Sweet but naughty

I just love spending the evening curled up on the sofa watching House of Cards on Netflix with Dorothy to keep me company. We like to binge watch our favourite series. Every now again we’ll add in a cup of tea and some dark chocolate. Bliss!

I casually mentioned what had been on my mind for a day or two now. “I wrote a blog article about your Nigerian con artist scam. It was pretty awesome, if I say so myself.”

“You did what? Oh no, darling, she’s going to sue me for that, you know!” Dorothy’s face turned to horror.

“Come on, I honestly think she’ll be okay. She might not be intelligent, but she’s street smart.” I’m winking at her from across the kitchen counter.

“Are you sure?” Doubt is audible in Dorothy’s voice.

“As long as I stick to the facts and don’t reveal anything that isn’t publicly known.” How on earth do I get to be so smart? I must say I’m expertly handling Dorothy lately.

“Like what?” Her voice is petulant.

“That she bites little children in the morning, for instance.” The humorous expression on my face can’t be missed. “Look, in the very worst case she’ll shout at you.”

“Shout at me? If only… It’s more probably going to be something more sophisticatedly subtle knowing my mom. Like she’ll just go on ignoring the little one even more.” I’m starting to feel sorry for her again, and that’s why my humour is so important around Dorothy. “You know she talks about herself in the second person. It’s always ‘you can’t do that’ when she’s talking about herself. But it’s so much projection. I wonder if she even realises that way of speaking makes people more defensive. She probably does.”

“Dorothy dear, you give your mother too much credit. You’re finished with her anyway. She’s done for you what she had to do, and that’s that. Time to cut the apron strings now.” I stand firm and tall. This nonsense has to stop. I want the fun Dorothy back.

Dorothy is indeed a strong and striking person for whoever meets her. Yet she is soft and sweet at the same time. She’s such a darling. She manages to express every side of her personality with delicate ease in contemporary expression.

“Shall we play the wish game?” I look at her invitingly.

“What’s that? Is it like Monopoly? I really like that game.” Dorothy’s always in for some good old fun.

“Yes it’s something like that. You have to first formulate your wish. Only positive words. Then you pick a wish crystal and you roll the dice. In the game you move along the infinity symbol. Infinity for abundance, you know.” I have Dorothy’s full attention as she greedily takes in all I’m telling her.

“The aim of the game is to collect eight ‘pearls of wisdom’, or to land on the ‘heart of free will’. This means your wish will be granted. Along the way you collect other cards too.” I’m doing my best to explain the game of how to attract abundance into your life.

Dorothy pipes up : “I see. Is it an expensive game to buy?”

“Not really. 45 Australian dollars. There’s also an app for smartphone and ipad.” I hate it when things become so mundane.

“Does it help you to find your bottleneck to success?” Oh sigh, success and failure. So much to explain here. What defines failure? What’s failure for one is success for another. It just depends where you place your standards.

“If you have blocks which are preventing you from reaching your full potential, then this game will help you uncover them and give you a clue on how to solve them.”

“Did you find yours?” Dorothy’s eyes are popping as they always do when I know she really wants to find out more.

“Darling, you should know by now, I don’t have many blocks.” Much work gone into this lady, dear readers. I have struggled and shifted to become this best version of myself. Chuckles.

“I would like to play it too.” Dorothy is trying not to sound too enthusiastic but I know she’s just dying to get a glimpse of the magic lantern I’ve described to her.

In any case, playing the wish game is better than dancing naked in my garden, swaying wildly and chanting ‘these boots are made for walking’. You never know what that might attract into your life. The Wish Game on the other hand is a more controlled way to direct your energies and to dissolve any blocks you might have. Warmly recommended !

 

What do you think ? What should we wish for ? What would you wish for ? Let me know in the comments below.

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Red-handed

“Why does this always happen to me? Life just isn’t fair!” Dorothy bursts into my kitchen again, her face smothered in tears. I immediately put the kettle on. Everything gets better with a cup of tea.

“What happened?” I’m pouring out the tea in two comfort mugs.

“I lost the damn court case. You know, the one against Tatyana. It’s so unfair.” Her tears start rolling again.

“Yes it is unfair. Especially as she was using your business for her own means. But hey, win some lose some.” I’m trying to make it less dramatic. Nobody likes losing.

