For the past few months, whenever people ask me what I plan to do once the kids are both in school, I answer with "Fortune telling in Jackson Square." One, because it always seems to catch people off guard, and Two, because that would be an awesome job. Sure, the humidity in New Orleans blows BIG TIME. Sure, I would have to ditch my family because B would never live in Louisiana (we're about as far south as that boy will roll). But I think it's a job for which I would be well suited.
In an effort to fulfill my hopes and dreams (aka: becoming a gypsy), I have taken up reading the Tarot. And I think I'm damn good at it.
When I began, I didn't know much about the Tarot. I perused the online information, talked to a person or two who knew a little about it, and browsed a few books at B&N. Finally, I just threw caution to the wind and bought a deck of cards. Turns out, it's complicated stuff. We're talking about 78 cards, all with different meanings. There are multiple ways in which you can lay out the cards, specific ways you are to shuffle, and although each card has a very specific meaning, the meanings can change depending on their relation to the surrounding cards. It's a great deal to absorb. However, as it is infinitely interesting, I'm soaking it in fairly quickly and enjoying the whole process. I did my first reading on another person yesterday, and it was actually pretty accurate. I practice on myself a lot, which has also been rather accurate. Perhaps I am a natural at the Tarot. (Perhaps I am just overconfident.)
Clearly, my next step should be to hang a shingle on my doorway and start charging for my readings. It's not Jackson Square, but Kempton Park is probably a decent start.