Scientology: My 5 Reasons For Speaking Out

The Tom Cruise/Katie Homes divorce has put a spotlight on the Church of Scientology, and not in a way they would like.  In recent years news of abuse, intimidation, coerced abortions and other human rights violations has been shared with the public at large.

Katie Homes and Tom Cruise

The Tampa Bay Times did a multi-part series called The Truth Rundown, exposing much of what has been going on behind the doors of the Church of Scientology.  Former Church executive Marty Rathbun has been running a blog exposing their cult like behavior, which has been running rampant under current leader and Tom Cruise's buddy, David Miscavige.  Rathbun recently wrote a book that does a great job of explaining how the Church of Scientology became a cult.  It's called "What is Wrong With Scientology?: Healing Through Understanding".

Former Scientology Executive Marty Rathbun

There was a time when people who left Scientology were afraid to speak out about what they saw or experianced, that caused them to leave.  With the internet and the mass exodous from the Church of Scientology, this is no longer the case.

Having grown up in Scientology, and having left two years ago, I have my own viewpoint on Scientology and the Church of Scientology and I'm very comfortable sharing it.  I don't see the two as one in the same.  For this reason I've been open to and have  spoken out about the subject.

My reasons for doing so are these:

1. The Church of Scientology has become a cult under the leadership of David Miscavige.  What other Church contacts your friends and family in person, via facebook, and instructs them to cut all ties with you when you leave?  The head of a worldwide religion shouldn't be physically beating his staff.  Read those Tampa Bay Times articles or Amy Scobee's book "Abuse at the Top".  Or "Blown for Good" by Marc Headley.  David Miscavige's abusive behavior has been attested to by a large number of witnesses, including former Church executive Debbie Cook who suffered some of the worst abuse, which she recently testified to in court.

2. Others who came before me spoke out and helped to open my eyes, confirming my suspicions of what was going on in the Church turned cult.  I know how much this helped me and my family, and I'm willing to return the favor in hopes that it helps someone else.

Scientologist KNOW something is wrong within the organization, but they are indoctrinated to disregard their feelings of doubt.  They are indoctrinated to believe that anyone who speaks out against the Church has crimes they have committed and are doing so only because they are "bitter apostates", as the Church likes to call us.  I'm thinking of having a shirt made that reads "Apostate and Proud".  Additionaly they are NOT allowed to read or watch anything that speaks against the Church, especially its leader David Miscavige.  If they do, the church must "handle" them by discrediting the source of the information so as to put the parishioner back on the path of no doubts, complete with blinders.

When I left I spent 6 hours with two members of the Church of Scientology's Sea Organization.  I agreed to meeting with them because I wanted to see for myself how the dog and pony show went. They flew to Minnesota with the sole purpose of putting my blinders back on.  They laid out print outs of comments I made on facebook in regard to Scientology, and went over the names of facebook friends of mine that they wanted me to cut ties with.  Can you say stalker?

When they realized I wasn't going to go back into the dark, they were left only with threats of excommunicating me, thereby forcing my friends who remained in the Church to "disconnect" from me.  I was willing to lose friends if that was what it meant to live free.  I've never once regretted that decision.

3.  My mother Donna-Gail Wilcock died this past October.  She too had left the Church after being reprimanded and invalidated because she was no longer physcially well enough to volunteer her time or donate money.  Local Church executives at the Twin Cities Church of Scientology went so far as to try to get her husband to divorce her so that he could work for the Church, something my mother didn't want him to do.  He stood by my mother and their 20 year marriage.  He also left the Church after this, along with the rest of us.

My mom and I on one of our many adventures after leaving Scientology

Simply, when my mother was no longer a resource to the Church she gave 35 years of her life, time and money to, she was treated with disrespect and disdain.  When she died none of her lifelong "friends" in the Church sent any condolensces, and trust me when I say they knew about it.  When the Church of Scientology doesn't approve of your friends or family, you no longer have them as friends or family, despite your history with them, despite how they helped you in the past.  They call this "disconnection" and is part of the mind control exerted by the Church.

4. Scientology as a philosophy has and can be helpful when you aren't trying to harm people with it as is the case with most self-help practices.  I'm an ex-Scientologist, but I have many friends who continue to practice Scientology when they leave the Church.  I support their right to do so.  I have friends in the current Church of Scientology.  My issues are not with them but with the corrupt organization running Scientology into the ground, taking many good hearted people with it.  In many ways it is for them that I speak out about what I know to be true.

The numbers of Scientologist who are pretending to be "good Church following Scientologist" but have in truth left the Church, is astounding.  Many don't officially leave because they have family, friends, or business connections who will remain, or they think they will.  You aren't allowed to discuss your doubts about the Church with other members or they will report you to the Church for doing so, even their own friends and family.  It's part of the conditioning and mind control.

