Make A Wish For Better Days, The End Of Hard Times

When I sat down to dinner tonight I actually took a moment to look around my kitchen, which has a lot of open air shelves around it, and take stock of all the food we have hanging around our house. When I added it up in my head, along with all of the other food we have in the cabinets that do have doors I did a quick estimation and discovered that if I still had running water I could feed our family for almost three months on what I have in our cabinets right at this moment. Then I recalled how when Kitten asked me what I wanted for dinner I thought to myself, "do we even have anything in the house to eat?" and I felt a terrible sense of shame wash over me.

I don't make much a secret of the fact that when I was young and still living in my parents home, we didn't have a whole lot. For whatever reason (and I honestly don't know what it is) we never seemed to have enough to make ends meet. We were certainly lower middle class at best. I remember clothes, until I was in high school, came from my great aunt, my grandmother and at Christmas and Easter. When I was older and I had a job, I bought from thrift stores. We received Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter baskets from churches and charities and I remember them as being a big part of the excitement of the holidays for me, outside of our family gatherings. I don't know exactly to what extent my extended family helped to support us. I have a heavy suspicion that most of my activity fees were paid for by my grandparents.

Whatever the reason, whatever the circumstance, we didn't have a lot. Now, I think about how much I do have and how often I truly take it for granted. I know I do. I mean, I thank Kitten frequently for the hard work she does, and Oscelot too, to make sure that we have food and shelter. We have a decent vehicle. We are all well clothed and well cared for. We get to take trips to fun places on occasion, when we save for it, and they are always special times for us. But on a day to day basis I think sometimes I forget how well off I really am.

Its easy, I suppose. We don't live on an upscale side of town. Our house is probably (okay, is) a little cramped. Its not new, in fact, its about a hundred years old. Our truck isn't fancy, its got a lot of mileage on it. We don't eat out all the time. Whenever its time to get new clothes, we still hit the thrift stores first. Of course, we like the thrift stores...it might be ingrained in all of us by now. Whenever our computer broke down earlier this year and we had to buy a new one, Kitten was genuinely distressed and when the coffee pot (a nice one, one of our few true indulgences) followed shortly after, I remember how upset Kitten was that we were going to drop another 100 bucks for a pot that would probably only last another five years or so.

Still, we don't live paycheck to paycheck. We have a savings account. A couple of them, actually, and we are planning to have more set by in the future. We never want for food. We always have clothes. Our bills are paid on time and we never have to worry about having a roof over our heads or utilities or any other the other things that plagued me when I was younger. In fact, beautiful blessing that it is, for the first time since I was 15 I am voluntarily unemployed and we are still doing okay. We cut back here and there, but we still make it fine.

I say this because I notice lately (and this was brought to my attention by a dear friend of mine) that an alarming amount of the people I know seem really unaware of how lucky they truly are. They are almost always complaining about money and it seems to me that they don't know how good they have it. It frustrates me. I'm not saying I could step into their circumstances and do any better...but I think sometimes they could do better for themselves. I grow tired of people I know complaining they don't have enough money to pay bills when they've just bought a house, or a brand new car (when they could have gotten two decent used ones for the price). I get angry when I have friends bemoaning the fact they can't go do such and such or join in a big vacation because they just spent a ton of money on some other frivolous thing and now they have to buckle down and take care of necessity. To me, you take care of the needs first, and the wants second.

The sheer extravagance of some people I know blows my mind. They complain when they don't get to eat name brands from the store, or when they have to order less than they might want when they go out to dinner because filet mignon is getting pricey. People who eat out every day for lunch and complain when they have to cut back on other things. I think to myself, "pack a lunch."

I know it sounds judgmental  But you're talking to a person who grew up thinking desert (which we have about once a week in my home now, because we're spoiled) was for holidays, birthdays and special occasions. When I was a child The Olive Garden was a seriously fancy place to eat- you dressed up. I learned, both from my mom and my grandparents, how to feed a family a decent meal for next to nothing. Take Lunchables- those decadent schoolday lunch treats- for what one of those costs, to this day I can feed my family a good dinner. And a healthy one. Dinner at McDonalds? I can feed my family for that too. In fact, most coven nights, my goal is to feed my entire coven and well for about $2 a person. Most the time, I come in well under the count. So to me, when someone I know is complaining they don't have any money for food, I think "let me show you how much you can really get for that twenty bucks."

I'm not saying I don't have friends who are in real need. I do. I admire them all the time, because they are making the best of their circumstances and working hard to better their lives. They (as a general rule) don't complain and don't fuss. They do the best with what they have and they never ask for help. But a lot of the time, I think of all the days I spent as a child and in my first year on my own. I think of how I could make $5 turn into dinner for a week (no matter how boring it might get!) and how I knew the feeling, all that time ago, of being hungry, or of worrying there wouldn't be a roof over my head. I remember not having a roof over my head and wondering how the hell I was going to make it better for me. I remember wearing clothes that didn't fit or that were threadbare. I remember making do when there was nothing to be done about it. I think of all the times I passed up things I wanted because I knew I was choosing between that fun thing and helping my family put food on the table. And I think to myself that maybe some of the people I know would have benefited from that experience. The knowing what it is like to really, truly want. To be without.

