Shuffle | Corrine Kenner's Tarot Blog

Easter Cards

Yes, I know the Roman soldiers cast lots at Jesus' crucifixion. I didn't realize, though, that gambling is apparently a modern Easter tradition, too -- until I spotted this display at my neighborhood Walgreens:

The sign above the cards says, "A little chick told me It's Easter Sunday, April 12."

Suspended Animation

I haven't been writing much lately. Instead, I've been learning how to maneuver with this oversized plastic splint on my arm. (I photographed it with our Christmas tree in the background, to add a festive holiday touch to the image.)

I hurt my hand more than a month ago, and while I thought it was getting better, any sort of movement seemed to screw it up again. Last week I finally gave up with the home remedies and found a doctor. Believe it or not, the verdict was ... arthritis. Arthritis! I'm hardly out of my 30s! I'm in the prime of life! Well, maybe not ... especially since the orthopedic specialist I consulted actually had a nose ring. That little piece of jewelry in her right nostril made me feel older than the diagnosis did. Technically, she said I have carpal metacarpal degeneration in my thumb, combined with swollen ligaments in my wrist.  Now, for a professional writer and tarot reader, doesn't that sound like a career-threatening injury? But all hope is not lost. All I have to do is wear this custom-molded plastic splint for a month, 24/7, except when I'm showering or doing housework. I'm kidding! I can't do any housework with this thing on my arm! We're wallowing in filth! (I am still taking showers, though.) The splint totally immobilizes my thumb and wrist, which is supposed to make the swelling go down and the pain go away. And in the meantime, I hired a housecleaner.

Opposable Thumbs

I wrecked my right hand last weekend putting some bookshelves together. At first I thought it was a minor sprain that would heal after a day or two. It didn't. In fact, I think it got worse every time I used my hand. And as a writer, mother, homemaker, and all-around bon vivant, I use my hand a lot. For more than a week, my hand has hurt whenever I've used it. It hurts when I hold a drink -- even if that drink has certain self-medicating properties. It hurts when I turn a doorknob. It hurts when I pick up a book, or a grocery bag, or a five-year-old who insists that she needs to ride in the race-car shopping cart at Home Depot. (And why am I shopping at Home Depot, for tools and hardware that I can't use with a bad hand? Because I'm kind of an idiot.) Argh. Last week I tried a wrist brace, and I decided I liked it best as a way to immobilize my thumb. Last night I decided to switch to an actual thumb splint, since my thumb joint seemed to be the source of all my pain. And today I'm figuring out how long I can put up with a thumb splint before I decide to schedule a doctor's visit ... especially since a doctor would probably just put me in a thumb splint. You can pity me if you like. PS: My hand doesn't look nearly as beautiful in my splint as the model's hand looks in the photo above. That hurts, too.

Don ' t drink and divine

"If you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning."

-- My mother

You won't believe what I just did. I was going over the final draft of my fortune telling book, which features three Llewellyn/Lo Scarabeo decks -- the Universal Tarot, the Llewellyn Tarot, and the Liber T. I had all of the cards spread out on a big wooden tray, so I could double-check the accuracy of all of my card descriptions. And then ... I spilled a Diet Coke over all of them.

Because of the way I had them laid out in the tray, they all got hit, just as if I'd had them sitting in a bathtub. Now they're warping, and falling apart on the edges, and those that were touching are sticking together. What a mess.

I emailed my forgiving publicists at Llewellyn, and three replacement decks are already on the way.

That doesn't ease the shame much, though. I am a poor example to tarot readers everywhere.

Raking it in

My dilemma for today: Do I rake the yard myself, or do I wait for our once-a-week yard guy to come? Because our once-a-week yard guy hasn't been around for about three weeks.

I'd do it, but I'd feel really stupid to look up from my leaf pile and see him standing there.

Report from the Outlet Mall

I spent most of the day yesterday at the Albertville Outlet Mall, an hour west of Minneapolis. It was a halfway point between Minneapolis and Little Falls, where my sister Cari and I could meet and exchange custody of our sister Claudine, who's visiting from Winnipeg.

Five hours. I shopped for five hours. I haven't shopped for five hours straight since ... ever.

I'm not much of a shopper. When I find jeans that fit, I buy several pairs and wear them until someone tells me they're no longer in style. Ditto for the v-neck t-shirts and sweaters I like. So yesterday, I thought I'd see what I was missing.

As it turns out, not much. In fact, I developed a short list of complaints that will keep me away from Albertville for the forseeable future.

• If you don't follow the exit signs exactly, you will find yourself admiring farmhouses and barns in less time than it takes to say, "Hey! Where's the outlet mall?"
• The parking lots (and presumably, the stores) are full of North Dakotans. Okay, that's not a complaint -- just an observation.
• The car-shaped rental strollers are cute, but they're almost completely open on the bottom -- like Fred Flintstone cars. I spent the afternoon demanding that my four-year-old pick up her feet, while she spent the afternoon trying to kick her way closer to every display that caught her eye.