5. Because I can.  The Church of Scientology has no power over me anymore.  I've lost friends when I left, but I've since learned that love and friendship shouldn't be conditional upon your blind devotion to a group.  Some of the friends I lost early on have rekindled our friendship as they have come to the same conclusions that I have.

I haven't nor am I now speaking out to "Get my name out there" which is what current members are being told as the Church scrambles to do damage control from this most recent fallout.  As a columnist, blogger and busybody in my community my name has been out there for years.

I speak from the heart, based on my experiance and what I know to be true.  I'm open to hearing any questions or comments anyone has, even the ones from the Church turned cult.

Loki May Have a Drinking Problem

My Maltese Loki is a party animal.  I'm not quite sure where he gets it.  I'm begining to worry that he may have a problem.  First off he is getting demanding when he drinks.  Do you hear the abusive tone he is taking with me?

"Bitch hit me up.  I've only had one!"

 It becomes hard to get him focused on anything else when he is drinking.

"Get started on mixing the next one.  Don't be stingy with the olives this time"

Eventually he just passes out, often right into his glass.

Of course the next morning I can't get his hungover ass up!

Not quite sure what to do.  I wonder if there is Doggie AA?

Top 5 Things That Chap My Ass

On my facebook page I have an album dedicated to photos of people and situations that chap my ass.  I started it as a non-violent protest against insconsiderate drivers, and those who park like they have no depth perception, a known side effect of chronic masturbation.

It's expanded over time to include inconsiderate cell phone users, extreme couponers and other annoying people or situations.

Here are my Top 5 Ass Chappers:

5. People who hold up a line as they use 63 coupons and argue with the cashier about what they should accept.

4. People who take up two parking spots at my kid's school on one of the busiest parking lot days of the year.

3. Anyone who coughs and hacks like they are coughing up a lung, while at no point making an effort to cover their mouth.  I was on vacation, not trying to catch your poolside ebola.

2.  Douchebags who not only speak loudly on their cell phones at a restaurant, but take it a step further by doing so on SPEAKER!

The number 1 ass chapper to date: The messes that magically appear in my sink or around the house, that NO ONE in the house had anything to do with!

Father's Day Postponed Until Satan's Spawn is Caught

What started off as a quiet, beautiful Father's Day Sunday, turned quickly into a nightmare that rocked not just our household but our entire cul-de-sac.

After last night's fun evening out at a wedding, fueled by one too many dirty martinis with the Stud Muffin, I stumbled bleary eyed out the front door this morning to let my dogs out.

As I do each morning I scooped up a serving of dog food from our big dog Dexter's food bin, which is kept in our breezeway.  The dogs and I walked into the house, turned the corner and I poured the cup of dog food into Dexter's dish.

That was when this creature from the bowels of hell fell out of the cup and into the dog dish!

A composite of the intruder from the bowels of hell

As he jumped out of the dog dish, I jumped onto a counter while screaming for the Stud Muffin.  Of course all of the windows in our house were open, so I'm sure the entire cul-de-sac heard my blood curdling screams and thought our family was being butchered by a wild gang of suburban hating serial killers.

My significant other along with my kids had been sleeping.  If you ask me he took way to long to come to my rescue upon hearing my screams.

My senior citizen dog Dexter left the kitchen for more quieter accomodations when I started screaming.

Lucky for me my Maltese Loki jumped into action right away and became a mouse hunter, chasing the hellish creature throughout the kitchen and then downstairs

Loki my vicious, mouse hunting protector

My significant other refused to follow my orders to get his gun and shoot it.  Instead he took his sweet old time setting a couple of traps downstairs, while Loki kept it cornered.

I've announced to the household that Father's Day or not, no one eats until that mouse has taken his last breath.  There is also a reward of $20.00 being offered to anyone who comes in and catches it before it finds it's way to the trap.

Yumi's Sushi Bar in Excelsior and Why I Can't Have Fish As Pets

Chef Raul at Yumi's preparing a Catapilar Roll and a No. 9

If I had to pick one type of food to live off of it would be sushi.  Being from Hawaii, raw fish has always been a big part of my life. I can remember my great grandmother shoving pieces of fish and poi into my mouth with her chubby fingers when I was about a year old.  I can't look at a fish tank without having my mouth water, which is in part why I don't have fish as pets.

Yumi's in Excelsior, Minnesota has the best sushi I have ever had.  I've sampled sushi throughout the Twin Cities, in New York, California and a few other places.  Hands down Yumi's is my favorite.

