We Drove Down to Prattville for THIS?

Sooooo.....Thanksgiving. Ah. My sugar levels twitch just thinking about it.

Kurt's mother hasn't cooked a Thanksgiving meal in years. I did not know this, or I would have offered to cook more. I insisted on bringing a good bit of food anyway, but she kept shushing me; I got it, I got it, I got it...but what she was really doing was getting heat exhaustion and stressing out.

We had more food than could fit on the table. Seriously, Kurt and I ate on the couch with our plates balanced on throw pillows. It ended up being five of us for the first meal- me, Kurt, mother-in-law, frienemy, and her very socially awkward daughter. The daughter is strange. I have no other word for it. If you can picture a drug addict, possible prostitute, insomniac, anorexic misfit then you have an idea of what our uninvited guest looked like. Or maybe she was invited since her mother brought her. Not that we invited the mother. But anyway.

Mother-in-law cooked the rolls and turkey I gave her, sweet potato casserole (which she loaded up with brown sugar, forgetting I have an illness that prohibits the consumption of sugar), dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce, sweet pea casserole, mashed potatoes, more dressing, and some kind of corn dish. The pushy BFF brought green bean casserole and a very dry peacan pie that nobody ate. I also brought fresh kiwi that everyone forgot about and wine that we didn't open until our uninvited guests left because we thought the strange daughter would drink it all. We also had a home-made red velvet cake because Kurt can't eat chocolate. I ate some the frosting. Heaven! During the meal, mother-in-law kept wishing the food had turned out better. Everything was fine, she was just so stressed she couldn't enjoy what she had.

A few hours after the first dinner, Kurt's sisters came in, loudly, and ate. I had to get more wine because my nerves were in shock from chatter. I drank a lot which didn't help my high sugar levels. I mean, there just isn't enough insulin to cover that many carbs. Kurt and I put together a jigsaw puzzle while his sisters squealed. I told mother-in-law her children were loud. She laughed at me and poured more wine. When they left the silence was thumping. Or maybe that was my head. I was really glad to go home.

My sugar has been too high since Thanksgiving. The day after, I felt so bad I didn't hardly get out of bed. I barely ate on Friday because fasting helps to lower gloucose levels, but not eating doesn't make me feel good. Saturday I still felt like crap on toast, but I got up, tried have a normal, routine day, and I exercised. Today I am better with sugars in the 90's, but I am still paying for Thursday. I have already made it clear that Thanksgiving 2013 will be celebrated at my house. I waited until the BFF left to say this. She is not invited. I've already planned the place, the menu, and the guestlist and she is just not on it and neither is her freak offspring. Too bad, so not sad.

 I said I rearranged the house. I just don't feel like taking pictures. Sorry. Evidently the house doesn't want to be photographed. Houses are fussy like that. I got my old altar back. I starting using a cabinet mother-in-law gave us, but I just didn't like it. I thought a cabinet would be cool, but I had something like this in mind:

 

I love hoosier cabinets. I was picturing lots of magickal supplies tucked in all the drawers and cabinets, but I was forgetting what makes hoosiers cool is the part that's always in view. When my cabinet doors are shut, that's it, you can't see anything. And I'm a whopping five foot one so I couldn't see into my cauldron. I could see my cauldron sitting on top of the cabinet, but I could see if the candle was still burning inside. It sucks being short. The cabinet is now housing Kurt's clothes (the whole reason why it was given to us anyway) and I made the bookscase back into the altar. Everyone is happy now.

 

Changing altars again  made me question how I practice. So I made a change, and yes, this time you'll get a picture because otherwise you won't know what I'm talking about.





This is my spindle. As in a thing used to spin wool. Not that I actually ever did spin yarn. But I can in theory.

Here's the top. See? It has a lovely Celtic knot.

