Post Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving yesterday turned out to be a nice day; fairly calm, quiet, and stress-free. The aforementioned alcoholic friend came over, and he had been imbibing a little bit, but he did his best to refrain from obnoxious behavior and was actually quite pleasant to be around. He wasn't tipsy drunk, just a bit into the weeds. I was glad he decided to join us, as Thanksgiving is a day for sharing and it would have seemed a shame to have made all of that food without being able to share it with someone outside of our home. As planned, I prepared candied yams, mashed potatoes (free of garlic, skins, or anything else our little one would turn her nose at), rolls, stuffing, corn on the cob, and the obligatory green bean casserole (I don't know about anywhere else, but here in America this dish is almost mandatory at any Thanksgiving function), as well as slow cooker mac and cheese which turned out a bit chewy but delicious at the same time. My husband was in charge of cooking the turkey, which he did with the help of a deep fryer. This is probably the fastest method by which to cook a turkey, and, when done properly, yields a pleasantly crunchy, golden skin and moist, juicy meat. Welllllll......enter my husband with the turkey. It was black. Coal black. This was a rather shocking sight for all present to behold and I confess that my first reaction upon seeing the bird (after I picked my jaw up from the floor) was to laugh. Being Cajun, he joked that this was a blackened turkey in the Cajun style, and proceeded to slice into it with a hopeful countenance. To our pleasant surprise, the turkey tasted okay. While it was not as juicy as the turkey he fried last year, it still tasted good. The skin was not really edible, but the skin isn't good for us anyway so it was probably better that we couldn't munch on it. I, myself, am not a major fan of eating turkey or chicken skin; I feel the texture to be rather unpleasant.

The only disappointment with regard to Thanksgiving is that I couldn't include my daughter in the preparations as much as I'd hoped. When baking is called for, she is right alongside me in the kitchen, mixing, scooping, dumping, sifting, etc., to her heart's content. Yesterday, however, most of what I needed to do involved sauteing and cutting, neither of which are safe activities for a five year old, no matter how talented she is when it comes to creating in the kitchen. She wandered in a few times to ask if I had any jobs for her to do, and was very sad that I had no real work for her, as was I. I regretted that there were no other children here for her to play with; both my husband and I have lots of children in our families, but none of them live here in Florida. This is particularly troublesome during the holidays, when celebrating with family is so much fun (at least, in our cases-I know some who prefer not to see family during this time, or any time!).

After dinner, we all lounged on the living room couch, eating pumpkin pie and feeling grateful for our full bellies and the companionship of one another. Neither of these things is to be taken for granted!!!

Into the Rush of the Day

Yesterday felt like somewhat of a failure to me- I had so much to do but couldn't seem to get moving. Monday-itis perhaps? I feel more positive today and am so into the idea of speaking affirmatively to myself, as opposed to moaning and groaning that I'm never going to get anything done. I do believe that self talk has the power to bring about unhappy results if one doesn't take care to speak to oneself the way she would an old friend. Sometimes, I need to be firm, always I need to be straightforward. I don't, however, need to call myself names and doom myself to fail in areas where, in the past, I may not have excelled the way I wanted to or hoped to. Each day is a new beginning of sorts, right?

So, today I go forward still unsure as to how our Thanksgiving is going to progress. Hubster asked a few people over yesterday, but they all have previously made commitments and it seems we might be alone this year. He is considering extending invitation to one of the guys who works for him, but the fellow has a tendency to get drunk and become a bit loud, and we're not sure if it will be best to chance that happening. The man is in a state of semi abstinence right now, trying to get his life together, but he's not unlike a tennis ball perched atop a steeple. He could roll at any moment, and once he does the momentum tends carry him along very quickly. Such is the disease of alcoholism, unfortunately. Without help, all one needs is a slight wind to topple him over the edge; so far, said guy has not sought out the help of AA or any other group that could assist him in his endeavor to stay sober, and it's very, very tough to walk that road alone.

Today I will be engaged in food shopping for the week and homeschooling with our little one. I'm grateful to have the resources for both today, and am focused on that gratefulness in earnest. Perhaps I'll talk with Little One about the Pilgrims and the Native Americans who helped them when they first arrived in the new land. This time of year is also a good time to discuss abundance and perseverance, sharing and giving. Making construction paper turkeys with real feathers glued on is also an option; I believe that learning should be fun and engaging, and my daughter needs breaks in between the serious business of learning how to read, add, subtract, etc.! I have meditation group to attend later, and I'm looking forward to that. There are always great people there, and having a little time to wind down and just "be" is important to my mental and physical well being. Here at home, it's difficult to find quiet time. There is always a doggie hitting the outside door to be let back inside, a cat jumping onto the table where I have my paperwork/books spread out, a drink of juice to be retrieved, or a sandwich, or books to be read. This is all great stuff, the music of my everyday life. I cherish all of it (as well as the many, many things I didn't list here), especially since I'm well aware of how fleeting time can be, of how quickly everything can change for good or not so good. Still, we need to remember to take time to breathe, to replenish our energy so that we have a continuing flow of the stuff. When we have plenty of energy to share, we can enjoy our lives more, and engage more effectively.

