Yes, there is a single machine in my building but I had let things build up to the point that I suddenly discovered that I had four loads of laundry to do. And try fighting it out for that single machine when there are eleven other apartments.) and to do a little grocery shopping.

95% of the time, I shop with a list. I am not allowed to stray from the list unless I suddenly remember a very necessary item, such as toilet paper, that I have forgotten to put on the list. This is what allows me to go shopping when I'm hungry. Usually. The problem was that I needed to pick up some shrimp. And there they were. King crab legs on display, calling to me. So I just had to give in. My only other impulse buy was some Coke so that I could have a cuba libre with my meal. Because that's the only time when I drink Coke. If you give me a 12-ounce can of soda on its own, it usually takes me at least four hours to finish it. I think this stems from the fact that sodas were only available as occasional treats when I was growing up. I drank loads of milk, fruit juice, and water. And tea. When I was nine, I was allowed to add tea to the list of acceptable beverages.

And no, I did not eat all that meat in one sitting. I ate about a third of the steak and half of the claw. Until I went to put the leftover steak away. Then the claw beckoned once more and I finished it off.

All I could think about on Sunday was more crab. Luckily I was meeting a friend for brunch at Crepevine. (Can someone explain to me how their menu is so similar to that at Savor?)


And so I ordered the New Orleans.

But I still wanted more crab. And I needed to stop at the store for some fresh oregano. (The two other stores I had already visited over the weekend were out.) And I knew that there would be more King crab available. Alas, they only had clusters and I really did not want that much. Just a leg or two. And so I passed.

But I'm starting to think that Zoomie has created a monster. As I entered the store on Sunday, I thought of calling this post Bride of Frankenstein -- especially since some mornings, I can have really scary bed hair. But then I was thankful. Because now I don't miss the delay in the start of Dungeness season quite as much.

Oh, and I apologized to Boris when I got home last night. Because he was just being a silly boy cat and really didn't know any better. While I sat at work yesterday, I realized that with my angry shouting that I had scared the bejeezus out of both cats. So there were lots of hugs. And new toys brought out of the cabinet. (I always keep a secret stash of toys for them. Never know when I might want to treat them with something new.) And we tried to bond again. Because I also realized that Boris is probably just a bit confused. He had gotten used to my being around all day and now I'm gone again for hours on end. And then I get home and I'm too tired to really spend time with them. He was just a little kid acting out.

Just another clingy Cancer

... or another layer of the onion is peeled back.

When I was growing up, my mother repeatedly told me that she didn't believe in astrology. Then she would open the newspaper to read her horoscope. Always an avid reader, I discovered the section of the bookstore that was classified as being "Occult" by age 15 or so. My first purchase was Linda Goodman's Sun Signs. I had never taken much faith in the daily horoscopes in the paper but when I read Linda's words, I felt that she had peered into my soul. I was hooked. I went back looking for more books. And found a book that gave instructions on how to calculate natal charts. There was just one problem. You needed a couple of other books to complete the calculations -- an ephemeris and a book of houses. I had to look the first up in the dictionary. What the hell was that anyway? I then set out searching local bookstores and libraries for the magical books. (I was 16 by this time and quite resourceful.) no luck on all fronts. But somewhere along the way I came across the word "metaphysics." So I searched for metaphysical bookstores in the Yellow Pages and found one in Berkeley. They had everything I needed. (It's a shame they went out of business a few years ago. A part of myself died with that store closure.) I then set out to do my own natal chart. Once friends learned of my newest interest, they requested that I do their charts as well.

A year later I went back to the store to buy my first Tarot deck. But I mistreated that deck. Along the way I ended up losing a few cards. When I replaced it, I was much wiser. I bought the replacement deck at a shop in London, the first time that I was there. It is kept in a wooden box, wrapped in a silk scarf. But don't ask me to do a card reading because it's been years since I've done one. Grasshopper treated me to a reading for my birthday this year. I think she thought I was oblivious to the deck. At times she struggled with the meaning of a particular card and I would tell her what it was. I trained myself to read the pictures so even if I haven't touched the cards in years, some of the meanings come back to me instantly -- especially since there are a certain group of cards that always show in readings for myself.

Thinking of England and cards reminds me of a certain intoxicated evening the summer I was there. One of the women in my suite in the dorms had discovered that I could do a simple relationship reading with regular playing cards (which are based upon the Minor Arcana of the Tarot). After a few days, I came to expect the knock on my door at a certain time of night. It was time for a study break and I needed to bring the cards to the common area of our suite so that I could do readings for all of the women in my suite. One night they decided to change things up. We headed out, me with cards in hand, to the pub on campus. They wanted their readings but they also wanted a few pints. Once the other patrons realized what was going on, they started to queue up at the table. They asked about payment. I stated that they simply needed to keep my glass full. One would argue that I was merely channeling a voice from an earlier life. I mean, isn't this what minstrels did in days of old? No one left unhappy. Maybe a bit more contemplative, but not unhappy.

So what does this have to do with the price of tea in China, or my post title for that matter? Well, I am prone to stream of consciousness. This is why Faulkner is one of my favorite authors. I was thinking of Laurie's latest horoscopes and the Drummer Boy. And then I thought of men in general. As Laurie rightfully pointed out, Cancers love adoration; we just have a hard time asking for those things that we need. So when we don't receive the adoration that we so crave, we start questioning everything. (OK. So maybe all of us don't. Maybe it's just me.) If I don't hear how great I am from a guy on a regular basis (That would be at least every other day at a minimum. Can you say insecure?), then I start to question the relationship. And Drummer Boy? I have not talked to him since Saturday. So I checked the band's website. They had a gig on Thursday night. I know that means that they were in rehearsal every night until midnight. I also know that he knows that most nights I'm asleep by the time he gets home from rehearsals. He would never call "too late" because he is considerate. I am very logical. That's why I love math so much. But sometimes logic has a hard battle with emotions. And that's where I am now.

Just another clingy Cancer. Looking for unconditional adoration. Thank goodness it's Fleet Week. And thank goodness for the kids because without them, I'd probably be an emotional wreck. Because yesterday I got another picture and the student wrote on it how great she thought I am. *sniff* So I went out last night and bought them some more books.