I would never wish it on anyone I know, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I want to scream when I have a friend who says "Oh yeah, Twinkies were a real treat in my house too. We weren't all that well off growing up either. We were poor too," as we drive away from the quarter million dollar home they grew up in. I hate when someone I know complains about how old their car is when it was manufactured within the last five years. The truck we drive was made when I was a sophomore in high school. The car we have (currently waiting for permanently warm weather so we can fix an oil leak) was made the year I was born. People who tell me they never went anywhere fun, but then tell me all about their childhood trips to New York and Hawaii and Europe, irritate the hell out of me.

Maybe I need to work more on my sense of compassion. Maybe if I grew up with more I would feel deprived too. But I don't. I can't. There's some part of me, always, thinking of the thrill I felt when I got my very own brand new Barbie doll from a Christmas basket and I didn't even have time to be upset about the fact she was a brunette and not a blonde because I was already plotting in my head how I could get scrap fabric from my grandma to make her a nice new dress. There's some part of me that remembers the terror of high school when the groups I was involved in (paid for, by the way, by my nearly full time after school job) would adopt a family from a charity around town and I was just praying to God it wasn't mine, because I knew I wouldn't want to face the pity and scorn of my classmates. There's a part of me that remembers that I would save my lunch money or my clothes money when they did this, and I would go without because I wanted to contribute too, and there was something inside me that had to believe that there was someone out there I could help- even if it wasn't myself. It is this person, the one who knew hungry and homeless and hopeless, that the people I knew wakes up inside me. There is a part of her that screams aloud when I hear them speak, and I listen to her as she tells me all she could be doing with the money they are wasting, to keep her family fed and sheltered.

Hearing her, remembering my own shame and fear, makes me angry. It makes me angry with them. And it makes me angry with myself, because I experience every day a life I didn't have when I was growing up. I wake up, every day, knowing I will be able to eat. That I will be warm. That I will be safe and comfortable. I wake up to love and hope and a future that, while was not what I dreamed of then, is far more than I could ever have hoped for or deserved, had I known what to ask for in my ignorance.

Tonight I am aware of my own hope that I never allow myself to fall into that complacency again. To forget those things is a step to losing what I have- not just the physical, but the emotional fortitude and strength that it took to bring me to this place where I can look back and say, Thank God, I will never feel that way again.

AGxx

For Pleasure of The Joyful Time

I may have mentioned it, but about a month ago Kitten came in the living room and asked me and Oscelot if we wanted to go to one of the regional Renaissance Fairs this year. We aren't planning on taking our big vacation in November, because we are going to go back to Portland in the early summer months. We agreed that it would be a nice little mini-vacation. So, the first week in October we are going to go up to Kansas City Missouri and go to their Renaissance Fair. I think we'll have a good time.

I haven't been in years, and the last time I went we weren't able to stay as long as I had liked because it was really hot. This time it should be nice and cool, because Columbus Day weekend is usually pretty fair when it comes to weather, by then the painful heat has normally passed us by. I've only been a few times in my life, and I've only been with people willing to dress up just once. So this ought to be a lot of fun.

Yes, we're dressing up. I asked the girls if they wanted to and they were amenable to the idea, so we're going to go in full garb. We are making our costumes ourselves. Its slow going, because I do not use sewing machines (I swear, I've tried to learn, its just not my thing) so we have to hand sew everything. Some of the stuff is relatively complicated to sew, too. I felt thankful that Kitten and Oscelot wanted to go in men's dress, but honestly, their stuff is turning out harder than my dress. Breeches aren't too bad, I suppose, as long as you get them to balloon out the proper way. The jackets are a little more complicated. I told them to hit the local costume shops because there is no way in Hades I am going to try and sew them period accurate blouses. I am just not that cool. I'm also going to make them nice, jaunty little hats and custom garters and all that. It should be a lot of fun to see them dressed up.

My dress...well, its already a trip. I've managed to get the under-dress (the skirting that goes underneath the overlay part of the dress) done. I used netting to help make it fluffy. There's no way I am going to custom make hoops. I did it once and it was a pain in the ass. I don't want to do it a second time.  I also managed to get the chiffon underlay that goes in the front, and shows in between the pieces of brocade, sewn in. I made a bumroll for the first time yesterday. I attached it in such a way that I can customize how big it gets and I can make it lay flat for transportation purposes. I also started stitching the brocade to the bodice and making the outer skirt. Its seriously heavy and I'm terribly afraid that the hanger I've got it on won't hold up. I would kill for a dress maker's dummy right about now. Unfortunately, I don't think anyone I know has one to spare. Otherwise I would be begging for it right now. After getting the overlay started, I've discovered that I am also going to want hiprolls and they need to be pretty substantial. Joy.