“I mean, I caught the woman red-handed. Prostituting herself and her friends during business hours! Using her company email, her company car and her company phone. She didn’t even have the courtesy to use an alias. She did all this in her own name.” Her face turns deep red. “If the federal police had raided my business, I would have been done for being her madam pimp. No way explaining I didn’t know when she’s using all tools I had put at her disposal.”

“Yes and you were too nice not to put that explicitly on her letter of notice. I told you to be as detailed and as descriptive as you could be.” I do hope she starts doing things differently from now on. “How much do you owe the porn star?”

“It’s a huge amount! It’s huge! At least twelve.” She’s now veering dangerously to a deep purple colour. I think chocolate is going to be in need.

“Twelve hunderd?” I ask her sheepishly, dreading to get another answer.

“Nooo, twelve grand darling. Twelve fudging thousand euros!” Dorothy’s starting to use obscene language and that’s never a good sign.

“That is a lot of money. Get a bank loan or sell off your diamonds.”

“I don’t have any diamonds.” Dorothy sounds wounded.

“Sure you do. You told me so the other day.” Aha, she’s caught the mischief in my eye. I can bring her back into reality now.

“Haha, the diamond studded pussy! Darling you’re so bad.” She’s slowly perking up now, slowly sipping her tea. “But it’s still not fair.”

“You’re right, Dorothy, it isn’t fair. Time to start doing things differently.”

She starts sipping her tea. Think we’re on the brink of a breakthrough here.

What did we learn here ?

I think a lot of women (including myself) have an initial knee-jerk reaction to prostitution: ew. Wondering whether your man has ever visited a prostitute may feel dirty, and also weirdly, like he was cheating on you before he even knew you. Here’s the thing: many, many men behave like this. And in our society, that’s acceptable. But for a woman to prostitute herself, that’s a whole other ball game. Yet lucky we have these sex workers to keep our streets safe.

Just to steer this conversation away from the oldest job in human history and back to Dorothy: what does Dorothy need to do differently? “What?” I hear you cry, “Now it’s Dorothy’s fault?” Yes and no. Bear with me.

  1. Dorothy needs to learn to hire people based on a “want” more than making decisions to suit her “needs”. This means you don’t just hire somebody because you have a vacancy and your nail artist happens to have a daughter who’s looking for a job. Initial screening to find a good match is important here.
  2. Stop being politically correct and make your demands clear. Dorothy should have been more clear and more upfront about what she expected Tatyana to do in her job. Set performance targets and then evaluate.
  3. People get just one second chance. Just one official warning. After that, they are free to leave. When it comes to business, don’t try to be too kind or save the world. Nobody will thank you for it anyway.
  4. Be specific if you ever have to fire somebody. Both verbally and in writing. Also make sure you are informed of all social laws and protocols. The best advice here is “think before you act”. Just call your lawyer to make sure you’re signing the right documents and doing things accordingly.
  5. If you do incur a loss, that’s not good. But I’m sure you’ll be able to make up for it in a year or so. Lick your wounds and move on.

 

What do you think? How can Dorothy gain twelve thousand euros to make up for her loss? Let me know in the comments below.

 

* Disclaimer : Any resemblance between the fictional characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle by chance more than by choice.

Everything you don’t want to ask

“What am I going to do?” Dorothy stormed into my kitchen visibly in a mess.

“What’s up?” I aim to remain poised and calm.

“The Nigerian con scam! I can’t believe I was so stupid!” she wails.

“Well yes, it is as old as the internet itself. Did you honestly really fall for it?”

“I really thought at first that I was talking to some American soldier in Kuwait. I swear to god I did. Although admitted he was a creep talking about getting married and we don’t really know each other. His English was so good.” She’s looking for excuses.

“Well they are in for the big money, so of course these con artists put more time and effort into perfecting their plans. Anyway, what are you still so bothered about. Do you really think your mom is going to fall for it?” I am trying to bring her back to reality.

“You never know. She might. She is pretty desperate for a boyfriend. Oh Fiona. She’s going to sue me for losing all her money.”

I’m just going to let her feel this a little longer. Maybe she won’t do such stupidities again in future. “Well you did set her up.”