You can boat into Excelsior Bay and walk up Water Street to Yumi's, which will be on your left if you are walking away from the water.  If driving park on Water St. or in either of the two city parking lots beind the buildings on either side of Water Street.

Their sushi rolls are of a generous size, being the largest I've seen, and they pour their wine to the top of their wine glasses, huge bonus.

Sit at the Sushi Bar and watch Chef Raul do his thing

Yumi's recently moved into a new building on Water St. in Excelsior.  It's about 3 times the size of their previous location.  They open at 4:30pm 7 days a week.  I've been there on multiple nights throughout the week and it has always been busy.  They don't take reservations, but you can call ahead and get your name on a list for seating, but you better show up when your table is ready or they will give it to the next party waiting.

What I like:

• Beautiful new building with much nicer bathrooms and more space than their old location.
• Best tasting sushi! Very fresh, especially considering this is the midwest.  Huge rolls.  My favorites are the No. 9, spicy cruncy tuna roll, catapilar roll and the tuna sashimi.
• Generous pours of wine, which fills the wine glass.

What I don't like:

• Being as busy as they are, they are going through some growing pains.  The table next to me didn't get part of their order, and neither did I on one visit.  They may need more staff if they stay as busy as they are.
• I wish they took reservations.
• They serve beer, wine and saki.  I'd like to be able to have a dirty martini with my sushi.

Don't Be a TV Biotch

If I hear one more biotch stick her nose in the air and smugly state, "I never watch television.  I don't have time for it." I'm going to slap the crap out of her.  Notice that you almost never hear men say that.

I'm a mom of three kids, two dogs, I work.  Plus I have a crazy social life.  Those glasses of wine at happy hour aren't going to drink themselves.

In this day and age watching TV has never been easier.  No one has to watch a show when it is actually on with the commericals.  There is On Demand, DVRs, TiVo, Netflix and Hulu.

One of my favorite things to do is to get in front of the TV and watch The Real Housewives, True Blood, The Walking Dead or one of my many, many TV shows that I love.  I put my feet up and sometimes surf the net at the same time.  I love TV  I truly enjoy doing nothing but being entertained.  It is a guiltless, braless, pantless experiance.

Why some women feel the need to make a federal crime out of this is beyond me.  I think it has something to do with the false idea that they need to project this image that they are some kind of Martha Stewart martyr with no time for themselves.  They have some kind of guilt attached to self indulging.  Not that there aren't super busy women out there.  Moms are the busiest people I know.  It's the condescending tone that some women use that sets off my biotch radar.

With technology the way it is today, we all have time for TV  You can even watch it while working out.

Now, there are people who choose not to watch TV at all.  Some don't even own TVs.  I fully support that.  I don't fully trust them, but I support their choice.  The difference is they are not condecending with their choice.  If they are, then they fall into the aforementioned catagory of biotch.

Watch TV, don't watch TV Just don't be a biotch about it.

It's Excelsior Girl's Night Out Time

Excelsior Girl's Night Out is by far the most popular girl's night out event in the Twin Cities.

Each Thursday starting at 5:00pm from June through August, suburban and city women collide in downtown Excelsior for food, drinks, shopping and even a little dancing.

Last Thursday was the first Girl's Night Out of the Season, which was kicked off with Princess Night.

Princess Night with DJ jmclovn and a few "helpers" who helped themselves

Excelsior Girl's Night Out is a great time but also a summer event that gives back.  This year Girl's Night Out is benefiting The Hope Chest for Breast Cancer and MOCA Minnesota Ovarian Cancer Alliance.

Be sure to "Like" the Excelsior Girl's Night Out facebook page to stay up to date on happenings.  I hope to see you out some Thursday night.  I'll be making as many of them as I can.

Xanadu a Must Do at the Chanhassen Dinner Theatre

The Chanhassen Dinner Theatre will have people everywhere digging out our roller skates from our garages after experiancing their latest show Xanadu.

When I first heard about the show I had PTSD flashbacks to the horrible movie starting Olivia Newton-John from 1980.  This show at the Chanhassen Dinner Theatre has healed me.

With local legends Don Shelby and Ruth Koscielak after a great show

Before the show started I honestly thought I might be leaving during intermission as my expectations were not way up there due to the movie.  I found myself not wanting the show to end!

Poking fun at the original movie, the cast takes you on an inspiring trip filled with laughter and song.  I laughed all of my eye make-up off so I suggest going sans make-up.

The dinner theater will be holding disco nights on Thursday evenings throughout the summer on June 14th, July 12th, July 26th and August 9th and 23rd after the show. Audiences can join the after party for free along with memebers of the community even if you didn't attend the show.

Xanadu will only run from now till September.  This is definately what I would call a must do for summer!