• The music in almost every single store was MUCH TOO LOUD. Especially the country music. I had to flee the Hanes store to get away from Garth Brooks.
• The bookstore was creepy and weird. One of the clerks droned on and on about all of the car trouble he's experienced, in a Mr. Mackey South Park voice. ("And then, my spark plug broke, mmm-kay? And I didn't know what a spark plug was, mmm-kay? So now, I'm just waiting for my wires to fray, mmm-kay?") By some strange twist of fate, the bookstore was having a going-out-of-business sale. I can't imagine why, mmm-kay?
• Burger King was much too far across the parking lot to reach at the height of our hunger, so we had to elbow our way into an overcrowded Subway. I thought I was getting the Sunday cheap sandwich special when I ordered. Instead, I got the overpriced daily rate. I did not complain to my fellow diners, but I felt foolish and bitter inside.
• Also, the lines were confusing. Some sandwich seekers had to elbow their way past one line to reach a second line that started in the back of the shop. It was chaotic and inefficient.
• Most of the cute clothes were too little and tight for me -- yet they seemed to fit my 13-year-old daughter just fine. I protest.
• For the first time ever, my four-year-old announced that she wanted clothes, not toys. Again, I protest. She's too young. (But I did like her advice. "Mom," she said, "If you see something you love at Old Navy, buy it.")
• The prices were not noticably cheaper than prices at the Mall of America -- which, not to brag or anything, is three miles from my house. Three miles. So why did I go to Albertville, again? I'm not sure picking up my sister is enough incentive without low prices.
• And, just as a bonus complaint, the traffic home was terrible. Three lanes had been reduced to two just outside of the Twin Cities, and the resulting backlog meant it took an hour and a half to travel 40 miles. Luckily, I had my lovely sister and niece to keep my company.

So what did I buy, you wonder? Provisions for the winter: two books, a coat, some seasoning for making flavored bread-dipping oil, a cocktail-shaking kit, a sweater, four t-shirts, and two pairs of pajamas. Reading through that list, I want you to just imagine all the fun ways those purchases could be combined and re-combined for a season full of fun.

But I'll still never shop for five hours at a stretch again.

How Vampires Feel

For the last week and a half, I've had to fight my way out of bed in the morning, recoiling at the sunshine, scratching my way to fresh air, and coughing up bits and pieces of graveyard dirt.

Okay, so maybe I exaggerate, but I have been sick, with a cold in my lungs and my throat that I just can't shake. Usually I'm sick only for a day or two, and I can generally sleep off any virus. Not this time, though.

Finally, however, I think I'm on the rebound. I don't remember waking up during the night last night, and so far -- fingers crossed -- I've been able to swallow without planning ahead. Even my cough is not nearly as painful this morning as it has been, although I still had to work at processing clean air in and out of my lungs this morning.

After this many days of a living near-death experience, I find myself wondering what life as a vampire might be like. Do vampires, too, have to fight their way back to the real world each evening, or do they always feel fresh and alive? Because right now, I'm not feeling quite as vibrant as I'd like.

Meanwhile, my teenage daughter is sitting next to me, telling me the best way to put on perfume and describing her love for the Adidas scent she bought me for Mother's Day.

"Wait a minute," she just said. "Did you sleep in your clothes last night?"

Image Credit: The Empress from the Vampire Tarot by  Natalie Hertz.

Guess what I ' ve been doing

Sometimes when I open a tarot class, I ask everyone to choose a card that represents their day or their week. It's a fun way to socialize -- which is one reason people take tarot classes -- and build a connection to the cards.

Now I'm going to show you three cards that describe my last few days:

Can you guess what I've been doing?

I had plastic surgery!

Only it's not as glamorous as it sounds. I went to a plastic surgeon to have some birthmarks -- and one area of sun damage -- erased from my face. That's the Sun card. The Sun obviously represents birthdays (and other annual events) as well as sunburn and skin damage. Plus, there's a big face on the card!

The plastic surgeon is the King of Swords.

And the Four of Swords, surprisingly enough, represents my recuperation. I am such a wimp. I honestly didn't think the procedures were going to hurt ... but they did. (Only a little, but still.) I also didn't think I was going to come home with a face full of stitches ... but I did. (They make my kids say, "Ewwww!") And I was completely surprised to find that moving my head -- especially when I first came home -- really bothered me. I stayed in bed all day yesterday, and today I'm taking it slow.

The good news is that most of the stitches will come out on Monday, so I'll look great for my trip to Texas next week!

What's even better is that the surgeon's office called this morning to say that they had already biopsied the damage to my skin, and it was benign. So maybe I should have ended that spread with the Sun card, too, for optimism and new beginnings.