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Author Archives: Cynthia
Cancer for the Week
Sometimes it makes sense for you to be conservative and cautious and skeptical of novelty. A periodic immersion in the slow-motion approach helps you maintain a strong center of gravity and allows you to be true to yourself in the face of the pressure you get to be like everyone else. The past few weeks have been such a time for you, Cancerian. Soon, though, you’ll begin to feel urges to take some risks, instigate fresh trends, and express yourself with more daring and expansiveness. Are you game?
I think that’s a dare… Oh dear. ust got bitch slapped by the tail of end of Mercury Retrograde. *sigh* Not feeling very adventurous at the moment but I’m sure I’ll feel better by nightfall.
Geesh.
I am howerver looking forward to Saturday. Not the 4 hour photo shoot for an ungrateful client but the Witches Masquerade Ball. Oh yes! The dress is finished. I tried to take pictures but they were all crap so maybe I’ll get some good ones this weekend.
And remember? Micheal will be there. Had some very interesting discussions with my pendulum last night. I don’t believe it, I think it’s lying. But oh goodness, what if it wasn’t??? I can hardly wait to see what happens. If nothing else, there are going to friends there I know and friends I haven’t met and it should a lot of fun.
Oh! I didn’t tell you what my costume theme/character is. Since the dress is a pseudo historic gown I’m going to put a fetish necklace around my neck, some charms off my belt, make myself pale and drawn, and put a loose noose around my neck and rope bracelets. Since my hair is short and white I plan on attempting to make it look as thought it was hacked off as a punishment… I’m going as one of the dead Salem witches. I haven’t decided if I want to be Rebecca Nurse or Goody Good. Perhaps Bridget Bishop. She was the first to die and since Bridget is a name I go by sometimes, yes, maybe that is it. Gotta go find instructions on how to tie a noose. Kind of freaky in it’s own way…
What about Joe Biden?
I don’t know about you but one of the shining moments of the VP debate a couple of weeks ago was Joe Biden’s heartfelt moment when recalling the tragedy that hit his family when he wasn’t yet 30. Not only was I impressed with how he stayed on topic, how he actually answered questions, and how, at the end, he finally confronted The Palin on this whole bullshit “maverick” business, but I was incredibly amazed and honored by the only show of real heartfelt tender human emotion in what has turned into a crapfest of lies. I was proud of him and for him. He really did an incredible job. But most folks (crap, now a word I use all the time because my Dad used it too has become something I have to think twice about using, damn that, that slag) weren’t there to see Biden. We were there to watch The Palin fall on her ass. Which she didn’t literally do but to those of us who consider ourselves Thinking Americans her performance was dismal. I couldn’t have been happier.
But Joe Biden stuck with me and I discovered today that I am not alone.
After his tears, and after the debate, I went into my voluminous files to see if my recollection of Biden’s dark days of 1972 matched the honorable and loving family man I had just witnessed on the stage in St. Louis. If my memory had any weakness, it was in not recalling the full promise and shattered life of the freshman senator from Delaware who, in the winter of his own despair, took the time to write a 15-year-old, while taking on his new duties in Washington D.C. and at home in Wilmington as a single father of two. So while McCain and Palin do their best to undermine the Democrats trustworthiness and character, let us praise the family man from Delaware who could and should be our next vice president.
Mmmm Comforting Autumn
Just had to make a casserole today. The Kitchen Sink Casserole. Or, more accurately, the What Do I Need to Use From the Fridge While It’s Still Good and Freeze Up for Later Casserole.
Bow tie pasta, two cans of mushroom soup (still the perennial favorite for white sauce casseroles, just don’t add any salt), chicken from the big beauty I roasted a few days ago, broccolini (quick fried in olive oil), a entire last of the season because there was a frost at the P-Patch zucchini grated, cheddar and jack cheeses, the last of the milk and oodles of garlic.
The M word? The one that gets the critters bounding into the kitchen? Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
And when putting in the lovely rusty peachy mums into the front flower bed, I found this little friend. Had to bring her in to take a photo. She went back into the garden after these shots. What a cutie…
Witches Begone! Mark Morford’s awesome article
You really must visit and the read the entire wonderful thing.
Makes me a little sad, then, that trophy VP nominee Sarah “I (Heart) Gibberish” Palin apparently had herself anointed by a true-blue witch-hunter nutball of a pastor, a Kenyan priest name of Thomas Muthee, up at her Wasilla church a few years back, just before becoming governor. Isn’t that sweet?
And this one:
At last, a president who really does care about black people. And minorities. And women. Children. People who make less than two million a year. Animals. Ecosystems. Imagine.
Apathy is the new polyester. Ennui is the new smoking. Willful belly button-pickin’ ignorance of world events, environmental issues, energy policy is no longer considered cute and obvious and painfully American. Can you imagine?
Stitch Witch Cottage 