A Letter From My 12 Year-Old Self

Today I found a letter I wrote on November 12th, 1982 when I was 12 years old.  It's to my cousin Shiron.  First, I'm impressed by my cursive writing, which is much worse today than it was almost 30 years ago.  I was living in Hawaii at the time and Shiron was in California.  She would come home to Hawaii during the summers.

I got a kick out of it and thought I'd share it, complete with grammatical errors and spelling errors:

Dear Shiron,


Thanks for the pictures of your brothers.  did you give them the letter that I wrote for them?  And you don't take ugly pictures.  And what's an A.S.B. card?


I got boared of Pac-Man and I play Jr. Donkey too.  I can make it up to the one where you have to jump on a spring.


Burgundy can make it up to her banana!  But on reagular Pac-Man I think that the farthest she can make it up to is the first apple.  I'm very good at Tron!


Lana is 9 years old.  You still listen to Scott Baio?  Now my favortie song is "Do you wanna touch" by Joan Jett and "Jack and Diane" By John Couger and "Don't fight it" By Journey.  Whats your favorite songs.


I used to like this boy Keoni, then now I like his best friend Dane.  Do you like anyone special?  How's your mom and Dad and your Brothers?  Do you want to go to collage with me when were old enough!?


Love,
Natalie


PS. My leg problem is over I can do anything now!


Ah to live in the days where life was as challenging as your next level on Donkey Kong and Scott Baio was all the rage.

I stalked Keoni for a good two years during Middle School.  I had forgotten all about liking his friend Dane, that was short lived.  I didn't realize I had aspirations of going to college when I was 12.

My leg problem was from stepping into a hole with a broken pipe in it that cut my leg open, requiring a ton of stitches.  Shiron was with me when it happened earlier that summer.

To be 12 again.

Flush, Wash, Repeat

I've been going out quite a bit lately, dinner with friends, galas.  Tis the season for squeezing into my Spanx (the modern day girdle) and having a good time.

But, something has been pissing on my parade and chapping my ass.  I'm sick and tired of going into public bathrooms and having to perform mental gymnastics in order to figure out how to make the sink work and the paper towels come out.

Do I put my hand under the faucet, over it, wave it across, lift a handle?  We have put a man on the moon.  We now need uniformity in our bathrooms!  Every public bathroom should work the same way.  The water starts the same way and the towels dispense the same way.

By the time I get my Spanx off, go to the bathroom, wiggle back into them, and pull up my tights, I'm exhausted enough.  The whole process is complicated even more if I've had a couple dirty martinis.  The last think I want to do is arm wrestle a damn sink.

Let's stop the madness.  Surely there is some law we can pass requiring uniformity in public bathrooms.  I'm all for them looking differently, they just need to work the same.  At a minimum there should be clear instructions showing how the sink and towel dispenser works, especially in places that serve alcohol.

Some pageant queen somewhere should take this up as a platform.  I think I'm onto something.

Amy Tan No Love Me Long Time

Note: I'm part Chinese.  My great grandfather immigrated from China to Hawaii, which means I can say this kind of stuff without it being racists.

My excessive computer use contributes to some tough knots in my upper back.  To help handle the pain I regularly see a chiropractor and also try to get frequent massages.

I often visit the Oriental Massage place at a local mall where you can just walk in without an appointment.  There is a woman there who does an amazing job, and for a great price.

I've been seeing her on and off for about a year and we have developed a love hate relationship.  I call her Amy Tan, after one of my favorite Asian authors.  She doesn't seem to mine, but she also barely speaks English.  It's not like she knows my name either.  I've seen her for 12 months and she still calls me "lady".

Amy Tan and I communicate mostly through sign language and our own version of charades, which I sometimes have fun with.  Once she questioned (by motioning) why my shoulder was so jacked up.  My reply in English was "It's from compulsive masturbating".  She just smiled and nodded.

I think she secretly speaks more English than she lets on and only puts up with my shit because I tip her ridiculously well.  Because I suspect Amy Tan of holding out on me in regard to her understanding of English, I have become very suspicious of her actions.

Today I was on the massage table when Amy Tan's dad came over and started chatting with her.  I don't mind too much as you get what you pay for when it comes to ambiance.

They were speaking in Chinese which sounds like "Ce chong ce chong" But, what I heard in my head was "Keep her face down while I go through her purse."  I later checked and my purse looked untouched.

Today Amy Tan was working her magic.  She was grinding her elbow into my right shoulder, and then she farted.  Being the polite person that I am, I ignored it.  Though I did think to myself "If I smell it her tip is getting cut in half."

At the end of our hour I was feeling much better.  Amy Tan goes a bit overboard with the karate chops at the end.  I think she hits me hard just to be a bitch.