One, two, three, deep breathe. And into the day!!!

Nascar and Thanksgiving Preparations

It's hard to believe, but another Thanksgiving holiday is upon us! Like most every holiday/major event that happened this year, Thanksgiving kind of snuck up on me. Suddenly the other night, my husband and I began talking about what our plans for the holiday were going to be, and I became overwhelmed by holiday-itis. For whatever reason this year, I've been dreading the rush of the holiday season. Possibly this is due to being so busy on a regular basis with homeschooling and the daily process of keeping a halfway calm and collected home (and I do mean "halfway"). Whatever the case, I protested vehemently when the Hubs suggested inviting a few people over (my husband is Cajun, which means that "a few" people can range from five to twenty five individuals), not wishing to endure the anxiety of planning a large meal and pulling the whole party together in enough time to actually enjoy some of it myself. My fear had subsided a bit by last night, however, and I agreed that having a get together might be fun, though I made him swear that he would keep the guest list to a reasonable minimum (yeah, right). So, here I am, browsing Thanksgiving recipes on the internet (I have tons of recipe books but am not interested in pulling out several different books in search of recipes suitable for the holiday), and finding quite a few that sound yummy and shouldn't break the bank. Finances being what they are this year, we need to be careful how much money we spend on Thanksgiving, so that we have enough for the holiday shopping. I have yet to purchase one Yule gift, and possibly will begin tonight online after our little one is safely tucked into bed (if I don't fall asleep myself, which is usually what happens). Since she is now five years old, shopping for gifts with her in tow is dicey at best. She is no longer at the age where she is oblivious to my purchases, and it will be difficult to provide her with any surprises (or to perpetuate the Santa Claus myth) if she is with me, seeing everything I'm buying for her. Some things were so much easier when she was very small!!! But, I digress. I now have recipes for yams, stuffing, mac and cheese, the dreaded green bean casserole (I'm probably one of the only people in America who isn't crazy about this dish), and apple crisp stacked neatly on my very messy desk, waiting to be materialized into actual food. I daydream for a moment, thinking about how nice it would be if I could wrinkle my nose and magickally poof our entire Thanksgiving dinner into existence.... Alas, real magick doesn't work that way. I don't know what's wrong with me-I usually love to cook for other people. While I'm very grateful this year, I'm just not into all of this madness-a touch of laziness, perhaps? (Gasps audibly.)

The Hubs and I attended a Nascar race yesterday, the Ford something or other. While I can't remember the name of the event, the race was lots of fun. Having grown up with a Dad who restored old cars and made a living doing auto body repair, I have a love of automobiles that runs straight down to my soul. I love hotrods and fast cars in general, love how they work, how they sound, and (in some cases) how they look, all shiny and sparkly and revved up into bad- assedness:



Okay, so that last adjective is not a real word, but since I'm an artist, once in awhile I find the need to create my own words. No sense in using the same old, well-used ones all the time... I'd been skeptical about attending a Nascar race, thinking that watching cars speed around a track over and over again would get boring rather quickly. However, I was hooked by the energy and the noise and the smells from the moment the first green light flashed indicating the start of the action. The sound of all those motors being revved up simultaneously, then the music of tires on track combined with engines being run full on was mesmerizing. When it was finally time to leave (we had a child to pick up from the babysitter and a dog at home to let outside, so we left the Speedway early to avoid the crazy traffic), I was a bit sad. We heard the results of the race on the radio as we were driving home, tired and happy and smelling a bit like exhaust fumes. (I'm kidding about the last part, but we were tired and happy.)

Well, off to write my regular shopping list and attempt to get out of this house. Monday has somehow slipped out from under me and I've hardly any time left to accomplish anything at all today!

Have a blessed Moonday!

To Be In or Out of the Broom Closet

When I was in college and just discovering what being a Pagan was about (or so I thought; it seems I had A LOT to learn) I cared very little whether or not people knew I was studying Witchcraft. I wore my pentacle everywhere I went, spoke openly about the Goddess, left books about the Craft strewn about the apartment I shared with anywhere from two to three roommates and a cat. Once in awhile, someone would approach me offering their services in the department of "saving", which I would respectfully decline, then launch into a diatribe about how they really should do more research about their own religion, since most of what they were practicing was Pagan based. I didn't care much about being sensitive or low key, nor did I shy away from confrontation over the issue of faith. I was fearless, but naively so.