I truly love to sew, but I'm not huge on sewing with a deadline. If I could move at a slower pace I'd be liking this more. The dress would also look prettier because I could take my time with the stitches. Then again, if I could machine sew, I wouldn't have to worry about the stitches at all, because they'd be perfect. Maybe I should try to learn again, eh? I told Oscelot yesterday that if we wanted to go again next year, I would keep an eye out for the appropriate fabrics and I would sew us new outfits over the course of a year, so we didn't have to rush. As it is...well, the girls are going to have to pick up a needle and thread at some point so that I can get it all done.

My mom came over yesterday and looked at the dress and told me to quit my day job, and my aspirations of being a writer and go to school for seamstress work, because I'm really good at it. She liked it and it made me feel good, because she doesn't really praise many of my talents too often. Not to my face, anyway. And she's dead set on me becoming a famous writer. So I must be doing something right. Then again, she liked to sew by pattern, and I almost never use a pattern. I certainly am not now. I just researched the period clothing and undergarments and went to town. I do like sewing, though, that's true. I did get a giggle from my favorite little girl who works at the local craft/fabric/hobby store. I was telling her about what I was doing while eyeballing a few of the pattern books to look at the trims that the big companies prefer to use (polyester bridal lace? No, thank you) and she told me the outfit would be very authentic, since they didn't have sewing machines in the 1600's. I suppose she's right.

So all this blood and sweat is so we can drive several hours to a giant fair and drag these beautiful costumes through the mud, dirty them up and maybe never wear them again, depending on the condition that they're in. Ah, well. That's the joy of it right? On the other hand, I do get to see jousts and sword fighting and a lot of really talented artisans working their trade. I love that sort of thing. And the food will be wonderful. And we're planning on attending the Royal banquet for dinner, which means dinner with the King and Queen. Its outrageous how much they charge for this, but I'm not getting prettied up just so I can go sit in a tavern and have a wench slop beer on my gown. Well, not just for that anyway....

We booked ourselves a really nice hotel and we are probably going to do other things while we are there. I am looking forward to it all.  I'll probably skip the turkey legs, I can get those anywhere. But I am looking forward to ale, and mulled cider. I am looking forward to fresh corn on the cob (we're going on the pirate themed weekend so they're $1 each. Get it? Buck an ear?) and watching Kitten get real fish and chips. I don't know that Oscelot has ever been to one, and neither of them have been when they were dressed up, for sure, so they are excited. Kitten was telling me the other day, and I was pleased, how happy she was that I suggested that we make costumes. She said she would have thrown on stuff from her closet to look sort of piratey, and not have felt as cool. This, she says, will make it special for us. I thought it was nice of her to say so.

I am a little anxious. Being Americans, we aren't really familiar with forms of address for nobles, so I've been looking at the ranks and the titles and forms of address. I'm going to have to write them down for the girls and quiz them on the way up so that they can not make asses of themselves by calling a wench an honorable or something. I can't imagine. I also have to teach them how to properly introduce people, because, as a woman, its not really my place to talk. I also had to research the colors that certain ranks are allowed to wear, because if someone asks us who we are and where we are from, well, my town wasn't around then, so we'll need a nice story and they should know how to answer those questions properly. I mean, its all fun and games, I get it, but there are some serious Ren Fair enthusiasts out there, and they're usually the actors. I'd like not to insult them, or be fodder for off stage glee because we were unable to conduct ourselves like the lords and ladies we are pretending to be. In case you're curious, I'm pretty sure Kitten and I are going to be Count and Countess and I think we're going to make Oscelot either a Viscount or a Baronet. It depends. We have to determine what country we're from too...because I think being from England would be death to us all. I know Elizabethan history, but not that well. And I sure as heck don't know how to teach all the nuances of that to the girls. If we're foreigners, well, sometimes they get a little more leeway, don't they? Either way, our costumes are a mustard gold and black, so we're up there, but not so far up there that we're royalty. Just nobles. I've always wanted to be a noble. The last time I went I was a wench. Honestly, I'd like to be a marchioness, or a marquess (don't lecture me, Anne Boleyn was a marquess and she was a girl. And yes, I know she was only marquess because Henry VIII wanted to enoble her before he married her. That's not the point...) but explaining the nuance of a marquessate to the girls...again, maybe next year. 

I'll probably post pictures once I get the costumes done. I'll also probably mention the fair a bunch in the meantime, because it is very much on my mind. I know I've bored my FB friends to tears with dress updates. But then, each moment of progress on that thing is a little victory for me, because the last one of these dresses I made took me two months. I'm much faster and more focused now, and I'm sober, and that makes a difference. Looking back, I was thinking about how it was a shame I didn't still have it. Then I remembered that it was 17th century French and I was a size 2 then, so it wouldn't have worked anyway.

I'm really excited about it all. I rather wish we had other friends going with us, but then, that would mean they would need to acquire costumes too. Not to mention hotel rooms and the like. And a lot of my friends work with me, and that means they would need to ask off...yeah. I know how that goes.

Right. I have to get ready for work. The life of a wench is a hard one.

One month. One month and I get to pretend that Casa Bueno never existed and I have people to do my bidding and I get to wear a hugely fancy dress for two solid days. History can't get here soon enough.

