So of course to make sense of the insanity of my life, I turn, like a lemming to Astrology. There have been 3 meetings with Rooferman since the last time I blogged (bad me, I know). The 1st of those consisted of adding my parents to the stew. I’ve prided myself on keeping them out of any drama up until now. Rooferman and I are adults, after all, LB is OUR business and my parents don’t need to experience unnecessary stress.
Parental meeting = less screaming but mucho angry mamas defending their offspring. My mom refused to come back and meet again. It was too much for her to be a part of. My dad, the epitome of non-confrontational hippie actually said a few things in my defense, which I was greatly appreciative of.
Meeting #2 was horrible. I ended up walking out after Blondie got in my face and told me I wasn’t SH** and Rooferman shouldn’t agree to anything I said. I told him I wasn’t coming back until we met ONE on ONE with a professional mediator. He eventually called back and apologized, saying that was fine.
Tonight, a very helpful, insightful man almost got us to agree on something. I leave in 11 days. I have a lawyer on tap. I hope we can get something submitted to court with both our signatures.
When my mom bought me an astrology reading for my 28th birthday from one of her hippie friends, the lady talked to me about Saturn Returns. It happens every 29.5 years, and I am starting to approach my 1st Saturn Return.
Saturn isn’t a nice guy. He represents hard work, judgement, strict routine and authority. Ever heard the expression “Cut the Fat”? Yeah, that’s Saturn. He’s the grumpy old man who raps his cane, kicks the dog and throws rocks at kids on his lawn. He’s scary, but he wants you to learn a lesson. He wants you to evaluate your life and make a firm, educated decision about what’s important and what you need to END NOW.
I’m facing my 30’s pretty soon. Saturn is riding my ass like Zoro.