“Oh I did, didn’t I? I’m so bad.” She starting to look terrified now. “What am I going to do?”

“How should I know?” Why is this becoming my problem?

“You’re the computer expert.” Ah you see, always turning the tables on me.

“Okay, well start by deleting the conversation you had with this guy on Twitter and block him completely.” Yeah, I am an expert after all.

“Oh yes, good thinking. Wipe out all evidence. What else?”

“Make a Tinder profile for your mom.” I’m doing my best now to hide the mischief in my voice.

She stops for a moment and blinks at me. “Why am I going to do that? How will that help me in court?”

“You obviously think you’re mother isn’t doing a good job at finding herself a boyfriend. I mean, really Dorothy, what were you thinking? You were going to find her a partner? Surely this is something she is rather well skilled at.” I mark a pause at this just to let it sink in.

“You’re right.” Aha, of course I am. “I mean honestly, I don’t think I can keep count of how many boyfriends she keeps introducing to the family. Before she throws them away and starts all over again.”

“See, she’s doing just fine. Doesn’t need your help. If it does become a problem, just tell her it was a good joke in bad taste.” Which in all due honesty, it was.

I can see that Dorothy’s mind is wandering. “Do you know how Tinder works?”

Oh, she’s asking the digital ‘expert’ again I suppose? “No I don’t. I have a boyfriend, remember. I’m in a committed relationship. Don’t do open relationships, darling.”

She’s not really listening to me. “This looks interesting. Maybe I should set up a profile for myself. For research purposes, of course.”

“This is where it all starts, Dorothy. You keep doing these things and getting yourself into trouble each time.” I am not amused.

“What could possibly go wrong.” I can tell she needs more convincing.

“You’ll meet loads more of those weirdos, just like on Twitter,” I start. “You’ll also get extremely rude pigs asking you for nudes and naughty pictures. You do know you shouldn’t ever ever ever send out naughty pics over the internet, don’t you. You never who might end up seeing them.”

“Oh just imagine, you might end up with a co-worker having a huge crush on you.”

“That’s the best case scenario,” some battles are just not worth fighting.

“Spit or swallow?” Dorothy is looking at me with big popping eyes.

“Excuse me?” I don’t think I heard that correctly.

“What do you do with your man’s happy ending?” She keeps her gaze steady on me now.

“That’s not really the important part,” I whisper to her keeping her in suspense.

“It’s not? Then what?” Haha, I now have her full attention.

“If you want to keep your man, you need to give blow jobs on a daily basis.”

“You’re not serious!” Now I’m going in for the kill.

“Oh yes I am. You need to blow, blow, blow.” I’m all smiles now. The expression on her face is priceless.

“That’s it? The secret to a lasting relationship is that simple?”

“Darling, which one of us is in a long term relationship and on the brink of getting married? You or me?”

Point made.

 

What do you think ? Should Dorothy set up a Tinder profile for her mother ? Let me know in the comments below.

I dare you to answer Twitter

Ladies be honest, “how are you?”. How many times a week do we get asked that question by total strangers on social media? Mainly men sending these messages. And how many times a week do we actually take attention of these messages, and then risk the truth of transparency by answering this question? That’s right, almost never. Yet Dorothy had gotten her knickers in a knot about a message she had received on Twitter.

“Oh my, you’ll never guess what happened to me!”

“What, do tell! Hope it’s something juicy as usual.” I’m grinning.

“I started talking to this man on Twitter. He sent me a message that he wanted to get to know me.”

“Oh please tell me you left the conversation at that. Didn’t your mother teach you about stranger danger?”

“Well it’s this guy who is on a peace mission in Kuwait with the US Army. He’s a senior chief sergeant, you know.” She sounded all proud.

“And you believed that? Come on! By the way, did you even bother Googling his rank? It’s not that good.” I’m starting to sound more annoyed by the minute.

“Oh it’s not? Well it sounded pretty good. Especially knowing the guy is 60. And he’s soon going to retire. He said he’s going to be getting a huge amount of money soon. And that he already has investments in gold. He wants to start up a new business and would like to find a life partner to settle down with and get married.”

WOAH. So many red flags going off with just so little amount of information. It is so obvious, yet Dorothy is totally engrossed in her story.

