Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Photo Journal | 365 | Well I met old Satan in the lane, and I hit him on the head with a walking cane

093/365 - Monday 1 February 2016, Groundhog's Day, Imbolc | Wild February Day 1, Fire | This month, I started an Instagram photo challenge, hosted by one of my favorite get-shit-done witches, Lenora Henson. I lasted exactly seven days.
094/365 - Tuesday 2 February 2016 | Wild February Day 2, Tea Time | A customer at work brought us homemade cookies. "It's Tuesday; you need cookies," she said.
095/365 - Wednesday 3 February 2016 | Wild February Day 3, What's up? | This ugly mug, spooking away all the ghosties and ghoulies.
096/365 - Thursday 4 February 2016 | Wild February Day 4, Scarf | Beloved and most perfect mom scarf, hiding all the sticky hand prints and coffee spills in its voluminous camouflage folds.
097/365 - Friday 5 February 2016 | Wild February Day 5, Circle | I remember how much CD's used to mean to me; they were a kind of currency of cool.

098/365 - Saturday 6 February 2016 | Wild February Day 6, Tarot Draw | Queen of Swords. Feelin' it.

099/365 - Sunday 7 February 2016 | Wild February Day 7, Arrow | Faerie 2016--this is my year: a suspension of disbelief, an embrace of all the little magickal things that so moved me as a girl.
100/365 - Monday 8 February 2016 | This jewelry box is full of spiders.
101/365 - Tuesday 9 February 2016 | I am 31-and-a-half years old today (my baby is 2-and-a-half). Wearing new (to me) clothes. I haven't bought myself clothes in months.
102/365 - Wednesday 10 February 2016 | Wolfman informs me he has already bought my Valentine's Day gift. I can't remember a year he was so gung ho on Valentine's Day.
103/365 - Thursday 11 February 2016 | The Little Moon Princess by YJ Lee. Faerie vibes.
104/365 - Friday 12 February 2016 | #winodiaries 2016
105/365 - Saturday 13 February 2016 | Shimmer.
106/365 - Sunday 14 February 2016, Valentine's Day | Spending Valentine's Day with the Faerie Queene at the science museum.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Just Joy | any world is my world, every world is our world

Moments of Joy:

  • Outside, in the back yard, after the sun has fallen, my menfolk and me. Wolfman has built a fire in the pit and is cooking up some chicken. He tells me that the combined smells of wood fire, tobacco, and cooking meat reminds him of his days (nights) volunteering at the Renaissance Festival. Wood smoke reminds me of being a girl, roasting hot dogs on sticks, on rock hunting trips with my parents. I share a couple drags of Wolfman's cigarette. Mads tries throwing sticks to Lunchbox.
  • Wolfman and I are tucking Mads into bed, reviewing all the things he's thankful for, contemplating all the things he'll dream about, and are joined by both Lunchbox and Thorn--the whole family together and quiet and getting sleepy.
  • Sitting in a class room at the science museum, my niece beside me still and studious, my wild son wiggling at my feet, the speaker/handler for this "meet the animals" session pulls a blanket off a tank on the floor to reveal a two foot baby alligator. Mads had been insisting the blanket-covered object was a present for him. But now I realize it was a present for me because my breath catches in my throat and a thrill of delight travels through my body and I can't believe how beautiful and perfect this creature is--this ornery, wiggly little Seth, exactly like my ornery, wiggly little Mads.
  • I walk into the dark bedroom where Wolfman is taking a rare afternoon nap to put away laundry. I hear him mumble, "Woman. Come hither," and I lay next to him for just a couple stolen minutes, his arms around me, his body so warm.
  • Perhaps because I got my driver's license late (relatively speaking), or maybe because there's an undeniable bit of transience in my soul, the experience of being alone in a car, driving with the radio turned on to any old station, any old song, really, is a profoundly blissful one. Today I drove to work under a blue sky listening to The Doors, watching a lone vulture gliding up the road ahead of me. Tonight I sang along to a Duran Duran song an old friend once put on a mix CD for me, and thought how beautiful the road is at night, lit by my headlights.
  • Watching the Joe Wright Pride and Prejudice, alone, after my menfolk have gone to bed, I cry, happily, tears and snot all over my face, happily.

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