Before I leave we go through our usual routine, she offers me a cup of water but I refuse because she probably spits in it.

My Gay Soulmate

If I were a gay man I would marry my friend James.  He gets me.  I can text him the most vile, bizarre photos or comments and it doesn't phase the man one bit.

We have so much in common.  We are both borderline addicted to the sleep aid Unisom, and both can't stand fake people.  He is my go-to guy when I need a serious catty bitch session to blow off some steam.  Because we love each other we have plans to go to Unisom rehab together if our  use gets out of control.  Here is a recent texting conversation we had about what would happen if we went to rehab.

James:  We would just openly talk about people in front of them as if they weren't right there.  It would be hilarious.  Like people would be talking about their issues and I'd look at you and be all like "Blah, blah, blah and btw wtf is SHE wearing?  Is she high now?

Me: And we would take pics of their stupidity and post them on fb.

James:  "Out" all the patients on FB!!! Tag their asses with their real names and provide captions about what junkies they are.  Like: " This is Frank Jones.  Millbury Middle School principal and gay for drug money."

Me: LOL I almost pissed myself laughing.  Love it.  Better yet we blackmail them for sexual favors.

In reality we would never do such a thing. At least I wouldn't, I'm not so sure about James ;)  The important thing is that I have my Gay BFF who gets my twisted side along with my "normal" side.  Unconditional love at its best.

How My Kid's School is Tormenting Me

Each time I see an email from my kid's school pop up in my inbox my sphincter puckers. For the more simple minded "sphincter" means asshole.

After 21 years of parenting I think I suffer from post traumatic stress disorder related to bad news from my kid's school.  The emails I fear the most are the ones saying "There has been a case of lice reported in your child's classroom" or "There has been a case of strep throat reported in your child's classroom."

Don't get me wrong I appreciate the heads up on a possible plague making it's way through my kid's school.  My first thought is always the same. What asshole sent their kid to school with lice or strep?

This invariably leads to me interrogating my child, "Who has been scratching their head? Has someone had a sore throat?"  Somehow knowing who patient zero is makes me feel better.  I just like having someone to blame.

Following the interrogation of my child my head begins to itch (if the report was of lice), or my throat hurts (if it was strep).  So not only do I have massive anxiety and feel my family is under attack, but I'm then concerned that I may have a case of hypochondria on top of my PTSD.

Most times the emails from the school are harmless.  I think they should start them off with "No one has lice or strep", and then go on to say whatever they have to say.  At this point it doesn't matter.  The damage is done.  This is just another reason why summers are less stressful.

Top 5 Fitness Club Tips

Nothing makes me want to slap a bitch more than when a skinny woman says "I eat whatever I want and I hardly workout."  I knew a woman who said that once.  First off, she was lying through her capped teeth.

I know this because I followed her for awhile on facebook and a tiny bit in real life.  She DID go to the gym, and I'm pretty sure she was bulimic.  I too could eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight if I did the one finger toss up after.

Unfortunately for me I gain weight just by looking at fatty food.  My body attracts calories the way a trailer park attracts tornadoes. For this reason I have to get my heifer ass back to the gym.

There is no reason for me to not be working out regularly, other than I hate it. I have a diamond level membership at Lifetime Fitness.  I upgraded my membership thinking that if I paid more I would go more.  It didn't really work out that way.

The good news is I'm actually going to the gym now, and making sure I get my money's worth.  For starters I use at least 4-5 towels when I'm there.  One for the pool, two for the steam room and two for after my shower.

The fabulous thing about Diamond level clubs is they have awesome toiletries.  I use everything when I'm there, whether I need it or not.  Thankfully they keep a huge stock of Q-tips as I keep running out at home.

Because I paid a membership fee for years and hardly went, I feel like I own the place, or at least have stock in it.  Lifetime is actually owned by a very handsome Middle Eastern man, Bahram Akradi.

Bahram Akradi aka: Hunky Gym Owner

After spending some time at the club recently, I have a few suggestions for Bahram that he may want to implement in his clubs nationwide, at least at the Diamond Club level.  I give you my Top Five Tips for Lifetime Fitness:

1. New policy: Women can not show up on the gym floor wearing full make-up with their hair down.  Lifetime is not a strip club nor a singles bar.  Show up looking like crap like the rest of us.

2. If  a Diamond level member yell out "Shit I love this song" while listening to 80's music on her iPod, the staff shall not reprimand her for yelling "shit".  For some of us 80's music is the only thing keeping us on that damn treadmill.

3.  All fit men between the ages of 25 and 55 must workout without a shirt on.

4. Members no longer need to wipe down their cardio machines after use.  I'm not pissing on it, it's just a little sweat.