“So I was talking nicely along with him, when he asked me for my WhatsApp. I mean does he think I’m totally stupid or what?”

Phew, I’m relieved, there is still some sense left in her.

“I mean, before you know this military guy is actually an undercover spy and out to get me for my silly rant about my secret mission to get President Trump. He might be able to geo-locate me based on my telephone number. And then send a drone to locally drop a bomb on me. I’m not stupid. No sir, not this girl. I’m not giving my WhatsApp to no stranger.” She’s looking extremely pleased with herself for this stand.

“Yeah, I mean this is the stuff I teach my kids. You don’t tell anybody over the internet where you live or anything personal like that. Especially when that person tells you you can trust them. It’s a textbook case : when a stranger tells you you can trust them, it actually means that they are of dubious character.”

I totally agree on this last assesment. But the story gets a weird turn now.

“I’m afraid I’ve done something stupid…” She says sheepishly and marks a dramatic pauze.

“Oh no Dorothy, don’t tell me there is more?!” I look at her alarmed.

“Well…” she starts, “I couldn’t help but notice the match. He’s 60, in the army, soon to be retired, and looking to get married. And then there’s my mom who’s 66, worked with the military for her entire life, and also desperately looking for a boyfriend. I thought they would be perfect together. So I suggested he should contact her on her Hotmail account, hook up together. I mean, wouldn’t it be great if they would become an item. He might even persuade her to sell her house and move to the States to live with him. It would just be too good to be true.”

“Oh Dorothy, how many times have I told you that a deal too good to be true, usually is. It’s is too good to be true. If you stop and think about it, it’s so obvious he’s after money. I mean, come on “I’ve got gold” and “a huge amount of money”. In which world do you live that you didn’t hear that loud and clear?”

Her face drops, but soon a smile picks up again.

“So what, I gave him her email address. I mean she’s a big girl. Surely she’ll be able to make the distinction for herself. And who knows, it might all just be very authentic and they might end up living their happily ever after.”

“I sincerely doubt it.” I’m not hiding my doubts.

“How familiar does this sound: ‘oh I didn’t know. I didn’t mean bad…‘ Do you think I can use that excuse too?”

We both burst out laughing.

“Your mom’s too funny!” I giggled, “Do you remember the time we all took a trip down to Stonehenge and she had ‘accidentally’ forgotten her passport?”

“Oh God yes! The way she took that military stance and growled at the guard at customs ‘Do you know who I am?!’. The look on her face! And then she flashed her NATO badge and got the guard running.”

“Oh yes yes yes!” More laughter. “The worst part was that she took herself so seriously. If she had just winked at us and said ‘all for good fun, hey girls’. But no, the woman was dead serious and so damn proud of herself. It was hilarious. I just love telling that story. I call it ‘the play pretend military mom‘.”

“Look she’s old and wise enough to not be gullible. I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

 

Why am I not so sure? Although I’ll admit I do want to know what happens next. Will Dorothy’s mom feel overcome with a deep emotional response? Let me know in the comments below whether you think there will be a happily ever after. And for who. *smile*

 

 

 

 

Choose your own adventure

With the start of summer comes the anticipation of some truly unplugged time. My vacation plans with my 3 treasures are :

  • A long weekend visit to Amsterdam. This is a walk- and bike-friendly city with so much to explore in terms of art, culture, and design. The long hours of daylight in summer will make this a trip to get out and about.
  • A weeklong visit to the coast. This is often a last-minute escape plan for Belgians. Truly a satisfying low-key beach getaway marked by stunning stretches of coastline, nature and lots of local charm.
  • An adventure to Senegal. I’ll admit this is a far-flung escape to the wilds. But it’s a relatively short and easy flight to Dakar from Brussels.

As I was mesmerizing over my upcoming adventures and spending some leisurely hours with my kids by the pool this sunny afternoon, Dorothy dropped by for a nice cup of tea.

“So where are you off to this summer?” She had asked me before, though I had been evasive. So I spilled the beans. “To Amsterdam in July, to the coast in August, to Senegal in October and still planning Japan.”

Her jaw dropped. “What on earth are you going to Senegal for? Isn’t that dangerous?” I smiled as I had anticipated all the questions of “Are you sure?” and “Are you going alone?” So predictable, yet we do love predictability. It creates a feeling of trust.