See you soon!
AGxx

PS- today's title is an Elizabethan song lyric from This Sweet and Merry Month of May by William Byrd. He was Queen Elizabeth I's favorite composer.

It Feels Like Home

I went inside Flyguy's house for the first time today.

That may not seem like a big deal, but since I've known him for almost 8 months now and I've only seen his house from the outside, I was pretty excited. Also, I'm old fasioned (and secretive) enough that its a big deal to me if someone invites me into their home. I look at it as an honor. Its a sign of trust. If I allow you into my house, I'm telling you that you are someone who is important to me. If I tell you where my spare keys are kept? Well, you might as well be family. I don't even think my mom knows where I put it.

I won't wax long on what his house looked like. One, its none of your business and two, it would probably bore you. Suffice to say, I had a mental picture in my head, it was about 18% correct, and I liked what was different about a million times better. Also, he has lots of plants and I am totally jealous.

But it did get me thinking, because I think what a house looks like, and what you think someone's house looks like is a huge indicator of what that person is like. I mean, if you have fuzzy pot leaf blacklight posters on your walls thats way different then someone who has a handmade quilt on their bed, right?

For example, my grandmother lives in my great grandma's house. She had painted it pink when her husband passed because she was redheaded and he wouldn't let her wear pink because it clashed with her hair. Her bedroom was red. To me, it showed her expressing her independence when my great grandfather died. My grandma has not changed hardly a thing since she moved in and my great grandma passed. I think that shows her way of greiving.

My mom, when she had her own place, had a bright red couch and before that she had animal print. But everything else was neutral. I think that was her way of trying to be bold but falling back into a safe zone when she was unsure. Its a lot like her personality now.

Anyway, I thought you might possibly be interested in what my house looks like? Yes?

My living room is in golds, greens, plums and dark mauve. My curtains are that maroon but not maroon color with tiny pink rosebuds embroidered on them. We have pale pink swags of chiffon hanging from them. No, actually Kitten picked them out. And the bamboo blinds to cover the windows. Our couch and chair are second hand and ugly because our cats tear them up and we know we're getting new stuff when we move, so why bother getting soemthing new now?

Our dining room isn't a dining room anymore. Its floor to ceiling bookcases and a computer shoved in one corner. eah, we read a lot. Of course, there is next to the computer my altar table, which gets moved out for ritual, and my family altar on the wall hangs over the apothecary's chest where I stash all out witch stuff. The decor in that room, that's visible, is mostly asian. The big peice is a giant Jade ship that Jade brought back for Kitten from China. Its about three feet long and two feet hight. Its really pretty.

The kitchen is black and white with red accents. I decorated in vintage advertisements for alcohol originally, but lately we've added so many shelves and cabinets you can hardly see most of the walls, so the art has pretty well come down. The one piece left is really big, and hangs over the dining room table, which had a booth style bench on two sides and a pew-like bench on the other.

Our closet, which used to be Oscleots room, looks like a closet. Clothes on racks everywhere, conveniently located right next to the washer and dryer. Not that we ever put our clothes away.

As most of you know Kitten and I remodled our bedroom right before we got married. The walls are blue with pink polka dots and match one of our quilts. We actually have several quilts now, and we rotate them and our sheets based on the season. So only about half the year does our bedding match our walls. We don't mind.

So that's our house. The big parts anyway. I'd like to repaint our living room, althought I'm not sure I can talk Kitten into it. I think I'm going to tell her and Oscelot to go to Precious;s house for a couple days this spring and I'll tackle it by myself and get it done. I know they hate to mess with stuff like that. Otherwise, I like our little home, althought I'm already making out what i want to do for our house when we move.

For example, I want to do my new kitchen in vintage owls. I want the colors to be browns and golds and yellows and greens. I'll get my everyday dishes in gold color, like mustard. That way when I have dinner in my new dining room it will look okay with the heavy furniture, pale blues and light golds I've selected for the decor for the formal dining room. I want something a little french chateu and a little country estate. We'll see.

I know I want to continue the far eastern theme in the library, because I like the colors and the feeling of it. Besides, nothing facilitates imaginary travel like the setting of somewhere exitic and wild. I'll enjoy that. Also, I've got my eye on a Hindu wedding bed, and I want to fill it full of cushions so I can lay in it and read.

And at my house now, and aty the one we will buy in the future, I must insist, beyond all things- roses. I will have them all around me. I have tons of them now, and I will insist on having them all over my new home- climbing the walls and the arbors I will install, hanging over my trellises next to my back porch hot tub...and all throughout my back yard. They will surround my house in hedge form and sit beside my front door, just like my grandmother had when I was growing up. I want to go outside and walk through a fairy land. Roses, to me, are the fastest way to feel like I'm there.

So yeah, in case you were curious what it looks like in my home, there's a bit of an illustration for you. I'd take pictures...but you know, I'd have to clean for that.

What would you do with your dream home?