5. No male trainer can be hired unless he has a little bit of gray hair.  If these 20 something year old trainers continue to call me "Ma'am" I will continue to respond with "Say that again and I'll kick you in the nuts!"

You Say Stalker Like It's a Bad Thing

The internet and caller ID have changed the playing field when it comes to what might be considered stalking.  I'm not going to lie, I have been accused of being a stalker.  Mostly by my now 19 year old daughter.  She calls it stalking, I call it parenting.

This got me thinking about whether or not I have stalker tendencies.  In Middle School I followed a boy named Keoni all over the school without him knowing, because I liked him.  Not too strange.

In my early 20's I called a guy I had just started dating, over and over again until I caught him at home.  This was pre-cell phones.  Sometimes I would call him 10 times in a row.  Imagine how embarrassed I was when I found out what caller ID was and that he had it.

Caller ID cramped my style until I learned about caller ID blocking, then I was back in the game.  I've called an ex-boyfriend when I knew he wouldn't be home just so I could hear his voice on his voicemail.  Come on, who hasn't done that?

I've joined a gym because a guy I was into belonged to that gym.  Effective yes, stalkerish not really.

When my now 19 year old was about 15 she snuck out of the house,  I found out who the boy was that picked her up.  I knew the neighborhood he lived in, but not which house.  With my daughter safely at home I knocked on four doors before I found his house.  Lucky for him he wasn't home, but his sister was.  I told her she had better hope his parents find him before I do.

I then went to where I heard he worked and told everyone there he was a pedophile.  For record he was just two years older than my daughter and nothing actually happened.  That last bit was probably crossing a line, but you don't mess with a momma bear.  I also found his mom on facebook and let her know what evil her son was up to.  Parenting yes, stalking I don't think so.

I wouldn't label myself as a stalker, as much I would call it being passionate and innovative.  It's not like I've gone through someone's garbage.  Okay actually I did, but it was my daughter's and she was up to something.  Again, parenting.

What or who is Your Spirit Guide?

In the Hawaiian culture there is something called an aumakua.  Simply put, an aumakua is a spirit guide in the form of an animal or some other part of nature.  The belief is that it is the reincarnation of an ancestor that acts as a spirit guide and protector.  At least this is my understanding of it.  Don't go quoting me in a report on aumakuas or anything.

The American Indians also believe in spirit guides in the form of animals.  Being that I'm both Hawaiian and American Indian, I've been contemplating what or who my spirit guide is, and I've figured it out.

My dwarf crush actor Peter Dinklage

My spirit guide is the North American Dwarf.  Now, hear me out;  Being friends with a dwarf has been on my bucket list for sometime.  As is the case with a spirit guide, I run into dwarfs during times of needed protection, like when I travel.

Just a month or so ago I was in New York.  I walked out of my hotel for the first time and boom, walked by a dwarf.  I immediately knew I was protected and would have a safe trip.

The same thing has happened in Seattle, New Orleans and even Europe.  I seem to run into more dwarfs when I travel than any other time.

Despite my strong affinity for my spirit guide, friendship with one continues to elude me.  I'm wondering if it isnt' because dwarfs are meant to be my spirit guide and not my friend?  Hmmmm.....

Regardless, I'm totally into dwarf and actor Peter Dinklage.  If anyone knows him contact me.  If I'm going to have a dwarf buddy, I think it should be Peter.

Who or what is your spirit guide?

Psychic or Psychotic

I'm sitting up in my bed entertaining the idea that I may be psychic. In an effort to not stuff my face after 8:00pm I decided to do some channel surfing to occupy my mind. I came across America's Psychic Challenge on Lifetime.

The show takes several psychics through different challenges, which they are scored on.  Everything from finding a kid who was hiding, to determining the relationship between two people.

Before each commercial America's Psychic Challenge gives the viewer a challenge.  I nailed two out of three.  I knew which toy was the favorite of the fat asian baby, and I knew which color the roulette wheel was going to land on.  The third challenge was picking which of three guys was a juggler, and I missed that one.  I think in part because I was distracted by how weaselly one of the guys looked.

Does this alone mean I'm psychic?  Well no, but I'm exploring the possibility by watching future episodes of this show.  I also see it as a sign that maybe I should go to Vegas with some cash.

Intuition, psychic powers, whatever you want to call it is an interesting thing.  It seems to be rather hit or miss.  I have a knack for finding my son's cell phone, which he repeatedly looses, but I can't find my car when I come out of Target.

I'm probably more lucky than psychic.  Hopefully after a few more episodes I'll be able to determine that.  In the meantime I'm exploring flights to Vegas.