“Senegal has multiple purposes.” I informed her. “It’s an inspiration tour. I aim to meet local entrepreneurial women and see how the digital revolution is helping them prosper. I would also like to see how I can pay it forward and get more involved in some charity works I have been following involving the promotion and wellbeing of girls and women worldwide. It’s going to be inspiration for my blog. And it’s just something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Do you think ‘She’ lives there?” She looked at me expectantly. Dorothy did, that is.

“Who?” I’m clueless who she’s talking about.

“Come on, you know that book we both read. ‘She-who-must-be-obeyed‘, remember?”

“Really Dorothy? I think that was more along the coast of Ethiopia. Or was it South Africa? Besides, it’s fiction. A book, you know, not real.”

“Oh really, do you think so… pity.” Dorothy looked disappointed and for a moment I almost felt like I’d told her Santa doesn’t exist. Then she perked up. “Can I come along with you to Amsterdam?”

Ah, the trap! First the disappointment and then she insinuates herself. How can I refuse? “Well maybe then. I thought you’d already been to Amsterdam numerous times,” I tried to get out of it anyway, “And you do realize I’m going with the kids, don’t you?” Here’s me trying to make it sound less fun. “You can bring yours too. Make it one big happy bunch.” Oh no, now I’m going to be in for it…

“Seriously! That’s amazing! I’ll have to see if I have the kids at the same time as you do, but I’m coming along nevertheless. I haven’t smoked a joint in absolutely ages!”

Ah, I knew it was coming. I knew it !

“Dorothy, it’s a vacation with the kids.” I looked at her sternly.

“Yes, and? Can’t we have some fun too whilst we’re down there? Smoking some weed might actually make us regress back to the age of our kids and then they’ll think we’re super cool!”

I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.

“No, we can’t smoke a joint in Amsterdam. We’ve got the kids with us. If anything happens and we’re stoned, then what? What if Lilly gets up in the middle of the night and she is unwell. I need to be the responsible adult. I need to be able to discern at that moment whether she just needs a cuddle and a tummy rub, or if I need to get her some urgent medical attention.”

Dorothy sighs. “You always make things sound so boring. So… so… responsible. How do you think kids survived the stone age and the dark ages until now?”

I give her the look which normally means the end of it. “Look Dorothy, this is not up for discussion. You can come along with me and the kids, and we’ll all have a great time visiting the House of Anne Frank, going for a boat ride, eating pancakes and treating ourselves to an ice cream. But that’s as flavoured as that outing is going to get.”

Dorothy has given up. For now. “Okay then. But please tell me you’ve booked into some fancy 5-star hotel.” She’s turning the tables on me now. As if I’m the one who’s got to convince her to come along. And I play the game too. “Oh yes, I’ve booked us into the Hilton where we stayed last time. There’s something about its particular blend of modern architecture that perfectly typifies the city.”

“Ah okay then, I can live with that…” Dorothy has that dreamy look on her face. So I continue to lay out the plan the way I see the city trip. “We’ve only got a day or two to really explore the city, so I’ve been thinking about renting a bike and to pedal on over to some museums, like the Rijksmuseum and the Rembrandt House.” Dorothy yawns, but I won’t give in just yet. “I’ve also heard that you can take a cruise through the Vondelpark. And there’s this pancake house I’ve been reading about on the internet.”

Dorothy gives me the eye. “Really, that’s what you read about on the internet? I prefer to read about men, and how to attract and seduce them, and the latest exotic sex move some magazine is raving about. Just in case it’s something I didn’t know yet.” She added that last piece to cover up her insecurity. It just glimpsed out at me, but she hid is fast and well.

“If you’re good, we might do some designer shopping whilst in Amsterdam.”

Aha, a radiant smile at last!

 

What do you think ? Should I let Dorothy have her way in Amsterdam’s notorious coffee shops ? Let me know in the comments below.

Madness with Passion

Last night as I was carefully locking up my home and getting ready for an early night to bed, was I in for a nasty surprise. I have a tendency to double check if each door is locked. I even lock internal doors in my home, like the one from the garage to the kitchen, as an extra precaution against unwanted visitors.