AGxx

Losing My Religion

Today, in case you weren't aware, is Saturday February 25. If you do the math, that means that Tuesday of this last week was the 21 of February, the day before Ash Wednesday. Yeah, Mardi Gras. You know, the big holiday where you go out and get wasted and show your breasts for lots of cheap plastic beads. (Incidentally, what is it men do to get beads?)

Anyway, the reason I feel like it is important to point out that Tuesday was Mardi Gras was because our city is having it sAnnual Mardi Gras pub crawl tonight. Now, in case you aren't familiar with the concept of a pub crawl, the basic idea is that a group of nightclubs in the same area all get together and decide that for one night, you can buy a bracelet (usually at a rediculously inflated price) and it will get you into all the clubs instead of you having to pay for each individual one. The idea, I suppose, is that since there's a holiday or something fun to celebrate, you might want to go to more than one bar to get drunk. This is usually paired with a lot of drink specials so that you, literally, by the end of one night "crawl" from one location to the next.

Our town has a pub crawl about every other month or so. We celebrate every thing from HAlloween, St. Patricks Day, Mardi Gras and other big holidays to things like "Dead Day" which is the last day the colleges have to study before finals begin. A great idea, if you ask me, getting wasted right before taking finals..I digress. I'm not a huge fan of pub crawls. I could go on for days about why. I won't. I'll simply get to the main point of this post...or the kickng off point for this one, anyway. The Mardi Gras pub crawl is tonight. Tonight. Four days after the beginning of Lent.

If you're Catholic, or familiar with the concept of Lent, or you've seen 40 Days and 40 Nights, you know that beginning with Ash Wednesday you go through a period of self denial until easter. This usually involves dietary restrictions such as no meat on the weekends and also "giving up" something that you would normally have (I have friends who have chosen everything from coffee to sweets to smoking) as a for of growing closer to God spiritually by denying things you would normally have on a day to day basis. While I don't personally agree with the concept, I understand it. Mardi Gras, then, (Fat Tuesday in French) is the night before all this begins, where you indulge in all your vices one last time before the Lenten season.

So why, some one explain to me, is my terribly culturally unaware city having a Mardi Gras celebration AFTER Lent has already started? They've done this three years running now, and I can't fathom it. Why can't they do it the weekend before? Anyone who goes to the pub crawl tonight is going to be violating the precepts of Lent. Isn't that sort of backwards from the whole concept of Mardi Gras? I mean, I understand that most people who go tonight aren't Catholic. We don't live in a heavily Catholic area. We're more of an Assembly of God and Baptist area. But still...it got me thinking about how much it annoys me, the perversion of religion, and religious holidays, and holidays in general for that matter, in this area of the country.

I spoke last week about how much Valentines Day irritates me. I mean, St. Valentine was a martyr. Yes, he did become the patron saint of married couples and relationships, but somehow I don't see the holiday as we celebrate it now as particularly in keeping with his Martyrdom. St. Patricks Day, another pub crawl holiday in my area, is another one where religiously, we're celebrating the patron saint of Ireland. I get that now we're really celebrating Irish culture, and yes, Lenten restrictions are lifted for this holiday as a way of celebration, but I think a bunch of American college students dressing like leprochans and drinking green beer until they pass out is rather missing the point. Do these kids even know what the wearing of the green is? Do they know where they could find the blarney stone? Do they even know anything about Irish history? I somehow doubt it...

I could go on for days about Cinco de Mayo too. Of course, working in a mexican restaurant, I work this holiday every year. Every year some new kid asks me what Cinco De Mayo means. Outside of its literal translation, the answer they are most given is that its Mexican Independence. Not true, actually. That's on September 16. Its actually the celebration of the Mexican's unlikely defeat of the French at the Battle of Puebla, which is only celebrated in that reigon, and in the United States. Cinco is actually more of an american holiday, and one that is more a reflection of our southwestern and southern roots than anything, although you couldn't convince all the idiots wearing sombreros and drinking margaritas of that...

I suppose I find myself frustrated because I think that one, these holidays are pointless and two, for people who might actually find meaning in them, its a huge insult. I hate the perversion of religion in any sense, and as a person who doesn't normally celebrate "traditionally" celebreated holidays in the US I find it especially irritating. People, as a general rule, have no idea what most of my holidays are, and they aren't celebrated, Halloween being the notable exception. Halloween, of course, is a completely different thing to me than it is to 90% of the US population, and I find that insulting. I can't help but think that these other holidays have got to get on the nerves of some other people as well. Of course, holidays in general irritate me.

I'm not particularly eloquent today, but I'll do my best to explain myself.

Christians, as a general rule, have a set amount of holidays they celebrate. Now, I could go on for days about the perversion of those holidays by the church itself, but lets let that go. I can allow for freedom of choice in religion, and if they want to celebrate the birth of Jesus in December when its actually more likely he was born in summer, I can let it go. A lot of pagans wouldn't because there's a direct history there with regards to my holidays, but that's something that I'll mix into the argument a bit and we'll live and let live. What does irritate me is that Christian holidays are so commercialized.

