Dressing for the End of an Empire

Mr. Wisdom and I have a date this week.  I suggested it once I realized that he is Mr. Wisdom for sure and started feeling guilty for causing a fuss.  I don't feel guilty anymore because (1) every woman I've discussed the situation that led up to me feeling like I was a corn-fed cutie working the drive through window at the Dairy Queen concurred that I was not being unreasonable, and (2) it's not that I caused a commotion, exactly.  It's just that I'm a Klingon.

I had forgotten that I was a Klingon until Velvet reminded me the other day.  I had been mopey because I was feeling like there was no way I was ever going to have a healthy, happy relationship because I've got a chip on my shoulder.  I often look at the physical disturbance in my physical shoulder as the physical manifestation of clearing the heart chakra, which in turn frees my voice.  It's all well and good when the energy is getting itself unstuck - clearing the blockage, as it were, and pushing itself out, out, out.  That will cause a shoulder issue.  It can cause other stuff too, but since it's my energy I'm looking at, I only paid attention to the shoulder part on this interactive chart from Carolyn Myss:

For the whole fancy, flash presentation go here: http://www.myss.com/library/chakras/

It occurred to me that when my head gets mired on the Road to Beaumont,  the past becomes like a lead weight pulling me down and giving me a defensive attitude.  The chip on the shoulder.  There are plenty of folks with a chip on their shoulder, and none of them are pleasant although some can be fun and entertaining at times.  A Klingon with a chip on her shoulder is not pleasant in any way:  Kapla!

I kind of like it that I'm a Klingon because it's handy to be strong, direct and a little bit crazy when asserting your honor and integrity (Aspects of Mother, Stonerdate 11.29.10).  I need to do something about that chip, though, because if I'm ever going to heal in an energetic sense which always has subsequent physical effects - I've got to work a little spiritual alchemy, and turn that lead to gold.   Ergo:  last Tuesday, I asked Mr. Wisdom out for drinks this week at Cafe Luxembourg.   I wanted to wait a week or so because, even though I hadn't figured out about the chip on my shoulder when I asked him out, I know that it takes a while for me to get back to my usual charming self after I've gone fully Klingon.

I've decided that this particular situation calls for me to feel my absolute best charming self - which is where the black patent leather Cole Haan pumps come in.

I got them before Thanksgiving when Gigi and I were in the Time Warner Center for some reason, and there's a Cole Haan flagship store in the Time Warner Center.   The friendly salesman told us about a secret sale, so I got like 30% off for buying them that very day.  I have not had a chance to wear them yet, however, because my overall lifestyle lends itself to desert boots:

I had to get a whole new outfit to go with the black patent leather pumps because I've lost so much weight from going gluten and dairy free to address the shoulder inflammation that my old black dress is entirely too big.  I can still wear it with motorcycle boots and a belt - but that's not a look that will make Klingon memories disappear, although I look more like a Hogwarts teacher in Harry Potter in those boots than a Klingon.  So I went to L&T with my old buddy Nicole and got a black lace pencil skirt, a black camisole made of a stretchy, damask that echoes the lace in the skirt and a black cashmere v-neck cardigan which should accentuate the cleavage while maintaining a modicum of modesty. 

I understand that there's trouble in the world no matter where you look - big, ugly troubles like human trafficking, endless war and poverty, and the determined destruction of our environment by the 1%.  And there are stupid troubles like upcoming presidential election which, in my view, is exactly like that old Miller Lite commercial where one side yells, "Less Filling!" and the other yells, "Tastes Great!" and neither side realizes they are shouting about the same damn beer.  That's the two party system for you, broken and corrupt.

Be that as it may - if we're going to be sitting on the front row watching the Empire deteriorate into idiocracy and chaos, I intend to look my best.  That's how we roll on this Battle Cruiser, and as any good trekker knows, the Klingons and the Federation reached an accord and became solid allies.