I always scan the garden from in my living room as I’m turning off the lights. If there is someone out there, I’ll see him and I’ll stare him down. Something like that. Anyway, I’m a single mom with 3 kids to protect. Only an idiot would want to engage in that fight.

Dangerous and armed.

That’s what I like to tell myself comfortingly. I have hockey sticks strategically hidden around the house. And I have Japanese ninja swords. I also have a very wild imagination. So anyway, I feel safe knowing that any idiot would be better off not to trespass.

Just as I’m telling myself all these comforting things, I am scared the living daylights right out of me. There is a face staring at me through the window. My heart skips a beat and my stomach turns. My blood runs cold and for a moment I panic and forget what I had always planned out so perfectly in my mind’s eye.

It’s just Dorothy.

She’s wearing this white floaty kind of dress and she’s carrying a bag in which I discern what looks like a bottle of alcohol and some big fat candles. I’m relieved and angry. Does she realize what she just did? Just a few more seconds and she could have had her head bashed in with a hockey stick, or have been gutted by a Japanese sword.

I open the door with the intention of giving her a good piece of my mind, but Dorothy is happily chirping and pointing at my night dress “Oh great, you remembered our date for tonight. Let’s get naked then and do some soul chanting. The moon is just right.”

I tell her I’m really not in the mood, and that I have to be a perfect mommy example for my littles. Can we do this in the weekend that my two eldest children are visiting their father? “The moon won’t be full then, you silly,” she sounds irritated and starts stripping.

I’m trying to buy time and get out the champagne glasses. I do fancy a glass. Just the one.

Now there is no way I’m going to be dancing naked in my garden. The kids could see me. Or worse still, the neighbours. No way, I’ll go skinning dipping in the pool and suggest to watch as Dorothy performs her moonlight ritual to attract a hot, sexy, good looking man into her life.

“Oh are you still self-conscious because you haven’t lost that baby fat yet?” Dorothy knows how to hurt. “Did you know that the pilots of WWII would paint round breasted women with big buts on their planes to motivate them in battle?” Somehow these women always seem to get their fat distributed in the right places. My body is applying a different attribution model when it comes to weight distribution.

Anyway, let’s not draw the attention to my curves right now. I swam a few leisurely lengths in the pool and sipped at my champagne glass, enjoying a totally relaxing moment in my pool lit with little lights. Thought that did look well cool in my night garden. I half noticed Dorothy swaying around in the high grass – need to do some gardening soon, yes I know. But you know, I wake up every morning with plans of all the things I’m going to do that day. 3 kids is always the perfect excuse not to do even half of what’s on my to-do list. I’ve been told this is okay because I’m a mother of 3 children. So I don’t feel guilty about it either. I just know it needs to be done. The grass is a wilderness. Maybe tomorrow.

Dorothy has finished her chanting and looking very happy with herself. “I learned that song from a real shaman, you know. It’s celtic.” Really? It sounded like some garbled language sung along to “these boots are made for walking”. But hey, that’s just my opinion.

The law of attraction.

I went to bed wondering whether Dorothy would really attract what she had asked for. She seemed pretty much convinced about it when she left. There will be signs, she was sure.

The next day I double checked how everyone had slept and if nobody had gotten up in the night and seen a crazy woman dancing naked in the garden. But all kids claimed to have slept like little cherubs.

We had a wonderful day together. Playing with the kids in the garden, on the trampoline and in the pool. I even got that lawn mowed. Yes, I did! Proud of myself.

The hot looking dad came to pick up his daughter at 18h30 sharp as promised. I was all over the place, seeing to kids, approvingly recounting what good little girls we have, so well behaved and polite, in the meantime running after the baby and trying to ignore each time he would tug at my skirt which made it come half the way down each time.

For some strange reason, the hot dad lingered around. He drank his glass of water very slowly. He told me all about his 4 companies and his new projects. All great, wonderful, but what’s the baby just put in his mouth? I think he’s also telling me about his other 2 children, whilst I’m all over the place keeping the baby out of the kitchen drawers and gathering together the girls’ night gear in a travel bag. Every now and again I flash him a smile with my pearly whites.

He finally leaves and I’m just all smiles and flustered and for once really regret that Dorothy wasn’t there to distract the attention. She always does that so magical naturally.