I've been using my spindle to manifest. I've used it all weekend. I think of what I want, then spin. I spin energy into the physical. I manifested this:

Kurt and I have both had bad dreams. The other night, I dreamed a coworker was reading a book. She started stabbing the pages with her finger. Kurt woke up screaming. He had a dream someone was stabbing him. I find it interesting we were both having stabbing dreams at the same time. I haven't figured out why we are having these dreams or what exactly is going on with my coworker. I decided we needed a dreamcatcher. We went to the large indoor flea market. And walked around the whole place without finding a single dreamcatcher. Disappointed, we went for burgers and while eating Kurt said, 'Doesn't Dreamscapes sell them?' And I was all like, fuck, why didn't I think of that? We headed to the local Witch shop and while I checked to see if any of my wares had sold, he picked out this dreamcatcher. The orange bead has a spider on it. Of course, I know how to make dreamcatchers, but mine never turn out well. If I had tried to make this it wouldn't look artful, it would just be lop-sided and stupid.

And yes, it's working.

I've used the spindle for other things- banishing (spin counterclockwise), for growth of community, and for protection. If you don't have a spindle, try using a child's top. They come in all sizes and colors and a few either light up or make sounds. You could also try twirling a baton, that's fun too.

I could keep going with my adventures, but I think I've rambled on long enough and anyway, the spell check has ceased to function. It keeps telling me all my words are correct even though I noticed three misspells.

A Few Quick Words...

Kurt and his mom made up; she got the turkey Sunday. Thanksgiving has been reinstated.

I have rearranged the furniture in my house. Pics soon.

I've hit a wall in sewing where no stitch seems right. Grrrrr!

My neighbor was robbed by friends of his house guests. Makes me want to do a post on the dangers of allowing people into the home. Half of the thieves have been caught and most of the items recovered. Two of them were arrested near my house.

I'm off Thursday and Friday. Hope to do a real post at least by the weekend.

Not a Thought for Anyone Else

This picture looks strange because it was taken from my truck at night. That big lump is my black cap and safety glasses. The silver thing is my medical id bracelet hanging from the oh-shit-handle. And the whole reason I took this picture is because I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why this woman always turns her headlights on.

It was lunch time at work. (Night shift person, which is why it's dark.) I was facing the 'wong' direction. When I pulled into the parking lot, I couldn't park on the row I wanted because some first shift idiot got in the middle of the lane blocking my path. I pulled into the visitor parking lot, whipped around, and was blocked again by another idiot sitting in front of the space I wanted. Tired of waiting for first shift to get out of the way, I pulled into the second row- the only car facing away from the building.

The owner of the vehicle in the picture goes to her car every night for lunch. Fine, so do I. And she runs the car for heat. Okay, me too. But then she turns on the headlights. Why? Even if the lights come on automatically when the engine starts (which they don't, she always turns them on after 15 minutes) it's not necessary to have the lights on and I am quite certain she could manually turn them off. What pissed me off is she was parked directly in front of me with her headlights shinning in my face. Which is why my cap is on the dashboard; I was trying to block some of it.

She does this every single night and surely it bothers others because even if no one is facing her, it must reflect into mirrors. Yet, no one says anything. I thought about being a total bitch and turning my high beams on, but I did one better- I hexed her. That was more fun and it didn't create any workplace drama. Ha ha ha.

Inconsideration seems to be the theme here lately. About two hours ago, Thanksgiving was cancelled. The first plan was for Kurt and me to go to his mother's house. Then I got a turkey from work. I had Kurt call his mother because if she hadn't already purchased a turkey, we could use the one I got for free. First, she was going to come here tomorrow to pick up the turkey. I thought that was a waste of gas so I offered to cook the turkey. She wavered back and forth for a while on that. Then she told Kurt she wanted us to come there and oh, by the way, her BFF was coming over too.

Kurt hates the BFF because she's nosey and likes to gossip. She's more like a frienemy. Honestly, if future mother-in-law hadn't mentioned she was having Thanksgiving with us, I doubt the BFF would have invited herself. Or even asked what the plans were. The BFF just wants to be in on whatever doesn't involve her.

Now I have a turkey to cook, but only two people to eat it. This, Boys and Girls, is why I hate Thanksgiving.

Damn You Foul Retrograde

I am more tired tonight than last night when I worked my butt off.

