Monday, September 19, 2016

The Rumors of my Demise....

...are only slightly exaggerated, considering the stomach bug I've been afflicted with as of 4:40 am. Got up. Fed the orphaned kittens (four, who I alternately call "the furry drunks" and "the velociraptors"). Felt fine. Went to get in the shower. Intestinal unpleasantess ensued and convinced me to stay home lest I barf in my car on the way to work. Sorry, Co-Worker.

So it's been a year, during which I've heard that blogging is dead, the Husband was elevated, I've managed to mostly stick to a tiny daily practice, I've enjoyed meetings with the Coven, I've gained shit tons of weight due to my sedentary office job, I've taken up kayaking with the Husband (kayaks bought off Craigslist from a 70-something ex-cop survivalist tiny house owning dude who I briefly considered asking if he'd ever considered a nature religion given his love for same), run off to the local botanica to prevent a friend from going to prison (pro tip: when you have a language barrier around herbs, just tell the proprietess, "Look, let me make this easy - I'm trying to stop a friend from going to prison, and I don't have any experience with this, so what would you do?", then pay for your candle cheerfully, say thank you, and then go home and light up), and thanked Santissima Muerte from keeping our house from burning down when the dryer ran for eight hours after we fell asleep and asked her to bring the people whose dogs caused the orphaned kittens to justice (they're on an electric fence, and tend to maim and kill other animals when this "fence" fails).

We also apparently cursed the slumlord; his wife left her purse in the car and it got stolen. Along with his gun, all their credit cards, and everyone's rent money...all cash, except for ours. And then a tree fell through their house. Or it could just be karma. Or us bringing their general misdeediness to the attention of Them Who Are In Charge Of Such Things. It's not like we sat down and hexed fuck out of them, you know?

Anyhow, readers (all four of you who haven't already wandered off), that's a brief summary of Why You Haven't Heard From Me. It's been busy around here. I'm trying desperately to carve out more time for my witchery, my horse, my pets, my husband, and myself. A new job would help, and if anyone's got a hell of a job-finding spell, that'd be awesome. My fallback workings haven't done jackshit, so I'm open to suggestions.

Yes. I am "spell-begging". I am a member of a lineaged trad, a witch for at least 25 years, and saying that what I've been doing isn't working. Why? Because when you can't get a recipe to work, you ask around. Also, the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing and expecting different results. Who knows? Why not use a spell from some witch in Russia (apparently someone there reads this, or used to)? I mean -


- isn't that part of the fun?


That's part of why, despite my deep love for and reverance for Our Gods, I cannot stay 100% serious at any time. This is fun, or it should be, at least somewhat. It makes me happy, damnit. It brings me joy. It's why I get silly giggles in circle sometimes - I'm just so damn happy to be with my covenmates and visiting with Them. I burn candles and mix herbs and chant to change my world - when I'm not working too many hours at a terrible job and stressing over the Trailer of Doom and road-raging at people on cell phones doing 50mph on 45 in the middle of rush hour. I am an educated, modern woman who believes her commute is better on the full moon and that tossing salt over her left shoulder in the office helps things suck a little less.

It's funny. It's fun. It's goofy and weird and illogical and it works.

It's why, when we go kayaking and the water line is really low and the Husband hopes he finds a turtle shell and we find one, but it's still occupied by a large but very dead turtle, I think, well, you DID say "a shell", you didn't say anything about the condition. It's why, when Friend We Stopped From Going To Prison seemed inclined to then be a general pain in our asses, my next question was, what's the best way to move him along, not how can we explain that it's time for him to improve his life goals in a loving and non-judgmental manner that affirms his agency and personhood? 

I also still don't know if I want to be Fiona Goode or Misty Day when I grow up. But that's another story.

Cast your herbs onto the fire and laugh with Them often, my dears. May you have many reasons for joy and laughter until I update again.

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