If you're celebrating the birth of your religions main god figure, it seems like this would be somethign more reverant than what its become. I mean, yes, there are some beautiful church services, music and retellings of the story that go on. I am all for that. Storytelling, music and ritual are a huge part of my religion too, and I think you could stretch and say most religions. But then there's the gift giving and the reindeer and the tree and the fat elves that have nothing to do with the Christian holiday. Actually, the reindeer, the tree (and the decorations on it) and the elves is part of my religion, and part of my winter holiday Yule. And it does serve a purpose in my religion. But for Christians? I don't think it does?

When you decorate your tree, do you know why you put bulbs on it? I do...blbs are traditionally red and yellow and orange...the colors of the sun. They're put there, on a LIVE tree I might add, to entice the sun back during the cold months. Did you know that? Did you know pagans actually bring in a living tree and keep it alive all winter before replanting it in the spring as a way or showing reverence to the earth? Yeah, cutting a tree down is bad juju in my religion. I don't know how that got started. The candies and popcorn and berries that go on the tree? They're put there to feed the elves and fairies living inside it. True story. And the candles (which we're replaced with LED lights not) are a symbol of the warmth of the coming months, and are there to keep those fairies and elves happy and thinking of the spring. Its like a photo of home for them.

I could go on and on about mistletoe and peppermint and snowflakes. But lets face it, I'm not dogging Christians for incorporating these things into their celebrations. If it has a religious meaning for you, go for it. These things are now all a part of the Christian holiday. That's fine with me. What does irritate me is that so many people are unaware of what their religious holidays and symbols mean. If the candy cane is a sheperds staff to you, awesome. Use that symbol and celebrate. I don't care what shape it is so long as its peppermint. The cool and the heat are there to remind me that the cold months are followed by warmth. That symbol works for both os us, so lets share it.

I don't mind sharing. But being unawre of what your religion means is what really sets me on edge. I live in a really conservative part of the US. I'm trying to fix that, but in the meantime, I know that its okay for me to be tolerant of other people's religion. And honestly, I try to be educated about the religions around me, because I want to be respectful. I know how and why Purim (Jewish holiday) is celebrated. I understand, better than most Christians, the meaning behind all the big Christian holidays. I respect them. I truly do. But I think sometimes they don't.

I have to mention here, my wonderful sister in law Cat and her husband Brother, are devout Christians. I really admire them. They practice their faith with diligence and discretion. Their wedding was beautiful. And they are good, honest, kind people who are excellent examples of what I think a Christian really ought to be. I know that we hve differences. What I love isthat they areso respectful. Cat never tells me I'm going to hell because I married her sister. She might be concerns (hell, I don't know, we've never broached the subject) but I think what is important to her is that I love Kitten and that her sister and I live a moral and upright life according to our religion. And I appreciate the fact that because she didn't know a lot about our faith, she took the time to learn. She asked questions. She asked about books she could read. She didn't make assumptions. And you know, despite the fact that I know she probably doesn't agree with my faith, she's respectful to us, and she is always concientious about wishing us well on our holidays, which means a lot to me. She could have assumed we spend all our nights dancing naked around a fire and killing animals for blood sacrifice to worship the devil. Instead, she listens, she learns and she's willing to be kind to us about it which is a refreshing change.

As much as I bitch, I am pretty lucky. Mr and Mrs Boss are alwys good about making sure I have at least the night of all my holidays off, which most places wouldn't do, since technically, Wicca isn't a recognized religion in the US. (Paganism is, but that's rather an umbrella term for a lot of stuff) They respect my faith and the need for me to take time to be with my spiritual guides. Of course, it works for all of us that my holidays are not usually on the same ones as tehirs, because I can work them. But my coworkers have a lot of respect for me, and that's uncommon. I know I got lucky. And for the most part, I think its interesting to see how they have a modicum of faith in what Ido, which might explain why religions get so mixed up in this part of the country, which raises my ire sometimes.

When someone at work is sick, or hungover, or is having period cramps or whatever, they'll take whatever I give them. It might be a nasty tea or a smoothie blend designed to make them feel better. But they take it. No questions. Because they know I'm good at what I do, its part of my faith and it works. It always works, that's the trick. Mrs Boss jokes I could poison the whole staff because they'll drink anything I give them. I wouldn't, but she's right. I've had people who have asked me to do spell work for them, or cast natal charts for them. I've done tarot readings and auric readings. And my coworkers don't treat me like I'm a travelling gypsy or a freak show. They always ask about the mechanics of what I do, and how its important to my faith. Most of them have done their research. In return, I do my research for them. If I cast a spell for a coworker, I use a ritual for them that involves their incarnation of diety. Because I respect that they may not have the same belief in god as I do, so I try to make sure that this is a prayer (because that's what spellwork really us) that works for them. They have to believe it, and mean it, and praying to your own god is what works. Not praying to someone else's.