Things were good at work. Thought I would get another amazing production number. Then we did a lot change. Stopping and waiting. Then lunch- where Kurt was standing beside my truck. He got sick, his boss made him leave, he called but I didn't know because cell phones aren't allowed on my job, and there he was, freezing from chills and fever after a bus ride and a very long walk in the dark. I took him home, rushed back to discover the line was down and nothing went right from that point on. After work, I drove across town to buy medicine (and me beer because sometimes, ya know, alcohol is much needed medicine), then came home to sleeping man who probably doesn't need anything but more sleep.

And after I drink one more beer, I'm going to sleep.

Held A Needle

I actually got some sewing in today. I made good progress. I cleaned and cooked, then went to work and was amazingly productive. There's hope yet. I even managed to read some Tarot on Sunday evening. The cards indicate I have an emotional block to my creativity. I was reasonably sure I was resentful of all the demands on my time, but, I don't know, maybe it's something else and I use my lack of time as an excuse. Sort of the reverse of when I was in college and used quilting as an excuse not to study.

My Silent Sunday picture failed to post. I don't know why I thought it would. Blogger is an egg sucking dog and you just can't turn your back on it.

I'm going out of town for Thanksgiving, so cooking is limited to what I bring to my future mother-in-law's house. I still don't know what dish I am supposed to bring. I offered sides, bread, or wine and she told me whatever we wanted to eat with turkey. Hmmmm. I sense an opportunity for Kitchen Witchery...

I'm still trying hard to be the witch of this place and the land is paying me no mind as it gears down for a winter sleep. It urges me to dream as well.

I'm trying to figure out some sort of stitch witchery but nothing really appeals to me yet. I already cleanse my materials with incense smoke, pay attention to colors, symbols, numerology...but I need something more. I've tried burning a candle when I sew, but I don't like that idea because cloth is flammable. I've tried chanting, but it is really easy to loose rhythm when thread becomes knotted, plus I get tongue-tied. I feel like I'm right on the verge of finding the key, but have no idea what the key looks like. I read a story once about a Witch whose robes were spells. That sounds awesome, for thing made to be magick itself, but what kind of spell am I doing? How would I activate it? How long would it last? I'll let you know when my fingertips brush against the key in the darkness.

Silent Sunday- Fire (On Monday)

No Time Is the Right Time

It is simply ridiculous how little time I have now since I went back to work. I thought I was getting great hours but no- I'm coming up short on the Witchcraft end of things.

Before I started this job, I had nice days. I'd get up, contemplate how I felt and what I wanted to do, then I'd sort of amble about, maybe do some spellwork, wash dishes, sew, garden, read Tarot, start a load of laundry, go for a walk...it was all very pleasant.

Today I wanted to garden. It had become very important to me to BE The Witch of This Place. I had lots of ideas. But I had to work tonight. On Saturday. My only be-alone-day.

I did garden. I wanted to start new projects, but the land told me I must maintain what I already have. So I pulled weeds, watered, doled out fertilizer, and mulched. Then I hobbled to the porch because I keep forgetting I'm not 19 anymore. Kurt raked leaves and after a not long enough rest for my 35 year old diabetic body, I helped him. We are not winning the leaf battle. Not even close.

Already tired and sore, I went to work. I have to go back to pick up Kurt. Tomorrow we're both off. But I have to cook. And do laundry. And visit my parents. Then suddenly it will be Monday. There are no Tarot cards in my future.

The land tells me to be patient- it will wait for me. I feel like an abject failure of a Witch. What kind of a Witch doesn't have time to light candles?

I have to leave soon. I'm going to schedule some Silent Sunday posts. Not sure how well it will work because Blogger doesn't always post when I tell it to. Also, I like to blog about what's on my mind. Every time I write ahead, something happens that I either must blog about or the event makes my preplanned post look trivial.

Bear with me; I'm trying.

I Voted

I hate politics. I hate campaign ads. I hate how people get worked up over things that don't matter while failing to see the reason issues. Most of the time when I vote, I feel like it doesn't do any good.

I am not an Obama fan. I voted for him anyway. I despise Mitt Romney. I think if Romney became president, Women's rights would be set back two hundred years. I decided if I ever had a daughter, I would not be able to look her in the eye if I voted for Romney. So I voted for Obama because it was the best thing I could do given the limits of this election.