Nowadays, when someone questions me about my jewelry or my tattoo (I wear a small pentacle, and also have a vine pentacle tattooed around the upper portion of one of my arms), I explain what I believe in and try to be kind in my approach should their reaction prove negative. I have a greater respect for all religions, a better understanding of the energy we all share as human beings, as well as the energy we share with the earth and all of her inhabitants, in addition to the universe as a whole. It's okay if someone doesn't agree with me, though I will still explain my position and might even nudge them to read a bit of history, not to sway their own faith, but rather to gain a better understanding of the ideas of others, like me, who have chosen the less trodden path. Obviously, I don't hide who I am, but I'm cautious nowadays, more aware that sometimes prejudice and ignorance can lead to violence. I'm aware that even though I'm happy to explain the Goddess/God tradition I follow, my explanations might fall upon deaf ears. I know that if my very Christian neighbors discover I'm a Witch, they might be reluctant to allow their kids to visit our house, which would break my daughter's heart.

Recently, I attended a local Pagan study group. I met lots of interesting and intelligent people-artists, lawyers, teachers, yoga instructors, etc. In short, people from all walks of life who just happen to follow a Pagan path of some sort. I was talking with a man after the class, and I asked him if anyone at his job knew he was a Pagan (he is a teacher at a local high school). He shook his head and told me vehemently that he couldn't tell anyone at his school what his religious beliefs were, for fear that he would face discrimination and possibly lose his position. I think it's sad that ours is one of the only spiritual paths today where this is the case, where even the wearing of a pentacle, a spiritual symbol, might be looked upon negatively and even discouraged. We live in a country where religious freedom is treasured, and yet not all religions are accepted.

Because I'm a Mom, I face new fears with regard to my spiritual path. I don't want to be hassled over how I'm raising our daughter. I don't want my little one to experience any difficulties from parents of friends who don't understand, or other kids. Paganism and Wicca are much more accepted nowadays than they were back when I was in college. Due to the internet and people like Laurie Cabot, who I believe have provided the public with more education regarding the Craft and what it's actually about, as well as the availability of many, many books (some good, some not so good), more people are receptive to the idea of someone being a Pagan or a Witch or Wiccan (the terms are not necessarily interchangeable; a person might call him or herself one but not the other). I know Pagans who are very open about who they are; they accept the good and the ugly with grace and seem to get along just fine. I admire them and hope to one day join their ranks. I have my doubts that I will ever be open with everyone, but one never knows. Sometimes a bit of wisdom needs to be exercised in these matters; it's great to be honest, but it's also wonderful to have a job that keeps the food on the table and the bills paid!

I worry when I read about Sarah Palin and her association with a Pastor who is reputed for conducting Witch hunts in Kenya-ones that resulted in violence to people who probably were not even involved in Witchcraft. I suspect his motives were political in nature, but the fact remains that many people bought into his insanity and fell victim to his fear tactics. I hope that, over time, people will grow to be wiser, more willing to educate themselves in the truth.

For now, the door to my closet is about halfway open!!!

A Lazy Sunday in Early November

November in South Florida is much different than it is in my New England hometown. Up in those parts during this time of the year, the air takes on a crispness. There is a whisper in the wind about the cold winter soon to arrive, the leaves are glowing in oranges, reds and yellows, the gardens are being covered over in preparation for early frosts and the long winter nap. While I can recall feeling a sadness at the loss of sweet summer afternoons spent outside reading a good book, walking and taking pictures on a Saturday with my Mom or just doing whatever seemed right on a wonderfully warm summer day, I also remember the wonder of ice on the trees, of the impossibly long icicles clinging to the eaves of my mother's house, like stalactites on the ceiling of a crystal cave (or are those stalagmites? I always get confused between the two...). Freshly fallen snow sparkles in the sunlight, leaves city streets quiet and more explorable, creates a perfect canvas for snow angels and "I love yous" written in footprints.

Here in South Florida, the voice of autumn is more subtle. Small, colorful birds are tweeting and flitting amongst the branches of the trees, along with other migratory birds with whom we don't normally have the pleasure of making acquaintance. The weather has become more bearable; gone are the days of 98 degrees and one hundred percent humidity, at least, for a short while. The beaches are, for me, a more comfortable place to visit than they were a month or so ago, when the hot sun would feel strong enough to sear me to a crisp. The Canadians and other "snow birds" (who I envy) are flocking here once again, settling in for the winter away from all parts cold and icy. I strain to hear the songs of fall wherever I can, for the turning of the seasons feels natural to me, the changing of the scenery in tune with my inner clock, and the absence of these things in a blatant manner is something I've never become accustomed to. My spiritual path, in part, leads me to a longing for the snow and cold that lead me down here in the first place (along with an ex-husband who had family here and whose dream it was to move to Florida-he lives back in Massachusetts these days). I have an inner need for a season of quiet and reflection, a season that I believe is possible but must be created with some effort when one lives in sunnier climes. One can embrace the slightly cooler weather with gusto, take the time to notice the different wildlife with whom we share the woods and our back yard, and tune into the energy of life which we all share.

Blessed is this season of autumn!