The baby’s in bed and I’ve just sat down with a book and a cup of tea when my phone rings and an unknown number displays. “Oh hi, it’s me again. Just calling on my other phone, the one I use for business. Anyway, nice talking to you. Got to go. See you soon.” And he hung up. It was him! But what was that all about?

And then I remember Dorothy. Dancing naked in my garden. Attracting things into her life. I sigh and tell myself not to read anything into this. I swear I am not going to tell her about this incidence. Don’t want to encourage her to do more of this weird stuff. And certainly not in my garden.

 

What do you think ? Should I tell Dorothy that her spell had worked a little ? Or am I reading the signs where they are not ? Let me know in the comments below.

Mystic Dorothy

Spirituality is something most women hold close to their hearts. I love contemplating the full moon at night and looking up at the stars. When Dorothy popped in to say hello earlier on today, she was full of mumbo jumbo about performing rituals and magic spells to get what she wants in life. I was going to enquire about the “no panties” strategy, but decided to let that go.

“This is a time of insight and understanding, of penetrating our desire nature to better perceive what motivates the choices we make…” She has taken on a grave mystic voice and using big gesticulations.

Or we could meditate outside in the garden under the full moon. On a blanket. With lots of anti-mosquito repelling candles around us.

“Here we sow the seeds of a new way of living, planted in the sacred ground of our being and watered with awareness.” More swaying about in my kitchen like a weeping willow.

I’m starting to scratch myself all over because I’m thinking of all the creepy crawlies which will come out and nibble our toes.

“We are not forever bound by desires which keep us running exhausted on the treadmill of craving. Nor are we beholden to our ego’s demand for gratification at every turn.”

What’s wrong with desiring things? I do it all the time, and it works wonders for goal setting.

“We can unhook from all of that, instead connecting with the deepest movements of the soul, until now hidden from view…” She’s ignoring the fact that I’m not engaging with her.

Aha… *ding dong* saved by the bell. It’s my daughter‘s play friend who is being dropped off by her father. The girls had arranged themselves a little slumber party. I can only applaud their sense of initiatives and wish them to bond closely with sisterhood, as I did.

For some reason, Dorothy had followed me to the front door where we both stood smiling the biggest smile possible. “Oh yes, how wonderful that our daughters have arranged a sleepover”. More smiles. Dorothy is exceptionally quiet, which I’m not used to from her. I can see the dad is glancing at her, trying to make sense of who she is and why she’s there. He was probably also wondering why she just stood there half staring and half smiling at him. I felt so uneasy I ushered the girls inside and made excuses about dinner in order to get Dorothy away from the front door. What was up now? What owed me this embarrassment?

“Phew” she finally said when we were back inside. “That was one sexy man!”. She still looked dazed. I couldn’t believe it. One moment she was going on about hoo-doo and being detached and not chasing your desires like some hamster on a treadmill. And now here she is all flushed and smiley.

“Come on,” I complained “you can’t have the hots for one of my daughter’s friend’s father.”

“Why not?” she retorted.

“Because it’s just not done!” I couldn’t believe I had to push this point. Here I was, doing my best to be a woman of substance, always carrying myself with elegance and managing my reputation with great care. And along comes Dorothy and she’s almost falling at her knees in front of this guy. I mean seriously, get a grip.

Dorothy wasn’t having it. “Brace yourself, darling. I’ll be back tonight and we’re going to be dancing naked in the moonlight. That’s the kind of hot stuff we want to attract into our lives. You believe in signs of the universe. Now that’s one. This beautiful, hunky man turning up on your doorstep. All smiles.”

I pointed out to Dorothy that I am in a happy relationship with my own sexy man, that this other man in question is married and that this is not the type of relationship she wants to be attracting into her life. Furthermore, I thought we had settled the score on dancing naked in the garden.

She left all flustered a little while later, whilst little girls ran giggling through my house and my son looked on sheepishly. I thought with horror how mortified I would be if my daughter’s play friend went home to inform her parents that I dance naked in my garden at night.

No, no, no. I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight. And switch off all the lights. And turn off my mobile. And lock the doors. Why do I have the feeling this will not be enough?

 

What do you think ? Should I stay up to be part of Dorothy’s midnight mischief ? Let me know in the comments below.