Trapped In The Bathroom

This afternoon I enjoyed a lovely lunch with an even lovlier friend at The Lakeshore Grill in Macy's. They have the best lobster bisque I've ever had, and they only serve it during the holidays. I'm also a huge fan of their iced tea.

After some great conversation and about three glasses of iced tea I had to pee like a race horse. Standing in the women's bathroom with my legs crossed, praying that I wouldn't sneeze, I waited and waited, and waited for no one to leave a stall.

I don't know what the heck those women were doing in there but I was starting to sweat. Sometimes I think women take so long in a stall because they often wait so long to get in. For God's sake it's a toilet not a rent controled apartment!

At this point I was desperate and my options were limited. I didn't think I could make the walk across Macy's to theri other restroom. Pissing myself as I raced through the lingerie section was not an option. I knew what I had to do. If If a guy could cut off his hand to free himself from being trapped by a giant rock, I too would do the unthinkable to survive.

I ducked out the door and slowly peeked into the men's restroom. No one was in there so I made a dash for a stall with a door. First off, why is it we can put a man on the moon, but we can't make a men's bathroom smell halfway decent? This was a nice restaurant but the bathroom smelled like it was painted with pee.

My desperation outweighed my disguist and I got down to business. As I opened the flood gates to urination relief, I contemplated why it was that we women never had adequte bathroom facilities. Before I could come up with an answer the bathroom door opened.

As panic set in I looked around my stall for an exit other than out the door. There were no windows. I was going to have to wait it out. But what if he had to go number two and waited for the one stall that I was in? Thankfully he approached a urinal and proceeded to relieve himself, complete with a celebratory fart at the end.

If he had only peed, I might have considered leaving my refuge and explaining why I was in there, but after he let one out there was no way our eyes could meet. As he washed his hands I cursed the women who occupied the women's stalls for too long.

I'm sure only minutes had passed, but it felt like hours. Finally he left the bathroom. I waited 10 seconds to make sure he would be well away from the entrance to the bathroom, then I high tailed it out of there. I don't regret my decision. I did what I had to do. But, I feel compelled to make a plea to women everywhere. We as a sisterhood need to practice speed peeing, and get out of those stalls quicker! Stop the madness ladies, get in and get out. The men's room is no place for a lady.

Mini-mom Takes Manhattan

Panic attacks are not a part of my history, but I found myself feeling like I couldn't breathe, as if I was going to pass out, slouched over my shopping cart at Cub Foods, sobbing next to the brownie mixes.

My sister's and I had just picked up my mother's ashes, so I suppose my panic attack had everything to do with that.  In hindsight it made sense that I was overcome with emotion at Cub Foods as it's where my mother use to grocery shop.  I'm a Byerly's fan myself as I have an aversion to packing my own groceries.

My second panic attack was the next day when I had a horrible feeling that the left side of my back was black, empty and needed to be cut out.  It's where my left kidney used to be before I donated it to my mom seven years ago.

Apparently this feeling isn't all that uncommon in organ donors who have lost the person they donated an organ too.  Learning that made me feel better, if not less crazy.

Not looking forward to dealing with not only the loss of my mother, but potential phantom kidney decay, I decided that I needed a way to help me deal with what I was going through.

One week after my mother died I arrived in New York.  I had already had this trip scheduled.

When my mom was cremated my sister and I ordered little mini urns with a small amount of our mom's ashes in each.  We took to calling them "Mini-mom".

I brought my "Mini-mom" with me to New York.  She had never been to the Big Apple before and I knew she would have loved to go.

People have different ways of dealing with grief, and loss.  When you loose someone close to you other people tend to accept what they might normally consider odd behavior, because you are grieving and all.

My goal was to take my Mini-Mom around New York, taking photos along the way.

Mini-mom at the Top of the Rock

Our first day in New York was a tough, but panic attack free day. We visited the Top of the Rock, which had the most amazing views of the city.  You wouldn't think you could shock New Yorkers.  Try pulling out your mother's ashes and asking them to snap a photo of you and mini-mom.  That surprises them.

Mini-mom under the Bow Bridge in Central Park

 I learned quick that it was better to not tell people what you were doing, but to just let them look at you inquisitively when you placed a mini urn on the ground to take a photo.

Mini-mom at The Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel

The other thing I figured out was that if you are in a public place, such as a restaurant, it is best to whip out your mini-mom and snap the photo when you are done eating and ready to leave.  Just incase it makes the staff uneasy and they ask you to leave.

Mini-mom playing checkers in Central Park

We are three days into our trip and I've gotten very comfortable shooting photos of mini-mom, even sharing what I'm doing with people we have met along the way.  Most aren't freaked out by it.  I've been finding that elderly people get the biggest kick out of it.

