Just finished today’s Ruby Intuition sessions. I always feel so grateful to be able to do this work–to reflect the light living inside my clients, to chart a path that connects them to their daily radiance. While doing readings, I barely remember my name, let alone my bodily needs. Afterward, it takes a lot to climb back into the physical world–a drink, a nap, a sweetly striped overfamiliar. Gorgeous food; a gorgeous fuck. Each time I finish sessions, I crave something different. Last week it was lasagna and bold red wine and (insert Italian man pun here). This week, it’s spring risotto–mint, lobster, lemony rice–with a fleet of Wellfleet oysters leading the show. (Insert more puns.) That’s such a specific yen that I’m probably shit out of luck. But I can’t help wishing I had a partner to make that meal happen. If there’s one time when I really long for a Martha Stewart-style wife, it’s the bumpy transition onto terra firma from that sparkly place just beyond.
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This is the first Tuesday morning I haven’t had to climb into into critic drag in more than five years. My show, 
Over the last month I’ve done so many