I think its that mixing of religion that somehow ends up working its way into other holidays. I mean, yes, do I know that its partly the result of maneuverings by the Catholic church that most major Christian holidays occur on our near solstices? Yep, I sure do. And politics of it aside, I don't care. Easter for them is Easter no matter when they celebrate it. So its fine by me. What makes me angry is when someone accuses me of stealing their religious holidays and perverting them for pagan purposes.

Bullshit. Oastara (yeah, sounds like easter doesn't it?) our spring holiday, or the big one anyway, is close to Easter. But, I hate to say this, the bunnies, the eggs- those are ours. Hell, all that pink and yellow and pale blue you wear? That's ours too. You see, colors have meaning in my religion, and when you dress your daughter in a frilly yellow and pink and lavender dress to go to church, she's wearing the colors of my holiday. She's a symbol of rebirth, flowers, and sunlight. Like I said, you want to use those symbols? Cool.

I once saw a trick with an easter egg that told a story, it had dogwood flowers and a nail in it. Some other stuff too. It was awesome. The egg represented (once opened) the rebirth of Jesus through the empty tomb. The dogwood flowers were for the crown of thorns on his head. The nail represented his death on a Roman cross. It was beautiful. I liked it and I think its awesome that Christians are finding ways to bring meaning to the pagan symbols that have over time become incorportated into their religion, like it or not. But I'd be angry if someone told me that those were the original meanings.

You can't convince me that there were dogwoods in the middle east in ancient times and that's what his thorn crown was made of. Ask an anthropologist, or hell, a botanist. In my religion, eggs are a symbol of fertility. Dogwoods are used for protective magic and for wish magic. I'd tell you that Iron is a symbol of protection in my religion. It drives away death. In Ireland they would drive nails into food and plans to prevent death and disease from entering a house. You can even use it for healing purposes. Speak not of all the uses of nails in Voudon and Hoodoo, which I could go on about for days. Even rust on a nail has meaning for us.

I could go on for weeks about the perversion of Halloween by Christians and the media and commerical groups, but I won't. You tell me if you want a post about that and maybe I'll save it for another day. Suffice to say, the symbols that I use for Halloween have been perverted by people, and almost no one truly understands what that holiday is really about for witches. Ask me why we use pumpkins for jack o lanerns and I'll tell you we used to use turnips and why. Ask me why we put candles in them. As me what a cauldron is for. Or a bat. Do you know? Because most people don't.

I'm running long, and maybe wandering from the point. The point is, triggered by all this post-Mardi Gras Mardi Gras madness, I get really irritated at the total and complete lack of disrespect people have for religion- both for tehir own and for other people;s. I hear over and over (especially dring this election season) that we're a country founded on religious principles. What kills me is most people don't even know what those principles are. They don't care. What they care about it what they get to do what they want, when they want, and then stumble into church with a hangover and get god to forgive them for wht they've done. Or they don't believe in god at all (totally cool, again ,your call) and they feel like that gives them the right to disrespect every religion. I don't think that's right. I think that there's a total and complete lack of respect for cultures and history that belies the fact that we, as Americans, are supposed to be open minded, educated people. We aren't.

I may respectfully disagree with some of the other religions I run into, but I respect them, that's the point. I may not undersand every religious holiday I come across, but I try. And that's really what I'm getting at. If you want to celebrate Mards Gras, and you aren't Catholic then go ahead. Torture yourself by giving up stuff for Lent. But party on Fat Tuesday, take time to think about what Ash wednesday means to you. Do your penance for your sins and talk to god when you feel weak. That's a beautiful thought. Maybe you will get closer to god. I'll be happy for you if you do.

But do me one favor, eh?

Skip the damn pub crawl tonight.

AGxx

I Walk Alone

So, I'm in a mood. I want to write, but I'm finding nothing but that solid brick wall that most of us in the profession lovingly refer to as "writer's block." To be honest, to me it sounds like somthing hard to bang your head against to shake the ideas loose. It is not. Its more like a huge void of nothing that comes off the blank page and threatens to swallow you whole, churning you in a ceaseless washer that scrubs your brain blank and sings a song that sounds something like this: "you suck, you suck, you suck, give up, give up, give up." Now, the appropriate response of any true writer is to buckle down and write anyway, telling that nasty washer to go eff itself.

I'm trying to do that. I really am.

So I'm hanging out here, in my little plastic castle, and trying to think of what exactly I want to do with the blank page next. Until that time comes, I'm blogging, because blogging is writing, even if it isn't my novel, and honestly, as long as I keep writing, I keep reminding myself that there is a book to be written and I won't forget about it. I've even left myself a helpful little post-it right below where my eyes go at the bottom of the screen reading "write damnit!"

I'll write.

Until then, here we are. You get useless bits of nothing that I may or may not do something with if the moment presents itself.

A collection of random thoughts to follow...

Did you ever look at someone in the reflection of the light of the television and suddenly see them in a completely distoted or strange way? I'm actually a firm believer in not having a television in the bedroom for this reason. I used to, in fact, for most of my adult life I did. Now I do not, and I'm glad for it. Likewise, I do not have a computer in my bedroom. Right now that has more to do with the fact that we don't have room and I don't have a laptop. But I think I'd like to keep it that way. Despite the fact that sometimes I would very much like to have all of my playlists at my fingertips ends in the bedroom, I'd like to keep the bedroom from ever being associated with work, and lets face it, if I am ever a successful writer, I'm going to associate the computer with work.