So what would make me happy?

1. If the rules about viginas were made by the people with viginas and everybody else just minded their own business.

2. If popular vote was the way elections were won. Let the president by elected BY THE PEOPLE.

3. If the government paid for more of our health care instead of wasting billions in a Middle Eastern war we will never win.

4. If corporations did not control the government.

5. If we were better educated.

6. If we cared more about each other than money.

7. If we would do practical things to save our planet before we stupidly kill ourselves.

I may be asking too much. I just realize in intelligently run country none of these things would even be issues.

Goddess help.

How I Create Magick- Part 2 (Nothing was created)

OMG! Being an empath sucks dishwater.

Just dropped Kurt off at work. It’s another home game. I always forget I am going to the middle of Empath Hell. 80,000 people, all in a high emotional state. The fans are either pumped or depressed depending on the score, and there are waaaaay too many whores. Due to the fact that all kinds of men like football, a game is the best place in the state to go man hunting. Those desperate women are filled with lust, rage, envy, and jealousy. All this drama is magnified by the alcohol everyone has been drinking all day. Last week I came come with a splitting headache. I didn’t figure out why until after I got home. Today it hit me before I got on campus. I thought it was because nearly every route to the stadium was blocked. The closest I could get to the office was the campus library, half a mile away. Who decided to put a security office right behind a football stadium anyway?! Suddenly it dawned on me I haven’t felt this bad since I worked a Black Friday in the mall. As soon as I got to the outskirts of town, I bought headache pills and I could not open them fast enough. Next home game I need to go in with my shields already up and comfortably numb on painkillers.

It looks like Saturday will be my day to blog because that is the only time I have alone. I’m going to try writing a few posts, BUT in the past when I scheduled posts they didn’t go up as planned so I don’t know how that will work. Stupid Blogger.

On to the magick.

The whole purpose of planning my 8 point garden was so I could plant gourds. I have tried three times, unsuccessfully, to grow gourds. The first time was an accident. I left a gourd as an offering. It broke and the seeds sprouted immediately. I didn’t get any gourds, but since the plants popped right up, I assumed they were easy to grow. (Ha!)

Next, I tried growing them along a fence. Again, they came right up. Then did nothing. Finally a single bloom appeared. Then my landlord sprayed the fence with herbicide.

Thinking I needed a better location, I planted several in pots. Which my puppy destroyed. I got two seedlings and I thought that was enough. I planted them by the house and waited for gourds.

I got two. Then there was a storm, the cages supporting the vines blew over, thus uprooting the plants, and really, I didn’t get squat. The gourds are drying in the store room. They are very small and I don't think they matured enough to make seeds. One is moldy looking. The other is still as green as the day I hung it up.

Evidently, gourds need other gourds. They need something sturdy to grow on. They need protection.

Gourds are funny. They bloom at night, putting them squarely under the rule of the moon and feminine energies, but they are usually phallic shaped. I’ve heard one needs to be a bit mad to plant gourds and after all the problems I’ve had, I can see why a person would nut up trying to grow them. They need a lot of TLC, however, I’ve seen forgotten gourds growing abundantly in dead trees at the back of neglected property. Gourds are useful and can be used in many crafts, everything from birdhouses, to baskets, to art, but people tend to look down as gourds as being low folk art.

At this point I got tired of writing. I had some ideas about gourds being symbols of community but my ideas needed to brew into coherent statements. I started cleaning the store room. I got tired of that, so I went to the store. Kurt called me to say he had free BBQ. The catch was I had to come get it. I went home first to put up groceries, then headed back to Cow College. Half way there I realized even though it’s my day off, I am not enjoying myself. I have kept busy with household chores. I don’t have time to complete them. The store room is only half clean, I have to cook, and I need to do something with the three pounds of meat I just brought home. Obviously, I need to spend more time away from my house. Maybe I could join a book club or sewing circle or coven. Or something. I’m giving up on the magick post for now. Evidently this will have a part three, maybe a part four and five.