Ups and Downs

We discovered last week that the purveyors of fine teas in the nearby upper-crust borough had closed up shop.

This is bad — where am I going to go pick up Dragon Well on a whim? — but not bad, because they were snobbish prissy shopwomen who belittled their clientele instead of welcoming them and educating them. We drove past a tiny tea shop up on Monkland a while ago, so one of these days I shall have to take a walk up and check it out in order to ascertain its value.

Saturday night after dinner out with friends my stomach and digestive system decided to stage a protest about something (it certainly wasn’t the food), and while I’m much better, they’re still unhappy about life. We leave for Pennsylvania before dawn tomorrow, so I wish they’d hurry up and settle. We picked up the camping gear from Hiscock’s Fine Camping Supplies and Laundromat last night (and also obtained a nice anti-skip personal CD player with tape convertor for the trip, huzzah), so all that remains is to:

– get photocopies to take with us
– pick up gallon jugs of bottled water
– finish packing clothes
– pick up black cord for my dress
– pick up the first-aid kit
– finish hemming Gob Anarchy’s robe for the band’s first unofficial tour (unofficial because a third of the band will be missing, alas)

I succeeded in creating the body of the robe and put it on to show HRH. It’s designed for someone who is about six inches taller than I am, so the sleeves flopped way past my fingers, the hood almost obscured my face, and the hem dragged on the ground. “‘S a bit big,” I said, flopping my hands about. HRH turned around, saw me, and tried to hide his laughter behind a hand. “Wot?” I demanded. “You look like a cute Dementor,” he said, his efforts turning his face red. “Give us a kiss, then!” I siad, stepping towards him. “That’s just creepy,” he said, “no, thanks.”

All three of my female fur-children have staked out this robe as The Best Place To Sleep. Hope Gob Anarchy appreciates how they feel.

To the sewing machine!

Short-Lived

I’m trying to bash out another book proposal, and I’m stalling. (No, not work-avoiding; stalling of the “engine stalling, abort mission, failure, failure” sort). Now I’m no longer convinced that I can write.

Yes, this goes in cycles. It’s probably healthy. Not enjoyable, but healthy. (Calvin, go do something you hate! Being miserable builds character!)

Take No Prisoners

From the daily herbal newsletter I receive:

There is an old garden saying I found in the Herb Farm Cookbook that says, “You don’t have mint, mint has you.”

How’s that for a remarkably dead-on comment?

The GCN, Revived

I sat down today and decided to get back into writing. Not the book-type stuff (although I think I’ve just promised to come up with an outline and proposal for a book collection of spells, and they offered me the option to write yet another book last Friday too — don’t go nuts, I’m not sure I want to do this one as it’s not my forte), but writing for myself.

So I woke up the laptop, thanked it for all its hard work writing the Spellcraft book, and asked it to think back to when we were writing the Great Canadian Novel. Upon rereading the last chapter I remembered why I’d been reluctant to return to this project: I accidentally ended the book when I wrote this chapter back in 2003. Even an attempt to rewrite it to avoid the ending in January 2004 didn’t rescue it in my mind. Today, then, was my day to eradicate the “finished/story-all-told” association the project had in my mind, and to open it to new vistas of writing-tude.

So, ninety minutes and 2,960 words later, the Great Canadian Novel is back into the swing of things, and in regular project rotation once again.

I’ve missed Poppy.

Witches Weekly Questions

Witches Weekly August 07, 2004 – What is Sacred to You?

1. What is one item that is sacred to you? (Can be anything, tool, amulet, object, etc)

My body. It’s mine; no one else’s. I don’t subscribe to society’s idea of what’s attractive (although society does sometimes agree with my standards). No one touches it without my permission. I have a thing about personal space.

Fire is also sacred to me, in all its forms, as is water.

2. What holidays or time of year do you consider most sacred to you personally?

Imbolc, of course, because it’s associated with first light, growth, purification, creativity, and, ultimately, Brid. Anyone who can forge a sword, inflict damage with it, then heal you and feed you afterwards is high on my list of individuals whose sanctity is worthy of celebration.

And, what do you know; fire and water are usually associated with Imbolc as well.

3. Describe your sacred space (can be anywhere, indoors, outdoors, etc).

You�re not getting the nickel tour of my astral sacred space because it�s private, nor am I about to describe my body (ditto). My sacred environments (real or astral) always include a hanging lamp of some kind, because, as I state above, fire is sacred to me. There’s usually a dish of water, as well, or a pool. Other than those two commonalities, my sacred space is wherever I am.