This post has a very very happy ending.
Honestly? It's just the beginning and the middle, that totally suck. So stay with me here, cherished reader.
A little over a year ago? I was blithely walking the red carpet at Cannes, on the arm of my fiance: a brilliant actor/writer who was not only kind and funny and adoring, but just blindingly handsome as well. The night before , he had re-proposed to me, and then announced our wedding date to our friends and colleagues. I was head over heels and ass-over-teakettle in love. I had found my soulmate: a man whose kindness made his spectacular good looks seem like an afterthought...no mean feat that.
When we got home to NYC, he surprised me with the gift of a gorgeous ginger kitten. As I watched the kitten- whom we named "Hopper"- gambol around our lovely Brooklyn duplex, I was simply and absolutely happy. So happy, that I decided to pull some tarot cards to see what other lipsmacking dishes were going to be on the menu in the astonishingly perfect smorgasbord that was my life.
Warning. -Kids? -Don't EVER do that. Please.
I have a practice (and thank heavens, a successful one) as a predictive intuitive consultant. I use tarot as a Jungian tool to access the subconscious blah blah blah. It's also a great predictive tool. --Until it tells you stuff you really don't want to know.
I'll put it this way: right before pulling those cards? I was so blissful. So grateful. So happy.
And the cards were? SO NOT.
The Devil. The Moon. The Queen of wands, reversed. {Incidental note: the Queen of Wands is a sagittarius Woman. I am, um...a Pisces. Try though I might to fly to Costa Rica for "sign reassignment surgery.] The heart with three swords through it, which, gotta say, is very hard to try to explain away when reading for someone else. usually i don't even
And? It turns out "denial" is NOT just "a river in Egypt".
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