Mini-mom at the Champagne Bar at The Plaza

Mini-mom has become quite the lush since we have been in New York.  We can hardly keep her out of the bars ;)

I know the change of scenery has helped me greatly.  I haven't had a panic attack or breakdown since leaving home a few days ago.  It's harder to be around the familiar.

For now I feel like I'm on just another adventure with my mom.  One of the many that we have had over the years.  I'll be home in two days and back to my routine, which I know will be harder to deal with.

I'm thinking that if I'm home and having a tough time, or the panic attacks start sneaking up on me, I'll just grab mini-mom and head out for an adventure around my own town.  My mom had an adventurous spirit, more than her body could handle.  Those adventures don't have to stop.

Donna-Gail Wilcock June 18th, 1952 - October 26th 2011

My mother held me when I took my first breathes in this world, and I held her hand as she took her last. Yesterday on October 26th, 2011 shortly before 5:00pm my mom Donna-Gail Wilcock passed away.

To me she was mom, to many others she was DG, Donna-Gail, Donna, or that lady who can't order something simple off a restaurant menu, but has to have everything custommized. She liked what she liked, wanted what she wanted and made no appologies for it.

She pushed me to think and live outside the box. One rainy summer day when my son Jared was about two, he wanted to take off his clothes and run around outside in the rain. As he kept stripping down and heading for the door, I kept pulling him back in. My mom was there and she said "Just let him, it sounds like fun." She took her naked grandson's hand and ran around outside dancing in the rain with him. She kept her clothes on, thank God as they were in the front yard. They both came back in soaked but giddy from their adventure.

My mom loved a good laugh and was a good sport when it came to laughing at herself. She appreciated my sense of humor and brand of humor. Whether I was throwing fake dog poo at her or covering her car with magnetic bullett holes, she laughed with us. Often after yelling "What is wrong with you?", but she did laugh.

She loved traditions, her own traditions of course. Every year on the day of the first snow fall she and I go to a coffee shop for a decadent drink. Sometimes it's hot cocoa, a mocha or a chai latte. Just a few weeks ago she reminded me that I better not forget to pick her up and take her to the coffee shop on the first snow day.

Seven years ago my mom had kidney failure and underwent a kidney transplant using one of my kidneys. She did well for years but struggled with a suppressed immune system due to the anti rejection drugs she had to take. A few weeks ago she became very ill with resperatory issues.

She went to the hospital where she was admitted with a lung infection. Several days later she was moved to the ICU where she went onto a ventilator. Despite the amazing care she received by teams of medical professionals at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, her infection spread throughout her body, her organs started to shut down and she went into a coma.

My mom made it clear to my sister, myself and her husband Corey that she did not want to be kept alive on a machine once we knew she was not going to recover. I'm so thankful that we had those conversations with her when we did.

Yesterday I woke up, and before I could open my eyes I had a vision of my mom as a tiny fairy trying to fly away, but she coudln't because she was chained to a body, her body. My mom loved fairies and I know it was her way of letting me know she was ready to be free and that I needed to hurry up and come to terms with it because she had things to do. As usual, my mother had her own schedule.

When my sister and I got to the hospital yesterday it was made clear to all of us that she was not going to make it, no matter what medical treatments were done. We gathered our famiily together including her four grandchildren and spent the day together with my mom.

We played Hawaiian music in her room, we gave her a manicure and pedicure. Her granddaughters painted her nails one last time. I brushed her hair and gave her a headband with a flower. At first I put a blingy rhinestone headband on her but heard her voice in my head saying "Do I look like Paris Hilton to you?". Bling is my thing, not my mom's.

We shared stories about my mom and other life adventures. We cried together and we laughed. We had a beautiful day saying our goodbyes and letting her know that we would be okay. We let her know that we were so thankful for the time we had with her.

Shortly before 5:00pm while listening to Iz Kamakawiwo'ole sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", surrounded by her husband, her daughthers, and our families she passed away without pain, enveloped in love.

My mother made it clear that she did not want a funeral but would allow a Celebration of Life party. We are celebrating her life on Saturday October 29th from Noon-4:00pm at my sister's house, 440 West Lake Street in Excelsior. All who would like to join us are welcome to come.

We can honor my mother by living outside the box once in awhile. Dancing in the rain, having breakfast for dinner, or befriending a hitchhiker as she did on our trip to South Dakota in June.

Mostly we can honor her by spending time with the ones we love, not letting our differences keep us apart, or getting caught up in conflicts. Everyday we have with a loved one, no matter how imperfect it is, is a blessing. Everyday is a new day, never touched, still fresh in the box. Open it, step into it and make it your own as my mother did.