I've been dying for spring weather lately. I think this is a result of the warmer weather we've been having, but its strange for me. I generally don't care for warm sunny weather. I like the milder, cloudier fare most days. Even in the spring and summer I am more likely to enjoy a rainy day than I am to enjoy a sunny one. Chalk that up to my fair complexion or my aversion to being hot, I'm not sure...However, as of late, there isn't much more that I want than a soft quilt, some thick, green grass and a mild sunny day in the upper seventies. I want to grab some water, a cooler stocked full of berries and cheese and fresh bread and a good book. I want to take off my shoes and prance through the grass in a way that I'm sure rather indicates that I am unused to running barefoot through it, but wouldn't be averse to getting used to the feeling of it at all.

I want a pair of leather pants. I'm not sure why, but I was thinking about this earlier in the day. I have no where to wear them, I don't go clubbing anymore, and god knows what I would wear with a pair of leather pants, but I do want a pair. I nice, tight, tailored pair. Black, I think. This is probably a compulsion brought on by an odd bout of admiration for my own body, I'm not sure. Every now and again I'll get itno a mood and think I'm pretty cute. I wouldn't even say I feel that way now, but I like my legs pretty well and I think they'd look cute in a pair of leather pants.

I've realized Ihaven't posted any new pictures of myself here or on facebook in a while, and I keep thinking I might need to do that. If only for my own peace of mind, because honeslty, I'm rather sick of looking at old pictures of me that really look nothing like me anymore. In thinking of this, I also remember that I was looking at a picture taken of me on Kitten and I's honeymoon thismorning, and my hair was only just past my shoulders. In two years its reached down the center of my back. I keep wondering when I'm going to cut it, but every time Ifeel the compulsion I remind myself that I look like Harry Potter with short hair and if I cut it any length between my shoulders and where it is now, I'll just be bitter I cut it. So it keeps growing. Of course, I live in fear of having that long hair that most people look at and think "that looks gross, why doesn't she cut it or do something with it" so I have to make sure it looks nice when I am wearing it down, which isn't often given I work so much. In the mornings, nothing is more daunting than the thought of taking the time to blow dry my hair and straiten it before I go to work. I just don't like getting up that early. Most days, its in a bun. I should probably change that, since it makes me look like a rather mousy, if severe librarian.

I'm really vain.

We've been batting around the idea of where we would like to go on vacation next year, and it was looking like we were going to go dog sledding, but then the idea of a dude ranch came up and that does sound rather fun. Also, I know more about how to ride a horse than I do about how to make a dog pull a sled. Educational, both...but what would be more relaxing? Of course, I would be delighted to take off and go back to Portland, but since we're planning on moving there, it seems more like I shouldn't choose that as a vacation desitnation again. Of course, I think going to the grand canyon would be fun. I love the idea of Hawaii but that involves planes and me risking getting poisoned by fish at every restaurant we eat at, so maybe not. I also want to go backto Disney world, but lets face it, I should probably save that one for our 5th or 10th anniversary. (By the way, random thought, did you know Kodak is filing for bankruptcy? They print all the disney maps...) So, no certain answer there. Honestly, I think I could probably justlet the girls decide and be happy wherever we go.

Yeah...so that's some of the silly things running through my head at the moment. Nothing important, or terribly literary I'm afraid.

There's some images I've been batting around in my head, though whether or not they're meant for writing or just because I'm the way I am I'm unsure of.

I like the thought of hands. The fingertips especially. In my mind I see a pair of hands playing together, trasing eachother. I see one set of fingers pinching the tips of the others, before folding softly into the other hand. I like the curve of the ends of the finger, the way the nails look on a pair of hands that have been roughened by work. I like hands that aren't entirely soft, but rather ones that are textured and have character. I like the look of hands at work ,whether they are on a computer or doing something more tactile. I like the way they look. I like how they make me feel. Of course, the thought of the hand and the fingers make me think of touching, not in a sexual way, but rather just as a way of communication, of telling someone you are there, that you love them, that you know they need you, or that they are special and important in some way.

i've been obsessed with smiles lately. I like the curve of lips. I like how a smile can mean so many things. I like that one smile can mean love, when the other one might mean disdain or mocking. I like the idea of a smile communicsating more than just happiness, but understanding, compassion or humor. I like how people smile differently. Some smile with their teeth, some smile with one side of their mouth only. Some never show teeth at all. I like how a set of full lips thins out when a person smiles, or how a set of thin lips becomes almost nothing but a pale pink line. Yes, smiles are nice indeed...

Oh, my, I do know how to ramble don't I?

I think I've hit upon something though, so I must run out on you, and find my ramble elsewhere...

By the by...if there's ever anything you would like me to write about, an emotion, a feeling, an experience...anything really, I'm always looking for fodder for a good story...

AGxx