Wherein The Ocelot Accomplishes A Bunch Of Stuff.

Work done: 8 hours.

Horse fed twice.

Dinner made, if somewhat disappointing.

Laundry done: two loads, including folding.

Sigil making explained to the Husband.

A divinatory spread and personal symbols made and explained: one.

Maybe the immediate, almost spontaneous creation of the last is due to the owls I heard this morning while out with the dog. They are not barred owls. I am hoping they stick around and that I can see them, but hearing them is still good. I've missed owls.

And now, to a well-earned rest while "The Wicker Man" plays in the background.

Wherein The Ocelot Realizes She Needs A Vacation.

I really need a day off. Not just a day where I only have to go to one job, but a real, genuine, honest-to-badness day without any work.

I'm hoping to accomplish two things this summer; cut back on how many days I teach (Wednesday's riders, who were truly adorable, were also a strain - 8 hours at Orange Store, then two hours with them, and then me trying to have my own lesson and not getting home until 8pm was a bit much) and get a better job. While I don't mind the Orange Store, the pay's not great, and promotions look unlikely for the foreseeable future, and other people would probably get them before I do anyway.

A weekend. A whole weekend. I remember the last camping trip the Husband and I took in March of 2012, and that, dear readers, was too long ago. I need a weekend to clear my head, ask some hard questions about what I'm doing, what I'm not doing, and what I want to be doing a few years from now. Camping - no Netflix, no online gaming, no squeaky voices calling for Ms. Ocelot about how the pony won't get caught, no team members guarding supplies like we're in the middle of a zombie siege (what good are zipties really going to do against the undead, anyway?), no long Houston commutes - would be a great time for me and the Husband to have time to talk, which is in short supply lately.

I need more time to see my horse, my husband, my pets, and Them. And I need to figure out how to do that. Y'know, before I duct-tape one of my fellow employees to a shopping cart or something.

The Wren - Le Fin.

Saturday night, the Husband and I went outside to take a look at the garden. The first thing that struck me was that those fucking coyote-piss granules are not a deer repellent - they are a deer condiment.

Then I realized the wren was gone. The wren whom the ants had so obligingly found again, and started to consume. With not a track left or a single feather dropped. Just...poof.

This Land is ridiculous.